047. A Night Visit

The old gatekeeper, Gu, was well past his sixties. His eyes were blurry with age. When he saw Li Xi carrying someone on his back, he was so shocked that he stood gaping for quite some time before he could utter a word. Once he realized that the person slung over Li Xi’s shoulder was Mu Yaxin, he hurried to throw on a sheepskin jacket, fetched a lantern, and led the way for Li Xi, puffing along as he walked and asking with concern, “What has happened to Madam? What’s wrong, Madam? Should I fetch a physician?”

Mu Yaxin’s face flushed crimson with embarrassment, and she buried her head on Li Xi’s shoulder, not daring to make a sound. Li Xi replied with a laugh, “There’s nothing wrong. It’s just a touch of lovesickness—I’ll cure her myself.” It took Old Gu a long while to figure out what “lovesickness” meant. Once he understood, he stopped in his tracks, raised the lantern higher to light their path, and watched the two go on before shaking his head and returning to his own quarters.

They rushed all the way to the small study in the back garden. Li Xi ordered the spotted dog Huahua to wait outside the door, then hastily laid Mu Yaxin on the bed, fumbling to undress and untie his sash in his eagerness, his hands trembling with excitement and nerves. Yet the knot wouldn’t come undone no matter how he struggled, and he cursed under his breath, face turning red.

Mu Yaxin reached out to help, saying, “Let me do it.”

Li Xi pushed her down, saying, “That’s not necessary.”

With a swish, he drew a small knife from his boot and sliced the sash apart. Mu Yaxin gasped in alarm, “Oh heavens, that sash was worth five strings of coins!” Li Xi toyed with the knife in one hand and flung the halved sash aside with the other, grinning wickedly, “What’s five strings of coins? For you, my dear, I’d cast aside even a golden belt worth a thousand pieces of gold.”

With that, he tossed away the knife and sash, stripped off his clothes, and climbed onto the bed, crawling toward Mu Yaxin. To play along with her licentious husband’s bravado, the young woman deliberately crossed her arms over her chest, curled herself into a tight ball in the corner of the bed, shivering with feigned fear.

Li Xi paused and retreated a foot or so, saying, “This won’t do. When faced with a lecher, you should at least cry out a bit before giving in.”

“Ah, ah,” Mu Yaxin let out two perfunctory cries.

“Too fake! How can I be inspired with such lackluster cries? Once more.”

“Ah!” Mu Yaxin squeezed her eyes shut and, using all her strength, let out a piercing scream.

“Haha… Little lady, here I come.” Li Xi’s “demonic claw” reached for Mu Yaxin’s chin, her rosy cheeks and red lips right before him.

Suddenly, Huahua, the dog standing guard outside, barked furiously twice and then growled low. Immediately after, someone shrieked, “Ow! Whose dog is this, letting it run loose to bite people in the middle of the night? Let go! Let go! Hey, you half-tailed, spotted beast…”

The voice was very familiar—it was Zhao Xiao. Li Xi’s heart blazed with anger. That damned old eunuch had learned where he lived and came to disturb him early in the morning, and now, at this crucial moment, he was here again. Li Xi stormed outside in fury, not even bothering to put on his shoes. Mu Yaxin hurried over and clung to his waist, asking, “Is it that old eunuch from Prince E’s household again?”

Li Xi replied irritably, “Who else could it be?”

Mu Yaxin said, “For him to come at such an hour, it must be urgent. Don’t lose your temper with him; talk properly.” She helped Li Xi put on his robe, found him a new sash, and squatted down to help him pull on his boots, quickly tidying him up.

Her gentle words softened him. Li Xi patted her head and smiled, “Don’t worry. I know how to handle it.”

He straightened his clothes and stepped out. Zhao Xiao, the steward eunuch from Prince E’s residence, was limping toward him—at first, Li Xi thought the dog had bitten him, but then he saw that Huahua the dog was gripping Zhao Xiao’s trouser leg and wouldn’t let go, so Zhao Xiao had no choice but to drag the dog along.

