“Pour a jar of wine for the plum tree, let the north wind make it drunkenly slumber on its branches.”
As Mo Zi pushed open the door, she was greeted by the fragrance of osmanthus flowers and this playfully clever verse.
The Golden Osmanthus Pavilion was not only situated among osmanthus trees, but its interior was also decorated with osmanthus flowers, branches, and leaves in fine detail. A small outer room served as a rest area for servants. Beyond a curtain of golden osmanthus flower strings lay the main chamber, with viewing galleries on two sides where one could also arrange seating. Under the night sky with flowers lending their scent, it made for a pleasant setting. To the side was a resting room for intoxicated guests to lie down.
At this moment, the outer room was empty. As the wind stirred the flower curtain, several graceful silhouettes could be seen, accompanied by the chirping voices of orioles and swallows, sounds of laughter and merriment.
“Hong Mei, quickly compose the second half of the verse, or you’ll be penalized with three large cups of wine.” Qiu Sanniang’s beauty was matched by her lovely voice, like a golden oriole singing, like spring water cascading through mountain valleys.
“Good mistress, I only know a few characters—how could I possibly compose poetry? Besides, I’ve already drunk quite a bit. My head is spinning so much I can barely sit steady.” Hong Mei spoke coquettishly.
“If you can’t sit steady, that’s perfect—doesn’t that mean you’re drunkenly slumbering?” Clap, clap—the sound of hands clapping. Qiu Sanniang’s especially cheerful voice carried a high alcohol content. “Hong Mei won’t do, so Bai He and Lu Ju, you two each contribute one line.”
Lu Ju cried out, “Bai He is completely out of it, and I don’t know how to read either—how can I contribute a line? Miss, please spare me.”
“Xiao Yi, you speak concisely, so why don’t you say ten words? That will count too.” Qiu Sanniang was now randomly pulling people to make up the numbers.
“I’ll take the wine penalty.” Xiao Yi always carried a wine flask with her, having developed an enormous capacity from childhood.
“Ah—at times like this, I miss my little Mo’er the most. None of you four are knowledgeable or interesting—either you can’t hold your liquor, or you…” Qiu Sanniang’s words suddenly cut off because she hiccupped from the wine.
Mo Zi glanced back at Xiao San. This fellow’s face had nearly turned green. The woman of brilliant talent in his mind appearing with today’s drunken air created too great a contrast. But his resilience was fairly good—at least he remained standing.
Lifting the curtain with her hand, she didn’t know whether to laugh or maintain a serious expression, so she ended up with a somewhat forced smile. “Mistress, what fine spirits you’re in, going out to admire the moon without bringing me.”
“Little Mo’er, just these two lines: ‘Pour a jar of wine for the plum tree, let the north wind make it drunkenly slumber on its branches.’ You continue with what comes next.” Qiu Sanniang’s eyes were hazy with drink. She sat leaning against the carved railing, one hand holding a wine cup, the other propping up her forehead. On her head was a double butterfly scene-blue ceramic cloud hairpin that swayed, from her ears hung silk-nest gold circle peony earrings, and she wore a dress of blooming red peonies with rippling waves, a wave-patterned diagonal-collar water-sleeve garment. Her manner and posture were as languid as a cat’s.
Behind her stood a talented scholar famous throughout the capital—how could it be her turn to continue the verse? Mo Zi felt her hair stand on end when Qiu Sanniang drunkenly called her “little Mo’er.” With the current situation unclear, she couldn’t very well ask about matters directly.
So she simply smiled and stepped aside, saying, “Mistress, your husband has arrived.”
Lu Ju jumped up, but her feet were unsteady, and she bumped into the wall, crying out in pain. Xiao Yi sat there, gulping down a large mouthful of wine, then turned her head away to look at the dark clouds in the sky. Bai He wasn’t in the main chamber—with her face flushing red after just one cup, she had probably truly drunk herself unconscious.
The model maid was Hong Mei. Shakily getting to her feet, she walked to Qiu Sanniang’s side, took the wine cup from her hand, said “Mistress, please don’t drink anymore,” then turned to Xiao San, curtsied, and greeted the Third Master.
