◎Old Matters◎

Bai Ying, finding the matter troublesome, sent a servant to order a feast and went with Ai Disheng to purchase several jugs of fine wine. By the time everyone settled at the table, it was precisely noon.

Qu You disliked drinking, so she poured Zhou Tan a cup of wine. Suddenly recalling something, she asked, “By the way, how is that child A Luo?”

Before Bai Ying could respond, Ai Disheng interjected: “It’s quite coincidental. The other day, Ziqian wasn’t feeling well, so I invited Doctor Bai over. Ziqian recognized A Luo as someone he had a connection with during hard times. We’ve temporarily let her stay at the Wind-Residing Courtyard.”

Zhou Tan’s hand holding the cup stiffened slightly. “Have you investigated?”

Ai Disheng patted his shoulder reassuringly. “They became friends during difficult times. I’ve looked into it—she’s pitiable.”

The two didn’t elaborate, but Qu You suddenly remembered that while Zhou Tan had shown her the imperial edict, he hadn’t mentioned that “Ziqian” was Song Shixuan.

For A Luo, a beggar, to have a connection with Song Shixuan, it must date back to when he was fleeing as a refugee. Ai Disheng’s willingness to let her stay at the Wind-Residing Courtyard proved that her background was clear.

Speaking of A Luo, Bai Ying sighed deeply. “Her congenital weakness has plagued her for years, compounded by hunger and hardship. It’s a miracle she’s survived this long. After taking her pulse, even the gods can’t save her. She likely won’t survive the next winter.”

Qu You gasped softly, her heart sinking.

Poor child—to have survived among beggars only to meet kindness now, yet her days were numbered. Fate was cruel, indeed.

Zhou Tan’s hand gently stroked her back, offering silent comfort. She forced a smile and said, “Well, one day I’ll bring the cat to visit the children and cheer them up.”

After eating a few bites, Bai Ying began seeking advice from Ai Disheng about managing the medicinal cuisine shop. Though he was the owner, his questions and attention were both perfunctory—unlike Dingxiang and Zhi Ling, who listened intently, feverishly jotting down notes in their little books, wishing to record every word Ai Disheng spoke.

Qu You listened with interest.

Though she didn’t know what Ai Disheng had done before, his skillful management of an entire street of businesses on North Street and his high standing spoke volumes of his abilities.

His suggestions for Bai Ying were practical: categorize the wooden plaques by organs (heart, liver, spleen, etc.), create specialized recipes for nourishing the heart or skin, convert the second floor into private rooms for distinguished guests, and spread the shop’s reputation through word-of-mouth.

Holding his wine cup, Bai Ying hummed approvingly, “Excellent, excellent! Sister Dingxiang and Sister Zhi Ling, make sure to note everything down.”

Ai Disheng sighed helplessly. “It seems you’ve decided not to manage anything yourself.”

Bai Ying replied, “With these two sisters handling things, there’s no need for me! All I want in life is to earn money while lying down. If they work harder, they can have more silver, and I’ll take less. As long as I have enough to drink and eat when I want, I’m satisfied. If it’s not enough, I’ll earn more!”

A remarkably carefree attitude toward life.

Seeing Qu You shake her head and smile repeatedly, Ai Disheng asked, “Doctor Bai mentioned that opening this shop was your suggestion, Madam. There are few establishments on Bianhe Street dedicated to health-preserving cuisine. Do you have any other suggestions?”

“Suggestions?” Qu You rested her chin, thinking for a moment before speaking slowly. “I’m certainly not as knowledgeable about business as Boss Ai, but after walking around the shop earlier, I have a few ideas for you to consider.”

Ai Disheng showed interest. “Please share.”

Qu You tapped the wooden table beside her. “You’ve already covered the main points. When I first suggested Doctor Bai open this shop, I envisioned it catering to people like me.”

“His medicinal dishes use expensive ingredients and take time to prepare, so naturally, his customers would be wealthy officials and nobles. Men go out to socialize, while women prioritize health. The emptiness of the ground-floor hall stems from the fact that laborers can’t afford to dine here, men don’t frequent such places, and women avoid appearing in public dining areas—it’s unnecessary. In my view, Doctor Bai should convert half the first floor into private rooms and arrange the other half like a medicine shop, with staff guiding distinguished guests. One transaction could yield significant profits.”

Her suggestions were largely drawn from her past experiences as a consumer—how to run a high-end establishment, provide personalized service, set up special discount days, hire delivery boys, and offer home delivery for time-consuming dishes.

