Chapter 400: A Pot of Beiliang Wine

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[Book Title] by Fenghuo Xizhu Hou, published by Zongheng.PC Reading Address:Address:

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Even before winter officially began, a heavy goose-feather snow had already fallen, adorning the elegant city of Tai'an like a noble lady draped in a white fox fur coat. Over the past few days, the capital has been abuzz. Aside from the numerous official commendations and promotions, there was also the audacious act of the Prince of Beiliang destroying the imperial road. Impeachment memorials from censors flew like snow from the sky, yet all sank into the sea, none receiving the Emperor's personal red endorsement. Daoist masters within the city's temples declared that Xu Fengnian relied on sinister, monstrous powers and would certainly not be favored by the gods above, stating it with such certainty that the common folk, busy with winter preparations to thank the heavens, believed them implicitly. Besides this, there was another sensational event in the capital: Lu Baixie, the Vice Minister of War, was dueling a wandering swordsman from out of town who had lost three consecutive battles, at Anying Terrace. The Emperor himself granted Minister Lu a day's leave. Just as both parties ascended Anying Terrace for the duel, the snow began to fall. Minister Lu, dressed in scholarly attire, arrived gracefully, carrying his sword on his back, living up to the saying of being "full of immortal aura with a single sword." Some capital residents who had previously thought this member of the Jiangnan Lu clan was unqualified to be a powerful minister in the Ministry of War were that day captivated by Lu Baixie's elegant demeanor, even before he drew his sword. Then, the slouching swordsman ascended the stage, finally having changed into a less slovenly but more presentable outfit. This fellow had first lost to a female sword attendant from the Wu Family Sword Tomb, then to Qi Jiajie, a sword master from the capital, and a third time to Bai Jiangshan from the Dongyue Sword Pool, earning him the ironic moniker "Wen Busheng" (meaning "Wen the Undefeated"). Strangely, despite his unlikable appearance and demeanor, and especially his unpopularity among women, after three consecutive humiliating defeats, he became extremely popular among the common people, with many soldiers and armored guards even holding him in high regard.

As Wen Busheng slowly ascended the stage, a robust voice from the crowd shouted, "Wen Busheng, you should win this time, shouldn't you?" The down-and-out swordsman, surnamed Wen, immediately retorted, "Go to your mother!" Among the spectators, who came from all walks of life, most women, young and old, frowned in disdain. However, the rough, boisterous men roared with cheers, waving flags and shouting their support. This time, the duel at Anying Terrace, already a prime spot for enjoying snow and scenery, drew an even larger crowd due to Lu Baixie's prominent official status. There were also rumors that several princes would secretly arrive at Anying Terrace in disguise with minimal retinue, and the great beauty Li Baishi, famed for both her voice and looks, made a grand public appearance. Consequently, the event was far more boisterous than the previous three matches. Yet, everyone secretly knew that they were curious and eager to see the Prince of Beiliang, who carried a saber, make an appearance. After the imperial court adjourned that day, the young prince, surnamed Xu, had only had a skirmish with the Imperial Academy. For common folk, how could that be exciting enough? They were hoping for a major disturbance at Anying Terrace this time, where he would get entangled with the capital's aristocratic youth, turning into a chaotic and thrilling clash of "villains and dogs."

Before the duel, Xu Fengnian had already left the Xiamawei Posthouse, intending to take a carriage to Anying Terrace to join the harmless fun. However, he saw an extremely impoverished old scholar squatting uneasily beneath a dragon-claw locust tree. Xu Fengnian chuckled, then hesitated for a moment before returning to the posthouse backyard and asking Qingniao to warm a pot of yellow wine. Xu Fengnian had an eidetic memory and remembered who the old scholar waiting outside the posthouse was. Years ago, when he left Huishan by boat and reached the riverbank, his second sister, Xu Weixiong, was coincidentally traveling from the sealed Difei Mountain (closed for five hundred years) to Shangyin Academy with dragon sand. This remnant from Southern Tang, named Liu Wenbao, had received a "diverse but not refined" evaluation from Xu Weixiong. When he offered his services, he constantly boasted about prominent officials and powerful ministers of the current dynasty, such as Zhang Julu, Zhao Youling, Wang Xionggui, Yuan Guo, and Han Lin, claiming he would analyze major court affairs by focusing on the power of the prime minister. Xu Fengnian, disliking the old scholar's penchant for shocking pronouncements, had given him the cold shoulder. He hadn't expected that after returning to his hometown, the old man would quickly travel to the capital to block him, clearly revealing the depth of his desire for fame and fortune.

