Chapter 3

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Xi Ping was a bastard, hard-hearted and lacking in sentiment. At any rate, Wang Baochang’s death didn’t move him at all.

As he saw it, with Big Dog Wang’s character, it wouldn’t be a surprise for him to be beaten to death in the street any day. The surprising thing was that someone had used such a bizarre method to kill him, as if deliberately giving Jinping City something to talk about.

As for the warnings of Captain Zhao the walker in the mortal world and Prince Zhuang, he treated them as wind blowing past his ear—as a young man of eighteen or nineteen, he was full of vigor, without any reverence in his heart.

He returned to his guest room and slept until the sun was setting. Then this night owl woke up.

He stretched enormously, sat up, and ate three trays of crystal dumplings along with bird’s nest porridge, filling up on liquid—his cousin was young, but he lived like an old man. The food in the prince’s manor was all soup, dull to eat—so Xi Ping planned to go elsewhere to hunt for food.

The Viscount plucked a perfectly blooming rose in the garden and clumsily stepped on the tail of Prince Zhuang’s big black cat. The big black cat bristled and retaliated.

These two fought a battle, which Xi Ping won.

Satisfied with himself, he stuck the flower into his lapel. Letting off a powerful sweet fragrance, he left the prince’s manor and went to play around at the House of Overflowing Splendor once again.

When Prince Zhuang, Zhou Ying, heard a report of this from his servant, he was just playing weiqi with his assistant Wang Jian. Hearing the report, he wasn’t in the least surprised. “He’s run off again?”

He took the offended black cat and gently tapped the cat’s head. “How about you? You’re always getting bullied. Why don’t you stay away from him? Are you stupid?”

The cat feared the strong but bullied the weak. It couldn’t defeat Xi Ping, so it vented its anger on its owner. It batted at him with its paw. Fortunately, Prince Zhuang was used to dodging. His hand was uninjured, though a thread of his long sleeve came loose.

The young eunuch was frightened enough to drop to his knees with a thud.

But the black cat had no fear. It flailed its hind leg and kicked its owner, then ran off, hissing.

“It’s no matter. You may leave.” Prince Zhuang waved a hand. It was unclear whether he was cursing the cat or the man when he said, “Can I lower myself to argue with a little beast I myself spoiled?”

Wang Jian said, smiling, “The way Your Highness treats the Viscount is truly…no less than his own older brother would do.”

“Older brother?” Prince Zhuang picked up a porcelain cup. “I think I’m like his father.”

He held down a series of coughs with hot water. The heat brought a faint flush to his fingertips. He was like a weary snowman.

When the young eunuch had closed the door and departed, Prince Zhuang finally put down the porcelain cup and looked at Wang Jian.

Wang Jian understood. He took a piece of paper from his sleeve. He said, quietly, “This is the current list of selected disciples we’ve received, thirty people in all. Xuanyin’s immortal envoy hasn’t arrived yet. If the immortal envoy takes a liking to someone at the last moment, perhaps a name or two will be added. Normally, there won’t be much of a change. As I see it, this is more or less the outcome of this year’s Grand Selection.”

Prince Zhuang took it and glanced at it. He picked up a brush and crossed off a few names. “Before the immortal envoy comes to Jinping, these people will either disgrace themselves or suffer ill health.”

His tone was flat, as though his word was final.

“Very well,” Wang Jian agreed, and waited for Prince Zhuang to tell him whom to recommend—while it was the immortal sect that chose disciples in the Grand Selection, who was in fact selected in the end depended on chess games at court.

But Prince Zhuang didn’t go into this. He turned his face away and coughed a few times, then lightly said, “Let the Crown Prince’s in-laws get word of this. I remember that my oldest brother has a brother-in-law of appropriate age this year.”

Wang Jian paused. He couldn’t resist giving Prince Zhuang a look.

The luminous pearl suspended in the study was as bright as a full moon. The light fell on Prince Zhuang like moonlight falling on snow.

Reflecting frost.

