◎Bai Lang◎

The Bureau of Minor Offenses was different from the Ministry of Justice’s prison — the people held here were petty thieves and pickpockets, more or less equivalent to a holding cell. After Qu You and Zhou Tan passed through the corridor, they found that someone was already in the cell assigned to them.

The conditions in the Bureau of Minor Offenses were fairly decent — every cell had a simple bed, a table and chairs, and even a jug of plain water. But the capital’s jurisdiction was so large that a single cell often held three or four people, and married couples were sometimes allowed to share a room.

The guard led the two of them to the door, his manner respectful. “Please, the two of you, take a seat here for now.”

Qu You glanced inside and saw the man in the cell wearing a loose white robe. He seemed to find it warm, for he’d rolled up his trouser legs, and his hair was bound carelessly beneath his cap, with no regard for propriety. He stood with his hands on his hips against the wall, dipping his finger in water to write poetry on the surface, radiating an air of carefree, unrestrained charm.

Hearing someone enter, he turned his head and greeted them warmly and enthusiastically. “Greetings to you two, er — to this gentleman and this lady. Please, sit, sit.”

He was practically treating the place like his own home.

Zhou Tan sat down on the wooden bench by the table, giving a slight nod in greeting. Qu You sat beside him, glanced over, and asked, “Sir has quite the elegant pastime — are you composing poetry?”

The man tossed his brush aside. “Ah, just scribbling for fun. It’s been ages since anyone’s come to this room of mine. This humble one is called Bai Shating — thirteenth in rank among my family, so the young ladies all like to call me Young Master Thirteen. I wonder if I might ask—”

Young Master Thirteen?!

Qu You’s breath caught in her throat; she very nearly choked.

She felt her hands trembling — a great literary figure whose countless poems she had memorized back in her Chinese textbooks was now standing here, alive, right in front of her.

Bai Shating came from a wealthy family in Qiantang. He had gone to the capital for the imperial examinations three years running without success, and instead made a name for himself selling poems and lyrics to courtesans in the pleasure quarters. According to the histories, he had spent the first half of his life dissolute and carefree, until he happened upon a group of refugees and was profoundly shaken by the sight. At thirty, he sat for the exams again and, to everyone’s surprise, placed third — only to be demoted a few years later after his reputation grew too scandalous.

Zhou Tan turned his head and caught Qu You staring at Bai Shating with shining eyes. He frowned and gave a small cough.

Only then did Qu You come back to herself. Suppressing her inner excitement as best she could, she lowered her head and bowed. “So it’s Master Thirteen! Meeting you today, I can see your reputation is well deserved — I’ve read many of your fine verses.”

What a shame she couldn’t ask for an autograph!

Bai Shating looked to be barely in his twenties, very young, with fair skin and an air of leisurely ease. Her words seemed to catch him somewhat by surprise. “Ha! The women of the inner chambers in the capital call my lyrics ‘shallow, hollow tunes’ — few of them care for my work. My lady has good taste.”

As he spoke, he casually threw an arm around Zhou Tan’s shoulder with the familiarity of an old friend. Zhou Tan sidestepped, dodging out of reach.

Qu You explained on his behalf, “He has a cleanliness compulsion — he doesn’t like being touched.”

“No matter, no matter,” Bai Shating said, smiling as he sized Zhou Tan up. “Looking at you, my lord, you carry yourself like a man of high office — where might you serve, if I may ask?”

“The Ministry of Justice. Zhou Tan.”

He answered coldly and flatly. Bai Shating, however, looked as though he’d been struck by lightning. He slapped his thigh and cried out, “It’s you!”

He clicked his tongue in amazement. “Do you know… ah, forget it. Looking at you, you don’t seem like the type… well, never mind. What’s Lord Zhou doing in a place like this? All you’d have to do is flash your badge — who’d dare arrest you?”

It seemed he already knew Zhou Tan from before.

“Something happened at Fan Tower today. I’m just going through the process. Everyone is treated the same under the law — why should I be an exception because of my position?” Zhou Tan’s voice carried not the slightest ripple of emotion.

“Well said. I didn’t expect Lord Zhou to have such principles,” Bai Shating said, tapping the table in admiration, then turned to Qu You. “And this must be Lord Zhou’s newlywed wife?”