As noon approached, Tong Ziliang, the postmaster, and his young daughter, Tong Nian, entered the courtyard carrying several weighty mahogany food boxes. With winter approaching, stewed lamb and dumplings were popular in the capital. Besides these, there was also a fragrant pot of tender ginger and aged duck stew. Xu Fengnian, dressed in casual clothes, was sitting under the eaves, enjoying the snow. Seeing the father and daughter bring lunch, he went to help the slightly out-of-breath, delicate-looking girl with the somewhat hot food boxes. Ordinary families could not afford such expensive food boxes, made almost entirely of imperial wood; Tong Ziliang had borrowed them, feeling it was necessary to match the status of the Prince of Beiliang to ease his conscience. The graceful young woman, whose appearance was not as burly as Tong Ziliang's, blushed as she handed over the food boxes, then twisted her hands behind her back, subtly rubbing away the burning sensation on her fingertips. Ever since the Prince learned her name, he would always tease her by calling her "Xiaonian" (little year), which always made her intensely shy. Qingniao had already brought out a table and stools and placed them under the eaves. Xu Fengnian smiled and invited Tong Ziliang and Tong Nian to eat with him. Tong Ziliang strongly declined, waving his hands, but could not resist the Prince's insistence. He reluctantly broke protocol and sat down, sitting upright on a long bench with his daughter. Xu Fengnian, Qingniao, and Xuanyuan Qingfeng each took a side. As they opened the food box lids, steam rose. Before picking up his chopsticks, Tong Ziliang quietly reported, "Your Highness, there's an old scholar waiting under the tree outside the posthouse."

"Come, Xiaonian," Xu Fengnian said, "I am the guest; you, as hosts, should try first." He used his chopsticks to pull apart the stewed duck, whose meaty aroma wasn't hidden by the ginger, and placed a piece into the young woman's bowl, joking slightly. Then he nodded to Postmaster Tong, "I know who that person is. The posthouse doesn't need to bother with him." Tong Ziliang nodded. Seeing his daughter shyly blushing and hesitant to pick up her chopsticks, he smiled a little. The reason he often brought her to this courtyard was not out of any cunning scheme, but simply to let his child see more of the General's eldest legitimate son. Strangely, Tong Nian's older siblings, after visiting the courtyard once, either dared not or were unwilling to come again. This had made Tong Ziliang furious enough to smash bowls and chopsticks at home. But children, once grown, no longer obey their father's glare or scolding as they did when young. Since his youngest daughter wasn't afraid, Tong Ziliang was overjoyed and naturally happy to facilitate opportunities. As for his daughter's nascent crush, Tong Ziliang, a rough man, saw it and knew it in his heart but didn't know how to address it. He simply assumed the Prince wouldn't stay long at Xiamawei, and that with time, like the heavy snow in the courtyard, it would melt away on its own without needing to be cleared.

After the hearty lunch, Tong Ziliang stood up and left, instructing his daughter to slowly clear the dishes. Xu Fengnian watched as a layer of snow quickly covered the old locust tree in the courtyard, then turned to Qingniao and said, "Take a bag of silver, throw it to Liu Wenbao outside the courtyard, and don't say anything." Qingniao nodded, returned to the room to pack a small pouch of silver fragments, and quietly left the courtyard. Xuanyuan Qingfeng looked at the remaining food on the table and asked, "The kindness of a meal is more significant than a bag of silver, despite being a lighter gift. Are you trying to win people over in such a crude way?" Xu Fengnian smiled and shook his head, saying, "Powerful families nurturing scholars is like a romantic scholar training a young maidservant, or taming a hawk or a horse—it's all the same. You must first wear down their arrogance, but not their integrity. I cannot open doors to everyone; I must first know how much arrogance and integrity these individuals, striving for wealth and glory, truly possess. If Liu Wenbao were to throw down the silver in anger and leave, not forgetting to curse me for not recognizing talent, then his arrogance far outweighs his integrity. Such a pedantic scholar deserves to never achieve prominence in life. But if he accepts the money, bows lowly, begs Qingniao to let him see me, and boasts about his true talents, then I truly wouldn't value him. Beiliang doesn't need people who write flowery prose to sing praises. In that barren land, rigid scholars do not thrive, and cunning intellectuals are of no benefit to Beiliang. Let's make a small wager: what kind of reaction will this Liu Wenbao have? A small gamble for amusement, how about a hundred taels of gold?" Tong Nian, who had been listening with pricked ears, opened her mouth wide in surprise, unable to speak, upon hearing "a hundred taels of gold."