All the big families had people at Xuanyin and could “speak to Heaven.” Even the emperor couldn’t remove or demote people as he liked. When Emperor Taiming had calmed the disorder caused by his wife’s relatives, he had in fact also made use of internal strife at Xuanyin Mountain. After the business had passed, the great families at Xuanyin had been reshuffled. The Crown Prince’s mother’s Zhang family had been one of those shuffled out, and since then they had had no part in the immortal sect—the Zhang family’s younger generations could no longer enter the Grand Selection’s name list.

This Crown Prince, who was both the son of the official wife and the eldest son, was known for his benevolence and filial piety. He had been dragged down for years by his mother’s family and had always acted with utmost caution. If he had the chance to plant his wife’s family at Xuanyin Mountain, would his desires be aroused?

Would he meddle in Xuanyin’s Grand Selection under the nose of a sovereign in the prime of life?

Wang Jian didn’t dare to think any further. He agreed respectfully. Then, a little ingratiatingly, he said, “If the Crown Prince truly can’t resist and steps in, we’ll be able to control it. Perhaps we can get the Viscount in as well.”

Without so much as looking up, Prince Zhuang said, “I asked. He says he doesn’t want to go.”

Wang Jian said, smiling, “Young people don’t understand. They don’t know the gravity of the future. And perhaps the Viscount is uncomfortable asking it of you…”

Prince Zhuang tossed down a piece with a clatter. He raised his eyelids and glanced at Wang Jian.

Wang Jian gave a start and hastily drew his front teeth back into his mouth.

“My hand slipped. No need to be nervous, Ziqian. When has that scoundrel ever shown any shame when he wanted something from me? If he says he doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t want to go. Anyway, a cultivation sect isn’t a clean place. I’m not desperate enough yet to hope he’ll go test the waters in my stead.”

Wang Jian quietly said, “We’ll change the subject.”

“No need,” Prince Zhuang said. “Don’t put away the board. We’ll continue another day. Go about your business.”

Wang Jian, keeping himself to himself, retreated and left. There was a trace of sweat at the corners of his brow. When he reached the courtyard, he looked up and saw the dim River of Stars. The night was oppressive. In spite of himself, he sighed: there were secret currents surging at court. In heaven and on earth, it never ceased.

Even Xi Ping, when he went out, felt that the atmosphere in Jinping wasn’t right.

The Lingyang River passed through Jinping City from north to south, cutting the city in two: on the west bank was Guangyun Palace surrounded by the imperial city with its nine gates, as well as the gathering place of the high officials and noble lords; the east bank, however, was inhabited by the lower classes. A river separated the wealthy and the poor. On the river there were dinner parties, music and singing; it was always full of floating pleasure boats.

But this afternoon, the Lingyang River, which previously had been active until daybreak, was completely still. Even the steamships were quietly moored by the banks.

Without the clouds and mist produced by the pleasure boats, the view over the river was considerably clearer. You could see right to the east bank, where the city guardsmen were obviously more concentrated than usual. The out of town workers spending the night outdoors to save money were scared of getting into trouble; there was no one in sight.

Even the House of Overflowing Splendor had calmed down.

The Flower Viewing Festival had been just last night, but now, when Xi Ping made a circle of the main hall, all he heard anyone discussing was Wang Baochang, as if Big Dog Wang were the new Queen of Flowers.

There was also an individual who claimed to be well-informed, spraying spit as he described Wang Baochang’s appearance in death, all “fangs sprouting from his mouth” and “red fur growing on his face”…just as if he had seen it with his own eyes. When he reached an exciting point, he waved his hands and stamped his feet, accidentally bumping the cup of wine in Young Master Xi’s hand and spilling half of it.

Inadvertently caught in the crossfire, Xi Ping was about to flare up when he heard a bustle from the stairs.

“It’s the Queen of Flowers!”

“Look, look, look, it’s Jiangli! Jiangli has come out!”

