After the night the Golden Guards lifted the curfew, Chai Shuxin finally obtained the long-sought White Jade Choke. The young man’s long-standing stagnation was cleared, the heavy snow of a thousand burdens swept from his shoulders. Under the arrangements of the Master of the Ginkgo Academy, he stayed within the school for a period of time.
This delighted Mu Gesheng to no end. He had orchestrated the "Yama Marries Off His Daughter" incident with layer upon layer of schemes, and his brothers had all suffered for it. The Second Brother was forced to kneel in penance daily, and the Third Brother had to attend the Academy’s main lectures; no one was left to play along with his antics. This young doctor, however, was a man of few words but deep pockets and thin skin. He was easily provoked and even more easily flustered, proving to be more entertaining than a storyteller at the Guanshan Yue pavilion. Best of all, he didn't require a ticket—he was a monumental bargain.
Mu Gesheng’s first step in pestering Chai Shuxin was to drag Song Wentong down with them. He ransacked the Mohist’s room, turning it upside down until he found a thick stack of tracing patterns. He presented them to Chai Shuxin like a cat offering a prize. "Sanjiutian!" A pile of makeup papers towered on the table, and from behind the peak, a pair of bright, youthful eyes peeked out. "These are all my favorites. Pick one!"
Chai Shuxin had only just moved in, and his side room was yet to be tidied. It was instantly thrown into chaos by Mu Gesheng. He looked at the papers covering the table. "What are these?"
"I told you yesterday when I went to your house—Old Second is an expert in incense and powders." Mu Gesheng picked up a sheet and gestured toward his own face. "These are floral patterns, hand-drawn by Old Second."
He was currently holding a pattern for "Fortune, Prosperity, Longevity, and Joy." Cinnabar red was traced onto white paper like a floral forehead ornament, framing the youth's brow. Chai Shuxin opened his mouth, momentarily at a loss for words, only for Mu Gesheng to follow up with: "Hey, take off your gloves. I saw the color of your nails yesterday; it’s too old-fashioned. Pick one you like, and I’ll paint them for you right now!"
Chai Shuxin nearly choked. He lowered his head to gather the papers and handed them back exactly as they were. "I have no need for this."
"Don't be like that! Sanjiutian, your hands are so beautiful. It’s a waste to paint them a color that looks like it belongs to an old concubine!"
"That is Cellared Vermilion. It is made from Eight-fold Winter Red blossoms, steamed and dried three times before being pounded into a paste and sealed. it must be aged through three winters of snow before it is finished." Chai Shuxin tried to explain the logic to him seriously. "The nail-protection formulas of the School of Medicine focus on therapeutic effects. Whether they are aesthetic is unimportant."
Mu Gesheng, caught in a playful mood, couldn't care less. "Then we’ll improve it! Your nails are too heavily red. I’ll give you a light touch of gold tracing—even out the shades, a finishing touch here and there. It’ll only take a stroke or two!"
"Mixing gold into the pigment will affect the medicinal efficacy," Chai Shuxin refused again. "No."
Mu Gesheng pouted. Seeing this, Chai Shuxin immediately gripped his gloves and took a step back. "Do not try to force it."
"Sanjiutian, you can actually guess what I’m going to do now?" Mu Gesheng cocked an eyebrow. "As expected of comrades who went through life and death together yesterday." Having said that, he lunged forward like a rogue. The desk overturned, and a series of crashes echoed through the room. In his struggle to snatch the gloves, he made enough noise to sound like he was tearing off clothes. The young Master Chai still didn't understand Mu Gesheng well enough; had it been Wu Zixu, he likely would have bolted the moment the patterns were produced.
By the time Wu Zixu finished his main lecture and came over from the front courtyard, Mu Gesheng had already chased Chai Shuxin back and forth along the corridor several times. They had passed the ancestral hall where Song Wentong was kneeling. The Mohist had already overheard the entire ordeal through the wall and was watching the show while he knelt, shouting from inside the room: "Old Fourth! Kick him low! You useless brat, I didn't tell you to dodge him! Go head-to-head! Dammit, when you were fighting me, I didn't see your moves being this soft!"
Mu Gesheng had just successfully yanked off one of Chai Shuxin’s gloves. Hearing this, he threw it straight through the window at Song Wentong’s face. "Who the hell was it that told me 'overthrowing a king is a small matter, but killing a doctor is a death sentence'?! If you're so capable, you do it!"
Song Wentong exploded instantly. "You damn well wait! Once I'm done kneeling, I'll beat both of you together!"
"You might not win! Master said the Shihong Blade is sealed for half a year. Maybe we'll be the ones beating you!"
"If you have the guts, roll in here right now! I'll beat you even while kneeling!"
"Old Second, your 'inviting the target into the trap' is way too low-level—"
Wu Zixu shook his head as he listened, pulling the sidelined Chai Shuxin away. Once Mu Gesheng started arguing with Song Wentong, he couldn't stop; his entire focus was on the bickering. "Brother Chai," Wu Zixu said softly, "let’s take cover for a moment."
