For several consecutive days, Yan Dong had been visiting Zhifang Building. Given Song Fengmian’s situation, it was unlikely he was there just to listen to music. Yan Dong felt there was something fishy going on.
Who exactly was in Zhifang Building?
With nothing better to do, he decided to check it out.
Zhifang Building was always filled with the sound of music. A place like this was bound to have Wu Ying. As soon as Yan Dong entered the main hall, he saw that guy holding a pipa, sitting on a lotus-shaped copper seat. His fingers danced across the strings, looking joyful, surrounded by warm lanterns, making him seem to glow.
“Wu Gongzi really loves music,” Chang Qingqing remarked. “He’s a genius, but unfortunately, Wu Shilang won’t agree.”
Wu Ying’s father was currently the Deputy Minister of Rites, a stern and old-fashioned man who loved lecturing people. He and the younger generation like Yan Dong, who loved to have fun, couldn’t stand each other and avoided each other whenever possible. But since father and son lived under the same roof, they couldn’t avoid each other, no matter how many times they argued, all over one thing—Wu Ying’s future.
Wu Shilang wanted Wu Ying to join the Ministry of Rites, not to play music at various ceremonies, but to wear a purple robe and jade belt. That wasn’t the kind of place Wu Ying longed for.
The crowd surrounded Wu Ying, entranced. Yan Dong didn’t go up to disturb him. As he turned, he saw a woman coming down the stairs in front.
Yu Xian, holding a painted pipa, gracefully walked over and bowed, “Little Gongzi.”
“I was just looking for you,” Yan Dong said, finding a quiet corner to sit. Chang Qingqing naturally handed a medicine bottle to Yu Xian.
Yu Xian gratefully said, “Little Gongzi has a heart of gold, surely you’ll be blessed.”
Yan Dong leaned back in the rattan chair, picked up the menu, and said, “It’s just a small thing. If this is considered a heart of gold, then there are a lot of people with hearts of gold in the world.”
“Others wouldn’t do such small things,” Yu Xian said softly, gazing at Yan Dong. “Little Gongzi’s heart is warm and soft.”
The girl’s beautiful eyes were full of emotion, but Yan Dong didn’t catch on. “If the heart were cold and hard, wouldn’t that mean the person is dead?”
Chang Qingqing burst out laughing.
Yan Dong tapped him on the butt with the handle of his fan, and Chang Qingqing laughed as he made a quick escape. He darted out of the crowd like a monkey, and once he entered the restroom, the smile on his face disappeared. He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket.
It was a map of Zhifang Building, obtained by having a few people explore the place. It wasn’t very detailed, but it was enough.
Chang Qingqing quickly glanced at it, confirming that the map in his mind was correct. He then put it back, touched the dagger strapped to his thigh, and walked out with a calm expression.
Yan Dong took the sugarcane juice handed to him by Dang Wu. “I heard from Ruo Chong that your pipa is good. Play a tune.”
Yu Xian nodded and elegantly sat on a nearby embroidered stool.
During this time, people kept coming up to talk to Yan Dong. Blue robes, green robes, crimson robes—his eyes were dazzled. Finally, he grew impatient. “Tsk.”
The person in the green robe in front of him shivered, took a step back, and slipped away. “I take my leave!”
A crimson-robed person hiding behind a nearby pillar snickered. Yan Dong, with sharp eyes, beckoned him over. The person quickly straightened up and walked over.
“Little Gongzi Yan,” the crimson-robed official bowed, his eyes catching a glimpse of the hem of a goose-yellow robe embroidered with lively white plum branches.
Yan Dong sized up the young official in front of him and said, “Sit.”
The crimson-robed official was surprised, quickly thanked him, and sat upright in an empty chair nearby. He didn’t dare look around, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yan Dong’s hand, supporting his face, white and soft like a cloud.
“Your name is He…”
Yan Dong’s voice trailed off, and the crimson-robed official immediately said, “My humble name is He Du.”
