This blushing, abashed look of his. How was this an old veteran of the battlefields of romance, a perverted lord with three thousand favourites; he was probably even shier than he was. Zhu Jing silently mulled over his astonishment, and said, “Much obliged to Your Highness, Prince Jin’s sentiments, all is well.”

Liang Xi anxiously went forth a step. And with a voice tensed tight, “Well is good, well is good,” he said repeatedly, “I’d heard the South…that Mount Putuo. They have…ill intents towards you guys…I was so worried I couldn’t even sit through my meals, couldn’t sleep either. I just want to see if you are safe…no, no, I am just passing by, just… saying hello.”

Zhu Jing watched him gesticulating wildly, his flickering glances, his words topsy-turvies in threes and fours; obvious in his tremendous concern. He couldn’t help blushing pink, and his words stuttered as well, “So…so yes, thank you. Thank you kindly.” The two of them stood stiffly in the middle of the avenue, red-faced and scarlet ears, and neither spoke without a complete sentence; to say that they were normal friends, even he himself could not believe it. Thinking that Yujien and Qu Fongning were just behind him, it was indescribably awkward, and he wouldn’t hate to find a fissure on the ground and bolt away.

As soon as Qu Fongning saw the white elephants, which were a novelty he’d never seen before, how could his eyes look at anything else, and wanted to go touch them at once. Yujien tugged his arm back with one grip. “Where’re you going!” he scolded.

Qu Fongning watched the children piling around the elephants, touching the ears and exclaiming their amazement. He couldn’t hold back at all, and wriggled hard forward. “Lemme take a look, ‘ll be back after one look!” he pled.

“Not allowed!” said Yujien, and hooked around him from the back, speaking in a low voice by his ears, “these white elephants are someone’s gift for Zhu Shaoxia. If you go to look with all this fuss, how embarrassed would he be!”

Qu Fongning could never resist this tactic of his. His shoulders slumped, and he flopped against his chest. “Someone’s gift? Is it Zhu Shaoxia’s birthday?” he asked curiously.

Yujien threw a glance towards Liang Xi in the middle of the avenue. He knew heart and mind, but didn’t break it out loud. “Mn,” he said, “maybe someone just wants to be his friend.”

Qu Fongning drew a long ahh, full of envy. “How come no one wants to be my friend?” he said sorrowfully.

Yujien felt his entire body sinking down and smiled. “If you like it, I’ll tell the Sayam King to send you a couple,” he said.

Qu Fongning instantly livened up and tiptoed looking at him. “Really?” he said cheerily.

Yujien cradled his waist. “When have I ever lied to you?” he said.

Qu Fongning, delighted to the heavens and earth, bounced top and down, and embraced him, saying, “You are the best! I’m going to make a plaque to hang on you. I’ll call it…Mn, ‘Always as you wish’!”

Yujien chortled. “And burn a couple of incense to pay your respects to me, yeah? In a few days, you’ll build a temple and put this old man on the altar?”

Qu Fongning hmphed. “Nope!” he said, turning to rest against the balustrade. His eyes watching the white elephants, but his lips whispered softly, “You are mine alone!”

Yujien was slightly taken aback. He lowered his head to regard him and found his attention already taken away by the white elephants; it was obviously a spontaneous line. Yet his mood inexplicably elevated, and he brushed at the raven hairs by his ear.

~

At twilight, the first thing Qu Fongning did, as he returned to the residence, was kicking off his shoes and socks and throwing aside his belt. And he saw Cher Bien cradling in a bundle of bits and bobs through the door, apparently bountiful with loot. “Brother Cher’er, congratulations on your gains!” he said, laughing.

Cher Bien giggled, his silvery teeth blindingly bright. “Gain together! Gain together!” He took out a lotus-leaf-shaped, twin fish jade to examine against the light, put it in his mouth for a bite, and kissed it twice, delighted beyond bound.

It was obviously an ill-gotten gain, but Qu Fongning cared not, and only kneaded his calves. “Where is the General?” he asked casually.

Cher Bien was scraping the stains off the jade pendant with his eyeballs unrolling. “Outside the doors, talking to Zhu Shaoxia,” he replied.

Qu Fongning voiced a Mn, and didn’t think much about it. But Cher Bien was no longer looking at his precious jade pendant and regarded Qu Fongning with a furtive snigger. “Little Brother Fongning, that Zhu Shaoxia seems to have quite some enmity towards you.”

Qu Fongning languidly straightened his legs. “Oh, really? That’s weird. I didn’t offend him or bully him,” he said, his eyes grinning into a line.

Cher Bien stared at him and reeled his neck. “Little Brother Fongning, please don’t grin, Second Bro is scared. Every time you grin like this, I’d know Brother Gu is going down on his luck.”

Now Qu Fongning really laughed. “Bullshit! If they are going to be unlucky just by looking at me, am I some evil ghost or spirit?”

Cher Bien tsked twice. “Poor Brother Gu, if he sees the way you are in front of the General….”

Qu Fongning’s eyes grinned. “Second Bro, what did you say? Like what in front of who?”

Cher Bien receded his head at once. “No, no, the same, the same.” And he clutched his things tightly, afraid that he’ll extend his hand and crumble a piece.

Now Qu Fongning was satisfied, plopped his bum on the bed, and extended a big lazy stretch.

Cher Bien peeped multiple looks at him before pulling again on his treasures. Suddenly, he picked something up, and supplicated towards him. “Little Brother Fongning, I heard that Zhu Shaoxia has some abilities, but I think he’s nothing compared to you. He was zoned-out this entire way and didn’t even realize he lost something.”

Qu Fongning was surprised. “You dare to steal his things?” He took it over for a look and found it to be a wooden phoenix tablet. The front was engraved with a nine-petal lotus flower with a pair of long swords beneath the bloom, and the back was carved with a bas-relief “Jing”; it was probably a token of their sect. The verdant silk strap tying the top of the wooden tablet had snapped.

Cher Bien was greatly insulted. “Would your Second Bro fancy this sort of rubbish? It dropped itself!” he hooted.

And Qu Fongning felt a quiet glee. “This item is really worthless,” he thought. Yet curiously, as soon as he touched this tablet, he was struck with a sense of familiarity almost as if it was an old friend who he hadn’t seen for years, and it had traveled through a thousand li to find its way before him. As he took the tablet in his hand, he found himself unwilling to relinquish it, and much less on giving it back. His heart found it odd, and he turned it back and forth for a long time.

