Attending the Banquet Alone

On the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, a heavy snowfall blanketed the capital once again, adding a touch of warmth to the already festive atmosphere.

After the snow cleared, the air was crisp and cool.

Xia Yunhe sat beneath the eaves in a wicker chair, dressed in a simple cotton robe tied at the waist in a shade of wutong green. She held a rolled book in her hand, idly watching the snow fall in the courtyard.

To her left stood a red clay stove, atop which a small ceramic teapot hissed softly as steam rose from it.

Straightening her posture, she lifted the teapot to pour herself another cup of hot tea, gently blowing away the froth before sipping slowly.

Today was a day of rest. Zhenniang had gone to the West Market to procure goods, leaving Xia Yunhe free to lounge in the courtyard, pouring her own tea.

She gazed up at the vast sky and then down at the book in her hands. It was a book left to her by Master Fu, containing common secret codes used by the Night Watch. A cold breeze rustled through the branches, causing her to cough softly as she wrapped her robe tighter around her. She did not retreat indoors; the chill helped keep her mind clear.

Since her rebirth, she had hoped for change but knew she must proceed cautiously. The political climate in the capital was unfavorable to her.

Though no overt moves were visible, hints from the Fourth Prince revealed fierce factional struggles.

Previously, the court was dominated by a single faction led by the Crown Prince, supported by the Duke of Dingguo, whose foundation was solid.

In her past life, Xia Yunhe had been the Crown Prince’s tutor, sharing the same respectable circle and maintaining courteous relations.

Now, she had chosen to back the Seventh Prince, a low-ranking official who dared to challenge the Crown Prince openly. Naturally, others rushed to defend their master without the Duke of Dingguo needing to intervene.

The current situation could be summed up in twelve words: cautious, as if standing on the edge of an abyss, treading on thin ice.

Clutching the book, she rose and paced through the courtyard, arms folded in thought.

Everyone assumed the Crown Prince was the rightful heir, that all plans and schemes revolved around supporting him and eliminating rivals. But no one knew that the Kingdom of Chu had fallen by the Crown Prince’s own hands—something she had witnessed with her own eyes.

The human suffering was too terrible to dwell upon.

Taking a deep breath, Xia Yunhe shook her head, banishing those grim memories.

Unable to continue reading, she settled back into the wicker chair, resting her chin on the armrest.

It had been over a month since Master Fu’s departure; she wondered about the situation at the border.

Rubbing her brow, she went to the kitchen to fetch fresh water, then scattered some grains under the eaves. Before long, a dozen plump sparrows gathered, pecking at the food and hopping onto the snow, leaving faint footprints.

Stretching her waist, Xia Yunhe reclined again, covering her face with the book and closing her eyes. Whatever came, she would face it head-on.

In recent years, the princes had all grown up. The faction led by Minister Wan Jingyi of the Ministry of Public Works, who was allied with Consort Wan, openly supported the Fifth Prince.

The Fourth Prince’s mother came from humble origins and devoted herself to Buddhist austerities within the palace, indifferent to worldly affairs. Outwardly, the Fourth Prince appeared a wealthy idler, indulging in wine and women. Yet, no one born into royalty was truly idle. The events of the New Year showed his cunning ran far deeper than that of the Crown Prince or the Fifth Prince.

Now, Xia Yunhe supported the Seventh Prince, a long-time hostage and overlooked figure, regarded as a fourth faction in this chaotic power struggle. To others, the Seventh Prince, whose base was unstable, was the easiest to manipulate.

She suddenly felt a pang of guilt. If she hadn’t chosen the Seventh Prince that day, the youth might have quietly lived his life, waiting until seventeen to make his mark at the border.

But now, she wondered how long he could hold out. She had to…

Her thoughts were interrupted as the book was taken from her face, and Zhenniang’s boisterous voice echoed in her ear.

“Miss, it’s freezing out there! Why sit outside without a cloak? The chill just passed recently, why must you worry me so?”