“Right, He Du. Our family and He Bao’s family were related five hundred years ago,” Yan Dong chuckled. “I remember you. Last year, you beat Li Shuguang from Anxin Marquis Residence so badly his own mother wouldn’t recognize him. He cried all the way home. I happened to pass by on the street and even applauded you.”
He Du had a sister, known for her elegant and ethereal demeanor and her skill in tea art, earning her the nickname “Lady Yunhua” among the neighbors. Li Shuguang, being lecherous, had taken a liking to her. But the Anxin Marquis Residence was not to be trifled with, and He Du’s sister, fearing trouble for her brother, endured several harassments without mentioning it until the day Li Shuguang made a move on her in the street, and He Du, returning from work, caught him in the act.
At that time, He Du was a sixth-rank official in the Ministry of Rites, known for his humility and efficiency, highly regarded by his superiors. No one expected him to be so fierce when it came to fighting.
When Yan Dong passed by, there were already three or four attendants lying on the ground. He saw He Du sitting on Li Shuguang, punching him until he was rolling on the ground, and couldn’t help but clap in delight.
He Du, hearing this, felt a rush of heat to his head and stammered, “I-I made a fool of myself, I—”
“Hey,” Yan Dong wasn’t interested in hearing these polite words. “Li Shuguang is friends with He Shen, and I’ve always disliked them. You beat him up, so I have to praise you.”
These words were childish, and the speaker’s smile was also childish, bright and lively. He Du dared to take a quick glance, his tense back relaxing a bit, but his mind was even more muddled.
Yan Dong took a sip of sugarcane juice. “By the way, I heard your sister’s tea soup dumplings are amazing. When do you usually sell them? I’d like to try them sometime.”
He Du instinctively wanted to be modest, but remembering that the person in front of him disliked insincere words, he quickly swallowed them back and said, “As long as the weather is good, my sister’s little teahouse is open. She makes about thirty bowls of tea soup dumplings a day. If Little Gongzi is willing to try them, please let us know in advance, and I’ll have my sister prepare some for you.”
Seeing Yan Dong lick his lips, clearly a foodie, He Du hesitated for a moment, then boldly introduced, “I have a friend who makes Yunhua cakes that are truly exceptional—”
The sudden twang of the pipa startled He Du, who turned to look at Yu Xian. Her face was pale, as if she had suddenly fallen ill.
Yan Dong also turned to look, his left index finger tapping thoughtfully on the armrest of the chair.
“Little Gongzi, forgive me, a string broke…” Yu Xian raised her hand to press down on the broken string, bowing low. “Please allow me to go and change it.”
Her swan-like neck was gracefully tense, and He Du couldn’t help but look at Yan Dong. The latter only glanced at Yu Xian for a moment, seemingly unconcerned. “No problem, I’ll be leaving soon anyway. You can rest.”
Yu Xian secretly breathed a sigh of relief, thanked him, and withdrew.
She hurriedly disappeared from sight, and Yan Dong retracted his gaze, nonchalantly looking at He Du. “Yunhua cakes,” he said lazily, leaning on the armrest, “I’ve never had them, but as the name suggests, they have a tea fragrance?”
He Du, supporting his neck, met those amber eyes and said, “Yes, they’re made similarly to Touhua cakes, but the bean paste inside is replaced with a fragrant tea filling, which pairs well with milk and flower tea.”
Yan Dong said, “Sounds good. Why aren’t they well-known?”
“Little Gongzi might not know, but my friend doesn’t run a business. He’s also a court official like me, and the pastries he makes are usually enjoyed by us friends and family,” He Du explained.
Yan Dong casually asked, “Oh, what’s your friend’s surname?”
He Du replied, “His name is Liang Muzhi, currently the Deputy Commander of the Imperial Guards.”
The Imperial Guards were part of the Forbidden Army, responsible for the defense of the capital, an important office. Yan Dong knew of Liang Muzhi but didn’t know much about him. After leaving Zhifang Building, he told Chang Qingqing, who had returned from the chestnut stall, “Go back and have someone check on Liang Muzhi from the Imperial Guards. For now, let’s head to my brother’s place.”