Ai Disheng was thoroughly impressed, exclaiming repeatedly. By the end of the meal, he felt as though he’d met her too late. Even as they bid farewell, he was still shaking Zhou Tan’s shoulders: “Xiaobai, you’re truly fortunate to have such an extraordinary wife. Even if your family fortune collapses, you’ll never end up on the streets—she’ll surely rebuild everything…”

Zhou Tan left with a cold expression, but Qu You couldn’t help but laugh when she saw him secretly kick Ai Disheng while the latter was drunk. “You seem to have quite a close relationship with Boss Ai?”

As the carriage swayed gently, Zhou Tan leaned out to give instructions to the driver. When he turned back to look at her, his expression had softened considerably. “An old friend from the imperial exams—a shared interest, I suppose. He comes from a merchant family and relied on influential families to guide him. After the palace examination, we lived together for a while.”

Bai Ying and Ai Disheng loved drinking, and Dingxiang and Zhi Ling had also indulged in a few cups. Zhou Tan took only a sip, and Qu You merely tasted it. “No wonder—it’s rare to see you so intimate with someone.”

Unwilling to dwell on the topic, Zhou Tan changed the subject. “If you wish to visit Ziqian at the Wind-Residing Courtyard, call me to accompany you. Ziqian’s… circumstances are special. If you go alone, they might not let you in.”

Qu You murmured, “I guessed as much.”

Zhou Tan raised an eyebrow. “You guessed?”

“You showed me the edict, and judging by his age, it wasn’t hard to figure out.” Qu You noticed the carriage wasn’t heading toward Zhou Manor and asked, “Where are we going?”

Zhou Tan, solemn and composed, calmly replied, “To steal something.”

Qu You was momentarily stunned, then deeply shocked when she realized what he meant. “What did you say?”

How could someone remain expressionless and openly take her along to commit theft…

She frowned, peeking outside like a thief. “What are we stealing?”

Rarely seeing her in such a state, Zhou Tan coughed lightly. “Do you remember the page in Miss Liu’s letter that contained only a single line of poetry?”

There was indeed such a page. Recalling it, Qu You remembered that most of Liu Lianxi’s transcribed letters had been deciphered, except for one page with no context, bearing only the line from Li Bai: “Under the moon, a heavenly mirror flies; clouds rise, forming a sea pavilion.”

“I remember.”

“A few days ago, Peng Yue, on Jinghua Mountain, told me just before he died that the item in his possession couldn’t be found by Fu Qingnian.”

Qu You nodded. “Now that we know what he held, it’s likely a copy of the notes Gongshu Wuchuan left for Elder Fu. Perhaps not the original—I suspect Peng Yue made a copy when escorting Gongshu Duan from Ruozhou to Biandu to ensure his safety.”

“Every page of Miss Liu’s recollections bore the crooked postal stamp except this one, which instead featured three slanted strokes,” Zhou Tan said calmly. “Three strokes represent ‘Peng.’ This poem may very well be Peng Yue’s clue.”

“I initially thought he’d take the leverage with him when leaving the capital, but upon reflection, I doubt he did. Ruozhou is Peng Yue’s hometown. Once he returned there, even if Fu Qingnian wanted to silence him, it would be difficult. If I were him, I’d leave behind this cryptic hint, write a letter explaining it once safe, and hand over the item, severing all ties to danger and living peacefully in my hometown.”

“So when he implied that he hadn’t taken it with him, you didn’t wait for him to finish speaking and immediately had Miss Yan act.”

Qu You finally understood. Peng Yue’s disjointed words before dying had puzzled her—if Zhou Tan truly wanted to know where it was, why kill him before he finished? It turned out Zhou Tan simply wanted to confirm whether the item was on him.

“If he didn’t carry it, the item might still be in his estate. Shouldn’t Fu Qingnian and Du Hui have searched for it?”

“Fu Qingnian was waiting for Peng Yue to reach Ruozhou and explicitly inform him. Shortly after Peng Yue left, they likely didn’t search thoroughly—if at all. Later, I had his estate sealed.” Zhou Tan smiled faintly. “If it’s hard to find, keeping it forever sealed works too. Fu Qingnian doesn’t know I’ve seen that poem and is confident that if he can’t find it, neither can I. Today, we’ll test our luck.”