Jiangli’s hair was loosely tied back. She was the center of attention as she came downstairs. She glanced idly toward the main hall and knew at once that today was different from yesterday. There were no high ranking people who could push her to start her act. Her expression chilled at once—Jiangli had always accepted only distinguished guests. She wouldn’t give the undistinguished ones so much as a look.

Reasonably speaking, those who hung up their shingle and did business only played with the rich, but no one was like Jiangli, whose face said right out “I’m a snob.”

But then again, a base nature couldn’t attain the noblest heights; there were quite a few people who bought what she was selling.

Xi Ping glimpsed her from afar with interest—ordinarily, Jiangli liked to wear plain-colored clothes. Today, with the camellia crown on her head, she had instead gone out of her way to choose a red dress, and the rouge was thick on her lips. She was bristling with arrogance, like an azalea that had cheated spring. The other fresh flowers, big and small, who ordinarily vied with each other, seemed to have reached an agreement; each one was dressed as though there had been a death in the family, once again setting her off outstandingly.

Only when she saw Xi Ping did a trace of a smile appear on Jiangli’s face. “And I said you wouldn’t come today. What’s that splashed on your sleeve?”

She didn’t so much as look at anyone else. She walked up, took Xi Ping, and left. “I washed and perfumed the clothes you changed out of yesterday. They didn’t pass through anyone else’s hands. Come, you can get changed.”

Xi Ping originally hadn’t been planning to take the clothes he had left behind at Overflowing Splendor. But feeling a pile of envious gazes fall on him, he wanted to show off in spite of himself. He waved the “Peerless Beauty” fan in satisfaction and actually followed the Queen of Flowers to her boudoir.

“You’ve taken the camellia crown, and now you’ve changed. Young lady, there’s no comparison between yesterday and today.” As soon as Xi Ping walked into Jiangli’s room, he was nearly blinded by the glare. The hairpins, bracelets, rings, and pendants that the generous customers had tipped her with the night before were spread out in a heap on the cabinet. The old screen in the corner had been swapped out for one with an exquisitely embroidered peacock between two flowers. And on top of the screen was carelessly draped a blue peacock cape hung full of pearls and jades, delivered in private by someone with more money than sense.

Jiangli washed cups and brewed tea in the outer room. She rolled her eyes. “Did you come to make fun of me, too?”

Hearing that she was in a peculiar temper once again, Xi Ping said curiously, “That’s unjust, beauty. Why would you say that?”

Jiangli spoke with a Ning’an accent. Ning’an was a hundred and fifty li from Jinping, but the accent was very different. There, people dragged out the ends of their words, very softly. Women sounded especially pleasant when they spoke. It was said that Ning’an had three treasures—“the steam cage bent bridge, the delicate iris peddlers, the plump water chestnuts among the lotuses.” Of these, the “delicate iris peddlers” were the flower-peddling girls who hawked their wares in the street. Each one’s voice and looks were touching; this was one of the place’s sights.

Jiangli’s speaking voice was extremely pleasant, but she never said anything nice. “They’ve all been saying that with ‘Mr. Yu Gan’ personally playing the qin last night, even a donkey could have gone up on stage with him and won the title with two donkey’s brays.”

“Mr. Yu Gan” was the pseudonym under which Xi Ping wrote ditties among the singing-girls and actresses. At first he had paid the beauties to sing his songs. Later, because these songs were different from the current melodies and sounded fresh, he had instead begun to be pursued. It had become the group of beauties asking him for songs.

The silly boy, hearing Jiangli’s words, paid no attention to the young lady’s happiness. He responded, thrilled, “Haha, they flatter me.”

Jiangli threw the teapot onto the table with a thump, her face turning red with anger. “Xi Shiyong!”

“Hey.” Xi Ping, having changed, came out from behind the screen, happily adjusting his outer robe, and perfunctorily consoled: “Don’t be mad. Who’s been talking bad about you? Tell me who they are, and when those chatterboxes ask me for songs again, I won’t let them have any until they’ve learned three donkey’s brays… Oh, what’s this?”