Chai Shuxin pointed at Song Wentong’s head. "Mu Gesheng took my glove."
"Take cover first, take cover first," Wu Zixu sighed. "When Old Second and Old Fourth get into it, it’s easy for the innocent to get caught in the crossfire. If you keep standing here, they might catch you and start 'claiming kin' in a moment."
Chai Shuxin: "Claiming kin?"
"It depends on where their argument has reached. Calling each other 'son' or 'father' is the standard routine." Wu Zixu continued to sigh. "Once, they didn't know what they were talking about and insisted I choose one of them to marry."
Chai Shuxin: "..."
The two walked one after the other out of the corridor. Chai Shuxin remained silent for a moment before asking, almost as if possessed: "How did Wuchangzi choose?"
"That’s called a seller's market where demand exceeds supply." As Wu Zixu spoke, he pulled out an abacus and began tallying the damage costs from Mu Gesheng’s antics that day. "I settled the accounts with them. Given their pathetic market value, at most they could only be my second or third concubines."
Chai Shuxin: "..."
Though it was a joke, it wasn't entirely for show. A few days later, Chai Shuxin discovered that among the disciples of the Ginkgo Academy, the eldest, Lin Juansheng, traveled abroad year-round. At first glance, it seemed Song Wentong held the seniority, Mu Gesheng held the thickest skin, and Zhu Yinxiao held the youth, leaving only Wu Zixu stuck in the middle, awkward and hard-pressed. In reality, it was the opposite. As much as Song and Mu caused trouble, there were times they bowed their heads.
Take dinner, for example. The moment Song Wentong finished his kneeling penance, he rescued Zhu Yinxiao, who had been tormented for days by Mu Gesheng. When Song Wentong walked into the kitchen, Chai Shuxin was washing vegetables. "Thank goodness you're here." Song Wentong saw him and breathed a sigh of relief. "Otherwise, Old Fourth would have blown up the stove these past few days."
Chai Shuxin had already experienced the "Red Date, Onion, and Koi Soup." He moved his clay pot down, making room on the stove for the other. "Are you making extra for Xingxiuzi? He has just finished his transformation; the Vermilion Bird’s internal organs are different from ordinary ones. It might not be suitable to give him heavy supplements so suddenly..."
His words were drowned out by the roar of Song Wentong’s high-heat stir-frying. Chai Shuxin only vaguely heard a sentence: "...It’s not for Old Five!"
The Mohist’s cooking was a grand, earth-shaking affair. A table was filled to the brim; Chai Shuxin thought only Xingxiuzi could have such an appetite. The next moment, Mu Gesheng bounded in. "Oho, Old Second, you're done kneeling? I smelled the fragrance the moment I walked in—"
Chai Shuxin expected a fierce battle for food to follow, but a single sentence from Song Wentong made Mu Gesheng pull his hand back. "Old Third went to Fengdu today to collect rent."
"That truly is hard work." Mu Gesheng immediately put down his chopsticks. "He must be exhausted. Go, go, go, set the table quickly. Light the stove too, so our Old Third can have a hot meal the moment he gets back."
They set the table in the Warming Pavilion. It was a snowy winter night, and the floor heating was lit. Chai Shuxin sat on the floor holding Zhu Yinxiao, watching Mu Gesheng balance on the railing to hang lanterns. Song Wentong disappeared for a moment and returned with a stack of wine jars. "What are we drinking tonight?" Mu Gesheng’s voice came from the eaves. "Get something strong. That Pear Blossom White from last time was too sweet. Is there any sorghum wine left?"
Chai Shuxin instinctively wanted to say that strong liquor harms the body, especially when drinking at night, but this was not the Chai Manor after all. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Song Wentong seemed to see his concern, put down the wine jars, and pulled out a white porcelain bottle for him. "This is for you and Old Five."
Zhu Yinxiao liked sweets and light flavors. The bottle contained a rice brew with very low alcohol content. Chai Shuxin was about to give his thanks when he heard Song Wentong add: "Or should I set up another stove for you two? You can sit at the kids' table."
Chai Shuxin: "..."
"Hey, I said don't bully our Sanjiutian." Mu Gesheng hung upside down from the roof. "The little doctor holds a grudge. Watch out or he’ll give you a laxative."
Song Wentong: "It’s not like he hasn't before."
Mu Gesheng remembered something. "Right, Old Second, you said before that when you first came to the Academy, you chopped up the Eldest Brother’s desk for firewood and even had a fight with Sanjiutian." He grew excited as he spoke. "How was it? Who won?"
Chai Shuxin and Song Wentong said in unison: "I did."
Mu Gesheng laughed so hard he nearly fell off.