Not long after, the carriage stopped. Qu You stepped down, holding Zhou Tan’s wrist, and found herself brought to the bustling center of Bianhe Street. Bai Ying’s shop was located behind Fanlou, surrounded by restaurants. The middle section of the street was the most prosperous, near several large brothels, cosmetic shops, fabric stores, and jewelry shops.

Qu You asked in confusion, “Didn’t you say we were going to…?”

“How can we go in broad daylight?” Zhou Tan gestured for He San to follow with Hexing and Shuiyue. “We must wait until night. Since today is my day off, I promised to take you out, and I won’t break my word.”

________________________________________

Ren Shiming pushed open the door and stepped out, feeling unsteady on his feet.

The air was thick with a sweet, intoxicating fragrance. He gripped the wooden railing to descend the stairs but nearly stumbled, almost falling. Just as he was about to crash, a pair of hands steadied him.

The cloying scent was replaced by the cool fragrance of plum blossoms. Dizzy, he was guided to a bed and laid down. Reaching out, he grasped only the hem of a silk skirt.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw a beautifully carved red candle burning before him.

Behind the flickering candlelight sat a beauty, casually raising her eyes. She was tuning her moon lute, unfazed by his awakening, continuing to adjust the strings. “You’re awake?”

“Madam Chun…” His throat was hoarse, forcing him to sit up and drink the tea beside him. “Why am I here?”

Ye Lichun ignored him, plucking a note on her lute and sighing. “Your brother and Chancellor Fu are locked in fierce conflict. How can you serve Chancellor Fu without hurting his feelings?”

Ren Shiming replied coldly, “I have no brother.”

“At the start of the month,” Ye Lichun called him, her beautiful eyes lacking their usual flirtation and instead carrying a trace of indifferent mockery, “when I first met you, I knew you were proud, valued loyalty, and, like those scholar-officials, harbored grand ambitions to serve the nation.”

Ren Shiming sat at the table, pinching his fingers, which felt numb, devoid of sensation.

“No matter how much you resent Master Zhou, you shouldn’t have joined Chancellor Fu’s faction,” Ye Lichun shook her head. “On the day of the public trial at the Ministry of Justice, when you presented evidence to obstruct proceedings, did you truly understand what you were doing? Every time you reflect, don’t you feel regret and fear? If that case had been suppressed because of your actions, where would the grievances of those women stretching miles on the imperial city streets be voiced?”

“Do you really think he acted for the sake of those women’s injustices?” Ren Shiming sneered, though his voice trembled slightly. “He did it to eliminate rivals, just like the recent murder case at the Du residence. He fabricated evidence to frame officials, climbing over others’ bones… He’s adept at this, having used it before. My father fell victim to the same tactic, didn’t he?”

When Zhou Tan brought his younger brother to the capital, it was winter.

That day, Ren Shiming had just finished reviewing his books and stepped out of his father’s hall when he saw the steward ushering in two young men. The taller one appeared gentle and refined, bowing to his father in an ancient manner.

He had amber eyes, and after completing the bow, he raised his head, snowflakes covering his hair.

His father helped the two rise in the courtyard and introduced them: “Ming, this is your elder brother from your Aunt Bai’s family in Lin’an. His name is Tan, as in sandalwood.”

From then on, the once dull family study had two new playmates.

Zhou Yang disliked studying and could never sit still, while Zhou Tan was calm and composed, kneeling upright at his desk for hours on end. The incense smoke would rise around him, filling him with the scent of still water.

At first, Ren Shiming resented the brothers who were so favored by their parents. But over time, he genuinely came to regard them as family. Zhou Yang was lively and playful, often climbing trees with him to catch cicadas, while Zhou Tan sat in the courtyard reading. Though Zhou Tan rarely spoke, his hearing was sharp—he could accurately guide them from below the tree if they went in the wrong direction.

Later, when Zhou Tan achieved the highest honors in the imperial exams, basking in glory, Ren Shiming and Zhou Yang squeezed into the crowd to watch the brother who had arrived in a snowstorm years ago ride triumphantly down Bianhe Street, showered with flowers.

It was said that even the daughter of the Chancellor, watching from the city tower, was so astonished that she dropped her jade hairpin into the arms of the newly crowned top scholar.

When Zhou Tan was posted outside the capital, Ren Shiming took the imperial exams. Like his elder brother before him, he rode proudly through the streets, though he regretted deeply that Zhou Tan wasn’t there to witness it.

Zhou Yang had no interest in taking the exams, dreaming only of joining the army—a wish that earned him a beating from their father.

