Li Congjia saw only her fingernails, stained with balsam dye, resting against the broken flower stem. For no reason, he suddenly thought of someone: Zhao Kuangyin. He remembered the day that man had swung his blade through the blossoms with an impatient expression. Yet Zhao Kuangyin’s thoughts had at least come from his domineering nature and his dislike of the South’s softness. Nüying, still so young, suddenly made Li Congjia’s heart tighten.
If a woman with this temperament truly wanted something one day, what methods would she use to obtain it? Right now, she merely wanted to admire a flower.
Nüying noticed the surprise in Li Congjia’s eyes. She raised her face, innocence covering it completely. “Brother-in-law, what do you think of this flower?”
“You truly should not have destroyed it so rashly. Even a flower is still a life.”
“When flowers bloom and may be plucked, one should pluck them. Do not wait until no flowers remain and break an empty branch.” Nüying answered almost immediately, as though she had expected him to say exactly that.
Elio’s Notes: Nüying quotes the famous line often known from the Golden Threaded Robe: enjoy what can be cherished while the moment still exists. Her use of it deliberately clashes with Li Congjia’s belief that beauty should not be destroyed merely for possession.
For a moment, Li Congjia had nothing to say. Though this girl was so young, her mind lost nothing to anyone’s. He stepped back two or three paces, unwilling to continue discussing it. Yet Nüying had already become interested in gathering dew in Dew Garden. “Do you have to wake very early to collect it?”
Li Congjia nodded. She suddenly noticed that some of the lower leaves beneath the flowers still held a little dew and immediately became eager to try. She hurried off to have someone bring a reed tube. Seeing how delighted she was, Li Congjia wanted to stop her but could think of no good reason, so he simply treated it as accompanying a child at play.
Nüying curiously aimed the reed tube at a bead of dew, but with no experience her hand kept slipping and she could not guide the water into it no matter what she did. She stamped her feet in frustration. Li Congjia stood nearby with his hands behind his back, watching her play, and could not help finding it amusing. Then the girl in green suddenly turned and beckoned toward him.
“What is it?”
“Might Nüying have the honor of asking the Duke of Anding to teach her how to gather dew?” She smiled brightly, full of expectation.
Li Congjia had no choice but to step forward. Seeing that she continued holding the reed tube without letting go, he placed his hand over hers. His thoughts were entirely clear and detached as always, and his steady voice was reassuring. “Slowly. Like this…” Feeling the gentle pressure of his fingers, however, Nüying became even less calm. Her hand trembled, and a drop of dew splashed into the soil.
“Ah, Nüying is too clumsy.”
Li Congjia smoothly withdrew his hand. “Enough. Stop playing and get up.” Smiling, he rose and looked at the young girl, who still seemed unwilling to give up on figuring out how to gather the dew, and found her even more amusing. “I was only joking earlier. Even if you really do marry someday, you needn’t personally dye blue-green cloth. That isn’t something the Zhou family’s Second Young Miss should be doing.”
“If Elder Sister can do it, why can’t I?”
Li Congjia no longer wished to say more. Nüying truly did possess a stubborn temperament.
Just then, Liuzhu came over to invite them back. “Madam has arranged the pipas in the hall. She asks the Duke of Anding and Second Young Miss to come over.”
Entering the banquet hall again brought a heaviness to Li Congjia’s heart. Hongxiu’s shadow seemed unwilling to leave. He sighed softly. The dead could not return. Had human lives truly become so cheap? Again and again, he found himself powerless.
Nüying did not know what had happened there. She looked around curiously, finding everything interesting. “The Duke of Anding truly is elegance itself. I thought a banquet hall would be covered in gold and splendor, yet there are hardly any gold or jade ornaments here.”
Her words carried far more maturity than one would expect from someone her age, something that repeatedly startled people. She had studied pipa alongside Ehuang since childhood and played very well. She had simply been too young the last time Li Congjia saw her, so he had never heard her perform. Watching her expertly lift the pipa today, her posture precise and practiced, he could not help feeling admiration.
