Rosy clouds floated out from the layers of clouds on the horizon, spilling onto the long street in endless billows.
Zhu Zi’an glanced back at the girl behind him sipping yogurt drink in small gulps, still cradling a packet of patterned rice cakes in her hands.
The rosy glow fell on her face, lighting up her fair complexion in a blush. Long lashes swept down, casting delicate fragmented shadows under her eyelids.
His fingers twitched slightly and he suddenly waved a hand before her eyes, stirring up a puff of wind that fluttered her beautiful long lashes. She blinked and glared at him. “What are you doing?”
“The moon’s about to rise,” Zhu Zi’an smiled. “Let’s go, to Qu River.”
“Wait a moment,” Jiang Kui finished off the last of her yogurt drink and looked up at him. “Zhu Zi’an, I want to buy wine to drink! I’m going to drink a lot tonight!”
“Alright, it’s my treat.” He said, “Let me grab some money first.”
It was evening rush hour, the crowd flowing like a weave. He sought her out in the throng, suddenly reaching out to grasp her wrist. Jiang Kui nearly dropped her rice cakes and shouted loudly, “What are you—!”
She froze in surprise. He pulled up her wrist, bringing her into the crowd as they squeezed against the flow of people heading forward. They walked one after the other like two small fish swimming upstream. The shifting rosy glow spilled over their retreating forms, like a rainbow shower.
Zhu Zi’an brought Jiang Kui back to the Dong Jiao Building’s bookstore and let her go, pushing open the door to the side room. “Master Qinghe, got any silver you can spare for me?” he called out loudly.
Storyteller Liu Qinghe’s voice responded loudly from the back room, “Sir, just help yourself!”
“Mr. Qinghe recognizes you as Master Pu Liu?” Jiang Kui noticed he didn’t call Zhu Zi’an “Young Master Zhu”.
“Mm. He helps me out often, handles my accounts.” As Zhu Zi’an replied, he rummaged around flipping boxes and cabinets looking for money pouches. “That man is a business genius who got rich from the soapberry tree trade.”
“A few years ago he bought a barren plot of land and paid street urchins to collect soapberries that he densely planted over four thousand saplings. When the summer rains came they all flourished. The next year when the saplings had grown over three feet tall, he had people chop and sell them for over a thousand taels.”
“Come winter, he gathered the urchins again to collect soapberries that filled two carts. After another year, during a freak winter snowstorm in Chang’an that caused candle shortages and spiked firewood prices, he used the soapberries as raw material to produce special ‘magical candles’ for burning that sold for a hundred wen each, making profits hand over fist.”
“I thought Mr. Qinghe told stories at the bookstore,” Jiang Kui said softly.
“Mm,” Zhu Zi’an smiled. “That’s just his hobby.”
He pulled out a heavy money pouch, weighed it in his palm, and nodded with satisfaction. “This should be enough to buy wine. I’ll put it on Qinghe’s tab for now.”
“What wind blew in to make you offer to treat me to drinks today, you miser?” Jiang Kui asked.
“Consider it thanks for Young Master Jiang’s years of patronage for my business,” Zhu Zi’an smiled again. “Without your martial arts, I wouldn’t have earned so much silver either.”
“What do you earn so much for?” Jiang Kui propped her chin watching him.
He hesitated briefly before smiling downwards. “To get enough money for a bride.”
“Huh?” Jiang Kui tilted her head.
“Mm.”
“Hmph,” she sounded disgruntled. “Who knows which girl would be willing to marry you.”
“Indeed.” His tone lifted at the end. “Who knows.”
The two left the bookstore heading for the wine shop on the street corner of Dong Jiao Building. The shopkeeper looked up at their entrance and grinned at Zhu Zi’an. “Young Master Zhu doesn’t drink usually. What wind blew you in today?”
“She wants to drink so I have no choice.” Zhu Zi’an casually flicked Jiang Kui’s head and she glared at him with covered scalp.
“And who might this be?”
