All the students are in the courtyard, taking their exams. Biyong college is suffused with a solemn atmosphere, a startling polar opposite of the ceaseless din that usually filled the Illustrious Hall, as though once they cross this threshold, everyone subconsciously becomes more sedate and loses the audacity to run wild.
Inside the courtyard, the flowers are in full bloom, and set against a sky of aquamarine it looks like a shockingly beautiful painted scroll. The teacher hands out the examination papers. Entrance exams only lasts a single morning, and in the beginning Duan Ling had taken a passing glance at the trees outside, wondering which tree Li Jianhong is sitting on to watch him, but after searching all over without noticing any sign of him he turned his attention to focus on answering his questions.
After two hours, Duan Ling has finished answering nearly half of them. He rubs his hands together and looks up again. This time he finds Li Jianhong on the tree nearest him just beyond the wall, leaning on a branch, looking frivolous with one leg swinging casually back and forth as he eats a skewer of candied fruit.
Duan Ling looks at him wordlessly. Li Jianhong shows him the other skewer of candied fruit to let him know that he’s bought one for him too — now focus on the exam.
Duan Ling quite nearly laughs. Suddenly he realises that Li Jianhong probably just got here, he wonders where he went earlier. Has he been tree-climbing for two hours?
Four hours later, beneath the scorching sun:
“Hand in your papers,” the examiner says.
Like a pot of water coming to a boil, all the examinees begin speaking up all at once. The examiner coughs, and everyone falls quiet again. Then the examinees stand up to give the examiner a profusion of salutes before saying all together, “Thank you, lord examiner,” and lining up in order, they leave.
As soon as Duan Ling is outside he runs toward that tree on the other side of the courtyard, but when he looks up his father’s nowhere to be found. While he’s standing there wondering what’s going on, looking all around him, he’s thrown over Li Jianhong’s shoulder. He laughs out loud, and Li Jianhong takes him home.
“Let’s go take a bath. I’m going to take you somewhere fun tonight.”
Duan Ling reminds him, “They’re announcing the results tomorrow!”
“Oh that’s fine, we’ll go home to sleep.”
Once they get home after getting lunch and baths out, Li Jianhong uses getting up too early as the reason to lull Duan Ling into taking an afternoon nap. By the time he wakes up it’s already sundown, and Li Jianhong has also brought new clothes for Duan Ling to put on.
Duan Ling looks at them curiously. The new clothes are made with premium black silk brocade, embroidered with a white tiger pattern. Both the shoes and the belt are new.
“Where’d you get this made?”
“It’s been ready for ages. I went and picked it up today right when you were taking your exam.”
“What do you mean?” Duan Ling finishes changing into the new gown, and almost doesn’t recognise himself when he looks into the mirror. The new clothes are clearly tailored with his old clothes’ measurements. It’s a splendid black brocade gown, the silver-threaded white tiger pattern vividly lifelike.
“What kind of clothes are these?”
“It’s a prince’s garment. An emperor’s robe is the dragon’s robe while a prince’s takes the symbol of the white tiger of the west.2 The white tiger is the god of the military; it represents control over the army and it is the guardian of the state. That’s why a military tally is also called a tiger tally.”
Li Jianhong changes into a long robe, a near replica of Duan Ling’s. Duan Ling brightens at the sight of his father’s image in the mirror.
“How is it?” Li Jianhong inquires absentmindedly.
“It’s really … really …” Duan Ling finds him nearly unrecognisable.
Ever since the day they reunited, Li Jianhong has dressed himself in ordinary fabrics, his hair simply tied back, and neither did he spend much time on his appearance. Now dressed in a prince’s gown, even when he’s simply standing quietly he exudes an imposing aura, poised and graceful, and above all he has a dignified air about him, like a ruler surveying his land.
“Where are we going dressed like this?”
“To a place you don’t really want to go,” Li Jianhong says, “the Viburnum.”
Duan Ling’s face twitches, his expression plainly saying I can’t believe we’re dressed this formally to go to a brothel. Compared to several years ago, Duan Ling has already heard many more things he shouldn’t know about.
