“My lord, the road ahead is blocked by common folk—I’ll take a detour,” Li Yan said from outside the carriage.
“What’s happening?” Yuan Cheng had no interest initially, but seeing Mo Zi’s eyes darting about, apparently curious, he asked on her behalf.
“It’s wedding festivities,” Li Yan steadied the carriage, listening carefully.
“Oh? Whose wedding is it that so many people are watching, blocking the road?” Mo Zi had only been slightly curious before, but she pressed herself against the carriage window to look out, then immediately tugged Yuan Cheng’s sleeve. “Incredible—calling it a sea of people wouldn’t be an exaggeration. Minister Yuan, you’re always well-informed—do you know whose family it is?”
Yuan Cheng stared at that beautiful hand on his black sleeve, his voice somewhat dazed and distant as he answered Mo Zi: “I don’t know.”
“My lord, we’re detouring.” Li Yan urged the two brown horses forward, about to turn around.
“Elder Li, please wait.” Mo Zi sat up, bending to exit, her hand still gripping Yuan Cheng’s sleeve, clearly having forgotten to let go. “Other things we can skip, but a wedding—those who watch can absorb some joy, and those being watched can absorb some blessings. We don’t need to squeeze into the crowd—let’s just stand at the carriage head and watch for a while.”
Yuan Cheng was naturally pulled out with her. He saw layers upon layers of black-haired heads—people occupied the entire street completely. Looking into the distance, a large red procession with trumpets and drums, firecrackers popping wildly on poles, was approaching in this direction.
Li Yan jumped down from the carriage and inquired with people ahead. When he returned, his expression was dismissive. “I thought it was some union between royal descendants or nobility—it’s just Wu You Pavilion’s respectable courtesan Mo Chou getting married.”
Hearing this, Mo Zi blurted out, “Could Xiao Er have changed his mind?”
But that couldn’t be right. Three days ago she’d returned to Prince Jing’s mansion and even visited Weifeng Residence—she’d heard not a whisper of this, at most just the matter of Hong Luo being formally taken as a concubine. Moreover, regardless of whether Mo Chou was a respectable courtesan, Wu You Pavilion origins alone made it absolutely impossible to marry Xiao Er, even as a secondary wife, concubine, or chamber maid. The mansion’s elders would never permit it, much less make such a grand display.
“Though Miss Mo Chou from Wu You has feelings for a certain Mister Xiao, unfortunately it’s unrequited love—she must be marrying someone else.” Hearing Mo Zi’s disjointed remark, Yuan Cheng immediately provided the answer.
Mo Zi steadied herself with one hand on the carriage canopy, shading the noon sun with the other, leaning forward to peer at the wedding procession. “I thought Mo Chou’s feelings for Second Young Master Xiao were extremely secret—I didn’t expect you to know too.”
“Any distinguished guest at Wu You Pavilion has either heard of it or witnessed it personally. Mo Chou’s rules for seeing guests are very strict—only for Young General Xiao does she come and go freely, and once he arrives, Mo Chou sees no other guests, often transmitting sounds of zither and laughter.” Anyone who couldn’t guess would be a fool.
“I wonder what art Minister Yuan presented to earn a beauty’s attention?” Mo Zi withdrew her gaze, fixing her eyes on Yuan Cheng. “Music, chess, calligraphy, painting? Poetry, lyrics, songs, verse?”
“My chess skills alone are passable.” Because Nande’s old emperor liked playing chess, he had to cater to his preferences. As for the rest, he could appreciate and evaluate them, nothing more. Time was limited, energy was limited—not a bit could be wasted. “However, I don’t play with just anyone. Though Wu You’s Mo Chou has a beautiful reputation throughout the realm, she can’t be my opponent. I’ve never requested her service—her rules are laughable, preening and posturing, just trying to attract attention.”
“I thought you were proficient in everything.” Mo Zi had always considered Yuan Cheng invincible, so learning he was only skilled in chess was somewhat unexpected. “You were the fifteen-year-old top scholar—you should be a prodigy.”