They began chatting about old stories. Young as they were, they didn't have much of a past, but thanks to the rich heritage of the Seven Great Families, a bit of old gossip was a world-shaking marvel to the common folk. Emperors and generals, the rise and fall of dynasties—so many rights and wrongs were treated as jokes to accompany their wine. A hundred generations of mountains and rivers were swallowed down, cast into the snow along with their laughter, nothing more than a fleeting breath of elegance on their lips.
The group drank until midnight. The wine jars were piled high as mountains, yet the food remained untouched. Wu Zixu returned late at night, and upon opening the door, he saw the courtyard filled with light and the scent of wine. "Old Third, you're back!" Mu Gesheng, drunk and swaying, went to meet him. His aim was true, however, as he caught the man and dragged him into the Warming Pavilion. "Come, come, come—" He sang in a theatrical tone, like the Drunken Concubine, "Your Majesty, please take the seat of honor—"
Song Wentong immediately lifted the lid of the largest food tureen. Only then did Chai Shuxin realize that the soup had been simmering on the stove.
The Mohist liked spicy food, the Constellation liked sweet, and Mu Gesheng wasn't picky. This soup was focused on freshness; it was likely made specifically for Wu Zixu. While drinking earlier, Chai Shuxin had worried the food would become overcooked and tough from sitting on the stove so long. However, soup was different; the longer it simmered, the fresher it became. It was perfect for waiting.
And perfect for one returning home through the wind and snow.
Wu Zixu seemed accustomed to this treatment. He didn't decline, sitting down with a slight smile and taking the bowl of soup Song Wentong handed him. "My thanks to my ministers." As he spoke, he pressed Mu Gesheng back down. "Alright, Concubine, stop acting up. I’m not flipping any 'green tablets' tonight."
Later, Chai Shuxin learned what these "green tablets" were. They were flipped once a month—commonly known as the account books.
Mu Gesheng perked up instantly. "I knew Old Third had a hard trip. Why bring up things that ruin the digestion? Come, come, come, let’s eat!"
The youths had hearty appetites and didn't mind a late-night feast. The table of dishes was soon cleared. Chai Shuxin ate slowly and observed carefully. From a medical perspective, this meal was slow-simmered over a gentle flame, not flashy, focusing on nourishment through food. It was a pot of vegetables based on the Dinghu Superior Vegetarian Dish, but Chai Shuxin had seen the water Song Wentong used for the broth—it had been steeped with mulberry leaves and dried chrysanthemums.
In the kitchen, besides the ginkgo tea, there was a tea canister permanently stocked with a blend of Cornelian cherry and cassia seeds. The formula was one Song Wentong had asked him for many years ago. Chai Shuxin hadn't thought much of it at first, but after staying at the Academy, he realized only Wu Zixu drank it.
Mulberry leaves, chrysanthemums, Cornelian cherry, and cassia seeds—all had the effect of brightening the eyes and clearing the liver.
He also remembered that one of Mu Gesheng’s few non-lethal culinary skills was making black sesame paste for Wu Zixu, specifically under the guise of preventing baldness.
It still tasted terrible, though.
Chai Shuxin was a bit tipsy. Watching the flickering shadows of the lanterns, he thought hazily: *Though Wu Zixu seems to be the most hardworking in the Academy, as the head of the School of Yin-Yang and the Jade-Faced Impermanence, he couldn't possibly be destined for a life as a nag.*
Suddenly, for some reason, Mu Gesheng and Song Wentong got into a spat. A wine cup flew through the air, catching the innocent bystander and splashing Wu Zixu. Wu Zixu sneezed, startling Zhu Yinxiao, who had been sleeping on Song Wentong’s head. The bird flapped its wings and charged blindly, a wing slapping Chai Shuxin across the face. It was Chai Shuxin’s first time experiencing the power of a Vermilion Bird’s wing after transformation; he was knocked face-first into the soup tureen.
In the end, it was Wu Zixu who brought the face towels. Holding Old Five in one hand, he began cleaning up the mess on the table with the other. Mu Gesheng and Song Wentong had already fought their way into the snow, rolling off to who-knows-where.
...Fine. Chai Shuxin thought as he wiped his face. *He is destined for a life as a nag.*
By the time he and Wu Zixu had cleared the remains of the meal, Mu Gesheng rolled back from somewhere. Covered in snow, he nearly crashed into Chai Shuxin. "Sanjiutian! Old Third! Let’s go down the mountain!"
"Down the mountain?" Wu Zixu blinked. "Is the Master asleep?" Usually, they had to report to Mo Qingbei before going down the mountain and could only leave with permission.
"Don't know, don't care." Mu Gesheng breathed into his palms, still feeling cold. He picked up a jar and poured the remaining wine over his hands, rubbing them together quickly to warm them. "Master is practically an immortal; we couldn't hide it even if we wanted to. But since the old man hasn't come out to scold us, he clearly doesn't care to bother."
Chai Shuxin: "We must not."