Ren Shiming still remembered the Lunar New Year before the fifteenth year of Yongning—it was the last complete and happy Spring Festival in his memory.

Zhou Tan served in the Dianxing Temple—though it held no real power, those with discerning eyes could see that this was a path deliberately paved for him by Gu Zhiyan. Upon returning to the capital after his external posting, he was immediately appointed to the fourth rank. While the position of Dianxing Temple Minister was at the bottom of the fourth rank, his peers were still struggling in the lower ranks of the Remonstrance Academy—none had such a smooth career trajectory.

The most accomplished disciple of the illustrious Chancellor Gu, Zhou Tan’s future was radiant. His path to becoming a high-ranking official seemed inevitable.

The fireworks from Fanlou lit up the sky again and again, reflecting in those amber eyes, which brightened momentarily before dimming with an unspoken weight.

The three of them, drunk, knelt in the ancestral hall, speaking freely.

He asked: “Brother, do you have any wishes?”

Zhou Yang, having drunk the most, slurred incoherently: “Uncle, let me join the army! I too want… to wield weapons and defend the borders for my country, to live up to my parents’ expectations!”

As he spoke, he suddenly burst into loud sobs: “Big Brother, Big Brother…”

Zhou Tan silently reached out to pat his back, his gaze distant in a way Ren Shiming couldn’t quite comprehend. The candlelight flickered in the ancestral hall as he murmured softly:

“I wish… for my family to be healthy and prosperous, for my loved ones to thrive. I will dedicate myself to the people, ensuring peace and stability across the land.”

A lie.

A crude lie.

Now, looking back, Ren Shiming could see the earlier signs of Zhou Tan’s unusual behavior.

For instance, he always preferred to sit alone in the study, never discussing court affairs with his father, offering only occasional advice.

Or how he often daydreamed. One late night, returning home and thinking no one was around, he laughed and cried alternately in front of the corridor, writing on the pillar: “Those who abandoned me, yesterday cannot be reclaimed; those who trouble me, today bring endless worries.”

Ren Shiming had seen it but said nothing. Days of heavy rain washed away the ink, and it was as if it had never happened.

When the Candlelit Pavilion case first erupted, Ren Shiming heard that Zhou Tan had been imprisoned for remonstrating fiercely in court. Their father frantically sought news, but nothing could be uncovered. Desperate, he fell ill. Later, when their father was implicated and imprisoned, Ren Shiming went to see Zhou Tan, who had betrayed his teacher’s legacy, but Zhou Tan refused to let him in.

News of Gu Zhiyan’s suicide at Qingxi River spread wildly among the common folk, all blaming Zhou Tan for ingratitude and driving his mentor to death.

The emperor granted the newly appointed Vice Minister of Justice a mansion, and as crowds gathered to bid farewell to Gu Zhiyan, Zhou Tan’s doors remained tightly shut. He didn’t come out to pay respects.

It wasn’t until many days later that Ren Shiming saw Zhou Tan in the rear hall of the Ministry of Justice. By then, Zhou Tan had shed the black cloak of the Dianxing Temple, now clad in a crimson mantle and robe, making his pale face stand out starkly.

When someone approached, he didn’t move, merely turning his cold face toward them, fresh bloodstains from interrogation still lingering on his features.

Ren Shiming wanted to ask about his condition in prison, whether his old wounds had healed, and why he no longer returned home. But after much deliberation, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

Because Zhou Tan had already lowered his eyes indifferently and said: “Regarding your father’s matter, I am powerless. For the years I stayed in your home, I’ve calculated the costs and sent the equivalent silver to your estate. From today onward, please do not seek me out.”

Ren Shiming couldn’t believe it. Years of friendship, reduced to nothing in Zhou Tan’s eyes.

The scandal was enormous. When Zhou Yang returned from the army upon hearing that Zhou Tan refused to help save Ren Pingsheng, he furiously berated Zhou Tan, calling him every name under the sun. In the end, they severed ties dramatically in the ancestral hall.

Zhou Tan simply repeated: “I am powerless.”

Even if he truly was powerless, or merely chose self-preservation by avoiding entanglement, wouldn’t an explanation suffice?

Their father was sentenced to exile, but his health couldn’t withstand the journey. Thanks to the dynasty’s laws allowing money to substitute for punishment, their mother borrowed heavily from the family in Jinling and sold off assets to secure their father’s release. He was brought home to recuperate.

