Chapter 19#
The Ungrateful Youth#
Pei Dan had just finished bathing. Emerging from the mist of the hot spring, with only a bit of cloth wrapped around his lower body, he leaned against the bluish stone by the bank and let Uncle Wu rebandage the wound on his shoulder.
He grumbled and fussed, dissatisfied with this and that, now too tight, now too loose. Wu Zhiheng said, “Is the Young Lord in a good mood?”
Pei Dan shot him a sidelong glance and stopped speaking.
Wu Zhiheng knew why he was in a good mood. He had personally cared for this young lord for more than twenty years, and knew that from a very young age he had learned to be two-faced, honey-tongued and sword-hearted, hiding his true feelings airtight; yet at this moment his ease and joy were written all over his face, entirely unconcealed. Wu Zhiheng guessed it was because in the evening the Young Lord had gone once more to the small kitchen at the east end of the residence.
“Young Lord,” Wu Zhiheng reminded him, “those are merely the medicinal dishes Imperial Physician Sun ordered.”
Pei Dan’s smile quieted a few degrees. “So what?”
Wu Zhiheng fell silent. After a moment, he spoke again: “Fortunately His Majesty sent Imperial Physician Sun and Eunuch Yuan. If he had sent someone more formidable, and they took a look at this back courtyard…”
“Then I am not afraid either,” Pei Dan said coldly. “The Pei residence is about to occupy half of Chongren Ward; His Majesty is not unaware. In the end, if one stands straight, one need not fear a crooked shadow.”
After the bandaging was finished, he put on a moon-white silk underrobe, covering his elegant and well-proportioned figure. Uncle Wu carefully pulled his long hair out from the collar. Dim moonlight poured into the steaming hot spring water, and the young man’s hair tips rippled with clear light.
Pei Dan turned back and gazed at the waning crescent moon above the white wall.
At times like this, even Uncle Wu could not understand his expression.
“You are upright and fear no crooked shadow, yet you took such pains to let him live by your side—and you will not meet him even once?”
Pei Dan looked back at him as if he found his words very strange, his face filled with puzzlement: “Meet him? To disgust him?”
Uncle Wu was rendered speechless.
Pei Dan’s voice was cool and desolate. “What I did on the night of my birthday was shameless; I will not do it again. Besides, there is much trouble now, and His Majesty is suspicious. I should not drag him into it again—who’s there?!” He suddenly cut off, his gaze sweeping sharply toward the corner behind the bamboo screen.
Just now, for an instant, there had been the sound of grass rustling.
Uncle Wu signaled him to be silent, cautiously crouched low, and slowly edged over, going around the bamboo screen. Pei Dan was displeased; for a moment he even felt like killing. Soon he stepped forward too, only to see a man-sized hole in the wall, with the grass below trampled and disordered—clearly someone had come and then run off.
Behind this wall…
Uncle Wu picked up an object from the grass, dusted off the dirt, and presented it to Pei Dan, eyes on his nose, nose on his heart.
It was a blue-green sachet embroidered with orchids and grasses; not long ago he had seen it at Li Fengbing’s waist.
Pei Dan thought it over from several angles, then suddenly gathered his clothes tighter and twisted around. “Let’s go back.”
Uncle Wu saw the back of his neck flush red, spreading all the way to the roots of his ears.
After Fengbing returned to his room, he hurriedly washed and slept, not even hearing Chunshi call him.
He closed his eyes, unwilling to ponder Pei Dan’s words carefully. He had known all along. He knew this was Pei Dan’s territory; he knew he was under Pei Dan’s protection. For more than half a month he had lived in self-deception, and only today had these things come out of Pei Dan’s mouth. Yet what lingered in his mind was the last glance Pei Dan had cast at him—
It seemed to be another side of Pei Dan he had never seen.
The young man’s body was bare and upright, his chest bound with snow-white bandages; his skin and shoulders gleamed with shining droplets amid the mist that wrapped around him. But that glance was deep and dark, tinged with a resolute coldness. In that instant, he believed Pei Dan was capable of killing.
Fengbing found it absurd; he had shared a bed with Pei Dan for three years, yet now he began to doubt whether what he knew was the real Pei Dan.
He thought he was afraid. Even in the darkness he could not help gasping heavily, trying to frighten away the hateful Pei Dan in his heart. But when he truly fell asleep, he unexpectedly had an erotic dream such as never before.
He dreamed of the night eight years ago when he and Pei Dan were newly married.