“A prodigy?” Yuan Cheng smiled at her naiveté. “So-called prodigies are romantic and elegant, skilled in all eight arts, thinking highly of themselves, certainly having no heart for bureaucratic maneuvering. I’m not a prodigy. I don’t study for romantic pursuits, only for practical use—straight to the point, striking the target, plotting for a position of national importance, coveting a powerful minister’s post.”
“According to what you’re saying, officials can’t be prodigies, and prodigies can’t be officials?” She hadn’t noticed that watching the excitement, she’d completely deviated from her role as spectator—the person beside her had more value and significance worth exploring.
“Not so. It’s just that true prodigies can’t become powerful ministers, and powerful ministers won’t be true prodigies, because they’re clearly two different types of people on two different paths. One’s heart cannot serve two purposes—choosing one path means you cannot achieve the other.” Mo Zi had deviated from her role, but Yuan Cheng hadn’t, dutifully serving his purpose. “Since we’re watching the excitement, let’s properly choose a place—how about going up to this wine house? We can see more clearly.” And solve lunch while we’re at it.
“You’re treating.” She had no silver.
Yuan Cheng’s brow smoothed like ink wash spreading, but he addressed Li Yan: “Elder Li, we’re not far from the mansion now. You go ahead and drive the carriage back—we’ll return shortly.”
Li Yan grunted his assent, making a point to cup his fists to Mo Zi before turning the horse’s head to pass through a small road.
The two ascended to the second floor of the wine house beside them. Yuan Cheng immediately laid down twenty taels, reserving a private room facing the street. Opening the window, they could see everything clearly.
Yuan Cheng ordered several small dishes, then turned to see Mo Zi kneeling backward on the windowsill. He said, “I thought you didn’t like crowds.”
“Originally not. However, fortunately I had a whim today—otherwise, missing the first beauty’s wedding would be a great regret, wouldn’t it?” Feeling myriad emotions, she couldn’t help gossiping. “Three days ago, Mo Chou threw herself in the river to die for Xiao Er. Three days later, she’s donning joyful red wedding clothes. Is this a change of heart or death of the heart?”
“Threw herself in the river?” Yuan Cheng didn’t know about the scene that played out on the Double Ninth Festival.
Mo Zi patted her own mouth, grimacing. “Yuan Cheng, keep it secret. I told everyone it was an accidental fall into the water—this concerns Miss Mo Chou’s reputation.”
Yuan Cheng was noncommittal. “If she could commit suicide for a man, she can bear the consequences of a damaged reputation—no need for others to worry for her.”
“That’s true, but it’s not just her affair—there’s Sister Wu You too.” Mainly it was for Wu You’s sake that she helped with the rescue and cover-up. As for this woman Mo Chou, they had no relationship whatsoever, though hearing of her marriage was quite surprising, and she was very curious about whom she was marrying.
The wedding procession was drawing near. At the front were festive musicians and honor guards, bobbing their heads, jumping and leaping. In the middle was a large red sedan chair carried by eight men, covered so tightly not even a shadow of the bride could be seen. Behind were two rows of men in identical gray-blue robes, about a hundred in total. The embroidery on their robes matched exactly the pattern on the Qing Gang’s banner.
“The groom must be Qing Gang’s Feng Shi, right?” Yuan Cheng looked at the man riding a tall horse beside the sedan chair, wearing a large red flower on his chest. He’d never met this person, but Lu Man had mentioned him.
“Qing Gang’s Feng Shi?” Mo Zi had once seen this man from afar on the Qing Gang’s large ship. His appearance was rather sinister, and he’d asked Mo Chou to play another piece. No wonder the Qing Gang’s cheers were the loudest—so it was because their leader liked her.
Just then the waiter came up, so Mo Zi asked him about it.
“Honored guest doesn’t know about this?” The waiter knew all the gossip and loved to share it. “It’s precisely the Qing Gang’s Master Feng Shi. I heard he paid Wu You Pavilion a sky-high redemption price, and moreover he and Miss Mo Chou are mutually in love—he’s taking her back as an equal wife! Look at the groom and bride—truly a talented man and beautiful woman, a match made in heaven. Miss Mo Chou has arrived at great fortune.”
Mo Zi glanced once more at Feng Shi—his features were truly frivolous. She felt no goodwill and couldn’t see any fortune in it.
