Chapter 92: It Is Not Easy to Scale the Wall

The lanterns and the sound of hoofbeats were drawing near. Rogan, who had fallen in a miserable heap, already had rain pouring over his brow. His breathing was short and uneasy as he stared at the analytic readout before him, trying to decide what to do.

Yanshan kept looking back. He clambered up the earthen wall with both hands, hauled himself onto it, and called down anxiously, “Guild Master, come up quickly! I’ll catch you!”

“Keep your voice down! Do you want us both caught?” Even as he said it, Rogan kept scanning around, searching for anywhere else they might still run.

Lamb soup had spilled all over the ground. A cat sniffed at the broth, and in the dark its eyes shone with uncanny brightness, like searchlights, leaving Rogan nowhere to hide.

A cat? If only I could be as quick as one. One leap over the wall, and let those soldiers chase the wind!

Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck him.

Three constables arrived at the earthen wall carrying torches. In the firelight, a section of the wall appeared to have collapsed; dirt crashed to the ground, though the damaged area was not large. The leader pinched a bit of the packed earth between his fingers to see whether it was still damp.

“A corner has broken away. Could someone have slipped in to commit a crime?”

“Send someone to take a look first. Search carefully.”

One of the constables turned briskly and soon there was a stir by the gate. After a while, voices were heard speaking.

At the wall, the two constables examined the ground. A cat tiptoed over and lapped at the water on the dirt, drawing their attention.

Looking down, they found it was the scent of lamb soup.

“Isn’t this the lamb soup from Old Yang in our ward?”

He dabbed a bit on his hand and sniffed it. The smell was indeed Old Yang’s handiwork.

The constable who had gone to investigate returned, reporting that the household said no one had slipped in and nothing valuable was missing.

After comparing notes, the constables decided the matter was not serious. Since the people had lost nothing, it was most likely only a stray cat that had climbed the wall to drink the soup and then fallen. Nothing more seemed to have happened, so the three of them left.

Rogan and Yanshan carried the remaining half bowl of lamb soup back to see Jun Tao. It had originally been enough for five, but with the soup spilled and some meat lost, there was now barely enough for three. They shared some with Jun Tao, then called Xiao Zhi and Liu Buwen over, and the three of them finished it comfortably.

The five of them sat together on the couch in Rogan’s room. Rogan sat cross-legged; Jun Tao and Liu Buwen sat kneeling; Yanshan and Xiao Zhi were much less formal, sitting with their legs hanging down.

“Brother Luo, you’ve only just arrived in Chang'an, and already things are this lively!” Xiao Zhi said around a mouthful of grease, his mouth full of meat and his words barely clear.

“Xiao Zhi, you should swallow before you speak. It’s dreadful to look at, and hardly becoming.” Liu Buwen seemed calm on the surface, but his face was full of disgust.

Xiao Zhi shot back, “Heh! I’m not taking any exams, so I don’t care about being proper.”

Jun Tao looked at the bruising on Rogan’s thigh and asked with concern, “Were you hurt? Your leg...”

Yanshan blurted, “Yes, yes, yes, let me tell you—”

Before he could finish, Rogan hurriedly cut him off. “No injury. Nothing at all! Buying a little lamb soup, that’s hardly anything. Easy enough.”

In front of a beauty, Rogan still cared about his pride. He certainly was not about to tell Jun Tao about such an embarrassing scene.

“I just took Xiao Zhi and went sneaking into a few nearby wards under cover of night. I looked at every lantern-lit place and only chose this lamb soup shop in the end. It’s delicious, and very famous!” Rogan boasted before the circle of them, and in that instant his masculine bearing came rushing back. Naturally he had to dress up such a legendary experience.

Jun Tao’s eyes were full of warmth, and Rogan felt drunk before he had even taken a sip. Whether it was true or not no longer seemed important. They had someone fetch wine. There was no good wine to be found that night, only rough, cloudy liquor with a faint astringent smell and a thin greenish film floating on top.

Even so, everyone kept refilling one another’s cups and drinking in high spirits. After several rounds, Xiao Zhi collapsed into a deep sleep on the couch. Liu Buwen, drunk, went back to his room to read by lamplight. As for Yanshan, he sprawled in all directions on Rogan’s mat and somehow slept in the wrong place altogether.

Rogan had not drunk much. He only kept everyone else drinking. In real life, Li Chuang’s alcohol tolerance was so poor that one drink was enough to make him flush red as an actor onstage, so he never dared overindulge. Jun Tao had also barely drunk at all. Holding a peach blossom fan, she gazed off into the distance.

“Jun Tao, meeting you was probably just a rather interesting accident at first. But now it seems we really were meant to meet.”

Jun Tao nodded but did not answer.

“I’ve asked more than once where that peach blossom fan came from, but every time the answer still wasn’t clear.” Rogan raised his cup, ready to drink.

“You really have had too much,” Jun Tao said with a smile. She reached out and stopped the cup he was about to drink from. “A wandering poet gave it to me once. He said it was a gift, and that I would meet the person fate had intended for me.”

Rogan took the peach blossom fan and studied it again. A peach blossom fan from the old tale of Cui Hu, somehow fallen into this early age, whether ominous or auspicious he could not say. But at the very least, it had brought Jun Tao and him together, and that did not seem like a bad thing.

“How is your dance practice going? How much longer until the competition?”

At that, Jun Tao’s expression immediately turned troubled.

“Say what you mean. What is it?”

“Actually, I asked you here because of that. I heard your Bamboo Grove Grand Guild can help with anything, right?”

Rogan nodded, but inwardly he felt a little uneasy. It was the first time he had seen Jun Tao speak so seriously.

“I want you to help me put together a dance piece. I know absolutely nothing about dancing.”

“Then why would they let you compete? That’s like sending you straight into a pit of fire.”

“By the time a message reaches me, I don’t know what is true anymore. They said it was the Emperor’s decree that you should take part. How could I go and confirm that with the Emperor himself? What if I refuse and end up accused of disobeying orders and deceiving the throne? What would I do then...”

Rogan lowered his head. “That... yes. What you say does make sense. I’ve never had any contact with dance music before, so it is a little...”

He raised his head, only to find Jun Tao looking at him with such tenderness that his heart softened and the rest of his words failed him.

“A little uncertain, I suppose. I’ll think carefully about how to help you.”

Only then did her face brighten, like a crescent moon set into a face of clear jade.

“That’s wonderful. I can play the zither too, so I can be of use!”

“Don’t tell me it’s the Guangling Melody?”

“Exactly.”

At the memory of that day, when the flowers were offering their talents and Jun Tao’s zither had ruled the hall, Rogan’s old fear returned at once. Even now the aftersound seemed still to linger in his ears. That music was almost avant-garde, a kind of nuclear blast aimed at every eardrum in the world. If one called it beauty, then it was a different aesthetic altogether, one that could shatter stone and startle heaven. Every extra note was a test of endurance.

“Still, Jun Tao, your zither really is beautiful. But since this is a dance contest, our main focus has to be the dancing. I’ve never seen you dance before. Could you show me one?”

Jun Tao nodded, stood up, shook out the hems of her robes, and began to dance. Rogan watched her in a daze. Her turning figure was like a spinning top, her stiff motions like a popsicle frozen in winter, her coy, twisting steps coiling like a snake. When the dance ended, it was a sight that struck the soul.

Jun Tao asked, “How is it? Do we have a chance?”

Her rigid dance had left Rogan’s smile stiffening little by little.

“A chance? Are we really still talking about that?”