“A disguised Young Master Jiang.” Zhu Zi’an answered breezily. “Any of her favorites today, boss?”
“It’s the Mid-Autumn festival on the fifteenth day of the eighth month. Just got three big jars of dry red and southern beauty.” The shopkeeper turned to the shelves behind the counter, raising his voice to ask Jiang Kui, “Young Master, did you bring your wine gourd?”
Jiang Kui instinctively touched at her waist then her face fell. “Didn’t bring it today.”
“What is it?” Zhu Zi’an asked her.
“I’ve got an agreement with the boss. If I come in with my wine gourd I get a jar of wine for free.” She sighed. “His stuff is expensive so feels like I’m missing out today without it.”
“No worries, my treat today,” said Zhu Zi’an arrogantly. “After earning so many years I can easily afford however much you want to drink.”
Soon Jiang Kui emerged from the shop hugging three huge ceramic jars, the clinking containers bumping against each other and threatening to topple her over at any moment like a teetering tumbler doll.
Zhu Zi’an pressed at his temple and laughed helplessly after a beat. “Can you really drink that much, Little Man Jiang?”
Jiang Kui looked at him smugly. “What? I’ve been drinking since I was ye high.”
Zhu Zi’an sighed once. He placed his money pouch on the table before lifting one jar from her arms in one hand and pulling her along to Qu River with the other.
Dusk had fallen. The rosy clouds faded away as the sky darkened to a deep blue. The rising eastern moon heralded crowds of people and carriage traffic heading towards Qu River.
The two made their way down the long street to the riverside. The banks were already lined with colorful pavilions and dense canopies. People everywhere fought to secure tall buildings for the best views while willowy beauties in diaphanous silks and drunken dandies lay sprawled in the mud along both shores.
“I booked an elegant suite at Ziyun Tower,” said Zhu Zi’an. “We won’t have to squeeze in here.”
“How do you have so much money, Zhu Zi’an?” Jiang Kui’s eyes were wide. “That’s Ziyun Tower, the most expensive place at Furong Gardens across the river!”
“Not like you, spending every bit of silver you earn on booze.” Zhu Zi’an mocked her.
Jiang Kui huffed indignantly as she followed him up Ziyun Tower.
She was shocked to discover Zhu Zi’an had booked the highest elegant suite of Ziyun Tower. It was hugely popular on normal days much less incredibly coveted tonight.
Pushing the door open revealed a lacquered wood desk, two straw mats, and floor-to-ceiling carved lattice windows directly overlooking sprawling scenic vistas.
Sitting back to enjoy the view, they gazed out at the silhouette of tall towers reflecting on the waters with the bright moon overhead. Flocks of birds flew past blooming lotuses swaying in the breeze, unfolding an endless landscape scroll.
Zhu Zi’an settled next to Jiang Kui and started unwrapping the linen strips binding his fingers while saying, “Close your eyes.”
Jiang Kui knew he was going to remove her disguise so obediently shut her eyes. His fingertips brushed featherlight over her cheekbone like a whisper of cool night breeze, carrying a silent gentleness.
“There,” his voice was low. “All set.”
She opened her eyes. A red lacquered wooden case sat on the desk, the woodgrain unadorned yet sturdy in style.
“For you.” Zhu Zi’an looked at her. “A wedding gift.”
Jiang Kui glowered. “It’s not like I’m marrying you, what’s the gift for?”
“Hm,” he stroked his chin in thought. “I guess I count as your parents?”
“No you don’t,” Jiang Kui huffed heavily and opened the case.
A crimson glow instantly spilled out, tinting her white fingertips at the edges.
Nestled on a bed of white brocade sat a crimson hairpin like a pool of frozen radiance, as if it might start pouring out its gathered light at any moment.
Carved into the hairpin was an exquisite little phoenix. Ivory white at its base, a vibrant ribbon of crimson unfurled from its long elegant tail feathers, illuminating the entire pin.
Jiang Kui lowered her head gazing at the extravagant gift, lightly blinking once.