Cher Bien saw that he liked it very much, and urged him to keep it for his amusement. Qu Fongning deliberated. When Zhu Jing returns to the mount, there would naturally be someone to make another one for him. And thus, he tucked it into his bosom pouch with good confidence.

~

Outside on the long street, Zhu Jing was bowing towards Yujien. “Master Yu, I’ve troubled you for the gracious reception today. I’ll part our ways here.”

Yujien noted the unusual civility of his manners and the coolness of his tone, and assumed he was upset over the matter of Liang Xi during the day. “Zhu Shaoxia, you need not to trouble with the rumors of the rivers and lakes. One can never placate all the wishes of the populace. Just be as long as you have no guilt in your own heart,” he entreated warmly.

Zhu Jing’s meeting with Liang Xi today, with white elephants blazing a trail and guards in swarms, truly roused a sensation across the city, and stirred countless conversations. Zhou Mo and them all heard about it, and they had sent messages urging him to return to the inn and “explain himself.” But his low spirits at the moment had nothing to do with this. Upon Yujien’s words, a sudden heat rushed through his psyche. He lifted head and asked, “If…What if I do have guilt in my heart?”

Yujien read the intensity of his gaze, seeming with a determination to break the broken jar altogether, and was perplexed. “Could it be that this Southern young man really fancies Liang Shuting’s hopeless nephew?” he thought.

Zhu Jing watched him being unresponsive. Having gained some unexplainable courage, he pressed, “Would Master Yu see me lightly?”

Yujien studied his countenance. “There is no high or low in love,” he said in understanding. He had seen no few cases of young men in love. In the height of their limerence, they would vow upon the seas and pledge upon the mountains, flame the heavens and resent the earth. But in the end, none would escape the fate of each marrying women and having children, and diverging into foreign paths. Those that could meet for polite conversations were considered decent resolutions. What King Wei and Longyang-Jun, hand-in-hand in joyous love, soaring away on pairs of wings, and never forget each other for eternity. They were but a novelty in the days of youth, and unfit for the halls of sophistication. He made the perfunctory pleasantries on his lips, but his heart had a good deal of pity.

However, when Zhu Jing heard these eight words, his face became ever more peculiar. He stared at him, almost as if there was a lot he wanted to say, stood for some time, and eventually turned and left.

“So young but deciding to walk this path of no return,” thought Yujien, shook his head, and raised his foot through the gates. As he passed Qu Fongning’s chambers on the western wing, he couldn’t resist the temptation to take a look at him. He found the doors wide open. Qu Fongning was lying barefoot on the apricot-wood daybed with his back towards the outside, and was absorbed in playing with a newly bought tiger-head shoe.

Yujien saw him in full concentration, couldn’t bear to disturb, suppressed his air, and went over surreptitiously. Qu Fongning was wholly unaware, his two fingers propped up the face of the shoe, soaring the clouds and riding the mists, his lips simulating sounds of hew—, phew—, hitting pa — pa — pa — on the stand, and crying, “Small prat Jingchuan, where’re you going!” It seemed he was playing out the Legend of Liuyi¹.

Yujien was the one who told him this story. Qu Fongning had no sympathy towards the dragon lady, scoffed at Liu Yi, but he was particularly taken with this Qiantang-Jun. He was tremendously intrigued with the section of “cloudy smokes a broil, split the azure and soar away,” and was never tired after hearing it hundreds of times. Yujien watched him playing in high spirits by himself, and humored him from the side, “How many killed?”

Qu Fongning jumped, whipped around and saw him, giggled, and patted the shoe in steps on his hand. “Six hundred thousand!”

Yujien sat on the side of his bed. “How much ruined?”

Qu Fongning raised his arm and drew a circle. “Eight hundred li!”

Yujien laughed and caught his hand. “How is the heartless husband?”

Qu Fongning laughed as well, rolled against his side, and patted his stomach, his feet locking onto his legs. “I’ve eaten him!”

Yujien grabbed his ankle and toss it aside. Qu Fongning tangled it back. “It’s washed!” he said in a slur.

He didn’t have to say it. Yujien already sensed the fragrance of rose soap. He saw a clean, slender calf completely pushed onto himself, skinny to the tibia with a thin layer of flesh, with the pale green veins almost visible to the eye. The golden bells hang to the side, and because of being tucked in the boots for a whole day, there pressed several red prints on the skin. And he took his hand to rub it for him.

Qu Fongning wrapped his arms around him with his eyes also shut, looking about to sleep.

Yujien took the tiger-head shoe off his fingers. “Is Jiangnan fun?”

Qu Fongning voiced a “Mn.”

“Then I’ll go back and leave you here. How’s that?” Yujien teased.

Qu Fongning shook his head. “I’m going to stay with you!” he mumbled sluggishly.

Yujien just caught his calf. Upon his words, he stilled as something pounded hard on his chest. These words were not new; when Chao’yoonr was a babe, she pulled on his thumb on countless occasions, professing she would become “Uncle Tien’s bride.” These coquettish lines of the little girls and boys would make him smile whenever he heard them, but he never had this feeling of hitting straight to his heart. His emotions jolted. “Ningning,” he called, held in his little cheeks, leaned down, and connected to his breathing.

Qu Fongning almost couldn’t lift his lids. “Mn?” He found his hand and pressed them on his own cheeks, and nuzzled against it.

When his eyes closed, he seemed even younger and devoid of all arrogant jauntiness; for he was really a child. As the belly of his finger touched his ear, he reeled in the tickling. A moment later, his breathing evened, and he fell asleep on his hand.

Yujien withdrew his hand and thought himself funny. “He’s not even bigger than my son. What am I thinking?” So he pulled over the jadeite quilts for him. And before he left, he saw his foot dangling out of the bed. “This silly monkey!” He chuckled and helped him tuck in his foot.

~

Early morning the next day, before Yujien had opened his eyes, he already heard a hubbub going on in the courtyard. He rose to look, and found Qu Fongning entirely climbing up on the stone landscaping, shaking a quake at the little pavilion. His lips dangled a long grassy reed, and was presently blowing a rowdy off-tune. As he saw Yujien waking from the noise, he immediately let go of the pavilion, made a clean and pretty land, and started waving at him from the window.

He successfully flamed up Yujien’s ire, who hooked his finger at him, considering giving him a good spanking when he got in.

Qu Fongning really came with two skips and three bounces. He pushed open the door boards with a bang, his entire body bringing the freshness of Jiangnan morning dew, and lunged onto his body, calling, “Da-ge!”

