◎Slightly Drunk◎

Though Bianjing had no curfew, except for the bustling area around Fanlou, most places would gradually extinguish their lights by midnight. After the shops along the river closed one by one, Zhou Tan instructed Hexing and Shuiyue to take the fabrics and jewelry they had purchased that day back to the carriage. He San and the driver sat outside to drive, and the group set off ahead to return home.

The two of them had wandered through Bianhe Street all afternoon and enjoyed a couple of sweet treats at a riverside stall as night fell. Once the attendants were dismissed, Zhou Tan led Qu You down a secluded path to the riverbank.

Under the dark arches of the Twelve Bridges of Bian River, a black-clad figure waited with a small boat illuminated only by a dim lantern.

By now, the once-bustling Bian River had grown quieter. Many of the flower lanterns along the banks had been extinguished, leaving only late-night vendors packing up their stalls. Sitting at the bow of the boat, Qu You lowered her head and saw a cold, clear moon reflected in the water.

The small boat silently passed streets still alive with voices, leaving behind ripples on the dark surface of the river. Zhou Tan sat beside her, silent. For some reason, she thought of a line from the Analects : “If the Way is not practiced, I will float on a raft upon the sea.”

Zhou Tan had so many ambitions—what if they couldn’t be realized? Would anyone accompany him on a wooden raft adrift on the ocean?

The water swayed gently, and the still-lit Chunfeng Huayu Pavilion drifted past their view. Qu You gazed at the red silk fluttering atop the building and suddenly asked, “There’s something I’ve always wanted to ask. Why do you have a reputation for being fond of beauty?”

Historical records attributed his “love of beauty” to a few licentious verses in the Spring Sandalwood Collection . Though Zhou Tan hadn’t yet written those poems, rumors about his unsuitability as a husband had reached her before their marriage.

Yet upon closer inspection, Zhou Tan was more upright than the most virtuous gentleman. Ye Lichun had informed Qu You that she and Zhou Tan had known each other since Lin’an. When she first came to Bianjing, he had even helped her register with the capital prefecture. Despite this, their interactions remained distant, their conversations always brief and formal.

His visits to Chunfeng Huayu Pavilion were mostly to meet friends. Women were rare in the Ministry of Justice, and the maidservants in his household dared not raise their heads in his presence. At banquets, women often whispered admiringly about his handsome appearance. Now that he was married, no one dared approach him. According to Gao Yunyue, even before his marriage, women who tried to flirt with him were always met with cold words and sent away.

“When I first became the top scholar, I nearly got caught by a group of older officials right under the announcement board,” Zhou Tan finally spoke after a long silence, his tone light but tinged with faint pride. “As I passed through the inner streets of the imperial city, the eldest daughter of the Chancellor dropped a jade hairpin into my arms while looking down at me. Have you heard of this?”

Qu You smiled. “I’ve heard a bit. The story of the top scholar riding triumphantly down the street, flowers raining upon him, and a hairpin falling from the wall—it’s quite the tale. A thousand years of charm, Lord Zhou.”

Thanks to her friend Gao Yunyue for the gossip.

Zhou Tan shook his head slightly. “That rumor is wrong.”

Qu You blinked. “What?”

“The Chancellor at the time was my teacher, and he had no heirs. Where would an eldest daughter come from?” Zhou Tan said with a bitter smile. “It was just that the rumors spread too widely. The person who dropped the jade hairpin from the city wall was the daughter of the later Chancellor.”

“So… it was Fu Qingnian’s daughter?” Qu You’s mouth parted slightly in surprise. “Consort Zhao?”

Zhou Tan neither confirmed nor denied. “Teacher wanted to help me reject the marriage proposal, but I didn’t want him to bear the blame. Moreover, the Ren family’s threshold was nearly broken by matchmakers. I was overwhelmed by the constant visits. In desperation, I made a reckless move.”

Qu You guessed roughly: “You leaked two licentious poems?”

“I… didn’t want to get married. As an unmarried youth, being seen as dissolute drew criticism, but it wasn’t harmful. This strategy worked effectively—within half a month, the number of matchmakers decreased significantly. Soon after, I was posted outside the capital. When I returned to court, it was during the Candlelit Pavilion case.”