“I knew you’d make that face.” Li Jianhong seems delighted. “We’re going to meet an old friend, not there to do anything else.”
Duan Ling looks quite skeptical. “Really?”
“You can keep a close watch on me through the whole thing. If anything I say happens to set you off you can come cuff me anytime you like,” Li Jianhong tells him smilingly.
“You’re the one who said that.” Duan Ling glances at Li Jianhong, unable to avert his gaze; his father is really just too handsome.
“But we can’t go just like this.” Li Jianhong takes two masks from the table and fits one over Duan Ling’s face, making sure he has it on properly.
Duan Ling touches it, curious; the mask is made of leather and slides in above the temples, covering up more than half of the face, exposing Li Jianhong’s high nose bridge and his supple lips, adding a spellbindingly mysterious aesthetic to his person.
Duan Ling secures his mask, and Li Jianhong makes him take out the jade arc, tying it to the ornament clasp on his belt. Then Li Jianhong hands Duan Ling his own jade arc with a suggestion in his eyes.
Duan Ling attaches the other jade arc to his father’s belt.
“Let’s go.” Li Jianhong takes Duan Ling’s hand, and they head out into the twilight.
There is a carriage waiting outside. The driver opens the curtain and lets them in.
“Did anyone see that this carriage came here?” Once inside, Li Jianhong asks.
“Please put your mind at rest, sir,” the coachman replies.
The carriage doesn’t go by the usual route one would and runs through the alleyways in circles, passing through two major streets before heading into the alleys again, entering the western part of the city where many officials’ residences are located before turning back out to a major thoroughfare, then it heads toward the Viburnum at a leisurely pace, finally stopping at its backdoor.
Summer nights are sultry and oppressive, and tonight the sky is overcast with dark clouds, with the moon nowhere to be seen. Tension at the frontline casts an unusual restive atmosphere over the entire city like a shroud. There is no laughter seeping through the walls of the Viburnum, only the multi colored lanterns remain, silently hanging there.
“Greetings, your Highness.”
Holding Duan Ling’s hand, Li Jianhong steps through the back courtyard into the covered corridor. Ding Zhi carries the lantern, angling herself to carefully show them the way. As Duan Ling and Li Jianhong pass by, the servants standing on both sides of the corridor prostrate themselves on the floor.
“Greetings, your Highness.”
“Greetings, your Highness.”
Duan Ling stays quiet.
Li Jianhong doesn’t even nod at them. He says to Duan Ling, “Are you hungry?”
Duan Ling shakes his head at once. Li Jianhong says, “You must be hungry. Once we sit down in a bit, eat something.”
“Greetings, your Highness.”
Beautifully dressed, the remaining five ladies of the Viburnum come out of the parlour one after another to prostrate themselves before Li Jianhong. In the centre of them the Viburnum’s madam is dressed in a ceremonial gown like a fire luan3, and when she sees Li Jianhong come in, she spreads her sleeves and steps forward.
“Greetings, your Highness. And greetings, to your young Highness.” The madam says to them in a solemn tone.
“You may forgo the formalities,“ only then does Li Jianhong speak, most regally.
The six women move out of the way. Li Jianhong lets Duan Ling walk ahead of him and seats him at the head of the table, while he himself takes a seat to the side of him. Xu Lan carries in a tea tray, Qiu Jin offers the tea to the madam, then the madam takes this tea and sets it down next to Li Jianhong’s hand. Li Jianhong takes a sip first before casually handing it to Duan Ling. Only then does the madam serve tea to Li Jianhong.
“Xunchun,” Li jianhong says.
“At your service,” the madam replies.
Duan Ling feels like he has heard this name somewhere before, but he can’t really place it. But soon his attention is drawn elsewhere by something Li Jianhong says.
“Did you call him here?” Li Jianhong says.
“Qiu Jin has invited him.” Xunchun’s head is lowered and her gaze has been focused on the floor this whole time. She calmly replies, “In all likelihood he will be here this evening.”
“Who else is here in this courtyard?” Li Jianhong asks.
“Someone named Cai Yan along with some other children of the southern administration are in the side wing, listening to music and drinking wine. I have people keeping an eye on them so they ought not to interrupt.”