Her nimble fingers flew across the strings, playing a song from the heart: “The red sun has risen three poles high; incense is added again to the golden beast burner. The red brocade carpet wrinkles beneath each dancing step; the beauty dances in time until her golden hairpin slips. Tipsy with wine, she lifts a flower to her nose; from a distant hall comes the sound of flutes and drums.”
The woman in pink was dignified and magnificent, every frown and smile brilliant with beauty. The girl in green possessed more quickness and charm, still young and somewhat reckless. There was an urgency within her music, an unwillingness to remain behind others. Li Congjia closed his eyes and heard it clearly, yet inwardly found it amusing. She was still only a little girl.
“I’ve always wanted to send people to search for the surviving score of the Rainbow Skirt and Feathered Robe Dance from the High Tang,” Ehuang said. “There are rumors that fragments survived the wars and entered private hands, though they’ve been difficult to find. If someday we truly obtain it, we could recreate the splendor of the High Tang together.” She admired her younger sister’s pipa playing and regarded her as something of a kindred spirit in music, so her heart still carried hope.
Hearing this, Nüying’s interest stirred. She nodded. “If that day truly comes and you obtain the score, how could Nüying possibly refuse to help Elder Sister?”
A clear wind crossed ten thousand li, sweeping over the Nine Provinces until all beneath Heaven seemed drunk. Spears and shields fell silent amid rouge-colored tears; the pipa wished only to speak without regret. Perhaps this was what Hongxiu had always wanted. No regrets.
The dead were gone. All that remained was the hope that those still living would remain safe and cherish themselves.
Ehuang and Li Congjia both found themselves mourning the woman who had spent the last of her heart’s blood. More feeling entered every note and every string. The three of them shared an uncommon love of poetry and music, and in the rarity of such a gathering, they gradually forgot the time.
Phoenix Terrace stood upon Phoenix Mountain in Jinling, and its scenery differed with every season. In spring the mountain flowers bloomed riotously and the fragrance of apricot blossoms filled the air. Summer brought gentle winds and refreshing openness. Autumn turned the mountains red and dyed layer after layer of forest. Winter carried a bitter wind while plum blossoms stood proud against it. Every season offered different sights, sounds, and feelings, each possessing its own beauty. “Phoenixes once roamed upon Phoenix Terrace. The phoenixes are gone, the terrace empty, while the river flows on. Flowers and grasses of the Wu palace lie buried along hidden paths; robes and crowns of the Jin dynasty have become ancient mounds. Three Mountains fall halfway beyond the blue heavens; two waters divide around Egret Isle. Floating clouds forever hide the sun, and from afar Chang’an brings sorrow.” Poetry from the Tianbao era still offers a glimpse of that graceful splendor.
Elio’s Notes: The Phoenix Terrace passage invokes Li Bai’s Ascending Phoenix Terrace in Jinling. The chapter title likewise echoes Fan Zhongyan’s The Fisherman on the River, whose closing image describes a small boat “appearing and vanishing amid wind and waves.” Both allusions sharpen the chapter’s sense of instability and danger.
Zhao Kuangyin had said they would meet at Phoenix Terrace toward evening.
Li Congjia watched the sky gradually darken and considered the matter over and over. Nüying’s eyes were already studying him. She had plainly noticed that something weighed upon the Duke of Anding’s mind. With unexpected thoughtfulness, she quietly stood. “If the Duke of Anding has matters to attend to, there is no need to trouble yourself accompanying Nüying. I have already imposed enough today. Father sent me to visit Elder Sister. Since she is well, Nüying should return.”
Ehuang had no time to consider whether Li Congjia truly had something to do. Hearing only that Nüying intended to leave, she immediately became reluctant. “Why the rush? I’ll send someone home with a message. Stay tonight and properly catch up with your sister. We haven’t seen each other in so long, and now that you’ve finally come, you’re already hurrying away.” She took Nüying’s hand and called Liuzhu over to send someone back to the Zhou residence. “Tell Father that Ehuang is perfectly well. Seeing my younger sister has made me even happier. She’ll stay with me tonight. He needn’t worry.”