Wu Zixu: "Then let’s go."
Mu Gesheng burst out laughing, reaching out to sling an arm around Chai Shuxin’s shoulder. "I say, Sanjiutian, you're both family heads. Look at how carefree Old Third is. There are no outsiders here, so let’s stop being so stiff. It’s a fine night. Let’s go, my dear sir—"
Chai Shuxin couldn't win against him and was dragged along. "Mu Gesheng, let go—that isn't being carefree, it’s 'he who stays near ink gets stained black'!"
"And 'he who stays near vermilion gets stained red'? Then Old Five is as red as can be. I’m with Old Five every day, yet I don't see you, Sanjiutian, giving me a single compliment." Mu Gesheng pushed him along, laughing as they ran. "I say your words are all wrong. 'Near vermilion' and 'near ink'—it’s too cliché!"
They were so close. Mu Gesheng smelled of wine and snow, a scent that was both freezing and burning. Chai Shuxin hadn't walked many mountain paths at night and was running out of breath. "...Then what is it?"
Mu Gesheng laughed loudly, grabbed a handful of snow, and stuffed it down Chai Shuxin’s collar. He shouted: "I say, it should be: 'He who stays near spring is snow; he who stays near wine is an immortal'!"
Chai Shuxin shivered from the ice, but they were running so fast that the warmth in his body was more than enough. He looked at the city lights at the end of the mountain stairs. Song Wentong was already waiting there, beside a helplessly smiling Wu Zixu. These two must have used some secret family technique to shrink the distance, so they naturally didn't have to walk the long mountain path. "So slow, Old Fourth!" Song Wentong roared. "What kind of fit are you throwing in the middle of the night, insisting on walking down?"
"He probably ate too much and wanted to digest," Wu Zixu joked.
"We of the School of Heaven’s Calculation are penniless. Our mountain-ghost coins can't even be spent. We naturally don't have the grand style of you two, summoning carriages with a puff of smoke." Mu Gesheng said this while dragging Chai Shuxin into the mess. "Isn't that right, Sanjiutian?"
Chai Shuxin: "...What?"
"Alright, stop playing the victim." Wu Zixu truly had no way to deal with this man. "I just got back from collecting rent. The money is enough."
Mu Gesheng beamed instantly. "Go, go, go! Guanshan Yue is lively right now. Let’s go listen to some tunes!"
The group walked with their arms around each other’s shoulders, Chai Shuxin squeezed in the middle. One moment he thought of Mu Gesheng’s line about being near wine and becoming an immortal; the next, he wondered how many elders would be driven to their deaths by this reckless behavior. He truly had drunk too much wine tonight; his neck felt hot. He thought again: *If Wuchangzi isn't a nag or a head manager in the Ginkgo Academy, then what is he?*
Mu Gesheng was laughing at something again, singing a line from *The Romance of the Western Chamber* in a wildly off-key voice. He was likely drunk, singing more happily the more he went on, until he was laughing too hard to continue. He hooked his arm around Song Wentong’s neck, laughing. Song Wentong was nearly strangled. "Old Fourth, you motherfucker, let go!"
Mu Gesheng couldn't stop laughing, his voice scattering into the wind. "...Don't be so stingy. We're all brothers. Lend me a shoulder."
"You call that lending a shoulder? Why the hell don't you just cook Old Five and eat him for dinner instead?"
"Hey, don't say that, I actually did do that once—"
Another round of bickering followed. Listening to the banter and laughter, Chai Shuxin felt he had caught a glimpse of something.
What was he?
...He was a brother.
*He who stays near spring is snow; he who stays near wine is an immortal.* This night, Chai Shuxin fully experienced what it meant to be near wine and become an immortal. By the time they entered Guanshan Yue, he was exhausted. He seemed to have been carried upstairs by someone. After that, there were many more wine cups and a muddle of Yingying and Zhang Sheng, until he was completely swallowed by sleep. The phrase "near spring is snow" still echoed in his mind.
What did it mean to be near spring and be snow?
When he woke the next day, Chai Shuxin was dazed. The room was a mess of cups and plates, and the others were sleeping haphazardly on the floor. He sat up with a headache, his hangover just beginning to clear. For a moment, he couldn't remember what had happened last night.
Then, he saw Mu Gesheng’s coat draped over him.
*Near spring is snow.* Chai Shuxin didn't remember the various antics after arriving at Guanshan Yue, but he remembered he had a dream.
In the dream, a youth followed behind him, his smile like the colors of spring. Using the deep, lingering, and melodious tones of Pingtan storytelling, he leisurely sang a line:
"Face cold, but heart is not; a person like a vibrant red plum."
"Thus named Sanjiutian."
Song Wentong woke up first. He pushed the door open to see Chai Shuxin sitting blankly in a chair. He walked over and snapped his fingers in front of the other’s eyes. "I say, your alcohol tolerance really isn't much—are you awake? How many fingers am I holding up? Do you know who you are?"
