Song Yan’s home had reportedly been occupied by a Great Qiu cavalry captain as a private residence, so it was well-preserved. But in the three-courtyard compound, there were only Song Yan, an old steward, and two young servants.
“I heard Great Qiu people don’t treat Han women as human, so I sent my wives, concubines, and children all to Great Zhou.” Song Yan brought out fine wine buried underground.
“Since the whole family left, why didn’t Master Song leave?” Yuan Cheng had sworn off alcohol. Jin Yin hadn’t, and being a connoisseur, he directly praised it as rare excellent wine.
“My family has been passed down through single heirs to my generation, but I myself have three sons. Sending them away was enough—I must guard the foundation our ancestors left behind. Even if I die, I must die at Zhanqiao.” Song Yan was a scholar-gentry with an extremely strong concept of guarding the estate. “Fortunately I didn’t leave—didn’t the Second Prince fight his way back? And today friends have come from afar—is this not delightful? It’s been so long since I’ve been this happy. Brother Yuan, Brother Jin, why don’t you just stay tonight? Though servants are few and the courtyard is wild, fine wine paired with wild vegetables—we can still drink until thoroughly drunk.”
Yuan Cheng smiled. “My wife and I cannot drink alcohol, but we’re willing to substitute tea for wine and eat wild vegetables all night. How about that?”
“What wonderful words—’fine wine paired with wild vegetables.'” Jin Yin praised the clever phrasing. “My big brother is henpecked. When sister-in-law forbids him to drink, he doesn’t drink. We needn’t mind him. I never imagined that after such disaster, there would still be someone like Master Song who observes filial piety and righteousness. Meeting you is also fate. If you don’t mind our noise, as a companion for a lively night, we’ll keep you company to the end.”
Song Yan clapped his hands and loudly said excellent, instructing the old steward to prepare plenty of food and wine.
Yuan Cheng sipped tea in silence.
Dou Lu stole a moment to ask Mo Zi, “Sister, aren’t we urgently looking for Mingshan? Why are we staying to drink?”
“We asked many people along the way, but not one knew about Mingshan. This Master Song was friends with Father—perhaps he heard Father mention it. However, if this matter is kept secret, asking about it suddenly might make the other party suspicious and not tell the truth, so we must first build rapport.” Mo Zi understood Yuan Cheng and Jin Yin’s thoughts. These two always had tacit understanding in facing outsiders at critical moments. Though they mocked each other, they were close—even real brothers might not be like them.
After three rounds of wine, the sun set and the moon rose. Braziers were set up in the hall, warm enough to make people sweat. The three men talked from Yuling’s old emperor to the current chaos in the world. After Song Yan drank more, he not only became talkative but dared to say anything, cursing Jin Yin’s father, his brother, his stepmother, plus Mo Zi’s father and brother—cursing each one bloody.
“Yuling’s national disaster began with these five traitors. Yet the common people paid the price of having their flesh carved and bones scraped for them—absolutely outrageous! Fortunately they’re all dead, clearing the path for our brilliant Second Prince. That’s their final contribution at least.” He concluded at last.
Jin Yin, praised so highly, seemed to float, deliberately smiling at Yuan Cheng with raised eyebrows.
Yuan Cheng calmly shifted his gaze away and raised his teacup. “I substitute tea for wine—let us toast to the brilliant Second Prince.”
Instantly, wine splashed everywhere.
“Since Master Song has lived in Song County for decades, you must be very familiar with the mountain and water scenery everywhere.” Seeing the time was ripe, Yuan Cheng asked.
“Song County isn’t big if you say it’s big, isn’t small if you say it’s small.” Song Yan hiccupped drunkenly. “But Brother Yuan asked the right person. I can’t say about outside Song County, but within Song County there’s nowhere I haven’t been. Aren’t you touring? Tomorrow I’ll take you to several good places—the scenery is breathtakingly beautiful.”
