The sky was just turning gray.
In the bluestone alley, Xu Buling walked through drifting snow. Having given away the fox coat, he wore only a white robe, and in the winter-morning wind the cold bit into him from every side. The Dragon-Locking Gu in his body had left him frail and chronically chilled; with the weather against him, the dull ache across his chest and belly was genuinely hard to bear.
Xu Buling picked up the wine gourd and shook it. There had been little enough left to begin with, and he had just poured every drop of it down Ning Qingye's throat. A faint lip print still marked the rim.
"She certainly doesn't hold back..."
Xu Buling hung the gourd back at his waist and walked deeper into the alley to the Sun family's shop. He had not expected to find the old wine banner swaying in the cold wind with the shop door shut fast.
Xu Buling was somewhat surprised. Tradesmen of the marketplace, great or small, were particular about such things: the hour they opened and the hour they shuttered never changed in a lifetime. It was a mark of respect for their customers.
And a famous old establishment like the Sun family's shop went without saying—Shopkeeper Sun had likely never once slept in, nor closed half an hour early, in his whole life.
When a shop kept irregular hours, this was what you got: you came running the moment you badly needed wine, and found the door shut in your face. Nothing to do but stand outside and wait—not even a way to send word ahead.
Xu Buling tucked his hands into his sleeves and waited quietly beneath the wine banner. Surely a man of Shopkeeper Sun's years would not be delayed for long.
Unfortunately, Xu Buling waited until the sky was fully bright and his face had gone blue, and the alley saw one batch of wine customers arrive and another leave, and still Shopkeeper Sun did not come.
Xu Buling frowned slightly and could only tell himself silently: Something must have happened at home.
After that, Xu Buling left the alley, bought a jug of ordinary wine at a tavern, exchanged greetings with the Imperial Guard patrolling the streets, and returned to Prince Yan's estate...
Elsewhere, the sky was only just turning gray.
In a study at Wenqu Court, Song Yufu, dark circles ringed under her eyes, was sorting a pile of xuan paper.
Every day Song Yufu covered the morning recitation for her father. She knew perfectly well those noble young masters would never ask a question, but she still had to go over the day's recitation text carefully in advance, in case someone did ask and she could not answer.
On any other day she would have been up long ago, but last night's Dragon's Roar Poetry Gathering had left her unable to settle. When she learned Heir Xu had been carried off by the assassin, she tossed and turned and could not sleep, and just as weariness finally came over her, the sky grew light.
Worried as she was for Heir Xu's safety, the work still had to be done. Today, besides preparing her lesson, she had to sort the more notable poems from last night's gathering, to be sent into the palace for the Son of Heaven to read.
The present emperor esteemed men of letters. To show how much he valued the students, in his leisure he would also read the poems and lyrics written by Chang'an's young talents, and now and then a word of praise would find its way out of the palace and the poet would become famous on the spot. The talented young men of Chang'an, for their part, set great store by the whole business.
Originally this work belonged to a few old masters of the Imperial College, but her father disliked anything that smacked of chasing fame and profit, so naturally it fell to her. All in all, it was rather pitiful being his daughter.
The drafts sent to the emperor naturally could not be picked at random; if an acrostic or some veiled barb slipped in among them, it was a matter for the executioner's block.
By the light of the oil lamp Song Yufu compared them carefully, but some of the poems were truly painful to look at—take Xiao Ting's "My Chancellor Daddy," for instance. A hopeless mess, and she could not even say a word against it.
After a short while Song Yufu was thoroughly aggravated. She could only pick up a sheet from the side of the desk and study it to wash her eyes.
The unsigned sheet bore the lines "Ten years, and the living and the dead are lost to each other; / I do not think of it, yet cannot forget..." and more besides. Rumor had it that the present emperor was a devoted man himself—after the empress died of illness he had never named another—and if he read this lyric, he would surely be deeply moved.
It was only a pity that Heir Xu had warned her first. Song Yufu certainly did not dare send these few lyrics up; if the emperor's countenance lit with delight and he asked who had written them, it would mean a great deal of trouble.
Song Yufu held the sheet up and read for a while, and the more she looked, the more she felt these lyrics could not possibly have been written for him by someone else. There was no one in all of Great Yue with such literary gifts; and after so long in Heir Xu's company, she had come to feel he kept a great many things hidden. It was not at all impossible that he had written them himself.
But Heir Xu insisted they were copied, and there was nothing Song Yufu could do about it. She could only admire them alone.
From the still, silent lamplight she sat on until the sky grew faintly bright.
Song Yufu had not slept all night, and little by little her head began to nod like a chick pecking at rice. How long it went on she did not know, when all at once a bell sounded outside.
Dong—dong—
Song Yufu jerked awake, her face going dead white with fright in an instant.
The morning bell meant the recitation was beginning; most of the students would already be at the Imperial College. Dazed as she was, she was plainly late.
A teacher is a model for others—being late was no small matter. If her father found out, there was no telling how he would scold her.
"Oh no, oh no..."
Song Yufu scrambled to her feet and ran for the schoolrooms of Wenqu Court, able only to hope her father had not noticed. Those noble young masters never cared about morning recitation, so presumably they would not say much...
Soon enough, the sound of recitation came rolling out of the schoolroom not far off.
A good while later, footsteps came thumping once more toward the study that was meant for the master's rest.
Song Baiqing came quickly along the covered walk with his hands behind his back and entered the study, a young eunuch at his heels wiping the sweat from his forehead and urging him on in a hoarse, rasping voice:
"Master Song, morning court will be letting out in another hour or so. By rights the things meant for the palace should have been at the Imperial College gate a quarter hour ago. I waited and waited and nothing came. If His Majesty takes a notion to have a look in a little while, I'll be the one taking the beating..."
Song Baiqing's brows knit tight. "I know... That girl grows less disciplined the older she gets..." As he spoke he walked into the study and glanced around: no one there, the desk in a mess.
Song Baiqing stepped up to it, eyed the two stacks of poetry drafts, gathered up the better pile, and handed it to the young eunuch.
The young eunuch was one of the present emperor's own attendants. Taking the drafts, he thought for a moment and then asked:
"His Majesty seldom leaves the palace and amuses himself with these things. While I was waiting outside just now, I heard the Imperial College students say that a fine lyric came out of yesterday's Dragon's Roar Poetry Gathering, written by none other than Prince Su's heir. Is it true?"
Song Baiqing's brow furrowed slightly. "Nothing is settled—the students are only guessing. Last night an assassin appeared at the Dragon's Roar Pavilion, and Heir Xu was carried off, his whereabouts unknown. The Investigation Bureau is keeping the news quiet while they search. Best not to stir His Majesty yet."
The young eunuch supposed he was right, asked no more, and hurried out of the Imperial College with the stack of drafts in his arms...
A new week has begun—begging for a few recommendation votes~
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This is getting rather long—from now on I'll post a thank-you chapter once a week!