Yujien caught him in a full sweep. A warm gust of sweat assaulted his face, and suddenly he couldn’t take out any wrath at all. He wrapped around his back, scolding, “Making a wild ruckus this early!”

His voice was always low, and now it contained a touch more hoarseness of fresh morning awakening. How could Qu Fongning bear it; his face flushed red at once. He inclined against him for a good heaving, before speaking quietly, “I can’t fall asleep after I woke up!”

“You can’t sleep so you came to clamor me?” said Yujien.

Qu Fongning lifted his face in his arms, and spoke with a rustle, “I want to see what you are like in the morning.”

This kid’s got so many games, thought Yujien. “’ll let you see your fill when we’re back.” He yawned, rubbed his temples, and was about to get up. Seeing him still leaning against his chest, he said, “Still not moving? You want to help the old boy dress?”

“I don’t know how,” said Qu Fongning, and crawled off a few steps. Then a sense of mischief rippled out of his eyes. He stared at him, unmoving, and signaling, “I’ll watch you dress!”

Yujien didn’t mind him watching. He was naturally tall and big, and handsome above others. Every movement of his always attracted the attention of a crowd, of which he was never perturbed. And he forthwith flipped over bedding and got off the bed, picked up a cross-neck silk robe, and put it on. He only wore base trousers to sleep and was now top-naked. Qu Fongning saw his back and spine toned and stocky, the sinews on his arms clear on the junctions, and even his abdomen had hard and well-defined muscle. Beneath his navel grew a thatch of dark hair, and denser the lower it went, trailing all the way into the trouser waist. His face burned and an unheralded, wild pounding started in his heart, and he took his legs in a run. Yujien caught his hand with one snatch. “Aren’t you going to look?”

Qu Fongning dared not to raise the corner of his eye towards him. “Not looking, not looking!” he yelled.

Yujien saw the back of his neck reddening into a blotch, and was amused again. “Why, feeling small about yourself?”

Qu Fongning gritted his teeth and twisted back his head. “I’ll be just as tall in the future, and… Anyway, just like you!” he said fiercely, broke away his hand with a hard tussle, and fled away in flight.

Yujien considered for a moment, “Just like me?” and he shook his head; he couldn’t imagine. Remembering him tucked in the mink coat, leaning against his chest, and feeling light and effortless in his arms, he nodded and thought, “If best, always be like this!”

~

Incense fumes suffused the air of the Mahavira Hall².

Qu Fongning strolled around in Chonghua temple by himself. His expression fallacious and movements suspicious; he was a patron unlike a patron, and a pilgrim unlike a pilgrim. Yujien had probably given them notice before he left, because though the young novices and old monks gave no short side-long glances, no one came forth to disturb him.

Surveying around, he saw the great hall permeated with a sweet, flowing fragrance, and male and female believers as dense as weaves. But before this trichiliocosm³ and gate of nonduality⁴, there hung obtrusively several paintings of the celestial grace in fluttering robes; they were the likenesses of the Supreme Venerable Sovereign, with eight large words beside them:

“The thousand truths perpetual, for ten thousand ages eternal.”

He looked with bemusement and stared at one of the pictures. “Isn’t he the Taoist God? When did he become a monk?” he mused, and concluded Changhua temple was undoubtedly the prime sanctuary of the Wannan region; their hearts were so magnanimous, so empty of the five aggregates, for they even invited the worship of other people’s gods.

After some aimless wanderings, he leaned before a screen wall to rest his feet, listening to the undulating voices of wish making. Some wished for wealth, love, and domestic harmony, and some prayed for the subsidence of war and the peace of the world. He lifted his eyes and saw a dark hollow of an ant tunnel at an inconspicuous spot on the Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva⁵. Ants were crawling unguarded to-and-fro, and there were several pieces of fragrant rice before the hole. “The Buddha can’t even protect his own peace, can he protect the peace of the world?” he thought.

He wandered a while longer and snuck his way into a side hall, on one end blowing out the eternal flames on the stacks, and on the other casually swiping away somebody’s sugared papaya to snack. And suddenly, a gentle feminine voice rang up in the hall.

“Good Keru, help mama bring over the chim tub!⁶”

Thunder struck through his entire being. The sugared papaya in his hand dropped to the ground.

There was no one else in the inner temple aside from an old monk gowned in scarlet, golden kasaya, offering fragrant tea in person and bowing in retreat. He heard the chim cup waddling, light steps skipping and hopping from the altar, and the clear, dainty voice of a young girl chirping softly, “Mama, why are we praying to so many halls? My feet are tired from all the walking!”

When Qu Fongning heard this tender voice, his nose soured, and tears almost came streaming.

The woman’s gentle voice spoke affectionately, “This is called accumulating merit, the more the better. Come, mama will rub it for you. We’ll pray for another day tomorrow, and then we’ll going back, alright?”

Keru clapped her little hands. “Okay! Let’s go back to look at the flowers! The big peony blossoms!”

The woman smiled faintly. “The big peony blossoms have withered already!”

Qu Fongning’s limbs unheeded his commands. He tremulously approached the side doors of the inner temple and hid behind the curtains. Wanting to take a peak, but he dared not to advance.

He saw the slip of a dark red dress shuffling lightly and kneeling onto a pouf, and the prayer with sealed eyes and clapped hands, “Greatly Compassionate Bodhisattva Guanshiyin⁷, pilgrim Ji Zifang…”

Keru seemed to find it interesting, and imitated her mother, kneeling onto a little pouf, closing her eyes, and clapping all tens. “Dear Buddha, pilgrim Keru…”

“Keru, don’t play in front of the Buddha,” Ji Yunfang chided softly, and continued the prayer, “I, pilgrim Ji Yunfang, am neither virtuous nor capable, for I only have a heart of humility. I pray for the Buddha’s gracious mercy and benevolence; I pray please grant my…dear child Fangyi a safe return.” As she got to the last few words, her voice choked. She made three bows, her slender jade hands held the chim tub, her fingers shuffled slightly, and shook out a small red-headed chim.

Keru also mimicked her mother, waddled the chim tub, and asked curiously. “Mama, who is dear child Fangyi?”

Ji Yunfang poked her forehead, smiling with tears in her eyes. “Silly child, it’s Fangyi gege⁸! You don’t remember him?”

Kuru showed a face of puzzlement, shaking her full head of apricot blossom ribbons.

Ji Yunfang let go of a muted sign. “I can’t blame you. You were so little then!” She brushed her daughter’s hair, whispering, “It’s been eight years, now you are big too! My dear Fangyi, by the fifteenth of the eighth moon this year, you will be sixteen!”