After the waiter withdrew, she asked Yuan Cheng, “Does Lu Man still intend to compete with Feng Shi for the gang leader position?”
Yuan Cheng nodded, pouring her a cup of wine. “The plan proceeds as before.”
“Then Mo Chou has married the wrong man.” Mo Zi sighed repeatedly. “Her judgment really isn’t very good. The first time, she chose someone she shouldn’t have liked. The second time, she chose someone completely unreliable.”
“Hearing you say it like that, it does seem so.” Yuan Cheng drank his wine on his own. “Perhaps within a few days of marrying him, she’ll already be a widow.”
Mo Zi was stunned, but she understood very well the rule of victor and vanquished, and truly had no standing to say much more. She only said, “Women really shouldn’t be overly dependent on men. If she’s marrying randomly just because she couldn’t marry Xiao Er, then everything is her own doing. Clearly, she could live for herself, but she insists on dying for others. Tragic yet unworthy of sympathy!”
She would shed tears for Hu Tao—at least Hu Tao had ambition and exerted all her effort. But for Mo Chou’s hopeless behavior of cheapening herself, she felt no pity whatsoever.
The wine house Yuan Cheng chose was right beside the dock. In other words, the wedding procession would board a ship here and depart for the prefecture where the Qing Gang’s headquarters was located.
Children in the crowd below suddenly clamored to see the bride—the bride was coming out.
The sedan chair was set down, and the matchmaker helped out Mo Chou, dressed in bright red phoenix-embroidered wedding clothes. The bright red veil hung with heavy tassels, making her so frail she nearly leaned entirely on the matchmaker—her back view looked especially desolate.
Others who didn’t know were both envious and laughing merrily, but in Mo Zi’s eyes as someone who knew the truth, where was there any joy?
“Isn’t this a case of arriving late being better than arriving at just the right time?” Yuan Cheng came over, sitting with her by the window.
Mo Zi didn’t understand his meaning. “What?”
Yuan Cheng lifted his chin toward the dock. “The illustrious and mighty Young General Xiao has arrived.”
Mo Zi hastily looked over. Indeed! A swift boat, docking in the blink of an eye. Three people at the bow—the one in white robes with a belted waist and sword was Xiao Er. The other two were also her acquaintances. Shi Lei, that big stone—she hadn’t seen him in a long while, his beard like a bird’s nest. Zhong An still maintained his elegant manner, fan never leaving his hand.
If Mo Zi didn’t know that Xiao Er should still have two more days before returning, she would think Mo Chou had calculated the date, deliberately creating this coincidence. And originally, with the red veil over Mo Chou’s head, she couldn’t see Xiao Er, but a maid ignored the nearby Feng Shi and leaned close to Mo Chou’s ear to pass the news.
One could only say fate played tricks—rekindling dead ashes?
The veil was lifted almost immediately. From Mo Zi’s angle, it was very clear that Mo Chou had torn it off herself.
But the clever matchmaker shrilly exclaimed, “The bride’s beauty is unparalleled—even Father Wind wants to see!”
She could see Feng Shi’s profile laughing heartily, saying something, but being at some distance, she couldn’t hear clearly.
“I’ll bet you that Young General Xiao will pass Miss Mo Chou by, becoming strangers from this day forward.” Watching the drama reach its climax, Yuan Cheng smiled wickedly.
This person is at odds with Xiao Er! Mo Zi rolled her eyes at him. “I won’t bet with you, because I think the same thing. If Second Young Master Xiao could cherish beauty, the sun would rise in the west.”
What followed was silent slow motion.
Xiao Er had been walking and talking with Shi Lei and Zhong An. Looking up, he saw Mo Chou in wedding clothes. His expression startled, his brow furrowed tightly, but just as Yuan Cheng had said, he passed by, no longer showing a trace of confusion.
Mo Chou didn’t turn back—she simply fainted.
The one who caught her was her groom, who, whether or not he sensed something amiss, strode onto the ship.
Mo Zi pursed her lips, standing up, about to leave the window, but unexpectedly her gaze met Zhong An’s squarely.
“Brother Mo?”