Xuanyuan Qingfeng sneered, "Alright, I bet this old pedantic scholar won't accept that 'charity,' will ignore it, and continue waiting idly in the snow." Xu Fengnian shook his head, "Then I bet he accepts the silver, and then continues to wait for me to change my mind." Qingniao quickly returned and softly said, "Liu Wenbao accepted the money. He said he would first go back to fill his stomach and buy a warm mink coat, then come back to wait for Young Master. Before leaving, he even asked me if there were any leftovers in the posthouse; if so, it would save him some expense." Tong Nian covered her mouth and chuckled. Xuanyuan Qingfeng clicked her tongue, saying, "This old man truly has a thick skin. Birds of a feather flock together; you two will likely get along very well in the future." Xu Fengnian laughed heartily, "So we neither won nor lost. Shall we make another bet then? Let's add another hundred taels to the stake. We'll bet on how many days this Liu Wenbao can wait? Of course, the premise is that I continue to ignore him until then." Xuanyuan Qingfeng said blandly, "Then I first need to know how many days you plan to stay in the capital." Without waiting for Xu Fengnian's reply, she confidently stated, "I bet the old man will wait as many days as you stay in the capital."

Xu Fengnian stood up, extending his palm to catch the cool snowflakes. "I hope I lose. Two hundred taels of gold for a true scholar—Beiliang would not be at a disadvantage." Xu Fengnian stood under the eaves, extending his hand to catch the snow, and unknowingly gathered a handful of it. The young woman, also called "Xiaonian," watched him intently, lost in thought. Even when he turned to look at her and asked a question, she remained completely unaware.

Xuanyuan Qingfeng chose a rattan chair, lay down, swayed gently, and watched the snow with a hand on her forehead. Xu Fengnian waved his hand in front of the gentle young woman, his face warm. She finally snapped back to reality, so ashamed she wished she could burrow into a snowdrift. Xu Fengnian, knowing she was thin-skinned—quite unlike the person lounging in the rattan chair beside him—repeated, "I heard you study guqin. May I borrow it once?" She bit her lip and nodded, saying, "I will go fetch the guqin for Young Master right away." Xu Fengnian smiled warmly, "It's alright to walk slowly." Though the young woman nodded vigorously, she still turned and ran off, evidently treating his words as trivial as wind in her ear or snow on her temple. Xuanyuan Qingfeng quirked the corner of her mouth and slowly uttered two words, "Infatuated."

The young woman hurried back, carrying the guqin. Her fingers still trembled as she removed its wrapping. Xu Fengnian thanked her, took the new, not-so-valuable guqin, swept his sleeve, and twelve flying swords hovered to form a guqin stand. Xu Fengnian closed his eyes, his arms suspended in the air, not rushing to play the guqin.

Beiliang, with its disparate million households; how many iron-clad bones lie within?Listen, who is beating the drum of beauties? See, who is the human butcher in this world?The sky is full of stars, who is asleep?

When Xu Fengnian lowered his head, his eyes were reddened, and his lips trembled imperceptibly. With one hand, he abruptly struck the qin strings. A magnificent Beiliang Soul-Suppressing Song.

The sound of the guqin resonated through the snow, like the thundering hooves of Beiliang's iron cavalry. Beneath the dragon-claw locust tree at the Xiamawei Posthouse, an old scholar squatted. He had used the silver to buy a shedding, old mink coat from a pawn shop and was stuffing meat buns into his mouth. Hearing the sound of the guqin, he slowly stopped devouring his food, leaned against the cold old locust tree, closed his eyes, and softly murmured, "How wonderful it would be to have a pot of turbid wine."

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