“Help you put it on?” Zhu Zi’an asked.
Jiang Kui nodded.
So Zhu Zi’an reached over to remove the hairpin then shifted to sit behind her. He undid her hair and started gathering it back up.
The linen strips were wound around his fingers again but they remained nimble. Her silky tresses slipped through his fingers as he coiled them into a stylish chignon and inserted the hairpin at an angle.
“Crimson suits you very well,” he said softly, lips curving. “Extremely beautiful.”
After a moment he added even more softly, “But not suitable for me…red is too heavy a burden for me.”
“Zhu Zi’an,” Jiang Kui mumbled, head lowered. “I don’t want to get married at all.”
“I know,” Zhu Zi’an’s gaze fell. “Sorry.”
Jiang Kui lifted her head puzzlingly. “What?”
“Nothing,” said Zhu Zi’an. He grabbed the two face masks prepared earlier and abruptly plopped one over her face, cocking his head with a lopsided grin. “Little Man Jiang, do you like plays?”
“Plays?”
“Let’s go. The restaurants have new shows tonight, I heard they invited several famous performers.” Zhu Zi’an lifted a jar of wine and headed out the door, turning to smile at her from outside. “We can watch the moon after the plays.”
Wearing masks, the two squeezed into the crowds downstairs finding seats at an elegant booth. The trilling sounds of opera rose above the buzz, rippling through the lively atmosphere.
That night’s show was a new story about a young lady who dreamed of meeting a scholar under a plum blossom tree, falling incurably ill afterwards. Her ghost accompanied the scholar to the capital for exams when she died, eventually marrying him so they could be joyfully reunited when she revived.
The literati enjoyed such tales, fancying beautiful maidens pining at first sight for impoverished scholars – a soothing self-consolation woven from gossamer fantasy.
Jiang Kui listened bewilderedly, only aware of how exceedingly smooth the dry red and southern beauty wine tasted. It seemed less mundane spirits than the sweet nectars of heaven. She pressed Zhu Zi’an to keep drinking with her. He conceded half-willingly, drinking much slower than her until gradually growing quite drunk.
When the play ended they returned upstairs. Zhu Zi’an walked rather sluggishly, stumbling occasionally. Jiang Kui was surprised at his low tolerance. A touch remorseful, she pulled his sleeve carefully back up the stairs before pushing him through the door.
Sitting down, she first removed her own mask then his. He was very compliant, letting her maneuver him about like an obedient cloth doll.
Moonbeams filtered in through the carved lattice window, spilling over the wine’s lingering fragrance permeating the air. They sat shoulder-to-shoulder on straw mats, leisurely drinking cup after cup facing the huge and brilliantly round moon.
In his deepening intoxication Zhu Zi’an emanated a lazy grace like a slumped jade mountain. Resting elbows on the desk with palms cradling his chin, he turned to watch her. His gaze harbored languid spirits, shimmering as if filled with blurry rice wine.
He abruptly declared, “I think the story should be reversed.”
It took Jiang Kui a moment to realize he was referring to the play.
Zhu Zi’an’s voice sounded entirely unreasonable as if arguing against someone. “It should be about a scholar who once met a beautiful sprite under the plum blossoms then…”
Thereafter for a thousand miles of mist, from a long river’s end, a lone soul accompanied her for many years.
He looked at her, eyes unfocused yet utterly solemn despite his drunkenness.
“Love at first sight,” he finished softly.
Author’s Note:
Little Xie finally dared to confess after getting drunk…
Although it was still quite vague…
Note 1: The little anecdote about the soapberry business is adapted from Scroll 243 of Extensive Records of the Taiping Era “Dou Yi”. The characters are fictional without historical basis.
Note 2: “Dry red” and “southern beauty” are actual wine names from Scroll 50 of Extensive Records of the Taiping Era: “Not even adding their flavors can match the divinity of Dry Red and Southern Beauty wines.”
Note 3: The play is modeled after The Peony Pavilion. It’s an alternate universe setting so don’t mind the dynasty.
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