“Greetings, Master Thirteen. My name is Qu You. Master Thirteen, you shouldn’t be so modest — ‘shallow, hollow tunes’ hardly covers it. Plenty of people love your poetry.”

Bai Shating glanced at Zhou Tan and said teasingly, “Your husband’s sitting right here — aren’t you afraid he’ll mind hearing such talk?”

Before Qu You could respond, Zhou Tan spoke first. “I’ve read your lyrics too. My wife has always had a taste for poetry — it’s no surprise.”

Qu You smiled and leaned into him slightly. “Exactly so.”

Bai Shating burst out laughing. “The two of you are quite the pair — I like it! Funny how things turn out, that I should end up sharing a cell in the Bureau of Minor Offenses with a Vice Minister of Justice. So, Lord Zhou, what exactly happened at Fan Tower?”

“My wife and I, like Master Thirteen here, are at this moment simply suspects being held by the Bureau of Minor Offenses,” Zhou Tan replied calmly, entirely unmoved by the joke. “As for what happened at Fan Tower, Master Thirteen will know once he’s released. There’s no need for me to explain.”

“My husband doesn’t say much most days — please don’t mind him, sir,” Qu You said, making a face at Zhou Tan, and sure enough saw him frown and look away. “There was a death at Fan Tower today — a woman fell from a height while performing as the reigning courtesan.”

Bai Shating nodded repeatedly. Qu You exchanged a few more pleasantries with him, then suddenly tugged at Zhou Tan’s sleeve.

Zhou Tan turned to look at her.

“I wanted to tell you earlier, but with the guards around, it wasn’t a good time. Since you already know Master Thirteen, I won’t hold back now,” Qu You said, pulling a beaded hairpin ornament from her sleeve. “Before that young woman fell, when she touched me, she left this in my hand.”

Zhou Tan’s brow twitched, and he took the ornament from her hand.

“…A hairpin ornament? Why does it look so new?”

“I was wondering the same thing just now,” Qu You silently praised how precisely he’d asked. “This ornament is far too new. When I first saw the girl in the emerald dress, her hair was slightly disheveled, with a peony pinned into it and a rose-red ribbon hanging down — nothing else in the way of jewelry.”

Zhou Tan looked faintly surprised, though his expression didn’t otherwise change. “You remember it in quite some detail.”

Qu You coughed. “Force of habit.”

Back in her first year of graduate school, in a class on historical figure research, her elderly professor had, on a whim, assigned them a psychology exercise — to observe their classmates’ clothing, habits, and expressions, and deduce what information they could glean from them.

What might a historical figure who loved wearing white robes be thinking? Why did Chancellor Su wear a string of five-colored prayer beads in every single one of his portraits? Some of these puzzles she’d eventually found answers to, others not — but she had to admit, the method was novel and interesting, and it had trained her to look at historical portraits and instinctively cut through the clutter to remember the details that mattered most.

Now, it seemed, the same held true for remembering people.

So Qu You went on. “A brand-new ornament — its owner doesn’t even wear it in her hair, yet carries it on her person. It must be something she treasures deeply, or something given to her by someone she treasures. But more importantly, I don’t think this ornament… ended up in my hand by accident.”

Zhou Tan paused. “You mean she gave it to you on purpose?”

“The situation was chaotic at the time, so I can’t be entirely certain,” Qu You hesitated, then nodded. “But by the time I came to my senses, it was already in my hand. What are the odds that’s a coincidence? Perhaps we could follow this lead and look into it.”

Bai Shating cut in from the side. “I have a friend who knows a great deal about hairpins and jewelry like this. Once we’re out of here, I’ll take you two to ask her.”

Zhou Tan asked, “How much longer until you’re released?”

Bai Shating gave an awkward laugh. “That… I couldn’t really say.”

Zhou Tan said, “Once you’re out, we’ll meet there.”

Qu You had no idea what he meant, but Bai Shating agreed readily with a simple “Alright.”

Qu You asked, puzzled, “What riddle are you two speaking in?”

Bai Shating smiled. “I’m just telling Lord Zhou he needn’t thank me.”

