Qingyang Temple was the oldest and largest Daoist temple in the Southwest region, first built during the Zhou Dynasty. It got its name from two bronze-green sheep outside the main Sanqing Hall.
The “Inscription of Sichuan’s Qingyang Temple” states: “The Immortal Count of Supreme Purity ordered the Green Emperor’s boy to transform into a sheep in Shu.” Thus, Qingyang Temple became a sacred place where immortals gathered and Laozi spread his teachings. During the Tianbao years, Emperor Xuanzong fled there to escape the An-Shi Rebellion. (At this time, it was still called Qingyang Temple. It wasn’t until later when Tang Emperor Xizong took refuge there from the Huang Chao Rebellion that he decreed it be renamed as Qingyang Palace.)
On the Double Ninth Festival, the incense smoke was thick. The large open space before the temple was filled with the clamor of carriages and horses, with stalls gathering spontaneously to form a marketplace.
Yingying dismounted with Xiang’er and Ling’er. Both young maids had their eyes firmly fixed on the bustling market, reluctant to look away.
These past few days, Yingying had been preoccupied, a light melancholy clouding her brow. Usually, she would cheer up quickly at the sight of festivities, but today she stayed obediently by her brother’s side, displaying a demure manner.
“Yingying, why not try your luck and get some sugar art? Old Zhang the sugar artist is here—it would be a shame not to buy any!” Ji Yaoting felt for his sister but couldn’t speak directly. He wished he could present all the young gentlemen he knew before her, hoping to draw her attention away from Zhao Xiuyuan. Seeing Young Master Zhu tactfully position himself with his attendant at an advantageous spot near Old Zhang’s stall, Ji Yaoting began encouraging his sister to go over.
Festival days and market fairs always featured sugar art craftsmen. Legend had it that this sugar art craft was invented by Chen Ziang, a poet from the previous dynasty who wrote: “Contemplating heaven and earth’s vastness, alone I weep in desolation.” Shu produced cane sugar, and he liked to melt it into brown syrup to draw birds, flowers, insects, and fish on smooth tabletops. When the sugar art solidified, one could admire it while eating. Gradually this spread and became the art of sugar painting.
The quality of sugar art depended on skill. In Yizhou City, Old Zhang was the most famous. His stall outside Qingyang Temple drew crowds of visitors.
First, his craftsmanship was excellent, and his sugar was sweet without sticking to his teeth. Second, gambling is popular these days. Old Zhang followed the trend, setting up a small table with a gambling board beside his stall. Similar to later times, the square gambling board had twelve zodiac animals arranged by time positions, with twelve fruits subdivided in the middle. The dragon zodiac was replaced with a qilin to avoid the imperial taboo. A sugar qilin was displayed on top of the haystack nearby, two feet long and one foot tall, with four hooves treading fire, looking magnificent. The detailed scales rippled like waves. The sugar art alone was worth a hundred coins, but gambling cost only five coins per try, fair to all.
Seeing the yearning in Xiang’er and Ling’er’s eyes, and her brother’s enthusiasm, Yingying didn’t want to dampen everyone’s spirits and smiled: “Let’s all try our luck.”
“Young Miss, if I win the qilin for you, will there be a reward?” Xiang’er had a natural craving for sweets. Usually quiet, she was now joking around.
Yingying pursed her lips: “I hear no one has ever won the qilin from Old Zhang. If you two have such luck, I’ll double your monthly allowance.”
Ji Yaoting joined in the fun: “What reward does brother get?”
Yingying was amused: “Brother, think about it—how many times have we chased after Old Zhang’s gambling stall since childhood, spending how much pocket money, and have we ever won once?”
As they spoke, they reached the stall.
Young Master Zhu had been staring at Yingying, first seeing her in a light green dress, beautiful as fresh leaves, making his heart race. In an instant, the Ji siblings were before him, and when Yingying smiled, he grinned foolishly too. He found her every expression enchanting. His mind held only one thought: Can I marry her?
“Oh, isn’t this Young Master Zhu? Long time no see!” Ji Yaoting greeted warmly with cupped hands. Though he wanted his sister to move on, seeing Zhu’s fixed stare, why did he want to punch him?
He blocked Zhu’s gaze, heavily patting his shoulder and whispering through gritted teeth: “You’re drooling.”
Then he heard Zhu swallow. Ji Yaoting’s brows furrowed enough to trap a mosquito. What an idiot! No wonder Yingying doesn’t like you. Though thinking this, he still had to help.
Fortunately, Zhu wasn’t completely foolish and properly greeted Yingying. His attendant was perceptive enough to move aside, letting Yingying and her maids approach the stall. As Zhu stepped toward Yingying, Ji Yaoting moved forward, positioning himself beside his sister. This earned him pointed looks from Zhu.
Young Master Zhu: Why block the middle? How inconvenient for conversation!
Ji Yaoting: Looking so eager, if Yingying isn’t annoyed, I want to hit you myself.
Zhu had no choice but to lean half his body forward, craning his neck to smile at Yingying: “What would Second Miss like to try for?”
People are like this—when someone you don’t like is eager to please, it becomes even more annoying. Zhu wore a dark green silk robe with blue trim at the collar, and Yingying suddenly thought of the neighbor’s colorful rooster stretching its neck to crow. She seemed to understand her brother’s meaning. Thinking back to morning greetings, her mother had paid special attention to her appearance. This was intended to attract Young Master Zhu as a son-in-law. Her heart ached again, and her gaze moved from Zhu’s stretched neck to her brother’s face.
Ji Yaoting guiltily moved his half-retreated foot forward, pinching Zhu’s waist behind his back. Zhu straightened in pain, eyes widening.
Yingying gently waved her round fan: “Everyone who comes to gamble for sugar art hopes to win the qilin. Ling’er, Xiang’er, go try your luck.”
The two maids excitedly threw five coins into the bamboo tube, rubbed their hands, pressed them together in prayer, and closed their eyes to spin the bamboo stick.
Xiang’er called out with closed eyes: “Young Miss, what did I get? Sister Ling’er, what did I get?”
The bamboo stick in the gambling board spun in circles, slowly losing momentum, turning round and round. Ling’er and the surrounding crowd watched the stick, all shouting: “Qilin! Qilin!”
The stick finally stopped, pointing at a celestial peach.
“Ah! So close!”
Xiang’er opened her eyes and sighed: “Just missed it! Ling’er, your turn.”
Ling’er won a sparrow.
Old Zhang cheerfully took his ladle and drew on the smooth stone slab, handing the sugar art to the two maids.
Yingying wasn’t in the mood and wanted to leave.
“Second Miss, I, I’ll win a qilin for you!” Zhu blurted out nervously, sweating profusely.
Yingying looked at him. Zhu was tall and broad, with thick brows and large eyes. As he spoke, his face turned bright red, his gaze tinged with shyness.
She could see Zhu’s embarrassment. Perhaps it was clearer as an observer. Yingying understood Zhu’s feelings perfectly clearly.