“Bring some food,” Li Jianhong finishes. “His Highness is hungry.”
Xunchun and the six women all bow together then, and leave the room.
Duan Ling feels a bit uneasy, but only because the occasion is just too formal. Li Jianhong doesn’t say anything either, so for a while the two of them simply sit there, letting their minds wander. The parlour is scented with sandalwood, the smoke of the incense spiralling up and away.
An indeterminable time passes. In the midst of this silence Li Jianhong suddenly begins to speak.
“Someday, if I’m not by your side, will you miss me?”
Duan Ling turns to look at Li Jianhong, not understanding what he means. Li Jianhong also gazes back at Duan Ling as though in a trance.
“I’ll miss you. Are you leaving? When?”
Lately, Duan Ling has had a strong premonition — both a premonition and a deduction — that if Li Jianhong is going to take back the south by force, he surely won’t be able to take him along on the march as he goes to war, and he really won’t have any time to spend with him then.
The corner of Li Jianhong’s lips curls up a smidgen. “Well that’s not quite it. But once you’re in Biyong College you’re going to have to live there. You’ll only get to go home every once in a while. I can’t stand to be apart from you.”
Li Jianhong reaches out, and grasping the edge of Duan Ling’s mask with his fingers he pushes it slowly up to the top of his head, and stares at his face. Duan Ling reaches out also, pushing his father’s mask to the top of his head. He has been thinking about this all the time as well; if he goes to school he’ll have to live at Biyong College, and he’d often think of how much he’d hate for them to be apart.
Li Jianhong puts one hand over Duan Ling’s cheek. “If I look at you as much as I can while I have the chance now, then when I’m off fighting, when I’m lying in a tent, you’ll always be on my mind.”
Duan Ling doesn’t say anything, but his eyes have gone red; Biyong College will announce the exam results tomorrow morning, and if he passed he’ll have to move in by the afternoon. Biyong College is stricter with their students than the Illustrious Hall, and he’ll only get time off once a month. His father has only been by his side for several months, but these last few months have erased all the suffering he has ever endured, all the tears he has shed, as though for the sake of the present moment, it has all been worth it.
Outside, somewhere, someone is playing the flute. The sound is gentle and melodic, like flower petals raining down near the horizon on this silent night, fluttering in the wind.
“I’ve heard this song before,” Duan Ling says, amazed.
It is the exact song he heard playing outside the Illustrious Hall, but this time it’s played with a much softer and mellower tone.
“‘Joyful Reunion’,” Li Jianhong murmurs, looking into Duan Ling’s bright eyes, “Forest flowers has since wilted, spring reds gone … far too quickly. The lyrics were written by the last emperor of Southern Tang after the empire’s fall. The transitory nature of life often leaves us with regrets.”4
In Li Jianhong’s arms, Duan Ling leans against him; he can intuit that tonight is no ordinary night, and Li Jianhong didn’t bring him here purely to eat, drink and be merry. Judging from what he talked about with Xunchun earlier, he knows they still have an appointment with someone.
Li Jianhong strokes Duan Ling’s head and bends down to breathe in the clean scent of his hair. Outside, the flute music has ended, someone quietly says madam, then come the sound of footsteps.
“Your Highness.” It’s Xunchun’s voice.
“Come in,” says Li Jianhong.
The parlour’s door opens, and Ding Zhi brings in a tray of refreshments, setting the table. It is the same food Ding Zhi prepared for him the first day Duan Ling came to Shangjing, but this time it’s even more exquisitely made.
“He’s here,” Xunchun says.
“Bring him here in a little while,” Li Jianhong tells her.
Xunchun bows. Li Jianhong speaks again just as she’s about to leave. “Among the Gathering of the Eight Immortals, there are Lan, Shao, Jin, Zhi, Mo, Zhi, Tang, and Juan. Why do I see only six of them?”
“Your Highness,” Xunchun replies, “Qin Tang and Su Juan are deceased.”
There’s a slight shift to Li Jianhong’s expression. “When? Where?”
“The day Liao breached the capital. The seventeenth of the next month is the anniversary of their death.”