Dang Wu drove the carriage, and Chang Qingqing followed Yan Dong inside. “I found Jia De in the building. Guess what he was doing?”
Yan Dong handed him a chestnut. “Spit it out.”
Chang Qingqing chewed and swallowed, saying, “That guy was sneaking around like he was looking for something. He even tried to sneak into the steward’s building in the backyard but backed off because it was guarded.”
“What could make him risk leaving Yan State Duke’s Mansion multiple times and trick He Du into helping him get into Zhifang Building?” Yan Dong chewed on a chestnut, his mind turning. As the chestnut went down, his mind stopped, and he had two guesses: the Fourth Prince or revenge.
Either way, it indicated that Zhifang Building was not simple.
“I tell you, besides me and Jia De, there was another sneaky person,” Chang Qingqing patted his arm. “Wearing a mask and tight clothes, couldn’t see the face, but the figure was lean and fit, definitely a martial artist.”
“Oh, it’s lively,” Yan Dong mused. “Today’s trip was worth it. Zhifang Building hides mysteries, who knows how many secrets are concealed there.”
“Are you really going to get involved in these matters for Song Fengmian? Attracting so many eyes means this could be a big deal, and at this time, it’s easier to invite trouble,” Chang Qingqing said.
“I’m not doing it for Song Fengmian,” Yan Dong said. “We don’t have to investigate deliberately; we can just follow the trail.”
Chang Qingqing didn’t ask who Yan Dong was doing it for, only said, “Then where should we follow now?”
Yan Dong tossed a chestnut in the air. “He Du.”
*
Upstairs, He Du was planning to immediately prepare a gift to ask Liang Muzhi to make some Yunhua cakes. Just as he was about to leave, a colleague grabbed his arm, and they walked to a corner to talk.
He Du said, “If you have something to say, just say it. Why act like a thief?”
“Master He, you’re not being honest. You’ve secretly gotten close to Little Gongzi Yan!” The other person looked at him with reproach, then pleaded, “Can you show me the way? I really don’t want to work hard anymore!”
Getting close to someone of high status didn’t sound good, especially to scholars who read the classics. But strangely, He Du didn’t feel angry at this moment, only said, “It’s a misunderstanding. Little Gongzi Yan’s branch is close to the sky. I have to try my best just to look up, let alone get close.”
“Still trying to hide it from me!” the colleague said. “Last year, when Little Gongzi Yan helped you, I already found it strange. You—”
He Du interrupted, “Wait, what do you mean by that?”
The colleague chuckled, about to marvel at Master He’s ability to play dumb, but seeing He Du’s genuinely confused and anxious expression, he couldn’t help but pause. “You really don’t know?”
“Really!” He Du quickly clasped his hands. “Please explain.”
“Who do you think helped you settle the matter when you bravely beat up Li Shuguang on the street last year?” The colleague made a flying gesture with his hands. “Little Gongzi Yan!”
He Du was bewildered. “How could that be?”
“Oh my, Master He!” The colleague looked at him incredulously. “You beat up Li Shuguang on the street, trampling on the face of Anxin Marquis Residence, yet not only did nothing happen to you, but you even got promoted. Didn’t you ever wonder why? Did you really think it was divine protection?”
He Du mumbled, “I thought it was ancestral protection.”
“…” The colleague closed his eyes. “On the evening of the incident, Little Gongzi Yan presented your ‘Proposal for Revising the Examination Regulations’ to His Majesty. His Majesty thought it was good and used it to fill the vacancy of a Langzhong. Although it’s just a fifth-rank position, in the eyes of Anxin Marquis Residence, it meant His Majesty was protecting you. How could they dare to touch you again?”
“So that’s how it is… so that’s how it is!” He Du was shocked and bewildered, his mind a jumble.
“Those big shots all know about it. The Second Prince even approached Little Gongzi Yan because of it,” the colleague said.
“But how do you know?” He Du asked. “You’re not a big shot.”