“Brother Zhao, you truly are a busy man. Tell me, with martial law this strict, how did you manage to come in the dead of night? Aren’t you afraid the guards will catch you for violating curfew and beat you?”

“Hey, do you think I want to come? I had no choice! Sorry for interrupting your fun again. I’ll come apologize to you and Madam later. For now, you must come with me.”

Zhao Xiao turned to leave but stopped after a few steps, pleading, “Could you call off your house guardian, please? I’m really afraid of it now.”

Li Xi pointed at the dog and commanded, “You mutt, Zhao the Eunuch is our honored guest. Apologize!”

Huahua glanced at Li Xi, let go of Zhao Xiao’s trouser leg, and squatted down, its shiny black eyes darting about. Suddenly, it stood up on its hind legs and “bowed” repeatedly to Zhao Xiao in apology, startling him so much he exclaimed, “Goodness, what an extraordinary little beast! Loyal and well-trained—I expect you’ll have your day!”

Li Xi asked, “So late at night, what does Prince E want with me?”

Zhao Xiao replied, “Don’t ask, and don’t feel wronged for being called out at this hour. Blame yourself. I don’t know what you said to Master Zhu this morning, but he’s been locked in his room all day as if possessed, writing and writing, not eating or drinking tea. In the end, he went mad, hair disheveled, muttering nonstop—one moment this wouldn’t do, the next, that might work. The prince asked him questions, but he wouldn’t answer. The prince was so worried, and when he asked Wen’er, he learned it all started after you spoke with him. The prince said, ‘This began with Yang Zan; bring him here. If he can’t cure the master, I’ll deal with him myself.’ That’s why I came to fetch you. Enough talk—let’s go!”

Hearing this, Li Xi had no choice but to wave Huahua back to escort Mu Yaxin inside, then followed Zhao Xiao out, dejected.

Passing through the second gate, they saw Old Gu, the gatekeeper, carrying a lantern and shuffling in. Zhao Xiao knocked and said a friend of Yang Zan had urgent business. Old Gu, muddleheaded, let him in. But when he turned to announce the visitor to the young master, Zhao Xiao had vanished. Old Gu spun around with his lantern, thinking his eyes were playing tricks. When he opened the door and saw two people standing outside, he realized he hadn’t been mistaken—there really was someone seeking the young master.

So the old man calmly put on his sheepskin jacket, took the lantern, and headed to the rear garden to deliver the message, not knowing Li Xi had already left with Zhao Xiao. When he met Zhao Xiao, he scolded, “You really don’t know your manners, barging in like that.”

Zhao Xiao replied, “Hey, I was in a hurry, wasn’t I?”

Li Xi waved Old Gu aside, saying, “Enough, we’re all family here.” Seeing Li Xi about to go out, Old Gu said with concern, “It’s almost the third watch. Be careful not to get caught violating curfew, young sir.”

Zhao Xiao snorted dismissively, “Curfew? That depends on who you are. If anyone dares stop someone from Prince E’s residence, I’ll beat them to death.”

Old Gu, old and nearly blind, with little knowledge and poor memory, had already forgotten Zhao Xiao’s visit in the morning. Hearing he was from Prince E’s household, he was startled into silence.

Outside Yang’s residence, two young attendants in blue held palace lanterns and led two fine horses, with a ward constable waiting in the distance. Li Xi recognized him as the guard of the South Gate, now bowing and trembling with fear.

“Privilege really is something,” Li Xi mused, glancing at the anxious constable, but then cursed inwardly, “Damn it, I despise all privilege.”

In truth, Master Zhu wasn’t in any real danger; he’d simply been too absorbed in composing “Nine Dragons’ Play,” so tense and excited that his weak constitution gave way under the strain, leading him to a nervous breakdown.

Upon meeting, Li Xi didn’t hesitate—he swung his arm and slapped Master Zhu twice.

Slap! Slap! The sharp sound of palm meeting cheek echoed through the opulent hall of Prince E’s mansion.