But Zhou Tan said, “Don’t ask further. This isn’t something you should get involved in.”

Qu You froze. “Why not?”

“The Ministry of Justice will handle the investigation. You’re a woman of the inner household — how would you go about investigating a death?”

The atmosphere turned cold at once. Qu You rubbed the ornament in her hand and let her smile fade. “I’ve told you before — I don’t want to be confined to your household. You’re the Vice Minister of Justice, and I’m your wife. There’s no harm in me helping to look into this. Besides…”

She paused, her tone growing heavier. “She died right in front of me.”

“My lord — a woman, covered in wounds, falling to her death in the busiest, most crowded place in the city. What she must have gone through — can you even imagine it?”

She had started calling him “my lord” again.

Bai Shating glanced at Qu You’s expression, then at Zhou Tan, clicking his tongue inwardly, but said nothing.

Zhou Tan fell silent. Qu You continued, “In this era… no, wait, I mean throughout all of history, it’s always been so hard for men to understand women. But since I too am a woman, shouldn’t we look out for one another? A living person’s life vanished right before my eyes — how could I simply stand aside and pretend nothing happened? I’m not trying to help you. I just… want to help her.”

Why?

A young lady raised for over a decade in the sheltered depths of an inner household — why did such a fire, such a light, burn in her eyes?

Just as it had, once before.

Zhou Tan stared into her eyes, feeling a faint ache somewhere in his chest. He looked away, somewhat at a loss, his voice still cold and hard, though Qu You caught the faintest tremor in it. “…Do as you please, then.”

The hand clutching the ornament relaxed slightly. Bai Shating rolled his eyes back and forth a couple of times, then, as if performing a magic trick, suddenly produced a deck of leaf cards from beneath the table. “Er, well, you two — no need to be so heavy about it. We’re just sitting around here with nothing else to do anyway. Why not play a round of cards? What do you say?”

Qu You’s expression eased. She took the cards from him and examined them, finding them quite similar to the reproduction cards she and her classmates had once made, and said, “Not bad craftsmanship.”

Her mood shifted faster than the turn of a page. Before Zhou Tan could react, Qu You had already, laughing, pressed the cards into his hands.

“We’re one short for a proper game — I’ll teach you if you don’t know how.”

Author’s Note:

To put it simply, think of it this way: me writing You meeting Thirteen is a bit like me traveling back in time and running into Li Bai (not literally, but close) — honestly, I’d probably be even crazier about it than she is.

Little Zhou: Has a cleanliness compulsion, do not touch.

Youyou: Wait, I’ve grabbed your arm and gotten all cuddly with you so many times before and you never said anything!

Little Zhou: QvQ

PS: After some comments pointed it out, I went and read two papers — one titled “On the Social and Cultural Roots of the Phenomenon of Concealed Names Among Ancient Women,” and the other “The Cultural Connotations and Historical Context Reflected in Ancient Women’s Names” (quite interesting, you’re all welcome to check them out too). It really was common practice for women in ancient times to go by their surname and conceal their given name. When I first drafted this, I actually meant to name the female lead Qu Youyou (taken from the line “a wisp of white cloud, drifting far and free”), but after some thought I dropped one character, figuring that way it wouldn’t quite count as a childhood nickname, so I made the change.

That said, I don’t think it’s out of place for the female lead to introduce herself by her full name when meeting people. First, a name is arguably the strongest marker of self-identity for a modern person; and second, while our female lead studies history, most of what she actually knows well is official systems, laws, dynastic successions, and major historical events — her grasp of ritual propriety is genuinely quite shallow, and she wouldn’t think to fold herself into those norms on her own (I say this because, having studied history myself, I feel this deeply — I wasn’t even sensitive to this whole issue of the nickname myself).

The female lead hasn’t been in this world for very long, and her adjustment period is even shorter — she doesn’t even fully register herself as a member of feudal society yet. Her later struggles with adapting to, understanding, and settling into this new life will be one of the main threads of the story going forward, so there will definitely be plenty of “anachronisms” that don’t fit the conventions of period fiction in these early chapters. If that bothers you, please proceed with caution — and if you’d rather drop the story, no need to let me know. Much love to you all~~