When Qu Fongning heard this, all strength left his body. Supporting his head against the wooden side-door frame, his tears came pouring down in pails.

And he heard Ji Yunfang choking with tears, “Keru, could you please help mama read the chim words?”

Keru was obedient and bright. Seeing her mother sad, she answered sweetly, picked up the chim stick, opened it, and read, “Hiding names…”

She didn’t recognize the next word. Ji Yunfang took it over with two hands and saw the chim words’ interpretation:

Hiding names and biding times, for the spring plum’s blooming day.

In the clouds he amasses the lines, his final renown the seas shall ray.

As she read, a surge of bliss came upon her heart. “Is the Buddha telling me that my dear son is still alive in the mortal world? ‘Hiding name and biding time.’ That’s right! He…must hide his name now,” she thought.

Her eye hollows warmed and teared out in joy. She kowtowed a great many towards Bodhisattva Guanyin, praying in her heart, “This pilgrim wishes not for any worldly renown, as long as he is safe and sound, that would be the greatest blessing of the Buddha.”

Then she picked up Keru’s chim stick from earlier; it was also four lines.

“Meet no meeting, encounter nay encounter. The sun beneath the sea, the man within a dream.”

It was difficult to understand. She mulled over it, and was for a moment silent.

Keru’s little hand caught her mother’s red silk dress, swaying gently. “Mama, are you thinking about Fangyi gege again?”

Ji Yunfang turned her attention back, and answered in a gentle voice, “Yes. Mama wants him to come home soon.” Letting down the bamboo chim, she asked, “Keru, do you miss Fangyi gege?”

Keru hummed and nodded her little head. “I miss him!” Then, as if remembering something, she quickly asked, “When Gege comes home, will he bring me presents?”

Qu Fongning stood outside the doors, his eyes aching in tears, and couldn’t see anything clearly. As he heard her dainty voice, a pang of anguish assaulted his chest. Even if you want the stars in the sky, Gege will pluck them for you.

Ji Yunfang’s undried face broke into a smile. “Of course! Your Fangyi gege is best with his honeyed words, always making girls giddy with delight. He used to coax Bitao jiejie⁹ all the time, saying how he’ll have her marry in with an eight-men palanquin, and swindled so many osmanthus cakes from her.” Her countenance was especially tender as she spoke about the youth of her dear child.

Keru was greatly impressed, and hurried to ask again, “Why does Fangyi gege want to marry Bitao jiejie? Does he also have a big scar on his face?”

Ji Yunfang lightly shook her head and spoke with a smile. “No, he looks just like Yunyi gege.”

Keru drew a long breath of astonishment. “Then he must be very good-looking! Does he also like to look at goldfishes and play with birdies, and needs people to feed him?”

Ji Yunfang stroked her head and said softly, “Your Fangyi gege was a little rascal. He knew how to feign illness ever since a babe, and wouldn’t bat an eye when he lies. If he did anything bad, he would push it away all clean with a ready victim; that was his special forte. He always bullied your Yunyi gege into tears. Let alone mama, even your father has no methods for him.”

She lifted her gentle eyes towards the lotus beneath Bodhisattva Guanshiyin’s seat. “One year in spring, on an afternoon just like this one, your father was taking time off at home, asking about the three brother’s aspirations. Your bigger brothers all talked about battling the waves and sweeping the world. Only this little rascal pointed to a bush of peony blossoms and said, ‘I only wish to become this.’ When mama saw it, I worried at once, afraid that your father would shift his colors and beat him with a stick…”

Keru rounded her large round eyes, asking, “Gege wants to be a flower. That’s so interesting! Why would dada want to beat him?”

Ji Yunfang smiled. “That’s the blossom of luxury of the human realm; your father doesn’t like it very much. But Fangyi only spoke in all seriousness. ‘I shall be myself, standing beneath the wall. I wouldn’t care for the wind, nor would I bother straightening an eye to the sun. For I shall grow ever so slowly, sprouting one little leaf a day. If I’m happy I shall bloom, and wouldn’t give a care to the hour; If I’m unhappy, I wouldn’t bloom no matter how many people looked…’”

Keru listened with great fascination and asked in haste. “Then where did Gege go?”

Ji Yunfang’s lips moved, but she said not a word.

She thought, “He’d been sent away by dada and mama, sent to the northern grasslands, sent to …the enemy’s heart. For this life and this world, he can never again be a flower of Jiangnan.”

A spasm of pain twisted her heart, and her tears rolled down like pearls off a broken string.

Keru saw her mother weeping, and started tearing as well, sobbing, “Mama, mama, don’t be sad!”

Ji Yunfang couldn’t help herself, and her tears surged like a spring. “Fangyi, Fangyi, mama is so sorry! It’s been eight years! And Mama’s heart left too with your carriage!” she cried. Her dear child went north so young. By now, the prospects were probably very grim. What safe return? They were all but lies to herself. And the regret in her heart was insurmountable. “Good child, mama’s obedient child,” she wailed, “if there is another life, don’t reincarnate back to our family!”

Qu Fongning clearly heard every word outside the door and felt as if a knife was thrashing on his heart. His tears fell like the rain, even his clothes became wet.

And a low, baffled voice suddenly called from behind.

“Little…Damu?”

His heart convulsed. He forthwith lifted his sleeves to wipe the tears and turned his head. In his hazy vision, he recognized a captain of Yujien’s order, someone who played with him in Fujian. He tried to steady his emotions. “Captain A’chi,” he saluted. He had been crying for too long, and voicing was particularly difficult.

A’chi regarded his tearful face. “Little Damu, are you okay?” he said curiously, his southern tongue perfectly fluent.

Qu Fongning rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, assuming confusion. “I don’t know what’s going on either. I just chilled here for a bit, and my eyes started itching, and tears came running out too.”

A’chi looked around him. Fumes were whirling above eternal lights, and wisps of smoke lingered about incense burners. And he found the reason. “You’ve been infected by the fumes. It’ll go away with some compress.” He knew this young man had an uncommon connection with the Commander General. There was no telling that someday he might become the successor of the Ghost Army. He dared not to remiss, hurried taking him back to the residential courtyard, and found two cold waterskins for him to compress the eyes.