He didn’t continue, but Qu You understood his meaning. After the Candlelit Pavilion case, Zhou Tan’s reputation was ruined. No upright scholar-officials were willing to marry their daughters to him, and military families also avoided such a husband. Though Gao Ze had intentions, Gao Yunyue was then negotiating a marriage with the Crown Prince.

Zhou Tan had already reached adulthood, and Emperor De had long intended to arrange a marriage to bind him. However, each attempt was refused by Zhou Tan until after he was nearly assassinated, giving the emperor an opportunity to hastily arrange a marriage.

“Consort Zhao arranged this marriage partly to discourage the Gao family’s ambitions and partly to hope for chaos in my household. If no trouble arose, it was likely the emperor’s intention to give me some personal ties.” The wind on the river was cold, and Zhou Tan removed his outer robe, draping it over her shoulders. “You are the daughter of a historian, talented and renowned—you should despise evil and be incapable of enduring humiliation. They expected you to commit suicide before even entering my household—but you…”

Even Zhou Tan hadn’t anticipated that she would defy everyone’s expectations. She arrived without hatred or affection, and because of that ambiguous dream, she even harbored some inexplicable fondness for him. Their journey to this point felt almost unbelievable.

Still, Qu You didn’t fully understand: “What do you mean by ‘giving me some personal ties’?”

Zhou Tan paused. “If… everyone inside and outside the palace knew how deeply in love we were, then the emperor, Consort Zhao, Chancellor Fu, the Crown Prince, and even Chief Minister Gao could manipulate me simply by threatening you, your father, or the Qu family. They have countless methods and unpredictable intentions. I can plan carefully, but if you suffer any harm in the process, how can I make up for it?”

“Yes, just like what happened to the Ren family,” Qu You fell silent. “If they had known that you went to great lengths to raise money and bribe officials in prison to protect Ren Pingsheng, such suffering might have happened again and again.”

“At banquets, I rarely sit beside you. When Lady Gong antagonizes you, I can’t step in to defend you.” Zhou Tan rested his hand on the boat’s railing, his gaze flickering. “Your visit to greet me at the East Gate was already inappropriate. Fortunately, the Crown Prince believed the rumors circulating among the common folk, thinking it was merely a superficial act.”

He turned his head, his eyes reflecting the gradually receding cluster of lanterns. “You once pitied my reputation, but I wished it burned even brighter.”

Qu You tightened the robe around her. Just as she was about to respond, Zhou Tan suddenly stood, guiding her into the cabin. There was simple writing equipment on the table, and the surroundings were silent except for the gentle sound of flowing water.

“Come to think of it, it’s been a while since I last wrote poetry.”

Zhou Tan used a white jade paperweight to hold down the paper and picked up the brush, dipping it in ink. Qu You tried to snatch the brush away, but unexpectedly, Zhou Tan placed his hand directly over hers.

She wasn’t sure if she heard her own heartbeat, but there he was, so close, using the faint light to guide her hand in writing characters on the paper. Qu You was momentarily mesmerized. Turning her head, she saw familiar lines under the dim light.

—Behind red gates, embroidered chambers echo with song and dance; atop jade towers, wine flows freely, yet never enough.

Isn’t this the second poem in the Spring Sandalwood Collection , the most sensual verse Zhou Tan ever wrote?

Why write it in this context?

She stared in disbelief as Zhou Tan solemnly guided her hand to complete the next two lines.

—Pillows gather fragrance, delicate and fine; hands clasp scented books beneath the canopy.

After finishing, Zhou Tan caressed her hand, remaining silent for a while, perhaps embarrassed by the licentious content. Qu You touched the paper and murmured, “But this shouldn’t be written for the Qixi Festival…”

The title of this poem was Qixi Night, Written at Chunfeng Huayu While Slightly Drunk . Why was it appearing here?

Realizing her slip, she quickly corrected herself: “Er, I mean, this sounds like a poem written during a festival like Qixi, expressing love between men and women.”

Zhou Tan paused, guiding her hand to title the poem.

—Qixi Night, Written at Chunfeng Huayu.

After a moment’s thought, he added two more words: Slightly Drunk.

