Chapter 24#

Amid the Boundless Sea of Lanterns#

Standing beneath the Rainproof Pavilion to greet the guests, Pei Dan wore a jinxian crown on his head, a crimson ceremonial robe embroidered with the five emblems, a purple sash and a golden sword at his waist, a water-jade pendant at his hip, cinnabar-trimmed red boots on his feet. Grand and resplendent. Before Fengbing had even drawn near, he already felt as though he were looking at a coral tree blazing with rare and precious light.

The higher the rank of one’s official uniform, the more imposing the authority it carried. But this young man was breathtakingly beautiful — tall and slender, with features so fine they seemed sculpted, sword-swept eyebrows rising to his temples lending an air of righteous integrity, yet eyes that curved upward with unmistakable tenderness. Whenever that clear, shimmering gaze swept over, one always forgot just how powerful an official he was.

Upon catching sight of Fengbing, Pei Dan’s brow creased ever so slightly.

Yuan Jiulin hurried forward first, whispering a few words to the Ministry of Rites officials before bowing and scraping before Pei Dan. Two female attendants then emerged, escorting the Prince of Zhao into the pavilion, while another pair came to invite Fengbing, guiding him down a different path.

Watching that elegant figure vanish at the end of the road, Yuan Jiulin tucked his hands into his sleeves and bent slightly at the waist. “The Emperor spoke with Master Li today, saying he wants to help him clear his name.”

Pei Dan lifted his eyes. A flicker of light darted across them.

Yuan Jiulin continued, “But from behind the screens, I also heard Master Li say to the Prince of Zhao that he wishes to return to Laozhou as soon as possible.”

Pei Dan raised his hand and slowly adjusted his cuff. “Mm.” Yuan Jiulin couldn’t read his meaning. A moment later, however, he heard Pei Dan say, “I’ll arrange it. Either way, it’s barely more than a month — tell him to be magnanimous and endure just a little longer.”

Yuan Jiulin answered, “Yes.”

He had never presumed to comment on Chancellor Pei’s methods. The Chancellor kept a low profile, but in truth, everyone from within and without Chang’an to high and low within the court was largely his man — whatever he wished to accomplish could be done with the flick of a finger. This was precisely why the Emperor feared him. The authority the late Emperor had vested in him had long since rivaled that of a chief minister, and when the Emperor ascended the throne last year, all he could do was go with the flow, permitting Pei Dan to serve as Zhongshu Menxia Pingzhangshi — a grand councillor.

Yuan Jiulin had assumed Chancellor Pei and Li Fengbing had already reached an understanding, for over these five years, the Chancellor and the Laozhou administration had maintained a steady exchange of correspondence. But when Li Fengbing was summoned to Chang’an, it seemed everything was not quite what it appeared. Since early spring, Chancellor Pei had been laying the groundwork for Li Fengbing’s exoneration — the Three Departments had unearthed every old document from the Crown Prince Youke case, the inner palace had retrieved a wealth of classified archives. Now even the Emperor had been roused to action, intent on preemptively winning Li Fengbing’s allegiance…

How could all of that effort simply be called to a halt?

Yuan Jiulin finally dared one more question: “You mean to…”

“Let him go back,” Pei Dan said.

Yuan Jiulin panicked. “But the late Emperor’s dying command—!”

Pei Dan turned his head, gazing out over the vast, mist-shrouded expanse of the Taiye Pool. The air had grown damp after nightfall, and the wind hung low and heavy. His robes billowed as if in a gentle breeze, but upon closer inspection it was nothing more than cold waves of light rippling across the fabric, washing all his brilliant splendor into a silent, monochrome black.

“The late Emperor’s dying command,” he said, “was ultimately that he live happily and in peace.”

Fengbing followed the female attendants a dozen paces before raising his head to find a small palace room temporarily repurposed as the Dressing Pavilion, and only then did he understand Pei Dan’s intention. He stepped inside. The attendants first set up a folding screen, then presented a set of new clothes, saying, “This servant will help Master Li change.”

It was an outer robe of pale green, lined with thick cotton, yet when shaken open it still caught the wind with a satisfying snap. The collar was embroidered with a branch of white plum blossoms in stitching so fine it was nearly invisible. The silk had the sheen of moonlit waves, slippery and elusive under the hand — clearly a luxury beyond market value. Fengbing shed the robe soiled by the Crown Prince’s mishap and donned the new one. The cut was tailored precisely to his frame; the white plum blossoms circled his chest and cascaded down into his sash, lending him an air of effortless grace. The attendants then added a dark cloak, remarking that the night wind by the Taiye Pool was cold.

He asked, “Were these all prepared by the Ministry of Rites?”