From an inner pocket of the clothes he had changed into, he took an exquisitely embroidered silk brocade bag and was about to open it.

“Don’t open it now,” Jiangli said, stopping him. “Look later.”

“What is it?”

“A gift to thank you.” Looking displeased, Jiangli set a teacup in front of him heavily. “I was afraid Mr. Yu Gan would also make me learn to bray like a donkey next time.”

“My pleasure.” Xi Ping put the small bag away, picked up the teacup, and sipped. He frowned and put the cup back down—the tea was too strongly brewed, and it had a slightly weird flavor.

“With me you can be pretty nice. If you were a little more careful with people in high positions, you wouldn’t end up with your musician falling through at the last minute without even a word of warning.”

“It’s not worth the effort.” Jiangli lowered her eyelids, looking like an arrogant cat. “My fate is bad, and luck is against me. It’s better that I stay away from people so I don’t pass my misfortune onto them.”

“Nonsense.” The Viscount was quite disapproving of these words and said in rebuttal, “If your luck was bad, how could you have met me?”

Jiangli: “…”

Because he was excessively sure of himself, this Viscount often gave people the strong impression that his rampant narcissism was entirely justified.

Jiangli had always thought she was contrary. No matter how many people admired her and flattered her, she thought it was annoying. Only this young master, who was even more proud and willful than she was, remained in her thoughts…and he had no heart; among the rouge and powder crowd, he was doted on by everyone. He had never taken her seriously.

Jiangli couldn’t answer him. After a long time, she finally sighed. “I’m telling the truth—there was a murder at the pleasure boat ferry crossing last night, and the victim had just left Overflowing Splendor… Didn’t you see that hardly anyone dared to come today? I’ve just taken the camellia crown, and this unlucky thing happens. Perhaps it’s God’s displeasure that I’ve aspired to something I’m unworthy of.”

Xi Ping casually dropped a line of sweet talk: “You’re joking. What is there in the world that our Queen of Flowers is unworthy of…”

Jiangli turned her gaze. “You.”

His expression unchanging, Xi Ping finished: “…in fact, there is that.”

Jiangli, her expression blank, watched him closely, suspecting for a moment that she had heard wrong. There couldn’t be such a rotten man in the world.

Xi Ping looked back openly, his rottenness undisguised, interior and exterior coinciding.

His skin was thin and his bones were fine, his lower jaw sharp, but his features were so distinct they were oppressive, so dazzling they looked almost vicious. His was a naturally faithless and fickle face.

For a time, Jiangli couldn’t speak. She could only raise her hand and point to the door. Shaking, she indicated for him to get lost.

Xi Ping thought that her menses must be coming up. Every other sentence she said was deliberately provocative. He wasn’t interested in cheering her up. He stood and stuck his fan into his belt. He said, “You should stop dwelling on it so much. Throw your kettle away, even strong tea can’t cover up the flavor of rust. Aren’t you worried it’ll upset your stomach?

You should get one made of Moon Plated Gold. I’m going.”

“Viscount.” Just as he was about to leave, he heard Jiangli say behind him, quietly, “Aren’t you even willing to play along?”

Xi Ping turned back and looked at her, confused.

Jiangli was half soaked in the shadow of the dim gas lamp. There was an unspeakable gloom in her expression. “Take care of me like other men, give me an illusion of happiness. I could refuse to see others in the future, dress myself and make myself up for you alone. Wouldn’t that be good?”

“Oh, right!” Xi Ping suddenly “saw the light.” “After all that talk, you want me to pay for you to buy back your freedom, right?”

Jiangli: “…”

“Why didn’t you just say so? What’s wrong with a little thing like that? But I’ve been spending ahead of my allowance, I don’t have the money now, you know that. How about this, wait a couple months, and I’ll save up.” Saying so, he grumbled, “You’re really something. Why compete for the camellia crown if you want to buy back your freedom? Don’t you know that the price doubles if you win the crown?”