Chai Shuxin: "...Sanjiutian."
Song Wentong: "What?"
"I said, it snows during Sanjiutian," Chai Shuxin said slowly. "I am Sanjiutian."
"Fine." Song Wentong rolled his eyes. "He’s still not awake."
Chai Shuxin indeed hadn't sobered up. He took the hangover soup Song Wentong handed him. The Mohist’s cooking was always heavy on the spices; one sip, and the pungency of pepper and ginger rushed into his nasal passages. Chai Shuxin was choked into a coughing fit, the spice bringing tears to his eyes. He remembered Mu Gesheng saying that Song Wentong would even use the Shihong Blade to chop vegetables—the metallic tang and blood-scent of the blade were instead a unique seasoning.
*Licking red at the blade’s edge.* At this moment, he truly tasted the flavor of that blade. Love, desire, and delusions charged into his lungs, howling like a wildfire, turning his years of stagnation upside down. Chai Shuxin slammed the bowl down, grabbed a jar of leftover wine, and rushed out the door. Song Wentong was startled. "Holy shit, where are you going?!"
He rushed out of the side room and sprinted down the corridor, gulping down large mouthfuls of wine as he ran. Finally, he crashed out the door, falling to the ground along with the wine. In the spinning world, the melody from his dream echoed repeatedly in his ears. *Face cold, but heart is not; a person like a vibrant red plum. Sanjiutian, Sanjiutian. Near spring is snow; near wine is an immortal.*
That person was still singing in his ear. *Oh, Sanjiutian, you—*
Chai Shuxin lay on the ground, reached out, and grabbed a handful of fresh snow.
He slowly stuffed it into his mouth.
After an unknown amount of time, Chai Shuxin finally opened his eyes. He climbed up, his gaze becoming clear, like an immortal descending to earth or a great dream ending. He walked to a tree not far from Guanshan Yue and vomited.
The turbid air was completely expelled.
From then on, it was a new life.
Soon it was the New Year. Mu Gesheng suddenly received a letter from home—it was from his father, whom he hadn't contacted in a long time. The youth finished reading the letter without much reaction, until dinner that night when he announced: "I have something to say."
Song Wentong and Wu Zixu immediately put down their chopsticks.
Chai Shuxin didn't understand what was happening for a moment. Wu Zixu explained to him: "Whenever Old Fourth puts on this air at the dinner table, it’s definitely something big." After saying that, he looked quite resigned to his fate. "Old Fourth, can you wait until we finish eating next time? Every time I have to clean up your mess, I get at least three days of indigestion."
Chai Shuxin realized that what Mu Gesheng was about to say was likely not a small matter.
Song Wentong: "Did you beat up Yama?"
"Screw you, can't you think better of me?" Mu Gesheng cursed back at him, only to be immediately cursed back by Song Wentong. "Beating up Yama isn't good?!"
"Beating up Yama is good, of course, but Old Third will lose more hair!""So what? Is a grown man afraid of going bald?""That’s Old Third! Old Third! You’d let a face like Old Third’s go out bald? Like Lin Daiyu becoming a monk or something?""You think my Mohist skills are for show? You think I can't make a simple wig?""That’s a medical skill, isn't it?! Besides, you’d make Old Third wear a wig? Would he ever be able to marry then?""If he can't marry, let him give birth himself!""That’s definitely a medical skill!"
In just a flash, the topic had strayed ten thousand miles. Finally, Mu Gesheng and Song Wentong couldn't win the argument and turned together to look at Chai Shuxin. "Sanjiutian, tell us, can your family’s skills let Old Third give birth?"
Chai Shuxin: "...Probably not."
Looking at Wu Zixu again, while Mu Gesheng and Song Wentong were in their war of words, he had already stuffed himself with food at lightning speed. At this moment, he pulled two cotton balls out of his ears and nodded to Mu Gesheng. "Alright, I’m full. What were you going to say just now?"
Mu Gesheng: "Can you give birth yourself?"
Wu Zixu: "...What?"
In the end, the group debated half the night on which of the Seven Great Families had the skill to let a man bear children. It wasn't until they were about to disperse late at night that Mu Gesheng yawned and said, as if just remembering: "Right, my father sent a letter. He wants me to go study abroad."
Wu Zixu was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open, his mind filled with the nonsense of men giving birth. He said instinctively: "Then go. Go during the day, just come back for dinner at night..." He suddenly reacted, his voice taking a sharp turn. "Old Fourth, what did you say?! Study abroad?!"
Song Wentong was silent for a moment, then asked: "Fine. Where to?"
"First to France, then probably a tour around Europe. Might go to America, not sure." Mu Gesheng thought for a moment. "Finally, to Moscow."
"France," Song Wentong repeated. "Broccoli tomorrow?"
Mu Gesheng: "Sounds good to me."