Qu You was utterly stunned. Zhou Tan released her hand, folded the note neatly, and said, “No matter. One day, I’ll have Black Robe leak this poem. Whether it’s Qixi or not, it will surely add to my reputation as a heartbreaker… If anyone mentions it to you, there’s no need to refute it.”

She didn’t know what to say. Suddenly, the small boat bumped against the stone steps of the shore, rocking heavily. From the stern, Black Robe announced, “Master, we’ve arrived.”

As they disembarked, she noticed Zhou Tan’s cheeks were slightly flushed, perhaps due to the stuffiness inside the boat. He looked exactly like the title of the poem:

Slightly Drunk.

Peng Yue was unlike Fu Qingnian, who hailed from an aristocratic family. Peng Yue hadn’t previously lived in Bianjing and owned no estate. Mingfang, where land was extremely expensive and hard to acquire, was out of reach for him. Thus, his residence was located in Changlefang downstream of the Bian River.

Changlefang was favored by the newly wealthy. Unlike the strict zoning of Mingfang, affluent families often built sprawling mansions here. With its vast open spaces and sparse population, the houses were spaced far apart.

For instance, the nearest mansion to Peng Yue’s residence was half a mile away. This alley housed only one family, so even if chaos erupted, it was unlikely others would notice.

Early on, Zhou Tan had reassigned the guards from the Ministry of Justice. Qu You took a few steps closer, expecting him to lead her through a hidden door or over a wall. To her surprise, he walked straight through the main gate.

“Why are you entering through the main gate?”

Seeing her remove the outer robe, Zhou Tan took it and draped it over his arm. He raised an eyebrow. “If not through the gate, should we climb the wall instead? I could climb, but can you?”

Qu You was dumbfounded. “But you’re entering so openly…”

“It’s fine,” Zhou Tan gestured behind him. “The Peng residence was sealed by the Ministry of Justice. Black Robe brought the official seal. After we leave, he’ll reapply it.”

As they walked, she asked, “Then what kind of theft is this?”

Zhou Tan replied, “If no one knows we’ve been here, yet we take something away, isn’t that stealing?”

They began searching from the Peng residence’s main hall. Black Robe somehow produced a lantern, which Qu You took in hand, and he retreated quietly.

When Peng Yue was exiled, he left in great haste. Though the emperor hadn’t confiscated his property, he packed all his valuables. What remained was plundered by fleeing concubines and servants. Fu Qingnian had also secretly sent people to search the house, leaving every room in disarray.

Qu You carefully stepped over a fallen plaque at the entrance, following Zhou Tan into Peng Yue’s study—the most critical place.

“When Fu Qingnian came to search, he found nothing. This item must not be in an obvious location,” Zhou Tan shielded her from a precarious shelf. “That poem…”

“‘Under the moon, a heavenly mirror flies; clouds rise, forming a sea pavilion…’” Qu You murmured. “Perhaps we can start by looking for paintings or books that match this poem.”

Though Peng Yue’s study contained many valuable paintings and calligraphy works, though he had taken many with him, framed scrolls still filled a blue-and-white porcelain jar.

Zhou Tan examined the scrolls under the lamplight, while Qu You circled the room twice, even inspecting the ceiling. She couldn’t imagine where else something could be hidden.

Casually stepping over a collapsed screen at the doorway, she intended to check the doorframe. Glancing down absentmindedly, she immediately spotted something significant. “Zhou Tan, look at this!”

Turning and lowering his gaze, Zhou Tan saw an old, faded image of a moon barely visible on the dusty screen.

Qu You picked up a nearby book and wiped the screen, revealing an expansive landscape of rolling green mountains with a great river rushing at their feet. A bright moon hung in the sky, accompanied by faint, almost illegible characters.

Leaning closer, she discovered that the blurred signature was none other than the poem Farewell at Jingmen Ferry .

“This screen is made of thin gauze. Though the poem is here, how could it possibly conceal anything?” Zhou Tan puzzled alongside her. “However, this handwriting is atrocious—it might have been Peng Yue’s own work, meant as a reminder for himself.”

Qu You asked Zhou Tan to help her lift the screen back into place.