Qu Fongning laid on the bedstead with his hands holding the waterskins, and recalling mother’s face, his tears came flooding again. After some compression, his eyes were still swollen red. He panicked; if Yujien comes back and sees him this way, how could he conceal it from him? He saw A’chi and another soldier standing by the corridor doors, thus focused his energy, suppressed his air, and furtively snuck out. From the ice well, he dug out two blocks of ice and hid long behind the rock garden to chill his face. The extreme swing of joy and sorrow of the day had exhausted his emotions, and as his red-hot eyelids relaxed with the cold ice, he groggily fell asleep.

~

When he woke up, dusk had covered the sky. The ice blocks had melted, and his eyes no longer swelled. He reflected off the little pond, and everything recovered as before. He patted the insects off his clothes, and just as he was about to get up, his heart dropped. “Something’s off.”

Figures piled before his eyes. From the anterooms all the way to the main hall, men stood at every three steps, and posted at every five, all straight-faced, silk-gowned guards.

Startled, he squeezed himself back behind the artificial mounds and peered out from the drooping cavern. He saw two men carrying in a soft turquoise sedan through the side door. The chairmen stepped with extreme lightness, their breaths long and even, obviously having practiced high kungfu. As the sedan dropped, out came a man about forty years of age, carrying an austere countenance with a few strands of long beards beneath his chin, and displaying an air of distinction. As the heel of his boots touched the ground, he surveyed the surroundings, apparently long conditioned with caution. Qu Fongning hurried to hide by the side, mutely curious. “Who is this?”

As this man shifted his step towards the main hall, Yujien’s voice came from within. “It’s been years. Your Excellency Minister Wen is looking fresher.”

Qu Fongning froze, almost couldn’t believe it. “Minister Wen? It can’t be… that is the Southern Prime Minister, Wen Xi?”

The man rose two hands above his head and conducted a full-bowing salute. “I would not presume, it’s all thanks to the General’s fortunes. I have not inquired about the General, your honor’s esteemed health?” he answered respectfully.

“What is there to ask about me? Come sit down and talk. Should a dignified Prime Minister of an empire need to be so polite with us grassland savages?” Yujien responded languidly.

Wen Xi multiplied his polite refusals. “The General jests. The General is valiant with godly might, with a virtue abounding the realms; this humble minister would dread to sit on equal with your honor.”

As Qu Fongning heard these correspondences, he no longer doubted. The current chief ministerial authority of the states was arching his back and bending his knees towards the enemy general, with a mouthful of supplications and his head as heavy as a thousand weight. He flared in disgust and silently clenched his teeth. “Is the old Emperor so blind as to find this dog as the Prime Minister?”

Yujien cared not for the long-winded talks and waved. “Cut out the verbose. Let me ask you, Huang Weisong’s partisans have been making moves recently, reaching out to authoritative officials of salt ¹⁰, water transportation, levies, textile, and coin. What is he doing?”

“Really…There is such a thing?” Wen Xi said with surprise, “Huang Weisong just burned the bridges with the Water Transportation Minister Liu Ruheng over the case of Jiangzhe grain deliveries last month. They had a tit-for-tat, pulling out all the cold matters of years past; and it all broiled to a great stir. Is he…trying to earn back some face?”

Yujien sneered. “Then the lengthening acquaintance between Wang Siyuan and Qian Yahe, growing as intimate as kins. I can presume Minister Wen would know nothing about it either?”

Wen Xi’s sleeves shuddered, and replied with a deep arching salute, “General please forgive me! This humble minister had been foolish; it had been my momentary oversight. Lord General, I beg your pardon.”

Yujien examined him up and down but didn’t open his lips. From behind the rockery, as Qu Fongning watched the flickering candlelight of the main hall casting Wen Xi’s shadow endlessly dabbing at sweat, his heart filled with utter contempt.

And he heard Yujien speak, “Fine, then I’ll ask you one-by-one. Huang Weisong wants to dissolve the Garrison Act, and Zhao Ting is adamant in his rejection. What is he going to do?”

Wen Xi stole a look at his expression, and answered hesitantly, “…. He is disregarding the emperor’s decrees, conducting unauthorized conscription, and enforcing civilian troops. This humble minister had already submitted indictments of his defiance of imperial edict, deceit and unauthorized actions, and twelve other crimes, sooner—”

“The Garrison Act of mine had already been introduced for six years. How are the results?” Yujien interrupted him.

Wen Xi praised with a face full of sincerity, “Benevolent and magnanimous; the populace and the soldiers are all immensely grateful and appreciative…” Seeing the apathy on Yujien’s face, he swiftly changed his lines, “the three armies keep each other in mutual checks, and the generals know not the commanders’ faces. The emperor is thoroughly pleased, believing this is the way to the perpetual fortification of the Empire.”

“You don’t need to speak so euphoniously. It was not my good intention to instruct you at this institution. Three years a term of rotating expeditions, soldiers without familiar generals, stations without set pattern, uncommunicative orders, and a bunch of old and frails going for rounds across the northern waters and southern rivers. And when the battle actually starts, they don’t even recognize their commander banners and calls. But your honored country never cared for strong soldiers or stout horses, anyway. The people talking on the courts are all feeble and decrepit literary men. Unlike you, they probably don’t have this much insight into this deep intention of mine.”

“Yes, yes,” Wen Xi answered in repetition, “I dare not, I dare not.”

As Qu Fongning listened to the puissance of this Garrison Act, his shock failed his words. “This is…an insidious plot of hollowing military strength to the annihilation of the empire and its people.” A rush of chill scurried down his spine, and his silk gown became drenched from cold sweat.

And he heard Yujien say, “It’s not a wonder Huang Weisong saw through the subtleties of this scheme. This is one deep, cunning man, perceptive and not lacking in methods, careful yet fearless, devoted but not blindly loyal; I am quite impressed.”

Wen Xi was highly uncomfortable, and raised his hands by his lips for a cough.

Yujien slanted him a look. “But compared to the clever and humorous Prime Minister Wen, who recognizes the bigger picture, he is nothing in comparison. Mn, Huang Weisong kept a hundred thousand civilian forces behind Zhao Ting’s back. Where did he get the money from?”

Wen Xi repeatedly conducted his thanks. “Huang Weisong had always engaged in unchecked extortion, skimmed off tariffs, and inflated grains prices—”

Yujien let out a laugh. “Grand Preceptor Wen. A hundred thousand standing troops on regular practice. What amount of economy and expenditure is this? You hold the position of Prime Minister, the man beneath one and above tens of thousands. This paltry sum shouldn’t be a big problem for you, eh? Why don’t you embezzle a hundred thousand troops for the show?”