Nüying sat back down at her sister’s urging but continued watching Li Congjia’s expression. Seeing her look at him, Li Congjia’s smile grew even fainter. He raised his wrist to pour himself tea and suddenly saw the wooden bracelet.
It was not nearly as heavy as he had imagined. Wearing it had brought no discomfort at all. On the contrary, every accidental glimpse of it gave him a strange sense of peace. This tiny wooden bracelet was a promise, something upon which belief itself could rest.
You owe me a life. So remember to live well.
The tea was warm. Drinking it reminded him of the absurd heat of blood winding down his shoulder that night, of Zhao Kuangyin tearing at him while he tried helplessly to escape. The remembered warmth seemed to blaze across his entire body. His expression changed slightly.
Ehuang truly did not know whether he had matters to attend to today. Since he had not refused to remain either, she did not know what to think and could only call to him. “Congjia?”
The indulgent memory shattered. For the first time, Li Congjia actually looked flustered. Both women stared at him strangely. “Congjia, what is wrong?”
His hand slipped. A little tea splashed from the cup. The wound upon his shoulder, which no one else had seen since that night, began to ache faintly. Pretending calm, he set the cup down. “I arranged to meet someone toward evening. I only just remembered. It truly was careless of me.”
Ehuang looked puzzled. “Nüying so rarely comes…” At this hour it certainly could not be an imperial summons or some great official matter, yet suddenly he was saying he had to leave.
“Elder Sister, there’s no need to trouble yourself,” Nüying said with exceptional obedience and understanding. “If the Duke of Anding has business, let him go first. Elder Sister can stay with Nüying.”
“It was arranged earlier. So much has happened over the past few days that I forgot. Your mention of it reminded me.” Li Congjia rose, unwilling to explain further. The more he spoke, the more it seemed as though something truly weighed upon his heart. He hurried toward the rear rooms to change before going out.
Ehuang never saw him glance back at her. A hollow disappointment settled inside her, but with Nüying still present she could say nothing and could only let it go.
Someone soon came carrying his blue-green outer robe and helped him change. He allowed them to fasten the sash around him, while his mind remained filled with the chaos of the side courtyard from that night, impossible to drive away. “What time is it?”
“Replying to the Duke of Anding, the You hour is almost over.”
Elio’s Notes: The You hour corresponds approximately to 5–7 p.m.
He was not actually certain what exact time Zhao Kuangyin had meant. Going alone up Phoenix Mountain at night already seemed bizarre. For a moment, he hesitated again. Once he went, he feared he would not return quickly.
Besides… Besides, suddenly he was afraid to see him.
He could not explain why. Everything that night had been far too unrestrained. Now that calm had returned, the thought of meeting again left him with nothing he knew how to say.
Piaopeng hurried over. “Master, are you going out? I’ll have someone prepare the carriage.”
“I…” Li Congjia wanted to tell him not to hurry. But his clothes were already changed, so what was left to hesitate over? Forget it. He opened his fan and left.
Tianshui Blue disappeared into the carriage.
Outside the main gates of the Duke of Anding’s residence stood the same understated carriage.
None of them knew that a man not far away was staring at it with unblinking eyes.
He had waited an entire day. One whole day. At last, Li Congjia had appeared. Wherever he intended to go, the man would follow.
His gaze was crazed and desperate. If Li Congjia had not appeared today, he had already decided he would remain there indefinitely. He refused to believe Li Congjia could stay inside his residence until he died of old age.
Li Congjia was in no hurry. Instead, it almost seemed as though he deliberately wished to leave himself enough time to regret the decision. He allowed the carriage to travel slowly through the streets toward the more secluded outskirts of the city.