“Why did you hit him?!” Zhu Yu’s female assistant glared at Li Xi, her brows knitted like a little flower in distress. Li Xi, comparing her to Mu Yaxin in his mind, found her inferior and, pleased with himself, grew even more annoyed. He sneered, “What’s with the fuss? I’m saving him.”

“Saving him?” The assistant was momentarily stunned, then even angrier. “Nonsense! If something happens to him, I’ll… I’ll…”

Li Xi waved her off, saying lightly, “Fine, if he doesn’t wake up, you can take it out on me later.”

Master Zhu stared dully at Li Xi for a long moment before his eyes regained their light. “Oh, you’re here—just in time. I’ve finished the play, wrote it all in one go, the words flowing like a spring, unstoppable, truly exhilarating! All thanks to your advice. I thought my reputation was finished, but it turns out to be my crowning achievement. Wonderful!”

He basked in self-satisfaction for a moment before frowning slightly. “The last scene poses a bit of a problem. When the nine dragon princes offer birthday congratulations to His Majesty, should they line up in a long snake formation, or use the two-dragons-emerge formation, or perhaps the tripod or fish-scale formation? Empty hands seem inappropriate—should they carry something? Longevity peaches, golden fruits, lingzhi, or cooked pig heads…”

“Take out the peaches, golden fruit, lingzhi, and pig heads. It’s not fitting. Of course they shouldn’t go empty-handed—each prince should carry an auspicious token, and in addition, each should present a bouquet of fresh flowers. Flowers paired with the tokens will surely please His Majesty. As for formations, I suggest starting with the two-dragons-emerge for grandeur, then forming a snake line to offer their congratulations. The others won’t do—after all, all nine are equally noble; you can’t favor some over others.”

Master Zhu, still not fully himself, dared not object. Li Xi decisively made the call for him, thinking he could always change it later once fully recovered.

Master Zhu nodded repeatedly, then paused. “Flowers? Where can we find flowers in this cold? There are only chrysanthemums, and that might not do.”

“They can be made from colored silk. There are plenty of skilled artisans in the Prince’s household. You draw the designs, and they’ll follow.”

“Oh… good idea. Why didn’t I think of that?” Master Zhu let out a long breath, telling his assistant, “Wen’er, write this down and do as Brother Wudi says.”

This assistant was Shui Qiuwen, who had followed Master Zhu for years, loyal and devoted. When Master Zhu went mad at dusk, neither the house physician nor the palace doctors could help, and Shui Qiuwen was so frightened she lost all color. Though she knew Li Xi wasn’t to blame, seeing him brought by Zhao Xiao still filled her with resentment—she wanted nothing more than to take a bite out of him.

Now that Master Zhu had recovered, Shui Qiuwen felt both grateful and a little embarrassed. She smiled and agreed, then glanced quickly at Li Xi, only to find him looking at her as well. Shui Qiuwen’s cheeks warmed, and she cursed inwardly, “Shameless, bold fellow, how dare you covet me.”

At this, Zhao Xiao, seeing Master Zhu restored, chuckled and bowed. “Master, is the play ready?”

“All set. I’ll have them rehearse this afternoon, and tonight, we won’t rest—we’ll go at it all night. By tomorrow, the prince can review it.”

Li Xi and Zhao Xiao burst out laughing. Master Zhu was puzzled, about to ask, when he suddenly cried out, “Why is it dark already?”

Li Xi and Zhao Xiao laughed again. After his episode, Master Zhu hadn’t realized night had fallen. Once he understood how late it was, he grew anxious, pacing and wringing his hands, too agitated even to drink tea, insisting on rehearsing through the night. No amount of persuasion could sway him, so Li Xi and Zhao Xiao had no choice but to stay and keep him company, lest he relapse.

Determined not to offer any more opinions on Master Zhu’s “Nine Dragons’ Play,” Li Xi feared that if he spoke the truth, Master Zhu would not only relapse but might cough up blood. From the perspective of someone a thousand years in the future, the play was almost laughably naïve. But then, since everyone loved it, perhaps it was a good thing. If he tried to bring plays from a thousand years later, who’s to say they’d be accepted?

