Chapter 9#

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” Pei Dan’s voice had already weakened, yet he still opened his eyes and spoke bare-faced lies. “Now that you’ve come to Chang’an, everyone knows there’s something between us.”#

Feng Bing took a few deep breaths, swallowing the cough that threatened to rise, and spoke slowly again:

“Pei Yunwang, you were raised in a prestigious family, studying diligently and toiling over your books. One day you achieved top honors on the imperial examinations. You had your own grand ambitions and far-reaching plans. I was never in favor back then, and was even thrown into prison. You didn’t want to be dragged down by me—I don’t blame you for that. But—”

“—You don’t blame me?” Pei Dan interrupted abruptly.

Feng Bing pressed his lips together.

The light in Pei Dan’s eyes gradually turned cold. It was as if the child who had just leapt from his chest was shoved back inside once more, and he raised the majestic, inviolable barriers of the reigning Chancellor of the current dynasty.

A hissing sound rose as the water in the small red stove boiled for a second time. Pei Dan returned to his desk and sat down, sweeping his robe aside, re-steeping the tea with practiced grace and fluidity.

He was an elegant, refined young man. When he did such things, his sincere and gentle bearing had always been captivating. Feng Bing watched him with an unsteady gaze. After a long moment, he sat back down as well.

“What are your thoughts on Xiang Chong’s case?” Pei Dan asked, though.

Feng Bing was caught off guard.

Pei Dan waited composedly for an answer.

“He…” Feng Bing gauged Pei Dan’s tone. “Perhaps he simply ran into bandits by chance. Or perhaps… he died because of me.”

Pei Dan raised an eyebrow. “So you did know.”

Feng Bing gritted his teeth.

“Your arrival in Chang’an—countless people are watching you with predatory eyes in the dark.” Pei Dan lifted the charming, pudgy white porcelain kettle and leisurely poured the boiling water. “Some believe there are still remnant factions of Crown Prince Youke alive, and they suspect you. Others are themselves remnants of Crown Prince Youke’s faction—but they hate you. Back then, thousands of the Crown Prince’s partisans were all executed. You alone survived, and survived well.”

Feng Bing stared at the thin, pale column of water in confusion, saying nothing.

Pei Dan raised his gaze. His long lashes curled like the edge of a cold smile. “That Feng Cheng, who knows what kind of headache he thought he had—perhaps he believed he could bite out evidence of your treason from a single skirt. But he had indeed grasped the Emperor’s suspicious nature well. At the very least, I wouldn’t dare report this case upward.”

Feng Bing said: “Should I thank you?”

“You should hate me.” Pei Dan shook his head. “It was I who had the Emperor summon you back to the capital.”

This was entirely beyond Feng Bing’s expectations. He could not hide the look of shock on his face, tinged even with a sliver of resentment.

He had been living perfectly well in Laozhou—why drag him back into Chang’an’s maelstrom?

“Let me guess.” Pei Dan tapped his chin with a folding fan, half-smiling. “You must be thinking to yourself: I was living perfectly well in Laozhou—why drag me back into Chang’an’s maelstrom?”

Feng Bing’s eyes widened. In this moment, his agitated emotions seemed to lend a flicker of life to his otherwise lifeless gaze, but he didn’t know how to curse, and could only press out through clenched resolve: “You… you’re meddling in things that aren’t your business.”

“Last year the late Emperor passed away. That would have been the most fitting time for you to return, but matters got in the way and delayed it.” Pei Dan nudged the teacup gently toward him, then scoffed at his expression. “You think Laozhou is safe? Towering mountains, steep ravines, miasma running rampant—the surrounding tribes are fierce and menacing. If anyone wanted to harm you, it would take absolutely no effort at all. Think about it yourself—have you ever encountered danger?”

Feng Bing didn’t want to think about it at all. He felt muddled, and didn’t even want to drink the tea, because the tea was brewed by Pei Dan. “Coming to Chang’an would be just as dangerous. I’d also have to endure people’s insults—and yours, especially. What good does that do me?”

Pei Dan was silent.

The fragrance of the tea leaves unfurled into the air. Tender green buds spread open in the water like the bright moon above a jade stream.

“Yes. It does you no good.” Pei Dan admitted it at last. “It’s all for my own benefit. I’m the one who’s meddling. I simply wanted to call you from south to north, deliver you right to my doorstep to be insulted by me. Is that all right?”