Wen Xi considered briefly and blanched from fear. “Huang Weisong he… He is… forming parties and hosting fractions, and profiteering exorbitant gains, as to…to… this is keeping private armies, a treasonable felony punishable by death!”

“A treasonable felony? Is Grand Preceptor Wen going to call for the impeachment of him? If Zhao Ting wanted to touch him, would he have waited until now? You think that old man is so delirious from calling in a bunch of mystics Taoist into court, blowing on the scented fumes, and even forgetting who he is? Eating too much longevity pills, and losing his head?”

The sweat on Wen Xi’s head sprouted out again. He could only nod in incessance, and repeat his yeses.

“On my way south,” said Yujien, “I saw every household putting up some picture of Ghost and Tiger in discourse. The common folks of your honored country seem to despise Huang Weisong more than me. Hmm, weak military, concession of cities and land; someone’s got to be a scapegoat! Who is he being a scapegoat for? Zhao Ting understands that through and through. Such an excellent target, would Zhao Ting bear to cut him down? If it was me, I would begrudge to do so either. His raising partisans, colluding with wealth, and keeping troops, all of this should be unlikely to not have Zhao Ting’s acquiesces. Don’t you think you can take him down with one move. They’ll want to sift coins through the canals and weaves, and it will take no less stockpiling and monopolizing, conniving and marauding. By then, you’ll have plenty of material for your essays. There’s no need for immediate haste.”

“The General has far-reaching plans and grand scopes; thy vision is as bright as a beacon,” Wen Xi responded in a trembling voice, “this humble… this humble minister is really not worth one in ten-thousands of thee.”

“Save the lyrics. What is the news of the Capital? Give me a brief hearing,” Yujien said impatiently.

Wen Xi gestured a bow and began endlessly at the report. From the rockery, Qu Fongning only heard the keywords “Left Minister,” “National Military,” and “Imperial Secretariat” running on and on. He concluded this treacherous prime minister was selling his country in sycophancy. Unutterable disdain enveloped his heart, and he just wanted to go out and impale him with a thorough thrust.

And between now and then, a familiar name passed into his ears.

“…the Deputy Censor of the Censorate, Su Qin, had been a clean and righteous man. This year, however, he was also drawn over by the Huang Party, and had been making denunciations on the Garrison Act on a daily basis. Yet the court sees him as a leader of the non-partisans and he has a massive following. It is a tricky problem…”

A blackness suddenly fell before his eyes, and he no longer knew where he was.

Yujien frowned in his impatience. “Grand Preceptor Wen, you are the chief of state, and you can’t even take care of a little censor? Isn’t Su connected with the Commander General of the Imperial Guards, Ji Bozhao by marriage? File an indictment of conspiring with in-laws on illicit engagements with foreign countries, and be done with it. You are a man from Yongzhou, don’t you know how to smack the snake on the head?”

A buzzing boom consumed Qu Fongning’s head. His entire body convulsed, and his two palms bleed uncontrollably from the clawing clasps. And in his heart, apart from the horror and hatred, there also swelled a deep sense of disappointment.

For a moment, he also couldn’t believe it. “What’s wrong with me? I couldn’t have had some sort of …expectations from him?”

“Yes, the General had spoken just,” Wen Xi answered in repetition. And suddenly recalling a matter, he took out a piece of pale-yellow silk from his sleeve and presented it with two hands.

Yujien took it over and saw seven or eight names listed on the silk. “Early this year,” Wen Xi reported, “one of my agents infiltrated the Huang estate during Huang Weisong and Wang Siyuan’s confidential meeting. The two had been tight with caution, and he only gleaned two sentences from Wang Siyuan, which were: ‘I have never heard of such a surreal jape. Old Huang, you have been pragmatic your whole life. How come you’ve started to dream now that you’re old? This is dropping a drip of tear on the scolding red iron; and forcing a tuft of spring bud to blossom on the thousand li glaciers.’ This was no familial small talk; for it must have had hidden agendas and a larger scheme. This humble minister thus conducted some covert investigations and searched for questionable suspects. In this short time, it is not fully comprehensive, and I beg for the General’s forgiveness.”

Yujien read the thin text on the silk sheet. After some thoughts, he sneered. “Wax so much poetics. All it really is no more than finding a couple of seductive women, give them some lessons on this-and-that, and send them a thousand li into the imperial grand gers. And in the future when they produce a child or two, it will be your Southern spores. What is this act called? ‘Xi Shi ruins Wu¹¹,’ or ‘The Orphan of Zhao¹²’?” He swept a look at the sheet, and read, “‘Zhuang Wenruo,’ this is one pretty name!”

“The General surmised correctly. The scheme that Huang Weisong has drawn-out for many years is really a …. child’s play in front of the General. This Zhuang Wenruo is the Shenwei General, Zhuang Mingyi’s youngest daughter,” Wen Xi replied, trembling.

“A tiger girl of a martial house, suffering in silence, and coming north to the cold and bitter land. This is really flattering us. Mn, this one is even more impressive, a lady of the first class willing to lower her excellency and serve in seduction. Impossible to know where she streamed off to now; the bright pearl is shrouded in dust. Truly disheartening. Tsk, tsk. Not one is not a descendent of a noble house! What kind of holy eastern air has Huang Weisong been riding on? Such a grand gesture!” As his finger slid down, suddenly, he hummed a Mn, stopping by a name.

When Qu Fongning heard the words ‘The Orphan of Zhao,’ descendent of a noble house, a thunderclap exploded in his head. And his body flushed with a wave of heat, then a wave of ice. Yet amidst this bone-piercing despair, he also felt a peculiar sense of relief. As he watched Yujien staring long at a spot on the list of names, his heart excruciated as if broiling in oil, and he wanted nothing so much as to give it all and snatch it over.

Yujien’s vision shifted slightly, his brows arched up, and he spoke slowly, “A honey trap is understandable, but this male… what does this mean?”

Qu Fongning’s eyes stared transfixed at his shadow on the window, his heart thumping madly, almost leaping out of his chest.

Wen Xi bowed in for a look, and made a guess, “According to this humble minister’s foolish inference, it should be for seeking revenge?”

“No matter for private vendetta or national hatred, the target should be me. Why should he circumvent such a large hoop?” muttered Yujien. Then a sudden sneer, and he continued, “I see. He doesn’t want to be Bao Si¹³, but…Xue Pinggui¹⁴, eh?”

Wen Xi understood not. “The open spears are easy to dodge, but hidden arrows are difficult to guard. I pray the General will take good care of your esteemed health. Please do be careful.”