As she examined the screen closely, she noticed a relatively clean patch on the floor not far away. The ground bore an impression resembling the wooden base of the screen, suggesting it had originally stood there but was moved during a search.

After repositioning the screen, Zhou Tan walked around it and immediately spotted something odd: “A Lian, look at this.”

Qu You stepped over and found that behind the moon depicted on the screen lay a bronze mirror hanging on the wall inside the study.

She immediately sensed something was amiss: “Why would Peng Yue, a man, need a bronze mirror in his study?”

The mirror had been flipped during the search but hadn’t been moved from its spot.

“Under the moon, a heavenly mirror flies...”

Qu You approached the mirror, flipping it back into position. Through the gauze screen, Zhou Tan observed from behind and suddenly stepped aside: “What a coincidence...”

When they entered, they hadn’t closed the door, and tonight’s moonlight was perfect. A full moon shone through the doorway, casting a sliver of light onto the bronze mirror.

They waited silently. As the moon sank lower, its reflection filled the small mirror entirely. Just as it began to slip out of view, a bright spot of light suddenly appeared on the darkened wall inside the room.

Qu You rushed forward. On the wall, faint traces remained where something must have once hung.

At her feet lay an old painting discarded during the search. Unrolling it, she saw it was titled Mirage .

If hung, it would perfectly obscure the bright spot.

Zhou Tan reached out cautiously, pressing firmly on the illuminated area. The wall caved inward slightly, accompanied by the sound of a turning mechanism. Beneath the desk, a shallow hidden compartment emerged.

“Ingenious contraption,” Qu You marveled. “Had we come at the wrong time, we’d never have discovered it. No wonder Peng Yue felt secure. Even Fu Qingnian’s men likely missed it in their search.”

Zhou Tan retrieved a wooden box from the compartment—a complex Lu Ban puzzle box. But he seemed familiar with it, deftly manipulating its mechanisms until it disassembled in moments.

As Qu You reached out to touch it, Zhou Tan warned: “Be careful—this Lu Ban box contains tiny arrows that could injure you.”

Quickly retracting her hand, she watched as he extracted a worn notebook from within. Its cover was torn and weathered, bearing the inscription “Imperial Decree for the Construction of Zhenru Palace.” On the first page lay a detailed architectural sketch.

The subsequent pages were written in uneven, clumsy handwriting, clearly not by the same hand as the cover. Flipping through briefly, Zhou Tan remarked in surprise: “I thought he only had a transcribed copy of the notes, but I didn’t expect him to have stolen Gongshu Wuchuan’s original construction blueprints. No wonder Fu Qingnian was so anxious. This evidence is far more damning than Du Hui’s ambiguous letters.”

Though Qu You couldn’t fully decipher the architectural drawings, she grasped the general idea. Apart from surface measurements, Gongshu Wuchuan had meticulously sketched a boat-shaped secret chamber connected via a well in the southern garden—an exceptionally concealed design.

“This secret chamber must have been part of the original construction, not added later during renovations,” Qu You mused. “So when the southern garden caught fire years ago, Consort Zhao likely used the construction work as cover for her affair. Afterwards, they simply filled in the well.”

“The bodies must have been buried beneath the well. No wonder His Majesty had no choice but to demolish the entire palace under the guise of reconstruction. With such a large chamber, there was no other way to uncover it.”

“Let’s go,” Zhou Tan carefully wrapped up the items and removed the bronze mirror. Decisively, he said, “I’ll have Black Robe drag this screen to the back garden and burn it, scattering the ashes into the pond. This estate won’t remain sealed for long—it will soon be granted to someone else. Finding this today was pure luck. Fu Qingnian’s earlier search must have been cursory. Once the estate changes hands, any further investigation will be futile.”

“What do you plan to do now that you have his leverage?” Qu You asked. “His Majesty seeks to consolidate judicial authority. Whether the case concludes as per the capital prefecture’s verdict or your findings depends solely on his whim. Between you and the prefecture commander, one will inevitably become the scapegoat. If I were Fu Qingnian, after discerning His Majesty’s intentions these past days, I’d arrange new evidence implicating you as power-hungry, ensuring His Majesty sides with him instead.”

Zhou Tan led her back home on horseback. The rhythmic clatter of hooves echoed through the quiet streets. Amidst the wind, she heard Zhou Tan say: “If you were a man, you’d make an excellent politician.”