Li Jianhong gives her a slight nod. “Were you the one playing the flute earlier?”
“I was.” Xunchun keeps her eyes downcast; Li Jianhong says nothing. A long time goes by before Xunchun quietly leaves the room.
Having eaten a little bit, Duan Ling is full, so Li Jianhong helps him secure his mask again and makes him sit behind the screen. Soon, they can hear footsteps outside.
“Your Highness.” It’s a woman’s voice.
“I shouldn’t be here tonight.” It’s Yelü Dashi’s voice, speaking outside. “Choosing a time like this for a drink, madam, do you perhaps have something vitally important that you wish to discuss with me?”
Duan Ling tenses up as soon as he hears Yelü Dashi’s voice, and sticks his head out from behind the screen to look. But Li Jianhong gives him a slight smile, puts his hand on Duan Ling’s head and stuffs him back behind the screen. He turns to Duan Ling, puts his finger in front of his mouth to gesture shh.
In the outer room:
Xunchun’s gentle voice replies, “How can someone like myself ever comment on matters of state? To be quite honest, the reason I invited your Highness here today is because I have a guest who would like to meet with you.”
“Oh?” Yelü Dashi merely makes an inquisitive noise. His figure casts a tall shadow on the window paper. “Who may it be?”
“He’s right inside. Your Highness will find out once you see him.”
Yelü Dashi is very suspicious; Xunchun steps forward herself and opens the door for him, but she does not step inside. Yelü Dashi only stands in the courtyard, wine in his cheeks, looking through the doorway with half-drunk eyes.
Li Jianhong is leaning back in a low daybed in front of a screen, one foot stepping on the tea table, his elbow resting on his raised knee, his face covered. He doesn’t even bother to spare Yelü Dashi a single glance. Taking a sip of tea he says coolly, “Long time no see, Yelüxiong.”
I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎
You can read about the Twenty-Eight Mansions here. They’re like the zodiac. ↩︎
The luan is a mythical bird that resembles a tall-legged flying red peacock. ↩︎
I’ve translated Joyful Reunion by Li Yu here. ↩︎
All the students are in the courtyard, taking their exams. Biyong college is suffused with a solemn atmosphere, a startling polar opposite of the ceaseless din that usually filled the Illustrious Hall, as though once they cross this threshold, everyone subconsciously becomes more sedate and loses the audacity to run wild.
Inside the courtyard, the flowers are in full bloom, and set against a sky of aquamarine it looks like a shockingly beautiful painted scroll. The teacher hands out the examination papers. Entrance exams only lasts a single morning, and in the beginning Duan Ling had taken a passing glance at the trees outside, wondering which tree Li Jianhong is sitting on to watch him, but after searching all over without noticing any sign of him he turned his attention to focus on answering his questions.
After two hours, Duan Ling has finished answering nearly half of them. He rubs his hands together and looks up again. This time he finds Li Jianhong on the tree nearest him just beyond the wall, leaning on a branch, looking frivolous with one leg swinging casually back and forth as he eats a skewer of candied fruit.
Duan Ling looks at him wordlessly. Li Jianhong shows him the other skewer of candied fruit to let him know that he’s bought one for him too — now focus on the exam.
Duan Ling quite nearly laughs. Suddenly he realises that Li Jianhong probably just got here, he wonders where he went earlier. Has he been tree-climbing for two hours?
Four hours later, beneath the scorching sun:
“Hand in your papers,” the examiner says.
Like a pot of water coming to a boil, all the examinees begin speaking up all at once. The examiner coughs, and everyone falls quiet again. Then the examinees stand up to give the examiner a profusion of salutes before saying all together, “Thank you, lord examiner,” and lining up in order, they leave.
As soon as Duan Ling is outside he runs toward that tree on the other side of the courtyard, but when he looks up his father’s nowhere to be found. While he’s standing there wondering what’s going on, looking all around him, he’s thrown over Li Jianhong’s shoulder. He laughs out loud, and Li Jianhong takes him home.
“Let’s go take a bath. I’m going to take you somewhere fun tonight.”
Duan Ling reminds him, “They’re announcing the results tomorrow!”
