Chapter 82: Welcoming the New Year

The Tang people did not have the term "Spring Festival"; the day marking the new year was called "Sui Day," and the preceding evening was New Year's Eve.

On New Year's Eve, families gathered together, every household adorned with lanterns and festive decorations, everyone drinking and celebrating, keeping watch through the night. Tables were laden with delicacies that were usually too precious to even glance at. Especially in Jixian Lane, where prosperous families resided, everyone donned new and elegant attire, smiling broadly as they exchanged greetings with neighbors, sharing the gains and losses of the past year. Even old petty squabbles were set aside, hearts filled only with joy.

In previous years, Qingqing would chatter endlessly, directing Yu Lang to sweep the courtyard and hang lanterns. Afterwards, the two would sit beneath the bright moon in the courtyard, talking into the night—mostly Qingqing pleading for Yu Lang to tell her pleasant stories, and only after midnight would they raise a ruckus before settling down.

Now, Yu Lang sat alone before the front gate, the stone table holding half a luminous pearl left by Qingqing and cup after cup of wine, keeping vigil in solitude.

Obaba entered cheerfully, arms laden with gifts. “Mrs. Wang is so generous! Knowing our household is quiet and lacking New Year's provisions, she sent me so many presents I couldn't carry them all.”

With that, he bustled about in the courtyard. Though Obaba hailed from a foreign land, he had long considered himself one of the Tang people. Once, he only admired the grandeur of the Tang Empire; now, he genuinely cherished the peace and happiness found there.

Lin Shuisheng grumbled as he handed over a robe, thrusting it into Yu Lang's arms. “Here, a new year needs new clothes. My sister made this robe for you, so hurry and put it on. She didn’t dare take your measurements, so she used your old clothes as a guide. It might not fit perfectly—if it’s uncomfortable, just bear it for a day. She put a lot of effort into this… at least let her be happy for one night.”

Lin Shuisheng’s tone was gruff at first, but his final words carried a plaintive plea. The fearless youth, after all, cared deeply for his sister.

Yu Lang unfolded the robe and glanced at it, noticing it was the same style as Lin Shuisheng’s, only a size larger. Clearly, Hongchou regarded Yu Lang as family. The thought moved him. He shook out the robe, expressed his delight, and went inside to change.

Crafting a robe is a meticulous task. Even if the size is correct, there are subtle details that must be attended to, otherwise it is uncomfortable to wear. Yet Hongchou’s workmanship was impeccable—the robe fit Yu Lang perfectly, allowing him to bend and turn freely, proof of her thoughtful care.

“Where’s my master? Why isn’t he here to celebrate with me?” Lin Shuisheng, who had not yet visited Mount Wanxiang, had already begun to miss his master, Li Bi.

Yu Lang smiled. “He’s probably stuck in the library of the Moon-Washing Academy, scratching his head in frustration.”

Yu Lang produced the prepared New Year’s gift for Lin Shuisheng. “Keep these safe. Your master Li Bi’s gift is included as well.”

Among the many gifts, Lin Shuisheng favored the majestic sword most. Drawing it from its sheath, he swung it about wildly, muttering to himself, feeling as though he were already a heroic swordsman commanding the world.

“Master, the wind is strong outside. Have a bowl of hot soup to warm your stomach.” Hongchou, too, had changed into new clothes and headwear, her face untouched by powder yet still fresh and lovely, bearing a resemblance to Ning Xiaoyu.

Yu Lang took the soup, drinking a couple of mouthfuls, nodding in approval. “This soup is finely prepared. Ah, and didn’t I tell you not to call me ‘master’ anymore? I dislike such distinctions—just call me Yu Lang.”

Hongchou shook her head firmly. “Hongchou is a servant of the Yu household for life. My only wish is to care for you, to guard the home for Sister Qingqing. I dare not overstep my bounds. The word ‘friend’ is too extravagant for me—please forgive me, master.”

Yu Lang understood Hongchou’s intention. She wished to repay her debt of gratitude without hurting Qingqing, so she set boundaries herself, leaving no room for ambiguity. This woman possessed the spirit of a knight. Knowing her heart, Yu Lang did not insist further.

At midnight, the great bell in the city tolled three times, marking the arrival of the new year.

Snow began to fall heavily, prompting Yu Lang to return indoors.

Suddenly, a lively group approached, holding lanterns and knocking at the door. At the forefront were Xie Zhiqian and Li Dahuo.

“Brother Lang, may you enjoy new blessings and long life!” Dressed in splendid attire, Xie Zhiqian performed the New Year’s greeting, presenting well-wishes. He was, after all, the son of a noble family, making quite a display with many attendants in tow.

Xue Wenyang had returned to Gaoyou for the holiday. Xie Zhiqian and Li Dahuo, having finished New Year’s vigil with their elders, came together to find Yu Lang.

With their arrival, the hall became lively. Lin Shuisheng, who had been drowsy, perked up, joining them in a game of backgammon. Hongchou and Obaba busied themselves attending to Xie Zhiqian’s entourage, distributing copper coins for luck to each attendant.

“Brother Lang, I want to follow you to Chang’an. Without you, Yangzhou just isn’t any fun,” Xie Zhiqian said casually, tossing a dried fruit into his mouth.

Yu Lang paused, for he had been meaning to ask his brothers about their wishes, but Xie Zhiqian brought it up first.

“What about you, Brother Hu?” he asked.

Li Dahuo replied with some regret, “I’ll have to go to Chang’an later than you. Some matters remain unsettled. At the latest, by this time next year, I’ll come to find you in Chang’an.”

Yu Lang was moved. “Brother Hu, if you run into trouble, you must tell me. Don’t bear it alone. Even if I can’t help, we still have Li Bi, the wandering Daoist among us.”

Yu Lang had sensed lately that Li Dahuo was concealing something, and knowing his stubborn nature, worried he might face difficulties alone.

“Yes, Brother Hu, and don’t forget me! I am Xie Zhiqian, famed throughout Jiangnan for my family’s Cloud-Observing Sword,” Xie Zhiqian declared, laughing at his own bravado.

“Haha, I still remember when we first met at the Self-Reflection Pavilion in the Moon-Washing Academy. Xie Zhiqian was such a stick-in-the-mud. What did Brother Lang say back then—‘new wine in old bottles; young in age, old at heart.’ Who’d have thought you’d be the one making jokes now?” Li Dahuo laughed.

“Exactly! We’re not the same as three years ago. Back then, Brother Lang loved to show off his literary talent, Brother Hu was always brooding, Dai Yang liked to flaunt his agility, Zhang Chengxing…”

At the mention of Zhang Chengxing, their eyes dimmed.

Li Dahuo, ever the peacemaker, said, “Enough, let’s end the madness here for tonight. Xue Wenyang went to Gaoyou this time to bid farewell to his family, and he’ll join you in Chang’an. I’ll reunite with you in Chang’an in a year. When you all become princes and ministers, don’t forget me—haha!”

Li Dahuo left Jixian Lane, glancing back at the Yu residence, uncertain whether the next time he saw Yu Lang would be in life or death, and if alive, whether as friend or foe.

In his palm, he held an ancient Xiaoyun coin.

On the first day of the third year of Tianbao, "year" was renamed "cycle."