An attendant replied, “Eunuch Yuan had them prepared by the Directorate of Ceremonial. These are old garments from the Directorate’s stores. Later, Eunuch Yuan will send someone to collect them back from you.”

Fengbing’s face flushed crimson. The attendant’s expression had been perfectly calm, yet he couldn’t help but feel deeply embarrassed.

Once dressed, Fengbing followed the ceremonial officers to his seat. The floor space of the Rainproof Pavilion was modest, so the banquet spilled out into the open — lanterns wound in spirals along the northeastern shore of the Taiye Pool, and music gradually began to play. After the guests had waited a short while, the Emperor, Empress, and Crown Prince all arrived, and the imperial banquet officially commenced.

Pei Dan was below the pavilion, under the shade of the trees, organizing the banquet. He couldn’t eat or drink himself; ceremonial officers and eunuchs around him assisted. By the third round of wine, everyone was tipsy, yet the Emperor still hadn’t departed, and so all could only force themselves to remain attentive. Suddenly, Xuanhui Envoy Meng Chao’en descended from the Rainproof Pavilion, beckoning to Pei Dan: “Chancellor Pei — the Emperor summons you!”

Pei Dan hastily set down what he was doing, lifting his hem to climb up, then hesitated and picked up a golden wine cup. Entering the pavilion, he first knelt and kowtowed, wishing the Emperor longevity.

Li Fengtao smiled and told him to dispense the formalities. Empress Cui even ordered a cushion brought for him, thanking the Ministry of Rites for their tireless preparations throughout the evening. Below them, the Prince of Zhao smoothly chimed in: “Chancellor Pei has indeed worked hard. We should all toast him a cup.” Saying so, he waved for those around him to rise. Pei Dan hurriedly stood as well.

This cup of wine was a return toast on behalf of the imperial household. Emperor and Empress both watched with pleased smiles. The little Crown Prince gnawed on a drumstick, then lifted his head, his eyes wandering blankly among the assembled officials and nobles. Suddenly they locked onto one person: “You haven’t drunk.”

That person was Fengbing. Startled by the Crown Prince’s interruption, the wine he had barely sipped nearly came up his throat. He raised his sleeve to conceal his composure, and after a moment presented his cup to the prince. “This commoner has finished drinking. Please see, Your Highness.”

The little Crown Prince hauled himself upright on his seat and stared intently for a long while, then declared, “I don’t believe you. Toast him another cup.”

This was clearly retaliation for the afternoon’s events. A stubborn child’s willfulness — perhaps he had cried hard enough earlier, for now his eyes were tinged red as he glared at Fengbing, radiating a streak of spiteful resentment. The Emperor sat unmoved. In front of the family he might still spank the child, but at a state banquet under the eyes of all, he had to give the little heir apparent some face.

A palace eunuch refilled Fengbing’s cup. He wasn’t afraid of drinking — it was merely the awkwardness of being stared at by everyone. His skin was thin, and the blush spreading across his cheeks could easily be mistaken for intoxication. He had no choice but to walk to the edge of the pavilion, before Pei Dan, and raise his cup with sleeves gathered.

“This commoner toasts Chancellor Pei — may your guests always fill your seats, and may your cups never run dry.”

Pei Dan blinked, momentarily startled. Then he turned sideways, raising his wide sleeves high, and offered a solemn, formal bow, raising his cup in return to meet Fengbing’s.

The soft clink of metal against metal sounded hollow and vague, making the golden cup seem like a shoddy counterfeit. Fengbing didn’t look at Pei Dan’s face. He only watched those long, elegant fingers holding up the cup — and noticed a slash of a knife scar across the knuckle of the index finger, the wound still white, seemingly very fresh.

Pei Dan said gently: “Then let me wish Master Li — may you obtain your heart’s desire, and may all things go smoothly for you.”

This story will be roughly 150–200k characters total, so it’s not very long~ The Emperor is what he is, no need to dwell on him too much — feel free to pay more attention to Fengbing’s little schemes (not really)

The chapter title “Rain Past the River’s Source” comes from Li Shangyin’s “Three Poems of Bicheng, No. 1”: “Stars sink beneath the sea, visible through the window; rain passes the river’s source, seen across the seat.” The original couplet has multiple interpretations. My understanding follows the Qing-dynasty Tangshi Guchu Pingzhu: “Thus one yearns for that person as for a star sunk into the sea, invisible — yet visible through the window; as for rain that has passed beyond the river’s source, though it may be seen, one cannot draw near across the seat.” The “river” refers to the Milky Way, and the “rain” may allude to intimate love (a classical euphemism). Simply put: the past is gone, and even if you meet again, you can only gaze at each other from across the seat.