“I heard there’s a mountain with a stalactite cave. Does Master Song know of it?” Not directly stating the mountain or cave name, cleverly concealing it while steering the topic toward mountains.
“A mountain with a stalactite cave?” Song Yan’s face was red from drink, but he still spoke clearly—his alcohol tolerance was astonishing. “There are quite a few mountains nearby, but I haven’t heard of any with stalactite caves. However, if you like looking at oddly-shaped stones, I know where some are.”
“Where?” Jin Yin took a sip of wine, slowly swirling his cup.
“Crescent Moon Mountain, right east of Zhanqiao. There’s a large cave.” Song Yan answered.
Crescent Moon Mountain and Mingshan were too different. Mo Zi exchanged glances with Yuan Cheng, and the latter spoke.
“Crescent Moon Mountain? Really? I heard it was Mingshan in Song County.” This connected it.
“Does anyone still use such an ancient name now?” Song Yan was startled. “Crescent Moon Mountain used to be called Mingshan, but it was changed at least a hundred years ago. Before Yuling was founded, back when it was all Great Zhou territory, it was still called that.”
Found it. Because they were using the ancient name, no wonder nobody knew.
“Master Song is erudite with a strong memory—to be so clear about something from so long ago.” Yuan Cheng praised.
Song Yan said, “I dare not, I dare not. I’ve grown up in Song County since childhood and haven’t been far. This whole life I’ve just guarded the land my ancestors left. My reading is limited. When I was village head, I carefully read Song County’s local gazetteers from the Tang dynasty through successive generations, which is how I know.”
“Then tomorrow we’ll trouble Master Song to guide us.” Yuan Cheng looked at Mo Zi.
Mo Zi stood and curtsied slightly. “Master Song, I’m somewhat tired. Is there a place to rest?”
“Yes, yes. There are still several clean side rooms. Madam, young lady, please—this one was inconsiderate.” Song Yan immediately called a young servant to lead the way.
Yuan Cheng also stood up. “Master Song, please allow me to accompany my wife.”
Jin Yin laughed heartily. “See? This is the gentlemanly style—loving husband and wife. Master Song, you can’t leave. Tonight we men will rest right here in this hall—drunk between wine and couch until dawn.”
“Second Brother, Master Song is being polite, but don’t you go wild with drink. Rest early—tomorrow we still have to view the mountain.” Yuan Cheng and Mo Zi left.
Jin Yin pouted. “He doesn’t drink himself but envies me drinking. Master Song, don’t take it seriously. I, Young Master Jin, treat you as a friend and definitely won’t be polite.”
Song Yan actually felt somewhat drowsy, but the words about drinking all night were his own, so he could only force himself. He thought his alcohol tolerance was already rare, never expecting to meet someone who could drink even more. As a result, he collapsed.
Jin Yin called out several times. Seeing no response, he said dejectedly, “Unconscious so quickly?” He summoned the old steward, his steps swaying unsteadily. Qi Liang supported him as he called everyone to leave.
At dawn, Song Yan entered the study only to discover someone sitting at the desk. After seeing clearly, he couldn’t help being startled. “You—” Realizing his tone was too harsh, he softened it. “Brother Yuan, you’re up really early.”
“I’ve always been a light sleeper. I woke before dawn and really didn’t know how to pass the time, so I found my way to Master Song’s study. I’m truly sorry for coming uninvited.” Yuan Cheng stood up, holding a book in his hand.
Song Yan laughed dryly. “No matter. I just fear Brother Yuan is too learned and looks down on the books in my study.”
“How does Master Song know that Yuan is learned? Yuan only said he was a merchant, yet Master Song seems to know quite a lot.” Yuan Cheng tapped the window frame.
Song Yan’s eye twitched. “Brother Yuan, what are you saying? Yesterday was our first meeting, but seeing your refined conversation, I knew you were no ordinary merchant, which is why I said so.”