"No, Old Second, how can you be so calm?" Wu Zixu’s 'nagging' nature flared up again. "That’s a foreign country. The skills of the School of Yin-Yang might not work out there!"
"If they don't work, they don't work. Mohist skills will." Song Wentong said this as he looked at Chai Shuxin. "Your family’s skills will work too."
Chai Shuxin was silent for a moment, then said: "Mu Gesheng is from the Mu Manor."
"Aha, our Sanjiutian knows me best!" Mu Gesheng laughed loudly, patting each of them. "Don't worry, the moon is round everywhere. I’m not going off to be a bride for a barbarian king; I’ll be back in a while."
He rarely put on a serious face. The youth hadn't drunk tonight, but his gaze seemed tempered by wine, sharp and clear.
"We of the Ginkgo Academy stand tall and straight wherever we go, elegant as the moon and breeze, pure and upright."
That being said, while the people of the Ginkgo Academy might indeed have strong backbones once they went down the mountain, it wasn't necessarily the case while they were on it. The "elegant" and "pure" Young General Mu woke up in the middle of the night, unable to sleep. After a moment of hesitation, he immediately decided to go to Baishui Temple to steal a chicken to slaughter and eat.
However, the moment he opened his door, Mu Gesheng saw Chai Shuxin.
The other had his hand raised in mid-air, in the middle of a knocking motion. Mu Gesheng blinked. "Sanjiutian?"
Chai Shuxin seemed to have expected him to get up in the middle of the night. He said: "At the dinner table earlier, you only drank wine."
The moment Wu Zixu had explained it to him, Chai Shuxin noticed that Mu Gesheng had barely touched his chopsticks that night. This man usually ate dinner and late-night snacks; his unrestrained appetite could make Song Wentong throw his spatula and curse. He would definitely wake up in the middle of the night.
Chai Shuxin: "I brought porridge."
It was a truly large pot of porridge, generously filled with ingredients. Winter mushrooms, bamboo shoots, and fish had been simmered together. The glutinous rice was rich and smooth. Though it was a savory porridge, it left a sweet aftertaste. Mu Gesheng didn't stand on ceremony, sitting on the table and hugging the pot, eating with a satisfied gusto. Once he was happy from eating, he started teasing the cook again. "Sanjiutian, this pot of porridge... I’m afraid I’ll be thinking of it every night after I go abroad."
Chai Shuxin stood to the side, quietly watching him eat. "That is good."
Mu Gesheng’s tone was teasing; he thought the other would surely be embarrassed, but he didn't expect the comment to be caught so steadily. "I’m serious, this porridge is truly delicious. Why don't you teach me? To save me from sleepless nights alone abroad."
*Sleepless nights alone.*
The young Master Chai wavered for a moment—just a moment—before refusing. "...You should just stay hungry."
Mu Gesheng bit his spoon, looking at Chai Shuxin under the lamp. He thought of the night they first met, when he saw the youth with the appearance of ice and jade in the Nine-Fold Corridor; it had been a breathtaking first glimpse. They were the same now as they were then, with the same features. But instinct seemed to tell him that something was different.
What was it? Mu Gesheng had eaten too much and was sleepy; he couldn't figure it out. He never troubled himself with such things; if he couldn't figure it out, he wouldn't think about it. Sanjiutian was a man of deep thoughts; if he truly broke through the ice and dove in, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to come out for a long time. It was so late; why trouble himself? Were two grown men supposed to trim the candle wick together by the western window?
In truth, Young General Mu was particularly skilled at storming cities and seizing fortresses. If it were any other time, he really would have dove in headfirst, regardless of whether it was a mountain of blades or a sea of fire. A youth in his prime, with hot blood and a spine like a sword, never hesitated to offer his heart. If you wanted his heart and soul, then take them; Mu Gesheng might even have to offer a handful of snow to cushion it—*my heart is too hot, don't let it burn your hand.*
But it happened to be this moment.
Soon, he would be leaving.
Mu Gesheng propped up his head. The porridge was too good, and his internal organs were warmed and comfortable. He was truly sleepy. He muddled through various thoughts for a while before cutting through the mess, deciding not to think anymore, and simply said based on instinct: "Sanjiutian, do you know any foreign languages?"
Chai Shuxin hadn't expected him to say that. "You want to learn?"
"Yeah, the old man only arranged for me to get lost; he didn't give any other instructions. I have to figure it out myself." Mu Gesheng yawned. "Master might not know any 'bird languages.' I remember your family seemed to have treated foreigners before. Do you know any?"
"...A little." Chai Shuxin was silent for a moment, then said: "If you're going to France first, let’s start with French."
"That would be great. My thanks to the young Master Chai." Mu Gesheng’s face was flushed with sleepiness as he rolled onto the bed in a daze. "Come call me tomorrow morning. This can't be delayed; I have to learn quickly."
