Miss Zhang’s attire today was as simple as ever, no more ornate than when I had seen her at the East Market. It was as if she didn't hold this grand banquet in any regard at all, nor did she care to attract some "ideal husband." As the saying goes, the tree craves calm, but the wind will not subside; though she remained indifferent, she was already surrounded by a crowd so dense not even water could trickle through. Yet, intimidated by her cold, ethereal beauty—like a divine consort from the celestial palaces—none dared to approach her. They could only follow her slow, graceful steps, clustering and dispersing like grey mist and floating dust stirred by the wind around a goddess, unable to touch even a corner of her robes. Her maid followed behind, indeed cradling that priceless zither, the Jiuxiao Huanpei.
At this moment, the performances in the hall were merely minor acts. The top-tier courtesans had yet to appear; instead, young noblemen were calling for their favorite songs, summoning songstresses one by one to perform. Among them was Qu Chen, the young songstress I had seen at the Qinshang Hall sharing a room with Zhang Zhuyi. Upon hearing the commotion, she couldn't even finish her song. She turned her head to gaze blankly at Miss Zhang until she received a sharp slap from the young master she was serving. Only then did she lower her head, eyes brimming with tears, and continue her song.
Unlike Wen Jiang, who frequently graced banquets and social gatherings, Zhang Zhuyi had always kept herself pure and aloof, rarely showing her face in public. Today, she didn't even wear a veil, allowing everyone to feast their eyes on her—the effect was nothing short of staggering. Although in my eyes, in terms of pure looks, the two were equally matched—and if one counted Yindeng, they were the three greatest beauties in all of Pingjing—Zhang Zhuyi held the advantage of rarity. She was the one you could never see, no matter how much you wished to.
Miss Zhang ignored the stares, choosing a quiet, secluded spot to sit. She did not play her zither, nor did she read; she even refused the tea and snacks provided by the venue. Instead, she had her two maids brew tea for her. They used the most complex method of decocting tea—grinding, sifting, and adding salt through the three boils. If old Master Lu Yu were to come back to life, he would surely give Miss Zhang a thumbs-up... Speaking of which, after knowing Wei Qingming, my own tastes had become quite spoiled. I had drunk plenty of decocted tea, and if she didn't make it herself, I wouldn't touch it; it always felt "off" in my mouth... Ah, why hasn't she come home yet!
In the midst of the bustle, Li Zizhuo’s servant hurriedly nudged his master, who was already bleary-eyed from drink, to look at Zhang Zhuyi. Li Zizhuo spared her a casual glance before offering a biting critique: "She’s like a female schoolmaster. Just looking at her makes me feel like I’m entering an examination hall; it makes one want to pull a 'Duke of Pei' and flee. Where’s the charm in that?" I had to stifle a laugh; on this point, I actually shared a bit of common ground with this fellow Li... Beauty alone isn't rare; what matters most is charm and spirit. Otherwise, no matter how beautiful, it is ultimately tasteless.
As he spoke, he clutched his stomach, wondering aloud, "My stomach feels uneasy tonight, and I'm famished. Go get more snacks. Why hasn't the feast started yet!"
The grand banquet Young Master Li so desperately awaited finally began. Wen Jiang entered the hall with steps as light and ethereal as drifting mist. Instantly, the room erupted in cheers. The crowd that swarmed her was several times larger than the one that had greeted Zhang Zhuyi. She smiled, exchanging pleasantries with practiced ease and grace. In moments, she had filled the room with the radiance of spring and the melody of elegant laughter. Today, she was dressed with opulent brilliance. In her hair, she wore a "Palace-Illuminating Red," an out-of-season peony borrowed from my garden’s greenhouse. A single bloom was worth a million, and paired with her intricate red robes, her beauty was unparalleled in this world. By comparison, Zhang Zhuyi’s emerald-green gown seemed too plain, too nonchalant. Sometimes, a beauty’s appeal isn't just in her features, but in the delicate affectations she uses to adorn herself, and the imaginative scenarios those affectations evoke.
Li Zizhuo was clearly a brainless devotee of Wen Jiang as well. He excitedly straightened up, intending to plunge into the crowd, but a sudden, embarrassing rumble echoed from his gut. He couldn't very well offend the lady at such close range, so he sat back down on his couch in dejected frustration.
Before the commotion caused by Wen Jiang could subside, two more people entered hand-in-hand, sending the voices in the hall into a fever pitch. I looked and was delighted again—look who it was! None other than the legitimate son and daughter of the Duke of Ying’s household: Yan Mingqiu and Yan Xiangjun... To think these "immortals" would also attend a mundane matchmaking banquet. Truly strange!