“Master Song is also no ordinary country gentleman.” Yuan Cheng saw his expression change and laughed inwardly. “In my view, you have feeling and filial piety—offering incense for old friends, guarding the estate for ancestors.”
So that’s what he meant. Song Yan broke out in a cold sweat. “You’re too kind.”
“Master Song, I just read a good book.” Yuan Cheng raised his hand. Three characters were written on the cover: Flower Deity Chronicle. “I’ve heard my wife mention it before. It’s about Song Xinong’s wife, isn’t it?”
Song Yan didn’t expect him to find this book. “Yes… it’s Song Xinong’s wife, Wang Shi.”
“The person who wrote this book had deep and genuine feelings for Madam Song Wang. Between the lines are profound longings and pain, showing he silently loved this woman as beautiful as the king of flowers, the peony.” Yuan Cheng flipped through it. “I didn’t know Master Song was so talented as to author a book.”
Song Yan’s eyes widened. “You’re mistaken. I didn’t write this book—it was copied from elsewhere.”
“There’s clearly a manuscript hidden here, and the epilogue is written very clearly. Why hastily deny it? Liking another man’s wife isn’t something universally condemned. I see the text in the book is frank and honest, showing you are also a person of upright character. Now it seems there’s some discrepancy.” Yuan Cheng closed the book. “Could it be that Master Song is not Master Song?”
Song Yan rebuked angrily, “What nonsense are you talking? If I’m not Song Yan, who is?”
“I don’t know. Before yesterday I’d never heard the name Song Yan, so you tell me.” Yuan Cheng tapped the window frame a second time.
“Is it my turn?” Jin Yin walked in waving his fan.
“Fanning yourself on such a cold day—don’t you find it ridiculous?” Yuan Cheng snorted.
“I don’t.” Jin Yin snorted back.
Song Yan stuttered, “You… how are you awake?”
Jin Yin closed the fan and tapped it on Song Yan’s forehead. “Should I not be awake? Your wine is called Three-Day Drunk, so I should be drunk for three days? Nice thought, but unfortunately my alcohol tolerance is good.”
“He naturally took an antidote—it has nothing to do with alcohol tolerance.” Yuan Cheng ruthlessly exposed the truth.
“Still better than you, acting all precious, talking about substituting tea for wine.” Looking for trouble, are we?
Song Yan watched helplessly as the two undermined each other, speechless.
“Want to know where you slipped up?” Yuan Cheng ignored Jin Yin and turned to look at Song Yan.
Song Yan unconsciously nodded.
“I’ll mention just two things. First, your subordinates pretending to be farmers don’t look like it at all—no matter how you look at them, they grew up in military camps. Second, this person Song Yan never married. If you hadn’t read this entire Flower Deity Chronicle, you wouldn’t know.” Yuan Cheng held up two fingers. “I’ll ask you two more questions. Where is the real Song Yan? How many of Prince Su’s men are hidden in Crescent Moon Mountain?”
The fake Song Yan hadn’t anticipated that the other party had already seen through this conspiracy. He immediately shouted for people to come quickly. This estate had dozens of people who would come at a call.
But there were no footsteps outside the door.
“Come.” It was Yuan Cheng’s turn to call.
With a rush, windows were thrown open one after another, and twenty to thirty blade gleams shone bright and blinding.
“Whether you want to die or live is up to you. I ask, you answer, and I’ll spare your life. I ask, you don’t answer—I won’t be anxious, but you’ll lose your life.” Yuan Cheng sat back down.
“I won’t betray my master.” The fake Song Yan swallowed poison.
Mo Zi appeared at the door. “The real Song Yan has been found—as expected, in the thatched hut by the stone monument. He said the day he was captured, he saw about a thousand cavalrymen. Most likely they’re setting an ambush at Crescent Moon Mountain.”
The fake Song Yan died, unable to close his eyes. Because what Mo Zi said was all correct—he died in vain.