Phoenix Terrace. Go, or not go?
If he did not go, then after this separation of years, there would be no need ever again to remember that such a beautiful and dangerous memory had existed within his life. From then onward, each would remain at opposite ends of the world, one in the south and one in the north. Li Congjia would once again simply be the Duke of Anding who envied mandarin ducks more than immortals. If he turned the carriage around now, everything could begin again. What he knew, what Zhao Kuangyin knew, all of it could be treated as though the two men behind that tree on that night had never met.
It would require only one sentence from him. Yet he could not say it. As the carriage drew closer to leaving the city, the wooden bracelet at his wrist happened to press against the carriage wall and dug painfully into his skin. He did not move it. The pain seemed to contend with the wound on his shoulder, neither willing to yield.
At last, Li Congjia leaned back slightly and closed his eyes, almost as though surrendering. “Go faster. Reach Phoenix Mountain before the sky is completely dark.”
I still cannot bring myself to abandon it completely.
Whatever this feeling may be, I still want to see you one more time before you leave.
A horse followed the carriage silently from the shadows.
Phoenix Mountain was already close.
Zhao Kuangyin had convinced Guangyi to wait at the foot of the mountain while he went alone to Phoenix Terrace. Zhao Guangyi had originally refused. It was not as though his brother were doing anything shameful. Why should even his own younger brother have to avoid the meeting? But Zhao Kuangyin’s word was final. He would not allow Guangyi to follow.
The matter only became stranger, completely awakening Zhao Guangyi’s curiosity. He obeyed his brother and waited inside a small tea stall at the mountain’s foot. The few travelers who had come to visit Phoenix Mountain had already left as the sky darkened, leaving Zhao Guangyi alone in the shop. He sat there pondering everything that had happened when suddenly he heard the sound of a carriage. Under the last remaining light of evening, he could make out its elegant plain exterior, decorated with touches of gold and jade. It was restrained, yet its owner’s high status was unmistakable.
Zhao Guangyi’s anticipation sharpened. This should indeed be the Duke of Anding’s style. Sure enough, a figure in blue-green slowly stepped down. His back happened to face Zhao Guangyi, so from where he sat he could not yet see Li Congjia’s face.
Perhaps the outer robe shifted slightly as Li Congjia descended from the carriage. Without thinking, he raised his wrist to straighten it. That small movement made Zhao Guangyi abruptly freeze.
Everyone said one lift of the Duke of Anding’s wrist could captivate the realm. That tiny gesture truly did leave Zhao Guangyi completely convinced. His elegance was extraordinary.
Even the shop attendant sitting there in a daze widened his eyes. Since when did this place receive such an honored guest?
Only after admiring that wrist did Zhao Guangyi’s heart suddenly sink. As expected. He was wearing the wooden bracelet.
It was one thing for Zhao Kuangyin to give it to Li Congjia. But Li Congjia actually wore it every day. In an instant, countless thoughts crowded together. Resentment mixed with unwillingness, and Zhao Guangyi could not stop himself from thinking too much.
Even though this man truly did deserve the word peerless. And throughout the entire time from when Li Congjia stepped out of the carriage until he began climbing the mountain, Zhao Guangyi had seen nothing but his back.
A silhouette so tranquil it seemed capable of fading away at any moment. Elegance down to the bone.
Piaopeng wanted to follow him, but naturally Li Congjia refused. The two guards accompanying him saw that the sky was growing steadily darker and insisted that they must accompany him up the mountain. No one could know what might happen within such deep woods. Li Congjia had no choice but to agree that once he met the person he had arranged to see, they could withdraw.
The man in blue-green walked slowly ahead while the guards moved through the trees at either side, following him upward.
Phoenix Mountain was not particularly high. One needed only climb a number of stone steps to reach the summit, where the largest viewing platform, Phoenix Terrace, stood. For generations, scholars and refined gentlemen had enjoyed meeting friends there and climbing to take in the view.