He had given up on explaining. His words tumbled out in careless, self-abandoned abandon. Feng Bing couldn’t take it any longer and rose to leave. Pei Dan didn’t stop him. Feng Bing opened the door himself, only to come face-to-face with the old servant walking over. Both froze momentarily.

The old servant bowed hastily. “Has Young Master Li finished your discussion? Lord Pei has prepared lunch—may I ask the young master to come along to Weiyue Pavilion for the meal?”

The wind and snow struck Feng Bing full in the face, jolting him into a clearer state of mind. He realized he had lost composure, but it didn’t matter—Pei Dan’s words just now had been even more out of line than his own. He turned his head. Pei Dan had already put on an outer robe and risen to standing, as if he had been looking at him all along, but at the very moment Feng Bing turned, his gaze drifted away, cool and distant.

“Lord Pei is truly so thoughtful.” Feng Bing said with biting sarcasm.

But the old servant seemed not to understand. “Indeed! When Lord Pei heard the young master was coming, he sent me to fetch renowned chefs from the restaurants outside to prepare a proper feast for you. Ordinarily, Lord Pei lives simply—at lunch he and I would just boil some vegetables casually, nothing more…”

“Wearing brocade to walk at night—and who are you showing off for?” Feng Bing laughed coldly.

The old servant finally understood that the atmosphere between the two was off. He fell silent, casting an imploring glance toward the room’s interior.

Pei Dan finally emerged. He held two umbrellas, and handed one to Feng Bing. Feng Bing silently reached out and took it. Pei Dan then walked ahead on his own.

Feng Bing opened the umbrella and saw a red plum blossom painted on its surface. Snow fell upon it, blazing and dazzling against the white. He followed behind Pei Dan.

They walked out of the garden, around the pond, past three successive courtyards, and arrived at the main gate.

Feng Bing had by now steadied himself. By the stone lion at the gate, he returned the umbrella to Pei Dan. “Thank you, Lord Pei, for seeing me out this far. Please don’t trouble yourself further.” As he spoke, he drew up his hood. The snow-white fur brushed against his cheek. He exhaled softly, and the puff of breath sent the downy fibers dancing lightly in the air.

At a distance neither near nor far, Pei Dan gazed at him. The unguarded look in his eyes made Feng Bing uncomfortable. He didn’t know whether, among all the divorced couples in this world, anyone truly looked at each other this way.

“About what happened five years ago…” Pei Dan opened his mouth, his voice rough and dry. “I’m sorry. I never imagined you’d actually be implicated in a major case. Otherwise—otherwise I wouldn’t have divorced you.”

Feng Bing shrugged with apparent ease: “I know.”

It was a very old story, the kind every storyteller in the marketplace told the same way.

To say that Pei Dan divorced him—either he had the foresight to see what was coming, or he struck the fortune of a lifetime.

Pei Dan seemed to want to say more, but at that very moment, a carriage passed before the gate. The person inside pushed aside the curtain and called out in startlement: “Young Master Li?—Ah, Lord Pei!”

It was Chen Qiu. He immediately called the driver to stop and was about to step down to pay his respects. But Feng Bing felt as though he had been rescued from drowning—a long breath escaped him, and the first genuine smile of the day spread across his face. “Prefect Chen! Would it be convenient for me to ride along?”

Before Chen Qiu could react, Feng Bing had already gripped the carriage shaft and was climbing up. Chen Qiu hastily reached out to steady him. Seeing snow on his clothes, he casually brushed it off. The carriage curtain clattered down, and Chen Qiu had to open the window instead. He called back to Pei Dan: “Then we’ll take our leave first, Lord Pei. Stay well!”

Pei Dan smiled faintly and inclined his head. The window shut once more.

Heaven and earth slowly returned to their vast, silent stillness.

Uncle Wu waited for him behind the gate.

Pei Dan strolled over. Uncle Wu said: “My lord… lunch?”

Pei Dan smiled. “Let’s go—to Weiyue Pavilion.”

In the past he had pitied the dimness of the lamp; now he only feared the brightness of the moon.

Li Baiyao, “A Verse on Fireflies, Shown to My Beloved”:

“In the room I pitied the dimness of the lamp;

Before the steps I feared the brightness of the moon.

Not that I mind braving the heavy dew—

Only for the sake of flying through the long night.”

The title of this chapter is taken from “Plant thorns and you get thorns; plant peach and plum trees and you get shade.” Lu Xun once wrote, “Those who plant peonies get flowers; those who plant caltrops get thorns.”