“Ai Disheng praised me today, saying I’d excel in business,” Qu You chuckled. “Why does it always have to be a man? Even as a woman, I can handle these things just fine.”

Zhou Tan fell silent for a moment. “As my wife, if you grow close to Doctor Bai, I wouldn’t mind. But public opinion might tarnish your reputation. The Zhou estate owns shops along Bianhe Street—if you’re interested, feel free to visit them often.”

“Alright,” Qu You readily agreed, smiling mischievously. “In that case, next time I see him besides seeking treatment, I’ll ask Doctor Bai to dress as a woman.”

Zhou Tan fell silent again.

________________________________________

Song Shiyan returned to the estate late at night.

Emperor De had nine sons; excluding his eldest brother and fifth brother who died young, only the ninth prince, born to Consort Zhao, was most favored. Today marked the ninth prince’s third birthday, and Song Shiyan spent the evening feigning smiles at the banquet, his cheeks growing stiff from forced laughter.

He knew full well that His Majesty’s affection wasn’t genuine—the favoritism stemmed from the boy’s youth.

Youth equated to harmlessness.

Before leaving the palace gates, Fu Qingnian bid him farewell politely: “Safe travels, Your Highness.”

Song Shiyan smirked: “Safe travels, Chancellor.”

Their paths crossed beneath the cold red walls, the scent of alcohol lingering between them.

The Crown Prince’s Consort greeted him at the entrance, preparing hangover soup and millet porridge. After a few sips, Song Shiyan noticed the taste differed from usual and inquired: “Was this prepared in the estate’s private kitchen?”

“I commissioned it from a shop outside Bianhe today,” the Consort replied softly. “Your Highness may rest assured—I’ve already had it inspected. Coincidentally, I encountered Lady Zhou there.”

It was the ninth prince’s birthday banquet, yet the Crown Prince’s Consort hadn’t attended because of her frail health. That morning, she experienced chest tightness, prompting the physician to advise against drinking or heavy eating.

“Oh?” Song Shiyan asked with interest. “Lady Zhou—you spoke with her?”

“Lady Zhou is kind-hearted and helped me choose several recipes,” the Consort pressed her hand to his forehead. “As Your Highness predicted, she is indeed agreeable.”

“Mm.”

The room was thick with incense, inducing drowsiness. Lately, Song Shiyan had felt mentally fatigued, and tonight’s banquet left him inexplicably irritable. At that moment, the Consort’s nails accidentally grazed his temple.

Like a sudden spark, Song Shiyan’s face darkened. Rising abruptly, he slapped her hard across the face.

The Consort stumbled backward, falling to the ground. Servants holding basins and towels immediately knelt en masse. Guards at the door coughed discreetly before retreating on their knees.

“Your servant has failed...” The Consort trembled on the floor, her voice quivering. “Please punish me, Your Highness.”

Song Shiyan sneered, offering no reply. He leisurely finished his porridge before pulling her to her feet.

Her fair skin bore a vivid red handprint. Gently stroking her cheek, he mocked: “Poor thing, why kneel? It pains me to see you like this. Come, let me apply medicine for you.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” the Consort murmured, lowering her eyes.

She retrieved ointment from a drawer beside her and respectfully handed it over, kneeling quietly at his feet.

Lazily accepting it, he playfully poured the white powder directly onto her face. Powder flew everywhere, causing her to choke silently, her cheeks flushing red.

Song Shiyan tossed the bottle aside, mockingly patting her cheek: “Uncle is a celebrated general who quelled rebellions and conquered the west. Your brothers fight bravely on the battlefield—true men of valor. Why do you enjoy kneeling so much?”

Finishing his words, he seemed to recall something: “Among women, some find it unbearable even when servants kneel before them. Yet you seem quite adept. Two taels’ worth of backbone, indeed—a cheap existence.”

The Consort remained silent, head bowed. Three knocks echoed from beyond the door. Song Shiyan tapped the table, and someone entered, seemingly oblivious to the scene inside, speaking tersely: “Your Highness, trouble has arisen near Bianhe.”

Song Shiyan narrowed his eyes.