It was spring now. Apricot blossoms covered the mountain like blood. They bloomed so luxuriantly that they seemed almost uncanny. By day, bees and butterflies wandered freely among them, making the scenery exquisite. But climbing the mountain at night was indeed rare. Perhaps only someone like him would do such a thing. Li Congjia laughed at himself and tightened his outer robe. A clear mountain wind brushed his face, surprisingly pleasant. The stone stairs beneath his feet wound steadily upward. The mountain was not high, yet the climb still required some time. Li Congjia felt the wooden bracelet sway lightly with each movement. It truly was far lighter than red sandalwood ought to be. Though precious, it weighed almost nothing.
I promised you. Even knowing the truth, I will keep my word. I will continue wearing it.
He did not know to whom these words could possibly be spoken, yet the voice within his heart grew clearer and clearer. Whatever Zhao Kuangyin intended to tell him tonight, Li Congjia wanted to tell him one thing. From the beginning, he had known that Li Hongji intended to kill him. He had also known that Zhao Kuangyin had originally come to kill the Duke of Anding.
That night, it had not been coincidence that Li Congjia walked alone through a Jinling alley after dark. He had gone because Li Hongji had arranged to meet him. The Crown Prince had sent word saying that the estrangement between himself and his sixth brother had persisted for years and that there ought to be an opportunity to slowly talk everything through. Li Hongji’s message had said that if Li Congjia were still willing to speak with him, he should go to that alley. There would be a carriage from the Crown Prince’s residence waiting there. He was simply to get inside. No one was to know. People’s hearts had become impossible to read, and they could not allow anyone to think the Crown Prince and Duke of Anding were secretly plotting together.
And so Li Congjia had gone. Nothing had waited for him. Instead, he had encountered Zhao Kuangyin. And he had found that strange bottle.
The only part he had never understood was the presence of those black-clad assassins. Perhaps Brother Hongji had suddenly changed his mind again.
No matter what, Li Congjia had known from the very beginning that he and Li Hongji could never return to what they once were.
Look how foolish I am. Knowing I would lose, I still insisted on gambling.
So, Zhao Kuangyin. It was not that I owed you a life. In truth, from the very beginning, you owed me one. I did not have to save you. I needed only call out once that night, and you would already have died. Unfortunately, I had been holding that bottle of Qingu and was far too devastated by disappointment. Before my own elder brother managed to kill me, I could not bear to watch another person die before my eyes.
It was nothing more than that stubborn, childish thought. Li Congjia had wanted to prove that somewhere in this world there were still people who regarded human life as precious. He could not allow a man to die for no reason in a dark and filthy alley. Especially not because of him.
And so Li Congjia had to save Zhao Kuangyin.
Even though from the very beginning, I knew you intended to kill me.
Yet he had never imagined that in the end, Hongxiu would still be dragged into everything and die before his eyes.
Nothing remained but a sigh. Who could say what had been right or wrong?
Far ahead, Li Congjia could already see the torches burning around Phoenix Terrace at the mountain’s highest point. Amid hair whipped violently by the wind, his double-pupiled eye reflected a man with sword-like brows standing with his hands behind his back, gazing down upon Jinling with an unmistakably commanding presence. Simply standing there, Zhao Kuangyin possessed the air of someone overlooking the realm. And somehow, that air inspired belief.
Li Congjia could already see him clearly. Torches surrounded Phoenix Terrace, filling that small patch of sky with brilliant light. Night had fully fallen. Except for the terrace itself, dense forest surrounded everything. Once darkness settled, the woods became utterly secretive and black.
He stood in the light. Li Congjia remained in darkness.
Li Congjia could see him. Zhao Kuangyin could not see Li Congjia.
Suddenly, someone charged from behind. The hatred in his gaze looked especially sinister within the darkness. Before Li Congjia could react, something cold and sharp in the man’s hand plunged into his body.
Blood.
“Li Congjia, when you killed Hongxiu, did you ever imagine this day would come?”