“Oh that’s fine, we’ll go home to sleep.”
Once they get home after getting lunch and baths out, Li Jianhong uses getting up too early as the reason to lull Duan Ling into taking an afternoon nap. By the time he wakes up it’s already sundown, and Li Jianhong has also brought new clothes for Duan Ling to put on.
Duan Ling looks at them curiously. The new clothes are made with premium black silk brocade, embroidered with a white tiger pattern. Both the shoes and the belt are new.
“Where’d you get this made?”
“It’s been ready for ages. I went and picked it up today right when you were taking your exam.”
“What do you mean?” Duan Ling finishes changing into the new gown, and almost doesn’t recognise himself when he looks into the mirror. The new clothes are clearly tailored with his old clothes’ measurements. It’s a splendid black brocade gown, the silver-threaded white tiger pattern vividly lifelike.
“What kind of clothes are these?”
“It’s a prince’s garment. An emperor’s robe is the dragon’s robe while a prince’s takes the symbol of the white tiger of the west.2 The white tiger is the god of the military; it represents control over the army and it is the guardian of the state. That’s why a military tally is also called a tiger tally.”
Li Jianhong changes into a long robe, a near replica of Duan Ling’s. Duan Ling brightens at the sight of his father’s image in the mirror.
“How is it?” Li Jianhong inquires absentmindedly.
“It’s really … really …” Duan Ling finds him nearly unrecognisable.
Ever since the day they reunited, Li Jianhong has dressed himself in ordinary fabrics, his hair simply tied back, and neither did he spend much time on his appearance. Now dressed in a prince’s gown, even when he’s simply standing quietly he exudes an imposing aura, poised and graceful, and above all he has a dignified air about him, like a ruler surveying his land.
“Where are we going dressed like this?”
“To a place you don’t really want to go,” Li Jianhong says, “the Viburnum.”
Duan Ling’s face twitches, his expression plainly saying I can’t believe we’re dressed this formally to go to a brothel. Compared to several years ago, Duan Ling has already heard many more things he shouldn’t know about.
“I knew you’d make that face.” Li Jianhong seems delighted. “We’re going to meet an old friend, not there to do anything else.”
Duan Ling looks quite skeptical. “Really?”
“You can keep a close watch on me through the whole thing. If anything I say happens to set you off you can come cuff me anytime you like,” Li Jianhong tells him smilingly.
“You’re the one who said that.” Duan Ling glances at Li Jianhong, unable to avert his gaze; his father is really just too handsome.
“But we can’t go just like this.” Li Jianhong takes two masks from the table and fits one over Duan Ling’s face, making sure he has it on properly.
Duan Ling touches it, curious; the mask is made of leather and slides in above the temples, covering up more than half of the face, exposing Li Jianhong’s high nose bridge and his supple lips, adding a spellbindingly mysterious aesthetic to his person.
Duan Ling secures his mask, and Li Jianhong makes him take out the jade arc, tying it to the ornament clasp on his belt. Then Li Jianhong hands Duan Ling his own jade arc with a suggestion in his eyes.
Duan Ling attaches the other jade arc to his father’s belt.
“Let’s go.” Li Jianhong takes Duan Ling’s hand, and they head out into the twilight.
There is a carriage waiting outside. The driver opens the curtain and lets them in.
“Did anyone see that this carriage came here?” Once inside, Li Jianhong asks.
“Please put your mind at rest, sir,” the coachman replies.
The carriage doesn’t go by the usual route one would and runs through the alleyways in circles, passing through two major streets before heading into the alleys again, entering the western part of the city where many officials’ residences are located before turning back out to a major thoroughfare, then it heads toward the Viburnum at a leisurely pace, finally stopping at its backdoor.
Summer nights are sultry and oppressive, and tonight the sky is overcast with dark clouds, with the moon nowhere to be seen. Tension at the frontline casts an unusual restive atmosphere over the entire city like a shroud. There is no laughter seeping through the walls of the Viburnum, only the multi colored lanterns remain, silently hanging there.
“Greetings, your Highness.”