Besides, directing a play was one thing—he might be able to offer some ideas, but actually running the show was another matter entirely. If he said too much and Prince Li Zhan got excited and asked him to stage a play himself, he’d be in real trouble.

Master Zhu’s play was an unprecedented success. The actors wept as they performed, feeling it a great fortune to take part in such a masterpiece in their lifetimes.

Amidst all the praise and tears, the drowsy Li Xi finally began to snore softly—he’d fallen asleep.

At the break of dawn, Li Xi was awakened by a chorus of cheers. The red-eyed Master Zhu, exhausted but exhilarated, took the lead role in “Nine Dragons’ Play.” The hall was packed with officials, clerks, guards, eunuchs, maids, and performers—hundreds in all. There were also several veteran instructors from the Imperial Music Bureau and a few senior eunuchs serving close to the emperor. Everyone watched intently, moved to tears, declaring it the most splendid play they’d ever seen.

The officials and clerks of the prince’s household, seasoned and knowledgeable, all claimed the play was sure to be a hit. The instructors from the Music Bureau and the emperor’s personal eunuchs, well-versed in His Majesty’s tastes, were visibly delighted—clearly, the play would suit the emperor as well.

The performance was a triumph. When it ended, thunderous applause erupted. After the curtain call, Master Zhu, eyes red and legs trembling, was the first to rush over and embrace the half-awake Li Xi, thanking him profusely, tears streaming down his face.

The heavy scent of powder on Master Zhu made Li Xi sneeze twice, fully rousing him. He hastily offered his congratulations. Master Zhu, weeping, said, “Half the credit for ‘Nine Dragons’ Play’ is yours.”

Li Xi bowed deeply, then turned to leave. Master Zhu, puzzled, asked why. Li Xi replied, “With such praise, I’m ashamed. Apart from coming up with half the title, I did nothing for this play. If anyone deserves half the credit, it’s Wen’er. Look at her—she stayed up all night for your sake, her eyes red with exhaustion.”

Hearing this, Shui Qiuwen bowed her head deeply, a blush creeping up her cheeks. Master Zhu turned to thank her, flustering her with joy and embarrassment, her expressive eyes conveying her gratitude.

Li Xi couldn’t help shivering: this young woman, when she put on her charms, was truly beguiling.

After thanking Wen’er, Master Zhu humbly asked Li Xi if any changes were needed. Li Xi replied, “I don’t think there’s any need. The moon waxes and wanes; a touch of imperfection is what makes things beautiful.”

Shui Qiuwen savored these words and said, “‘The moon waxes and wanes’—how true. Even the bright moon has flaws; how can worldly things be perfect? It’s better to let go than to be overly attached.”

Master Zhu, his nerves finally at ease, nodded repeatedly, saluted Li Xi, and turned away, his steps unsteady, a picture of old age.

Declining Zhao Xiao’s invitation to stay for a meal, Li Xi left Prince E’s mansion. The sky was the color of glazed tile, the autumn sun brilliant—a fine day.

Li Xi closed his eyes, breathing in the cool morning breeze, and strode away, anticipating another day full of events—good or bad, trivial or grave, each requiring all his wits and energy.

Returning from the mansion to Fengyi Lane, the sun shone warmly, the air gentle—unseasonably mild.

Arriving at the Yang residence, he found Madam Yang taking breakfast—a plate of pickled cucumbers, one of fermented beans, a dish of boiled greens, a bowl of millet porridge, and a tray of flatbreads. After greeting her, Li Xi took his place opposite Madam Yang, where a set of utensils had been laid out for him. She pushed the flatbread and greens toward him, urging her grandson to eat while they were hot.

Mu Yaxin knelt at the side, serving as a concubine should—she had no right to dine at the table, only to wait upon the household head. The young woman was demure and respectful, her lowered gaze both lovable and pitiable. She now wore a plain blue linen robe, her hair in a simple knot—her attire more in keeping with that of a housewife. Compared to her grace and allure the night before, she seemed more natural now, with less color and ornamentation.