The dream began in the front hall of Taiji Palace.
Fengbing and Pei Dan both wore bright red ceremonial robes, bearing the seal, ribbons, and treasure box, winding through Chengtian Gate, Jiade Gate, and Taiji Gate into Taiji Hall, where they faced the emperor and performed the grand ceremony. The emperor and empress sat upright at the head; their attire and bearing were solemn and grave, and they carried out each action according to the ritual officer’s intoned cues. Between him and his imperial father were dozens of layers of vermilion steps; the emperor’s splendid crown beads hung down, and Fengbing could not see the face behind them. He only heard his father ask gently:
“This is the newly selected top scholar personally chosen by Us. Look at his essay—do you like it?”
On the Thousand-Step Corridor of the inner palace, his father smiled at him with hands behind his back. In his hands he was still holding Pei Dan’s examination essay, “On Shun Not Killing Xiang”; he answered that he liked it.
Who would not like Pei Dan? He was a youth anyone would fall in love with at a single glance, so proud and luminous.
“No matter how fierce and stubborn Xiang was, Yu Shun did not kill him. This essay ought to be shown to your elder brother.” His father paused, then said to Fengbing, “This top scholar is too sharp-edged; he is unsuitable for anyone. We think it best to give him to you.”
He raised his head, only to find himself already in the Ten Princes’ Compound. In the narrow bedchamber, curtains hung on all four sides; a large bed was laid out in silence; dragons and phoenixes were carved on the nine-branched lamp, and its flames trembled soft and full. In his boredom, he pondered his father’s meaning: perhaps to dampen the Pei family’s arrogance, or perhaps simply to keep Pei Dan from attaching himself to other ambitious princes. Thunder and dew—imperial wrath and favor—were the emperor’s customary means.
In this dynasty, marriages between men were already common, but a top scholar marrying a prince was truly a first; the Taichang officials made quite a few innovations in the ceremonial rites. There were many restraints in the palace, but once outside there were no taboos. Pei Dan’s literary reputation was widespread, and a crowd of busybodies surrounded him, chanting poems and composing prose, pouring wine and playing drinking games. They made their way to the door of the bedchamber, changing rhymes, matching rhymes, setting topics; right at the door Pei Dan won five more in succession, and only then did they finally let him in.
As soon as Pei Dan entered, he shut the peeping guests outside with a bang, then went to pour himself tea, but knocked over several bottles and jars one after another.
A bowl of hangover soup was brought before him; he looked up and saw Fengbing.
Fengbing had just bathed, one hand holding his damp long hair, the other holding the soup bowl. It was an unconscious act of attentiveness, but because of the other’s pause he felt inexplicably flustered; he lowered his head and hurriedly set the soup bowl on the table.
“Thank you,” Pei Dan said hoarsely.
With no one else around, Pei Dan seemed to reveal a hint of weariness. He drank the soup silently, and Fengbing quietly studied him from the side. He had heard many stories of Pei Dan and read many of his poems and essays, but this was the first time he had seriously looked at his face. The youth was half a head taller than him, his brows and eyes distinct as a painting, with a silent light in his eyes; he looked somewhat more mature than his actual age.
He was a handsome stranger.
Pei Dan pressed his forehead, seeming a little more sober, and made to bathe. Fengbing hurriedly brought him clothes.
“…The empress prepared them,” Fengbing said, a little embarrassed himself.
Pei Dan took them, but Fengbing still did not let go for a moment; the two stood stiffly facing each other, fingers each clutching a corner of the clothes, gazing at one another. Pei Dan suddenly asked, “How should I address you?”
Fengbing abruptly turned his face away. “Call me whatever you please.”
Pei Dan’s hand traced upward along the pattern of the folded clothes. Fengbing knew that intertwined branches and twin lotuses were secretly embroidered on them; for some reason, he blushed first.
“Then I’ll call you… Fourth Brother, all right?” Pei Dan thought for a moment and said.
Fengbing was startled and turned back.
The address was somewhat presumptuous, but the drunk Pei Dan did not realize it; he blinked, as if he merely wanted to be a little more intimate with Fengbing.
Fengbing pressed his lips together and said, “As you like.”
Pei Dan smiled, candlelight reflected in his eyes, swaying unsteadily, overturning a room of drunken illusions. He added softly, as if teasing, as if being silly: “Then I’ll go wash myself clean, Fourth Brother.”
Those of you who got dirty thoughts after the last chapter, reflect on yourselves 233