Yu Niannian followed behind them, clapping and giggling, clearly just there to watch the fun.
Yan Mingqiu was his usual rugged self. His expensive, delicate finery had likely been forced upon him by his sister. Unlike Wei Qingming, who was accustomed to flowing sleeves, he couldn't even take a full stride in these clothes. He looked like he didn't know where to put his arms and legs, looking thoroughly impatient.
Yan Xiangjun, however, had clearly put a great deal of thought into her appearance. She wore a rare jade-green gown, the same color as the Wujing Sect’s disciple uniforms. She looked ethereal and immortal, standing out as a unique breath of fresh air amidst the competing splendors of the hall, perfectly suiting her status as a celestial maiden. Her features weren't as striking as Wen Jiang’s or Zhang Zhuyi’s, but she had the advantage of practicing high-level cultivation techniques that preserved her youth. Her skin was lustrous, as if emitting a faint glow, flawless and white as if dusted with snow. She wore no powder, only a thin touch of rouge on her lips and a lifelike peach blossom tilak on her forehead. She was truly at the peak of her beauty since I had known her!
Though Li Zizhuo was still clutching his stomach with a grimace, he began to drool at the sight of her, calling out, "Goddess sister!"
Zhu Yixin, of course, wouldn't miss a chance to gossip. She "sprang" out from the crowd and hopped over to my side, tugging my sleeve as she stifled a laugh. "Look at how she racked her brains for that outfit. With that look, everyone will have to call her the Queen Mother of the West!"
I also hid a smile behind my hand. "Let’s see which young master is fated to be the King of Chu and dream of a fine rain tonight."
We discussed it for a while and agreed that Wen Jiang had won this first round of entrances. However, the direction of events soon spiraled out of anyone's control. Performers from Wangxiang Pavilion, Qinshang Hall, Liuxia Pavilion, various houses from Yun Alley, and over a dozen songstresses from the Music Bureau began to enter...
The less-experienced Lanyue and Lingyao stood frozen, holding hands. This was truly unexpected—would a matchmaking banquet for noble men and women really allow such a large number of beauties to enter and stir up the atmosphere? Truly, city folk knew how to play...
Yindeng was among them, wearing her usual elegant and refined attire. With a charming smile and radiant eyes, she nodded and greeted her close friends with perfect poise and restraint. Seeing her, I almost wanted to abandon Wen Jiang; I still felt Sister Yindeng was the cutest and most beautiful... Anyway, since the "vinegar jar" of my household wasn't here, there was no harm in looking. I might as well look my fill.
Although I always ranked Yindeng first in my heart, the leader of the Wangxiang Pavilion group was someone else: the undisputed top dancer, Dong Banyuan. She too wore a gown of red gauze, which, despite the cold weather, was almost translucent against her skin. Her figure was graceful and alluring to the extreme, yet her expression was upright and gentle, untainted by the mundane world. She was so beautiful one dared not look directly at her; gazing upon that snowy-white body, one felt that even a single stray thought would be a great disrespect to the goddess of beauty...
Leading the Qinshang Hall was Zhao Caibing, who consistently ranked second in the zither department, just below Xue Yishan. Her name was taken from Xin Qiji’s lyrics: "The wine cup drinks the autumn dew, the poem lines carve the night ice." She truly embodied the lines "brows like the green of morning mountains, eyes like the clarity of autumn waters." Her demeanor was ethereal and elegant, seemingly indifferent to the bustle of the hall. She held her head high, looking down on everyone as she lost herself in her own thoughts.
The ladies from Yun Alley were all long-famed and had seen many great storms. They walked arm-in-arm, appearing exceptionally intimate, chatting and laughing as if no one else were there. To them, these young men in the hall were merely the grandsons of their regular clients; many of the youths would have to respectfully call them "Auntie" or "Elder Sister"...
The Music Bureau songstresses were the picture of dignity. Every one of them kept her eyes lowered, entering with synchronized, graceful steps, their swaying hemlocks rippling like waves. There was so much dazzling glamour in the hall that their arrival felt like a cool breeze entering a room, refreshing the senses. Upon closer inspection, each of them possessed her own unique charm.
As for Liuxia Pavilion... I had just spotted the male hosts appearing when Zhu Yixin covered my eyes, grinning wickedly. "You’re a married woman, don't look!"
I protested, "If you're so capable, stop me from looking at the beautiful women too!"
"Beautiful women of the same type as A-Qing? Of course I won't let you look at them either."