Xia Yunhe felt a twinge of guilt, sat up, finished her tea in one gulp, and covered her cheek. “I wasn’t out long.”

Zhenniang patted her back, her expression darkening as she frowned. “Don’t lie to me; your clothes are frozen stiff.”

Seeing Zhenniang upset, Xia Yunhe shrank her neck and rose to retrieve her book, intending to retreat indoors.

But Zhenniang was not so easily dismissed. Dodging back to keep the book away, she said, “You know your health isn’t good, yet you sit outside like this. If the matron finds out, she’ll be heartbroken.”

Xia Yunhe felt a headache coming on. No longer interested in tea or snow, she hoped Zhenniang would stop nagging. Noticing the basket on Zhenniang’s arm was empty, she asked, “Why no vegetables today?”

Zhenniang’s grumbling poured out like beans from a bamboo tube. “Hmph! Prices in the West Market have doubled, and the vendors are rude. ‘If you want to buy, buy; don’t be picky,’ they say. How infuriating! Who says you can’t pick your vegetables? Then some child bumped into me and knocked over a stall. The owner refused to accept responsibility and made me pay for the damages.”

“No vegetables bought, only a mouthful of trouble,” Zhenniang grumbled, scowling. After a moment, she slapped her forehead and remembered, “Oh! That child gave me a letter to give to you.”

She pulled an envelope from her bosom and continued, “I saw your name on it, so I brought it back. The child vanished as quickly as he came. Isn’t that strange?”

Xia Yunhe nodded in agreement and took the envelope. It bore the inscription “Respectfully to Xia Gongyi” and contained a gold leaf and a lock of hair tied with a red string. The letter read: “I have long heard of your great name and yearn to meet. Please come to the Five Flavors Pavilion at the first quarter of the Shen hour today. Respectfully, Third Madam.”

The Five Flavors Pavilion was a renowned tavern in the capital, frequented by guests from all regions, offering the finest delicacies from Huguang and beyond. Xia Yunhe’s brow twitched. Third Madam? The tone was not one she would expect from the real Third Madam.

She examined the front of the envelope carefully, and suddenly, a spark of insight struck her.

“Respectfully to Xia Gongyi…” Gongyi… She had never revealed her courtesy name to Third Madam. This letter must be an invitation delivered under the guise of Third Madam.

Returning to her chair, she tapped her knees lightly, contemplating. The mastermind behind this might be the Crown Prince, the Fourth Prince, or Consort Wan.

The Fourth Prince’s words echoed in her mind: “If you do not choose, someone will choose for you.” Xia Yunhe smiled softly; her choice had long been made.

Lost in thought, Zhenniang draped a small woolen blanket over her legs.

The woman, now dressed in a padded jacket, prepared to cook, looking at her with fondness. “Miss, if you want to watch the snow, you must keep warm.”

Xia Yunhe smiled gently, fingers stroking the gold leaf, the red string swinging softly with the black hair it bound. Her brow furrowed again as she scrutinized the bold, vigorous calligraphy on the envelope—clearly a man’s handwriting.

She had never seen the Fourth Prince’s script, but the Crown Prince’s writing bore that very force.

If the Crown Prince was behind this invitation, the Duke of Dingguo must be involved.

Looking up at the sky, Xia Yunhe knew that with the Duke’s participation, she could hardly contend.

If she refused to go, these people might call her ungrateful, but could do nothing more.

Thinking this over, Xia Yunhe smiled and decided not to attend.

She leaned back in the chair, feeling at ease. As Zhenniang said, let them play their games without her.

Zhenniang approached again, saying, “Miss, the child said one more thing before he left.”

“What was that?” Xia Yunhe asked lightly, showing no concern.

Zhenniang frowned. “The child said, ‘If you don’t come, what I’ll send next will be that young lady’s hand.’”

Xia Yunhe sat up in surprise. “Zhenniang, you heard that right?”