Jiangli was so angry her lungs nearly burst. Gritting her teeth, she interrupted him: “I can free myself. I have no need to ask for your money!”

Surprised, Xi Ping said, “What are you after?”

“After what I want! I’ve saved up some security over the years…”

“I think you should forget about it. You want to call your odds and ends a ‘security’?” Xi Ping waved a hand. Putting himself in her position, he advised her, “If I were you, I would make good money while I was young, then use it to take care of myself in my old age. Why waste time fixating on dead ends?”

“If you were willing to lie to me properly, I would cut out my own heart and give it to you, never mind my security!”

At this point, Xi Ping finally gave up his act.

He had experience. Having heard the opening notes, he knew what the tune was. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand what Jiangli was getting at.

But connections in pleasure houses were thinner than steam. Take money and sell your smiles, pay money to buy a good time, and everyone leaves with the business complete. However liquid the Yongning Marquis Manor’s threshold was, he still wouldn’t be allowed to marry a prostitute, and their family wasn’t permitted to take concubines. What was he supposed to do with her? Anyway, there were too many beauties around him. He had seen enough of both the plump and slender ones. Because she had a good voice, Jiangli had managed to win a few extra songs from him. You really couldn’t say she was a novelty. There was no need to waste her time, so he had been patient and played dumb to try to pass the matter off.

But something had upset this girl today. As if she had eaten something funny, she just wouldn’t stop!

“If you get what you want, you’ll only be deceived.” Xi Ping stopped smiling. “What benefit is there for you?”

Jiangli sadly asked, “What harm is there for you?”

“No harm, but no benefit either. What would I do with your heart?” Xi Ping spread his hands. “I have my own. It’d just be harming you without doing me any good…”

He thought that he was being kind and advising her from the best intentions, but before he could finish, Jiangli pushed him out.

Xi Ping was momentarily dispirited. Then he simply left Overflowing Splendor.

When he went out, a scrap of song floated down from Jiangli’s room. Xi Ping stopped and listened for a while. He heard her singing a strange southern tune—it sang of the hopeless love of a witch from the Land of Turmoil, and how she sewed the man she loved into a human puppet. As she sewed, she vindicated herself with her thwarted love.

The south was a savage place. Many of the songs that came from there were ghastly. Jiangli was playing the qin quietly, emphasizing the ghastliness of the song. It made the listener feel unwell.

Xi Ping thought: I’ve been wasting my time giving her my advice.

Therefore he raised his head and shouted toward Jiangli’s window: “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

The peculiar music and singing came to a sudden halt. After a moment, a flowerpot flew out the window and sent the Viscount scrambling away.

“He’s gone.”

Jiangli hadn’t been the one to throw the flowerpot. It had been a tiny, wizened old man whose back was so stooped he was almost a hunchback. He had at some point appeared in the boudoir of the Queen of Flowers, like a goblin grown out of the shadows.

Jiangli held down the strings and carelessly agreed.

“Young lady.” The hunchback’s voice was like a stringed instrument damaged by damp. “He doesn’t walk our path. He isn’t worth regretting.”

“I know,” Jiangli said with a bitter laugh. “And I’m not worthy of regretting him. You saw. He won’t even take the time to go through the motions with me. There isn’t a trace of affection there. Only…”

“Well?”

Jiangli hesitated a moment. “Only I remember that while his temperament is odious, actually, he’s never bullied me. I feel sorry for harming him like this.”

“Gentlemen regret the death of beasts, so they place the kitchen far away, but they don’t become vegetarians,” the hunchback said coldly. “There are no good people on the west bank of the Lingyang River, young lady. Think of your parents and your whole family, think of all the suffering you’ve endured!”

Jiangli pursed her lips and was silent.

The old hunchback lowered his voice: “The conflagration burns on, the cry of the cicada is without end.”

After a long moment, Jiangli said, almost inaudibly: “Better to die in frost than to forsake one's convictions.… Fourth Uncle, I know.”