Why is it that even though we've known each other longer, her loyalty always leans toward Wei the Third? I was gnashing my teeth in frustration but could do nothing. I made a mental note to get back at her; as soon as I regained my freedom of movement, I would call Big Brother Qiaosong into the hall and see if she still dared to ogle the handsome men of Liuxia Pavilion so brazenly!
While the two of us were bickering, someone approached the corner where Zhang Zhuyi sat, a place no one else dared to disturb. Qu Chen held a small box, looking at Miss Zhang with trepidation and longing. She actually whispered, "Happy birthday."
Today was indeed the seventeenth day of the twelfth lunar month. Upon hearing this, Zhang Zhuyi nodded slightly and simply said, "Thanks." Within her habitually icy tone, there was a trace of almost imperceptible tenderness.
Qu Chen’s face blossomed into a smile, her eyes sparkling. she placed the small box carefully on the table and, with childish care, straightened the ribbon and adjusted the angle. Miss Zhang actually took the initiative to show concern: "How are the injuries on your body?"
"Thanks to you, Miss..." the young girl stammered, her face flushing. "Your medicine is good. It... it shouldn't leave a scar!"
Zhang Zhuyi gave a faint "Mm" and said, "Go then. Sing well, and do not let people hit you again." It turned out that although she had seemed indifferent when Qu Chen was slapped for being distracted upon her entry, she had seen everything. This rare warmth caused tears to instantly well up in the young girl's eyes, but she wiped them away with a smile and left happily.
As the grand feast commenced, some fifty or sixty tables had been arranged throughout the hall—small tables for two, as well as various arrangements for four, eight, or even twelve people. Nearly two hundred men and women sat down amidst laughter and shouting, a flurry of jostling and waving handkerchiefs. Just as I was about to find a moment to go to the door and call Qiao Songlin to come and deal with Zhu Yixin—who was currently drooling and giggling at the handsome men of Liuxia—someone burst into the hall. No one had expected her: it was Xue Yishan.
She arrived in a hurry, her face clouded with anger. She wore black robes and her usual bare face, her hair tied back casually with a white jade ring. It looked as though she had heard some urgent news while bathing and had rushed over after throwing on her clothes. Her maid, however, had not forgotten to carry her zither.
The hall manager had not expected her presence at all. Likely worried about the massive, unplanned appearance fee, he froze on the spot. It was only when another person spoke with a faint smile: "Master Xue has taken time out of her busy schedule to grace us with her presence. What a pleasant surprise. Please, come in."
This person had striking purple eyes, and her gaze was full of charm. Her red lips were curved into a perfect arc, making her look even more radiant and noble against her ornate blue robes. This was, of course, one of the hosts, Duan Qimo. With her word as a guarantee, the fee was no longer an issue. The manager immediately switched to a fawning, sycophantic smile, bowing low as he invited Xue Yishan to move forward. By now, Master Xue had calmed from her initial haste. With her usual cold, indifferent expression, she strode toward the musicians' area and took a seat.
Duan Qimo narrowed her eyes slightly as she scanned the room, accurately locating Wen Jiang. I quickly looked to see Wen Jiang’s reaction, but she was smiling sweetly, hooking her arm through a close friend’s as she whispered in her ear. She seemed completely immersed in her conversation; neither the commotion caused by Xue Yishan’s appearance nor the arrival of Duan Qimo, who had ended that commotion, seemed to catch her attention in the slightest.
But soon, she would have no choice but to pay attention. To the strains of the first cheerful piece performed by the Music Bureau songstresses, "The Lotus Picking Song," Duan Qimo gracefully took the stage. She gave a refined salute, looking triumphant. Wen Jiang was entirely within her grasp; there was no need to rush.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 照殿红 | Palace-Illuminating Red | A variety of peony known for its brilliant red color. |
| 沛公之遁 | Duke of Pei's Escape | A reference to Liu Bang (the Duke of Pei) escaping the Feast at Hongmen; used to mean making a hasty exit. |
| 楚王梦雨 | King of Chu's Dream of Rain | An allusion to the King of Chu dreaming of the Goddess of Wu Mountain; refers to a romantic or sexual encounter. |
| 董半烟 | Dong Banyuan | A top dancer from Wangxiang Pavilion. |
| 赵裁冰 | Zhao Caibing | A zither player from Qinshang Hall. |
| 段绮陌 | Duan Qimo | One of the hosts of the banquet, characterized by her purple eyes. |
| 采莲曲 | The Lotus Picking Song | A traditional Chinese musical piece/poem. |