“Of course! My ears are sharp.”

Xia Yunhe pondered deeply. In her previous life as tutor to the Crown Prince, though he was narrow-minded, he was educated as royalty and would never speak so crudely or violently.

This man was neither the Crown Prince nor the Duke of Dingguo.

If she did not go, Third Madam’s life might be in danger. If she went, she risked falling into a trap.

Recalling Third Madam’s faint smile and lively spirit, Xia Yunhe’s brow furrowed tighter.

Zhenniang stood by her side, saying, “Miss, go. I’ll come with you. I’m strong; if there’s a fight, I’ll protect you.”

A chill flickered in Xia Yunhe’s eyes as a figure appeared in her mind. She stood firm; if she did not go, she lost nothing. But if the ruthless man behind this truly held Third Madam, then her life was in grave peril.

An old saying came to mind: “I did not kill Boren, but Boren died because of me.” If Third Madam were killed, the powerful ministers would surely accuse Xia Yunhe of ingratitude and immoral conduct.

She slumped back in the wicker chair, stamping her foot angrily. She resolved she must confront the one who held Third Madam hostage.

...

At the first quarter of the Shen hour, at the Five Flavors Pavilion.

Xia Yunhe arrived alone, cloaked in a white fox fur cape, and was led by an attendant to a private chamber on the second floor.

The room was lavish, walls gilded and painted with subtle patterns of four-combined ruyi motifs, the floor covered in deep red carpets woven with blooming peonies. Rosewood chairs and tables were adorned with intricate silk floral carvings.

Third Madam sat by the table. Her face bore whip marks. A painted screen separated the room, behind which was a couch with a shadowy figure.

The table was laden with golden cups and ornate plates filled with exquisite delicacies: silver fish with green bamboo shoots, assorted rice cakes, Huguang white shrimp, red fermented goose feet... an array of fruits and pastries filled every inch of the surface.

Third Madam’s eyes lit up upon seeing Xia Yunhe, silently mouthing, “Chen—Haizhou.”

Xia Yunhe’s eyebrows twitched, confirming her suspicion. Composing herself, she removed her fox fur, sitting quietly on a round stool near the entrance.

Turning her gaze to the figure behind the screen, she asked calmly, “May I ask why you do not show yourself?”

Chen Haizhou’s voice came from behind the screen. “Madam Xia, truly loyal and righteous, as I expected.”

“What is the meaning of your gesture, Lord Chen?”

Chen Haizhou stepped from behind the screen. His golden crown and dark blue silk robe bespoke a rakish nobleman, yet the sharpness in his eyes betrayed a dangerous nature.

He dismissed the young servant with a wave and strolled over, pouring wine for Xia Yunhe with a raised brow and a smile. “Madam Xia, it has been many days. I have missed you.”

The cup held translucent white wine, fragrant and potent.

Returning to his seat, Chen continued, “When autumn dew thickens, I am but a rough man, unaware of what special qualities this drink holds. Please, Madam Xia, taste it.”

Xia Yunhe smiled softly, lifting the cup and turning aside, covering her mouth with her sleeve, quietly pouring the wine onto a handkerchief tucked into her sleeve. Wiping her lips, she said leisurely, “His Majesty has gifted Lord Chen fine wine. I dare not indulge further.”

Chen straightened, poured himself a cup, and drank deeply, laughing. “Better to burn the knife than drink wine. Madam Xia, you are no happier than I.”

Xia Yunhe laughed gently, her expression serene. “I am a civil official, naturally less spirited than Lord Chen.”

Chen Haizhou laughed heartily, glancing at Third Madam and then sizing Xia Yunhe up with sharp eyes.

With a pointed tone and oppressive presence, he said, “I once heard a saying.”

Xia Yunhe smiled faintly, unmoved, and listened quietly.

Chen filled his cup again, drained it in one gulp, then snorted coldly, “Two rabbits running side by side—how can one tell which is male or female?”