Holding Duan Ling’s hand, Li Jianhong steps through the back courtyard into the covered corridor. Ding Zhi carries the lantern, angling herself to carefully show them the way. As Duan Ling and Li Jianhong pass by, the servants standing on both sides of the corridor prostrate themselves on the floor.
“Greetings, your Highness.”
“Greetings, your Highness.”
Duan Ling stays quiet.
Li Jianhong doesn’t even nod at them. He says to Duan Ling, “Are you hungry?”
Duan Ling shakes his head at once. Li Jianhong says, “You must be hungry. Once we sit down in a bit, eat something.”
“Greetings, your Highness.”
Beautifully dressed, the remaining five ladies of the Viburnum come out of the parlour one after another to prostrate themselves before Li Jianhong. In the centre of them the Viburnum’s madam is dressed in a ceremonial gown like a fire luan3, and when she sees Li Jianhong come in, she spreads her sleeves and steps forward.
“Greetings, your Highness. And greetings, to your young Highness.” The madam says to them in a solemn tone.
“You may forgo the formalities,“ only then does Li Jianhong speak, most regally.
The six women move out of the way. Li Jianhong lets Duan Ling walk ahead of him and seats him at the head of the table, while he himself takes a seat to the side of him. Xu Lan carries in a tea tray, Qiu Jin offers the tea to the madam, then the madam takes this tea and sets it down next to Li Jianhong’s hand. Li Jianhong takes a sip first before casually handing it to Duan Ling. Only then does the madam serve tea to Li Jianhong.
“Xunchun,” Li jianhong says.
“At your service,” the madam replies.
Duan Ling feels like he has heard this name somewhere before, but he can’t really place it. But soon his attention is drawn elsewhere by something Li Jianhong says.
“Did you call him here?” Li Jianhong says.
“Qiu Jin has invited him.” Xunchun’s head is lowered and her gaze has been focused on the floor this whole time. She calmly replies, “In all likelihood he will be here this evening.”
“Who else is here in this courtyard?” Li Jianhong asks.
“Someone named Cai Yan along with some other children of the southern administration are in the side wing, listening to music and drinking wine. I have people keeping an eye on them so they ought not to interrupt.”
“Bring some food,” Li Jianhong finishes. “His Highness is hungry.”
Xunchun and the six women all bow together then, and leave the room.
Duan Ling feels a bit uneasy, but only because the occasion is just too formal. Li Jianhong doesn’t say anything either, so for a while the two of them simply sit there, letting their minds wander. The parlour is scented with sandalwood, the smoke of the incense spiralling up and away.
An indeterminable time passes. In the midst of this silence Li Jianhong suddenly begins to speak.
“Someday, if I’m not by your side, will you miss me?”
Duan Ling turns to look at Li Jianhong, not understanding what he means. Li Jianhong also gazes back at Duan Ling as though in a trance.
“I’ll miss you. Are you leaving? When?”
Lately, Duan Ling has had a strong premonition — both a premonition and a deduction — that if Li Jianhong is going to take back the south by force, he surely won’t be able to take him along on the march as he goes to war, and he really won’t have any time to spend with him then.
The corner of Li Jianhong’s lips curls up a smidgen. “Well that’s not quite it. But once you’re in Biyong College you’re going to have to live there. You’ll only get to go home every once in a while. I can’t stand to be apart from you.”
Li Jianhong reaches out, and grasping the edge of Duan Ling’s mask with his fingers he pushes it slowly up to the top of his head, and stares at his face. Duan Ling reaches out also, pushing his father’s mask to the top of his head. He has been thinking about this all the time as well; if he goes to school he’ll have to live at Biyong College, and he’d often think of how much he’d hate for them to be apart.
Li Jianhong puts one hand over Duan Ling’s cheek. “If I look at you as much as I can while I have the chance now, then when I’m off fighting, when I’m lying in a tent, you’ll always be on my mind.”
Duan Ling doesn’t say anything, but his eyes have gone red; Biyong College will announce the exam results tomorrow morning, and if he passed he’ll have to move in by the afternoon. Biyong College is stricter with their students than the Illustrious Hall, and he’ll only get time off once a month. His father has only been by his side for several months, but these last few months have erased all the suffering he has ever endured, all the tears he has shed, as though for the sake of the present moment, it has all been worth it.