“Sanlang, there’s no moon tonight.” Qiu Sanniang showed no sign of nervousness, her eyes charming, her mouth curved. “Sanlang, ‘pour a jar of wine for the plum tree, let the north wind make it drunkenly slumber on its branches.'”
“Call for three thousand measures, the western clouds do not meet at dusk.” Seeing the disheveled state of this gathering, Xiao San had wanted to question her, but when Qiu Sanniang called him “Sanlang” twice, his heart softened a bit, and he casually improvised the second half of the verse.
“Sanlang matched it too well—it doesn’t suit my playful composition.” Qiu Sanniang’s eyes seemed unfocused, her smile seemingly detached. “It appears that in the four arts of poetry, lyrics, songs, and prose, I cannot harmonize with you, Sanlang.”
Xiao San frowned. “Sanniang, you’re drunk.” The words “a good woman shouldn’t drink so much” stuck in his throat.
“Am I drunk?” Qiu Sanniang narrowed her eyes. “Mo Zi, you tell me—am I drunk or not?”
Why did this couple always drag her into their discussions? Mo Zi thought she had been standing far enough to the side, yet she was still caught in the crossfire.
“I only know that drunk people say they’re not drunk, while sober people say they are drunk.” She answered with lowered eyes.
“Sanlang, look at how this girl speaks—doesn’t she avoid offending either side?” Qiu Sanniang smiled. “Though I’m not fond of drinking, I don’t forbid it either. When I used to travel with my father on business, I drank my way through famous wines from various regions. Sanlang, now that you’ve heard and seen this kind of Sanniang, are you afraid?”
Xiao San’s expression was heavy, but his words left Qiu Sanniang considerable room. “That was before you married me. Tomorrow is the Mid-Autumn Festival. If you miss your father and happen to drink a bit more, naturally it doesn’t matter. However, after returning to the mansion, you mustn’t carry on like this. I won’t say anything, but others certainly will.”
“Mo Zi.” The cat-like eyes suddenly turned.
Mo Zi softly acknowledged.
“You told me to treat him with sincerity. What should I do if he can’t bear it?” Qiu Sanniang asked with a smile.
“That question can wait until after he can’t bear it.” Mo Zi deflected with Tai Chi circularity, smoothly returning Qiu Sanniang’s question to her.
Xiao San didn’t understand what riddles they were speaking.
“Sanlang, the Tower of Autumn Longing is mine.” Qiu Sanniang slowly lowered the hand propping up her head and sat up straight.
“…It’s yours?” Xiao San’s reaction was somewhat delayed.
“I’m the one who put up the silver to open it. It’s one of my business ventures. I am the proprietor of the Tower of Autumn Longing.” Three different phrasings, one meaning.
“Sanniang…” Xiao San’s thoughts suddenly moved slowly.
“I’m telling you this because I not only run the Tower of Autumn Longing, but I also plan to pursue other business ventures. And whether you’re willing or not, I’ve already decided to continue engaging in commerce.” Qiu Sanniang decided to be herself in front of Xiao San.
“Continue engaging in commerce?” Xiao San was struck dizzy by these successive revelations. No matter how clever he was, he couldn’t have imagined Qiu Sanniang would have such thoughts. He didn’t know whether to call it absurd or laughable. “Sanniang, you are the Third Mistress of Prince Jing’s mansion.”
“Sanlang, if I were to seek a divorce, would you…” Qiu Sanniang paused, a trace of bewilderment in her expression. “Would you let me go?”
Xiao San hadn’t yet digested that the Tower of Autumn Longing was opened by Qiu Sanniang, nor had he digested her decision to continue in commerce, but this last question immediately made him furious.
“Divorce?” he asked.
“Divorce.” Qiu Sanniang was a woman of determination. When she wanted to do something, she would use every effort and means.
Xiao San’s gaze turned cold as he swept over Mo Zi, Hong Mei, Xiao Yi, and Lu Ju. “All of you, get out. I have words to speak with your mistress.”
Not one of the four maids moved.
“So it seems your mistress is the true master, and I am not?” Xiao San roared. “Get out!”
Mo Zi remained unmoved by Xiao San’s roar, looking at Qiu Sanniang’s expressionless face.