The colleague clutched his heart, which felt stabbed. “At the time, the Second Prince was taking a wife. I happened to see the Second Prince and Little Gongzi Yan talking under a pavilion. The Second Prince got so angry at Little Gongzi Yan’s words that he poked him on the forehead.”
“I see.” He Du turned his head, looking at the chair where Yan Dong had sat earlier. That noble little gongzi seemed to still be sitting there, his beauty surpassing peach blossoms, like a dream.
*
The mischievous ghost didn’t go looking for his friends to cause trouble but instead came to the office. Chang Chun was standing in the corridor, watching the approaching figure, puzzled. “What’s Little Gongzi up to now?”
His red pen never stopped, and Yan Song said, “Naturally, he’s here to dismantle my ‘destined fate.'”
Chang Chun thought to himself: What destined fate? Isn’t it just an excuse you use to make the ‘frog’ jump?
The ‘frog’ innocently came up the corridor, saying, “Eat chestnuts!”
Chang Chun took a chestnut, smiling as he thanked him.
Yan Dong entered the study, leaned over the desk, and fed Yan Song a chestnut. He didn’t say anything, just turned sideways and sat on the desk, one foot on the ground, the other dangling, swinging leisurely.
When he was younger, sitting like this without proper posture, Yan Song would correct him to avoid bad habits. But as he grew older, Yan Song couldn’t be bothered anymore.
“It’ll be late today. If you can’t sit still, go home first,” Yan Song said.
“I’m already here, so of course, I’ll go home with you,” Yan Dong’s eyes shifted, looking for something to pass the time. Then he saw a booklet on the desk. The style was—oh, the results of the examination were out.
Yan Dong’s heart skipped a beat. He hopped off the desk, circled half the table, and then, seeing his chance, suddenly reached out—
“Slap.”
Yan Song reached out and pressed down on the thieving hand, giving it a light slap. He picked up the booklet first, saying, “This year, they released it quickly.”
“We worked so hard to make up for our mistakes, of course, it was quick!” Yan Dong leaned over, resting his chin on Yan Song’s left shoulder, his eyes directly on the bottom of the booklet, where there was a golden “First” character.
“Wow, first, first, first!” Yan Dong hugged Yan Song’s head, rubbing it wildly. “Am I awesome or what!” He bumped Yan Song’s head. “Awesome or what!”
“Yes, awesome.” Yan Song carefully looked at it. Martial arts, ink theory, and legal knowledge were all “excellent,” but the policy question was “poor.” He found it quite unbelievable. “Tell me, how did you write something that could get such a rating, hmm?”
He turned his head, just as Yan Dong was staring at him with wide eyes. Their noses were almost touching, separated by a thin layer of air. Yan Dong couldn’t tell if they were touching or not, only feeling an itch at the tip of his nose. That itch burrowed into his flesh, running through his bones, making him feel dizzy.
Both of them were silent for a moment, the atmosphere in the study becoming subtle. The little bird, Mo Guan, lacking any sense of timing, flew to the window sill, bumping its head against the window, chirping in incomprehensible bird language.
Yan Song came back to his senses, raised his hand, and touched Yan Dong’s face, which was a bit warm. He smiled and said, “Brother is asking you a question.”
Yan Dong slowly came back to his senses, staring at the beautiful eyes so close to him, mumbling, “I don’t remember…”
“Brother,” these two words weren’t often spoken by Yan Song, and Yan Dong savored the word, feeling it had a vague, ambiguous taste. He couldn’t describe it, but the pleasant voice and tone made his heart itch, and he couldn’t help but hug Yan Song’s shoulders tightly, whispering, “I think I have a fever, I’m dizzy…”
“Why are you having a fever out of nowhere?” Yan Song pinched Yan Dong’s cheek, chuckling. “Alright, if it’s poor, it’s poor. I won’t scold you this time.”
He thought Yan Dong was pretending to be weak to ask for mercy. Yan Dong chuckled, but inside, he felt a bit anxious. It seemed like he really… had a fever.