Outside, somewhere, someone is playing the flute. The sound is gentle and melodic, like flower petals raining down near the horizon on this silent night, fluttering in the wind.
“I’ve heard this song before,” Duan Ling says, amazed.
It is the exact song he heard playing outside the Illustrious Hall, but this time it’s played with a much softer and mellower tone.
“‘Joyful Reunion’,” Li Jianhong murmurs, looking into Duan Ling’s bright eyes, “Forest flowers has since wilted, spring reds gone … far too quickly. The lyrics were written by the last emperor of Southern Tang after the empire’s fall. The transitory nature of life often leaves us with regrets.”4
In Li Jianhong’s arms, Duan Ling leans against him; he can intuit that tonight is no ordinary night, and Li Jianhong didn’t bring him here purely to eat, drink and be merry. Judging from what he talked about with Xunchun earlier, he knows they still have an appointment with someone.
Li Jianhong strokes Duan Ling’s head and bends down to breathe in the clean scent of his hair. Outside, the flute music has ended, someone quietly says madam, then come the sound of footsteps.
“Your Highness.” It’s Xunchun’s voice.
“Come in,” says Li Jianhong.
The parlour’s door opens, and Ding Zhi brings in a tray of refreshments, setting the table. It is the same food Ding Zhi prepared for him the first day Duan Ling came to Shangjing, but this time it’s even more exquisitely made.
“He’s here,” Xunchun says.
“Bring him here in a little while,” Li Jianhong tells her.
Xunchun bows. Li Jianhong speaks again just as she’s about to leave. “Among the Gathering of the Eight Immortals, there are Lan, Shao, Jin, Zhi, Mo, Zhi, Tang, and Juan. Why do I see only six of them?”
“Your Highness,” Xunchun replies, “Qin Tang and Su Juan are deceased.”
There’s a slight shift to Li Jianhong’s expression. “When? Where?”
“The day Liao breached the capital. The seventeenth of the next month is the anniversary of their death.”
Li Jianhong gives her a slight nod. “Were you the one playing the flute earlier?”
“I was.” Xunchun keeps her eyes downcast; Li Jianhong says nothing. A long time goes by before Xunchun quietly leaves the room.
Having eaten a little bit, Duan Ling is full, so Li Jianhong helps him secure his mask again and makes him sit behind the screen. Soon, they can hear footsteps outside.
“Your Highness.” It’s a woman’s voice.
“I shouldn’t be here tonight.” It’s Yelü Dashi’s voice, speaking outside. “Choosing a time like this for a drink, madam, do you perhaps have something vitally important that you wish to discuss with me?”
Duan Ling tenses up as soon as he hears Yelü Dashi’s voice, and sticks his head out from behind the screen to look. But Li Jianhong gives him a slight smile, puts his hand on Duan Ling’s head and stuffs him back behind the screen. He turns to Duan Ling, puts his finger in front of his mouth to gesture shh.
In the outer room:
Xunchun’s gentle voice replies, “How can someone like myself ever comment on matters of state? To be quite honest, the reason I invited your Highness here today is because I have a guest who would like to meet with you.”
“Oh?” Yelü Dashi merely makes an inquisitive noise. His figure casts a tall shadow on the window paper. “Who may it be?”
“He’s right inside. Your Highness will find out once you see him.”
Yelü Dashi is very suspicious; Xunchun steps forward herself and opens the door for him, but she does not step inside. Yelü Dashi only stands in the courtyard, wine in his cheeks, looking through the doorway with half-drunk eyes.
Li Jianhong is leaning back in a low daybed in front of a screen, one foot stepping on the tea table, his elbow resting on his raised knee, his face covered. He doesn’t even bother to spare Yelü Dashi a single glance. Taking a sip of tea he says coolly, “Long time no see, Yelüxiong.”
I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎
You can read about the Twenty-Eight Mansions here. They’re like the zodiac. ↩︎
The luan is a mythical bird that resembles a tall-legged flying red peacock. ↩︎
I’ve translated Joyful Reunion by Li Yu here. ↩︎