While he kicked off his shoes and entered a great dream, Chai Shuxin went down the mountain overnight. After some hesitation, he went to find his sister. "Shuxin?" Chai Rendong was surprised. "So late? Aren't you staying at the Academy?"
She saw the snow on her brother’s shoulders and instinctively thought something serious had happened. She let him in and was about to make ginger tea when Chai Shuxin called out: "Sister."
Chai Rendong turned back to look at him. "What..." Her voice trailed off as she looked at her brother under the lamp.
"Oh." She suddenly smiled. "Let me guess, is it about the young Master Mu?"
Chai Shuxin was a bit surprised. He pursed his lips, then quickly, very lightly and slowly, nodded. "He’s going abroad."
"Shuxin." Chai Rendong laughed. "You didn't come to find your sister to cry in the middle of the night, did you?"
"Sister!"
"Alright, alright." Chai Rendong felt relieved, sitting on the soft couch and pulling out a handful of melon seeds. "So what do you plan to do next? Do you want Sister to help you? Invite him to the house for a first-grade pot?"
"I want to teach him French."
"That’s not bad." Chai Rendong was happily cracking melon seeds. "Then are you here to ask for Mother’s things? I remember there are a few trunks with French books. I’ll go find them for you in a bit."
Chai Shuxin was quite speechless seeing his sister’s delighted expression. "...Sister."
"Don't just keep calling me 'Sister.' I can only give you a little nudge; I can't help you too much." Chai Rendong said happily. "France is a good place. Mother had many old flames there back then; Father was always jealous about it. You mustn't be like him."
Chai Shuxin: "."
"Alright, I’ll stop teasing you." Chai Rendong hadn't laughed so heartily in a long time. She pinched her brother’s nose and couldn't help but say: "Shuxin, after I get the books for you, why don't you put on some of my face powder before you leave?"
Chai Shuxin looked at her in confusion. "Why?"
"Go look at your face." Chai Rendong couldn't stop laughing. "It’s the middle of winter, yet your face is redder than the plum blossoms in the courtyard."
Chai Shuxin took a book of French poetry and began teaching Mu Gesheng French the next day. The young general was brilliant and learned quickly. Within a few days, the student began to tease the teacher. "Hey, Sanjiutian, are there any love poems? I heard the French are experts at romance."
"No." Chai Shuxin rejected him flatly. "The French are not romantic."
"Really?"
"Really." Chai Shuxin used himself as an example. "My mother had French blood."
This startled Mu Gesheng. He ran off shouting to ask the Master of the Ginkgo Academy. After getting a positive answer, he still found it incredible. After thinking it over, he reached a conclusion: "Then the French must be very good-looking!"
Chai Shuxin: "...I’m not good-looking either! Come over and recite today’s vocabulary!"
"Don't be so fierce." Mu Gesheng found Chai Shuxin quite rare now. Who would have thought the little doctor with the bones of a gentleman actually had foreign blood? Various thoughts spun in his head, and he went down the mountain the next day to visit Chai Rendong.
The day after that, Chai Shuxin was teaching Mu Gesheng to recite poetry when Mu Gesheng suddenly blurted out: "*Tu es comme une rose en hiver.*"
Chai Shuxin froze, slammed the book shut, and looked at Mu Gesheng in disbelief.
Mu Gesheng was dying of laughter, rolling all the way under the table. He had gone to see Chai Rendong yesterday and got a book of love poems. He had memorized a few like a parrot and started pestering Chai Shuxin: "*Je t'ai demandé si tu m'aimais bien...*"
Chai Shuxin knew instantly that his sister was behind this. He was angry, anxious, and filled with a mess of other emotions boiling in his chest. Mu Gesheng was still recklessly reciting: "*tu m'as répondu non...*"
Chai Shuxin stared at him for a while, then suddenly stood up and walked away quickly, ignoring Mu Gesheng’s shouts behind him: "Hey, Sanjiutian! Sanjiutian, don't go! I worked so hard to memorize it, I haven't finished yet!"
Mu Gesheng had finally found a great source of amusement. Since he couldn't torment Chai Shuxin, he went to plague Song Wentong. At the dinner table, he recited the love poems fluently in front of the Mohist. Song Wentong suspected the man was insulting him and asked Chai Shuxin suspiciously: "What is he saying?"
Chai Shuxin: "...He’s insulting you."
"Sanjiutian! You can't be like this!" Mu Gesheng wailed and was chased a long way by Song Wentong with a drawn blade.
On New Year’s Eve, Chai Shuxin stayed at the Academy for the first time. The Master of the Ginkgo Academy loved Kunqu opera, and according to the Academy’s tradition, a few segments were always performed for the New Year. That night, Wu Zixu played the pipa, Chai Shuxin played a Suzhou flute, and Mu Gesheng and Song Wentong performed together. They sang all twenty-one acts of the five volumes of *The Romance of the Western Chamber* for the entire night.