“No worries. We northern savages are brute and illiterate; we don’t have all those promises of entwined white hair or devotion of paired fowls. What favorites and concubines, we see them as worthless as pennies. This drip of Huang Weisong’s tear of yearning would probably flow to waste.” He flicked his hand and sent the silk shreds into the air.

Qu Fongning didn’t know any of the names he mentioned, assumed they had nothing to do with himself, and the anxiety in his heart gradually quelled. He stretched his hand for a touch, his chest and back had been all drenched through.

And he heard Yujien continue in a temperate tone, “Grand Miniter Wen perceives much from little, truly deserving as the pillar of a nation. In the future, these meticulous matters will certainly require no short of your service.”

Wen Xi’s face beamed with light. “I shall rely everything upon the General,” he answered in delight.

Qu Fongning cursed “shameless” by the hundreds in his heart. Upon seeing the shadows shift on the window, he gulped in a deep breath and held his air behind the stone landscaping.

The two came out one after another. Yujien observed the lucid gaze of chairmen and the clear joints of their fingers, obviously builds of practiced men, and remembered something. “The martial world of the central plains has quite some remarkable talents. Is Prime Minister Wen familiar with this area?”

“These gangs of the rivers and lakes never partake in matters of court, and they are difficult to compel. I’ve only managed to hire some worthless recent-generation disciples, and none important characters,” Wen Xi answered cautiously.

Yujien nodded. “There’s a Southern Seas disciple called Shi Chaoyin or something. I don’t like him very much. You can see what to do,” he said placidly.

“Yes, yes,” Wen Xi echoed his reply, backed a few steps, got on the sedan and left.

~

Yujien didn’t bother escorting him out, waved to disperse the guards, and hurried his steps towards the western gallery. He saw Captain A’chi standing stout by the door, and inquired, “Where’s he?” A’chi bent in reply, “The young Damu is napping in the chambers, and hasn’t woken yet.” Yujien went through the doors and found him still lying on the bed, and smiled in his heart. “This child’s got an enormous appetite for napping!” He had wrapped the entire set of duvets tightly around his body, with himself entirely facing the inside, and even his head was covered up. Yujien stretched out his hand to uncover him, and it was immediately pulled up with a whoosh. It was bundled back so tight, for the quilts even stretched straight. Yujien pinched him through the covers. “Awake but feigning sleep?” he poked. Qu Fongning shrunk under the covers and ignored him.

Yujien sat by his bedside, chuckling. “I heard your eyes got smoked? Let me have a look.” He picked up the person along with the blankets and pressed him on his lap. Qu Fongning had a greater reaction; he resolutely refused to let him see, made a couple of forceful tussles, and rolled back onto the bed.

Now Yujien felt something was wrong, and called, “Ningning?” Who was keeping himself away from him, his entire body sprawling an intense sense of resistance, and seeming truly didn’t want to talk to him. “Is the child sick?” He was puzzled, and extended to touch his forehead. Before he made contact, Qu Fongning, as if being bitten by a snake, swatted away his hand with a life-depending might.

His usual frolics with Yujien had all been very small movements, and understood in weight. This strike was done with full seriousness, with seven- or eight-tenths of his strength, and could be said to be rude. Yujien instead found it interesting, and deliberately poked him a number more. Qu Fongning’s entire body resisted his hand, only wanting to push him off. And without looking at him, he said with a teeny voice, “You are crushing my bed.”

Yujien was provoked into a laugh. “You’re minding the old boy’s weight?” Hence, he let go of the small skirmishes and hooked him up with one loop. His arms were as solid as steel; no matter how Qu Fongning thrashed, he could not break free. Despite being unable to get loose, he still refused to compromise, buried his face in the hollows of his arms, and started to play dead.

Yujien cradled him to his chest, his jaw pressing upon his hair, and smelled a rush of moisture. He looked, his hair was all wet. He wiped it for him, chuckling in a low tone, “Why suddenly ignore me?” Qu Fongning caught his elbow and dragged it downwards, refusing to speak with closed eyes. Yujien nipped his ears, teasing, “Little monkey learning at pouting!” Qu Fongning threw him a swift glare and twisted away his head.

Tempering children required skill and patience, both of which Yujien lacked completely. He kidded him with a few lines, saw no response, and bothered no more with coaxing. Before he left, he found him still all wrapped up, looking decidedly adorable, and asked once more, “Take you to play on the night market?” Qu Fongning stayed motionless. “Then I’ll find someone else to go with,” Yujien teased him, thinking he would bristle instantly. Yet Qu Fongning was particularly stubborn this evening. He wiggled twice, but still made no sound. “Then play by yourself,” he thus said. On his way out, he picked up the pair of little tiger-head shoes, and gently placed it on his face.

When his footsteps disappeared out the doors, Qu Fongning at last gradually released his long charged-up fist. Though he knew clearly in his heart: “Should I betray any sliver of irregularity, it would forfeit all previous work.” But his heart was engulfed with hate so impossible to restrain. And he snatched up the pair of tiger-head shoes with a single clutch and dunked a violent throw towards the ground, slamming the cotton into bursting.

For this day, he had drenched his back multiple times and had long been exhausted. Yet as he thought about his father and uncle soon being framed, how could he fall asleep? He tossed and turned, his heart a tangled mess. Then suddenly, he heard a light clack; the window was gingerly pushed open, and a dark figure silently hopped into the room.

He assumed it was Cher Bien playing with him, and raised a casual inquiry, “Second Brother?” The infiltrator made no conversation, lifted their palms, and sent two forceful gusts towards his chest. This gave him no small fright, and, without consideration, he rolled towards the side and dodged the strikes. The figure followed up with hands knifing like a storm, slicing towards his face. Qu Fongning lurched up, throwing his covers towards them. “Who are you!” he shouted. The person still answered not. Their figure moved as quickly as a phantom, dodged the duvet, leaped up, and struck two fingers towards him. Qu Fongning only saw shadows flash before his eyes, and couldn’t determine their pointing target. His chest suddenly ached with pain; his center chest point had been struck, and his body instantly softened and slumped forward. The person caught him with a light agility, tapped their feet, and vaulted out of the courtyard. “Oh no!” Qu Fongning mutely gasped. He saw several monks sweeping the fragrant dust in the yard and wanted to open his lips to call for help. But as soon as he raised the air to his chest, the other noticed, hmphed, and struck the sleeping point on his rear neck. A pang of vertigo assaulted his head, and his consciousness soon left him.