After Ren Pingsheng was released from prison, the first thing he did was summon Ren Shiming and Zhou Yang to his bedside. With a stern face, he forbade them from associating with Zhou Tan ever again. Gu Zhiyan had treated him kindly, but this man was ungrateful and unfilial, betraying his teacher. Who knew what he might do to friends and family? He deserved universal condemnation.

Yet Ren Shiming clearly saw that when no one was around, his father would sit staring blankly at paintings and calligraphy gifted by Zhou Tan.

Once admired among the scholarly elite, Ren Shiming’s reputation had crumbled overnight. But because he publicly severed ties with Zhou Tan, others didn’t kick him while he was down. Old friends dragged him into heated discussions, spitting venom about Zhou Tan’s ruthless tactics in the Ministry of Justice, indignantly declaring that Master Ren had been used as a stepping stone.

Ren Shiming found it suffocating. He fled his friends and stumbled upon a stern elder by the Bian River. The elder asked: “Are you a member of the Ren family?”

Only then did he realize he had encountered the current Chancellor. Standing beside him, the Chancellor lamented the Ren family’s misfortune and asked if he wanted to become his disciple.

Fu Qingnian was Zhou Tan’s political rival—Ren Shiming knew this well.

But he still agreed. Perhaps it was because the Chancellor casually remarked: “He abandoned you, thinking the Ren family no longer held any value. Don’t you want to make him look at you differently?”

Thinking of this now, Ren Shiming felt a splitting headache.

He learned to feign compliance, shedding some of his upright ideals, drinking and socializing with colleagues. Fu Qingnian didn’t directly take him under his wing but said he should gain more experience first.

During the public trial at the Ministry of Justice, when he caused a scene, he heard his usually calm and detached brother shout behind him: “Ren Chuyue!” Yet he realized he didn’t feel the satisfaction he had imagined.

Ye Lichun finally set aside her moon lute and came over to press her hand against his forehead. Her voice was gentle: “I’ve known your brother since my time in Lin’an. You spent so many days and nights with him—you must know what kind of person he is. Don’t torment yourself like this. Do you know that not long ago, he was nearly assassinated? If he had died, what would you have done?”

“How could he die?” Ren Shiming exclaimed, still stubbornly denying his concern. “The Emperor even arranged a marriage for him. How could he possibly die…”

Ye Lichun made no further attempt to persuade him. She turned and opened the door, through which drifted a faint, sultry melody.

“If you’re unable to see reason yourself, there’s little I can say,” Ye Lichun said softly. “Next time you’re drunk, if you’re not at Chunfeng Huayu Pavilion, don’t wander alone off high platforms.”

As she prepared to leave, Ren Shiming caught sight of a small, intricately embroidered knot bearing the character “Bai” hanging beneath her moon lute.

“Lady Chun seems just as lost in her thoughts.”

The flowers decorating the corridor were delicate yet striking, their colors vibrant under the dim light. The woman’s voice continued to sing languidly:

Loose jeweled hair, bewitching eyes cast their gaze,

Under the silent moon, beyond the ninefold mountains.

Ren Shiming descended the stairs, letting the cold wind from the Bian River sober him up. Unexpectedly, he witnessed a dreamlike scene.

Zhou Tan and the beautiful bride he had seen at the wedding banquet sat together on a simple, unadorned boat. A black-clad figure rowed at the stern. The boat itself was dark, blending seamlessly into the night, with only a single flickering lantern providing light.

He almost thought it was an illusion, watching silently as the small vessel glided past him, drifting toward the pitch-black horizon.

The surface of the Bian River still shimmered with remnants of unextinguished lantern lights, fragmented by the oars into scattered reflections.

Ren Shiming stood frozen on the shore for a long while, rubbing his eyes to see more clearly, but the lone lantern had already vanished completely from view.

He leaned forward slightly, only to suddenly feel a powerful force shove him from behind—

Someone had pushed him off the bridge!

Startled, Ren Shiming tried to turn and see who it was, but before he could react, his body plummeted downward. He braced himself for the icy embrace of the river, but instead, he landed heavily on the wooden deck of a boat.

The impact left him dizzy and disoriented. For a moment, he lay sprawled, unable to rise. When he finally regained his senses, he heard a sudden splash.

The cabin was pitch-dark, and it seemed someone had jumped off the stern. Ren Shiming gripped the railing to steady himself but didn’t dare move another step—

The air inside the boat was thick with the metallic scent of blood. By the fleeting glow of passing flower lanterns, he saw a fresh corpse lying there.