As dawn approached, the feast dispersed. The youths were drunk and sleepy, slumped over the table in a heap. Chai Shuxin also felt exhausted. In his daze, someone patted his shoulder.
He opened his eyes; it was the Master of the Ginkgo Academy.
Mo Qingbei looked at him, smiled, and handed him a book. "Gesheng left this in my study a few days ago."
"I apologize for the intrusion." Chai Shuxin was instantly awake. He didn't know if the Master understood French, and his sister had all sorts of books; if Mu Gesheng had snatched a shameless one, it would be a grave offense.
With a heart full of trepidation, he took the book and found it was a collection of poems by Ronsard. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Mo Qingbei seemed to know what he was thinking and leisurely recited a line: "If the love between two people is long-lasting—"
"!!!" Chai Shuxin’s face turned bright red. "Master!"
"Alright, I’ll stop teasing you." Mo Qingbei laughed. "France is a good place, and communication isn't that difficult. Don't worry."
Chai Shuxin was a bit surprised. "Master also studied abroad?"
"It was a long time ago." Mo Qingbei patted his shoulder and pushed his wheelchair away, laughing as he recited a poem: "Walking away in shy haste, leaning against the door to look back, yet pretending to smell the green plums—"
Chai Shuxin turned back instinctively to look. Mu Gesheng was slumped on the table, sleeping with drool running down his chin.
He gave a very light sigh, sat down beside the other, and stroked the book of poems in his hand.
After a moment, he turned a page and, looking at the creases on the paper, recited softly:
"*Je t'ai demandé si tu m'aimais bien...*
I asked you if you liked me...
*tu m'as répondu non.*
you said no.
*Je t'ai demandé si j'étais jolie...*
I asked you if I was pretty...
*tu m'as répondu non.*
you said no.
*Je t'ai demandé si j'étais dans ton cœur...*
I asked you if I was in your heart...
*tu m'as répondu non.*
you said no.
*Je t'ai demandé si tu pleurais si je partais loin.*
I asked you if you would cry if I went far away.
*tu m'as répondu non.*
you said no.
*Puis tu m'as rattrapé par la main puis tu m'as dit :*
Then you caught me by the hand and told me:
*Je ne t'aime pas bien, je t'aime*
I don't just like you, I love you
*tu n'es pas jolie, tu es magnifique*
you aren't just pretty, you are magnificent
*tu n'es pas dans mon cœur, tu es mon cœur*
you aren't just in my heart, you are my heart
*et je ne pleurerai pas si tu pars,*
and I won't cry if you leave,
*je mourrai.*
I will die."
...
Many years later, during another New Year, Zhu Yinxiao came to the City God Temple to celebrate and took the younger generation to the ghost market to go clubbing. Mu Gesheng woke up the next day, bored out of his mind, and began digging holes in the temple, looking for several jars of wine he had buried who-knows-when. Instead, he dug up a vermilion clay jar under the ginkgo tree.
Mu Gesheng looked at it and was sure he hadn't buried it. He shouted: "Sanjiutian!"
Chai Shuxin came out of the kitchen. "What is it?"
"What’s this?" Mu Gesheng held up the jar. "Can I open it?"
Chai Shuxin froze, as if he too had forgotten this item. "I buried that many years ago."
Mu Gesheng broke the sealing clay. Inside was not wine, but a cinnabar-textured paste that emitted a medicinal fragrance. "...Have I seen this before?"
Chai Shuxin didn't speak, only looked at him. Mu Gesheng thought hard and slapped his thigh. "I know! Isn't this that stuff your family uses to paint nails? What was it called... pig?"
Chai Shuxin patiently corrected him: "It is Cellared Vermilion."
Mu Gesheng reached into the jar and dabbed some, his finger turning a vibrant red. He marveled at it for a while, then suddenly turned to look at Chai Shuxin, grinning. "Sanjiutian?"
Chai Shuxin knew what he wanted to do. Many years ago, the youth had also held up a tracing pattern in the Academy, saying with a grin: "I’ll paint them for you!"
Chai Shuxin went to wash his hands, and the two sat on the corridor. Mu Gesheng held a soft brush and carefully applied the red paste to his nails, then wrapped them in white gauze, tying a small knot.
He sighed as he painted: "Sanjiutian, your hands are truly beautiful."
—*Hey, take off your gloves. I saw the color of your nails yesterday; it’s too old-fashioned. Pick one you like, and I’ll paint them for you right now!*
—*Don't be like that! Sanjiutian, your hands are so beautiful. It’s a waste to paint them a color that looks like it belongs to an old concubine!*
—*Then we’ll improve it! Your nails are too heavily red. I’ll give you a light touch of gold tracing—even out the shades, a finishing touch here and there. It’ll only take a stroke or two!*
Cellared through three winters of snow, a cup of red comes with the spring.
So many twists and turns, so many words left unsaid, had all brewed into aged wine under the ginkgo tree at this moment.
And thus, it was complete.
***