“You all go out first. Bai He is so drunk—no need to worry about her.” Qiu Sanniang nodded to Mo Zi. “If there’s any improper disturbance, remember to rush in promptly.”
Mo Zi pulled the dumbstruck Hong Mei, had Xiao Yi grab Lu Ju. “Both of you please stay calm. Discuss everything properly. If each takes a step back, the sea and sky will open wide.”
Leaving the Golden Osmanthus Pavilion, they left Xiao Yi to listen at the door crack while Mo Zi and Hong Mei helped Lu Ju down the stairs.
“Mo Zi, did Mistress just mention divorce to the Third Master?” Pinch me, will you? Hong Mei, living her nightmare of missing words, looked at Lu Ju sprawled on the large blue stone, actually asleep.
“She only said ‘if’—it’s not certain.” Mo Zi understood Qiu Sanniang’s approach.
Qiu Sanniang intended to let Xiao San see her complete picture—not only the refined lady’s face of music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, but also the shrewd and cunning merchant’s face. Xiao San currently seemed to have feelings for Qiu Sanniang, but those feelings were built upon her beautiful aspects. If he lived day and night with Qiu Sanniang, naturally he would see glimpses of her other side. If Xiao San’s feelings faded because of this while Qiu Sanniang fell deeper, that would brew into tragedy. Rather than wait until then, better to be honest now.
However, speaking such inflammatory words as divorce—with Mo Zi’s cautious and careful nature, she felt Qiu Sanniang had been too hasty. From the moment Xiao San entered, he had already been stunned. Then Qiu Sanniang threw one bomb after another at him—how could he not be furious? Xiao San, even as the only scholar in this general’s household, ultimately carried the Xiao clan’s fiery blood, with pride deep in his bones. With his first two wives, he had no interest and no feelings, so whether they stayed or left was of no consequence to him. But regarding Qiu Sanniang, Xiao San cared deeply, having spent so much effort, only to receive a potential divorce as the outcome. If Qiu Sanniang hadn’t mentioned divorce, perhaps matters could still be handled smoothly. Once Xiao San knew she had this thought of divorce, the solution he employed would necessarily be drastic.
Qiu Sanniang, ah, ultimately inexperienced in love—once her heart was moved, she rushed toward decisiveness. But she didn’t know that decisive words often completely destroy whatever balance existed, while simultaneously creating absolute imbalance. Xiao San, who had divorced two wives—though there were internal circumstances, he was no gentleman. Or rather, he didn’t care whether he was a gentleman or not. If Qiu Sanniang thought Xiao San would easily agree to divorce, that would be a grave mistake.
Mo Zi had once thought that if Qiu Sanniang wanted to leave the Xiao family, the greatest resistance would come from the elders. Now it seemed the obstacle would likely be this seemingly refined and cultured, but actually arrogant Third Master Xiao.
Before long, Xiao San came thumping down the stairs, his handsome face dark as a deep pool, his eyes so intensely black that one couldn’t discern what he was thinking.
Xiao San stopped before Mo Zi and Hong Mei, giving this instruction: “Go up and help your mistress back to the mansion. Don’t rush to pack up things from Deer Horn Alley—send younger maids to fetch them back later.”
“Third Master, you mean return to the Prince’s mansion?” Hong Mei asked in surprise. “But shouldn’t that be tomorrow?”
Xiao San coldly glanced at her. “Hong Mei, you served my grandmother for many years. How is it that after following your mistress you’ve become foolish? Those merchant household habits she had before should have been discarded and thrown away long ago. You don’t advise her, but help her instead. I might as well tell Grandmother to replace you with someone more sensible.”
Hong Mei’s knees went soft and she knelt, repeatedly saying she wouldn’t dare.
Mo Zi stood there calmly and unhurriedly, her expression placidly detached.
“Mo Zi, you are your mistress’s favorite maid. From now on, you’d better stay close by her side. I’ll speak to the elders, and before long, I’ll have you promoted one rank.” Xiao San had seen that Mo Zi was Qiu Sanniang’s right hand. Restricting Mo Zi would also restrict Qiu Sanniang.
“If you pluck a bird’s feathers, will it stop flying?” Mo Zi asked softly.
Xiao San didn’t answer. He walked past Mo Zi with hurried steps, his retreating figure agitated.