~

After an unknown length of time, he finally woke up dizzy, and felt the meridians of his chest, shoulders, and back of head ringing with inexpressible pain. The air and blood congested in his vein, and breathing was terribly difficult. His eye struggled open by a slit and saw countless layers of deep scarlet bed drapes hanging by his side. The clothing on his body seemed to have been changed, for he was covered by a set of lushly perfumed, gold-threaded silks.

In his moment of confusion, he heard languid steps stopping before the bed. A jadeite scepter slowly prodded into the curtains, hooked over the layers of drapes, and extended onto his face. And a thin, mild voice rang along with it, “This is that Jiuhua Sect chap?”

This voice sounded hollow to the extreme and bored to the extreme. Though an inquiry, there was not a slight bit of interest. And another flat voice in the room answered, “Yes.”

The jadeite scepter slowly slid down and flicked up his chin. Qu Fongning struggled to open his eyes and only glimpsed a figure in mauve silk robes. Beneath the belt, there embroidered a pale-yellow bush of a hundred-flower entwined branch.

The one before the bed examined him with several glances. “Not really a fragrant beauty of nations. How did he charm that foolish little brother of mine? Xuling-zi, you didn’t take the wrong one, did you?” he said.

“My Lord Prince, please rest assured. It is the one.” The cold voice from the room replied, “this humble taoist had seen him interacting intimately with that Fujian merchant. When I apprehended him earlier, he also resisted with the air and art of the Jiuhua path. And I found this from his chest.” He flicked his left hand, and a wooden tablet flew forth.

The one by the bed took it over for a look. “‘Jing’? Hmm, ‘Thou cannot see past the worldly matter, just like the libertine Jing Officer¹⁵.’ Good name.” He let down the drapes, and inquired, “have they found Prince Jin yet?”

It finally dawned on Qu Fongning. “They’ve taken me for Zhu Shaoxia. Damn your grandfather! You got the wrong man!” he roared and screamed in his heart. But his muted acupoint hindered him, and he could not voice a single word.

“His Highness, Prince Jin, is near Chonghua Temple. Qingling already went for the message,” said Xuling-zi. And the mild voice responded, “Then it’s about time. Let him drink it.”

Xuling-zi looked at the item on the table and hesitated. “Your Highness Prince Qi, this humble taoist had witnessed Prince Jin making the plum garden at Jiangzhou, and gifting elephants at Qingzhou; it doesn’t seem like… a momentary whim towards him. If Your Highness act on his behalf, he might not appreciate the kindness.”

Prince Qi let out a Haa, his voice still mild and icy. “Liang Xi, that prat. What does he know? Wasted so many months on hard pursual, and what favors did he get? Gentle chivalries by the hundreds, and not one is of use. Only what you take into your own lips is real.” He waved his hand, signaling no more discussion.

So Xuling-zi had to hold up Qu Fongning and raise the cup to feed him. Qu Fongning knew it wasn’t anything good, but he could not resist. It was tasteless and scentless, but only strangely icy. “Half a cup is enough. The effects are heavy for the first time. He couldn’t take if fed too much,” Prince Qi instructed mildly from the side.

“What sort of drugs couldn’t I take?” Qu Fongning was wondering to himself. And suddenly a spark electrified across his body; as the icy thread of wine traveled downwards, it started to burn. In an instant, his throat, chest, and bowels inflamed one after another, and the line of fire continued down, even rising a ball of flame beneath his navel and lower abdomen.

He never had this sort of experience and naturally understood nothing of it. “Why am I so hot?” he pondered. Then he felt Xuling-zi’s hand around his waist. Although partitioned by a layer of clothing, the sensations were vivid, and he wanted nothing more than him holding on tighter. As this impulse roused into mind, his heart jolted horror-struck. “What am I thinking?”

Xuling-zi saw his face reddening as soon as the liquid went in his mouth, and was taken aback. “This drug is truly potent,” he remarked.

Prince Qi sat idly by the table, seeming extremely bored. “This thing’s got a great name, ‘A Flagon of Wine before the Bloom.’ With one cup, no matter what paragon of chastity or saint of celibacy, they would be thirsty as a drought, and be overflowing with budding desires.” He looked towards the bed and the corners of his lips shifted. “Viewing the beauty beneath the lamps, and a libertine Officer Jing. What a joy? After tonight, you don’t know how much Prince Jin will thank me. The cup of gratitude wine for the matchmaker will ‘least be one for certain.”

Xuling-zi was uncertain, and let Qu Fongning down. Who felt a pang of emptiness as soon as he parted from his arms. He knew it wasn’t good, and immediately started the mantras of sky mesh, harmonizing his breathing and synchronizing his wills. Soon, his senses gradually unified and the heat from his chest dispersed. Yet just as he was repeating the rotation and his inner airs circulated towards his lower abdomen, his breathing suddenly strewn a mess, and his heart started pounding once more. Dear ancestor, he cried repeatedly. But his inner forces no longer heeded his commands, and his body chilled like plunging into a glacial abyss while his limbs combusted to a broil; for his condition of ice and fire had struck in this very moment of a thousand weight being hung on a hair.

Whenever this seizure struck, his entire body would flicker between hot and cold, and even the joints of his bones would bite with debilitating pain. He couldn’t lift a single finger, let alone working his mantras to resist the attack. And thus, the powers of ‘A Flagon of Wine before the Bloom’ exploded like the breaking of a dam, and assaulted its violence like the raging ocean. The forces of the ice and fire were already unbearable to resist, and much less with the support of a fiery aphrodisiac. Between now and then, he lost all control, and tears came flooding down.

Xuling-zi heard the chaotic mayhem of his breathing. On the look, the corners of his eyes had flushed red. He supposed the drug was too strong, and held over his back and pulled his upper body out of the bed with the head facing down, motioning him to throw up some wine. Qu Fongning’s entrails were oscillating between fire and ice. How could he open his lips?

Prince Qi saw the heaviness of his breaths and face tinged with crimson, and the center of his brows tightened. “How much did you make him drink? How is he so feral? If Prince Jin dies on top of him on his marriage bed later and my sister-in-law comes calling, you need to take care of it.”

Although his body was excruciating beyond relief, Qu Fongning was completely lucid, and heard clearly. “Why would he die on me?” he wondered. Then his gaze swept across himself and halted, petrified.

A set of deep scarlet silken wedding gown, with delicate weaves in a thousand ruffles, long hem flowing like a cloud, and embroideries of mandarin ducklings frolicking in water, was loosely draped over his body.

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