Daoist Huaqing lived in a thatched cottage halfway up the mountain. His greatest pleasure was collecting medicinal herbs to brew medicinal wines and create medicinal pills. He had accepted Yang Jingyuan as his disciple primarily because of the generous offerings from the Yang family, which provided him access to rare medicinal ingredients. As it turned out, Yang Jingyuan proved to be both intelligent and diligent, making this sole disciple an unexpected joy for the old Daoist.
Yang Jingyuan dismounted outside the bamboo fence, carrying the wine jar left over from that night, and called out to his master.
Seeing the wine jar in his hands, Old Daoist Huaqing happily put down his herb hoe and said eagerly, “Good disciple, what wine have you brought to show filial respect to your master?”
“This wine… you’ll understand once you taste it.” Yang Jingyuan suddenly changed his mind and went inside to fetch two bamboo cups.
Old Daoist Huaqing had already seated himself on the stone bench in the courtyard, waiting with a smile.
The wine was deep red, appearing slightly cloudy when poured into the ginger-yellow bamboo cups. A hint of sweetness accompanied its rich aroma.
Old Daoist Huaqing took a deep breath: “What herbs was this brewed with?”
Herbs? Of course, there must have been herbs to make his father so uncontrollably excited after drinking. Yang Jingyuan forced a smile and said, “Master, please try a cup.”
After drinking, Old Daoist Huaqing exhaled a heavy breath of wine. He smacked his lips, his eyes suddenly widening. Looking around, he grabbed a broom from beside him and swung it at Yang Jingyuan: “Unfilial disciple! How dare you play tricks on your master with such potent aphrodisiac wine!”
Yang Jingyuan jumped up, running around the herb garden while asking, “Master, please explain clearly! What kind of aphrodisiac wine? What happens if one drinks it long-term?”
“Your master is still pure as a spring chicken!” Old Daoist Huaqing cursed loudly. “Fortunately, this old Daoist has keen taste, otherwise after drinking this whole jar, would you have me rubbing against trees?!”
The red undergarment of Concubine Liu showing from the east wing, his father’s corpse, and the chaotic scent of roses in the air all came rushing back. Yang Jingyuan cried out and crouched down on the field ridge, holding his head. His father was sixty-one this year—whoever made him drink such potent wine wanted his life! To make him die in such a way, to make the concubine unable to face living, to shame the principal wife, watching the concubine hang herself. Second Uncle, how could you be so cruel?
The broom struck Yang Jingyuan’s body, but he neither dodged nor avoided it. Old Daoist Huaqing instead stopped: “Foolish boy, do you realize your mistake?”
Yang Jingyuan knelt before him, grabbing his legs: “Master, tell me, what aphrodisiac wine could be so potent? What herbs were used to make an old man unable to control his desires? Master, please tell me!”
Seeing the reddened eyes brimming with tears, Old Daoist Huaqing was startled. Instead of answering, he bent down to examine him closely: “Third Young Master, I know you are filial. Having only one cup won’t drive your master to rub against trees. Besides, Daoists aren’t forbidden to marry—what are you crying about?”
At the mention of crying, Yang Jingyuan could no longer hold back the tears he had suppressed for two days. He clutched Old Daoist Huaqing’s legs and began sobbing uncontrollably.
After asking a couple more questions and seeing him seemingly unable to hear, Old Daoist Huaqing grew irritated. He picked him up from the ground and threw him down: “You’re eighteen now, can’t you act like a man? Don’t come back until you stop crying!”
He shook his tear-soaked Daoist robe and ran back quickly: “How filthy! Don’t you know Daoist robes cost money?”
“I bought that for you!” Yang Jingyuan sat on the ground, wiping his tears forcefully while shouting at the old Daoist’s back.
Old Daoist Huaqing turned back and scolded: “Once you give it to me, it’s mine!”
Yang Jingyuan shouted back defiantly: “Use it to wipe my nose, and I’ll buy you ten more!”
“Even if you buy ten more, this one is still mine! Unfilial disciple! I won’t tell you anything!” Old Daoist Huaqing swept his sleeves and went inside.
Yang Jingyuan lay down on the ground in frustration, hands behind his head. The mountain breeze was cooler than in the city, carrying a warm scent of peach blossoms. He closed his eyes and took out the fragrance pouch given by Ji Yingying from his waist, placing it on his face. The mountain trees hadn’t shed their leaves for winter, and the lush greenery gradually dispersed his agitated emotions.
He kissed the fragrance pouch once, stood up, and strode toward the thatched cottage.
Old Daoist Huaqing was sorting medicinal herbs and glanced at him: “Stopped crying? Great joy and great sorrow harm the spirit most—how many times have I told you this since you were young? You never learn!”
Yang Jingyuan lowered his head: “My father has passed away. My concubine mother hanged herself.”
Old Daoist Huaqing’s hand trembled, scattering the herbs he was holding into the bamboo basket: “Your father drank that kind of wine?”
Yang Jingyuan turned his face away in shame.
No need for further explanation—Old Daoist Huaqing had already guessed most of it. He patted Yang Jingyuan’s shoulder: “Come with me.” He poured another cup of wine, took small sips, and analyzed it carefully.
“Bezoar, musk, deer antler, tiger bone, toad venom, plus epimedium, morinda, and cistanche. This wine contains too many medicinal ingredients, making it extremely potent. Take epimedium, for instance—it’s said that in northwestern Sichuan, there are lustful goats that mate a hundred times a day from eating this herb, hence its name. For ordinary men, drinking a few cups of such wine would be harmless. Drinking too much or regularly would only cause harm. All things should be in moderation—excess is as bad as deficiency. Look at its blood-red color. I’ve heard that in the Nanzhao jungles, there’s a blood vine that, when steeped in wine, makes ordinary aphrodisiac wine three times more potent. This wine also contains blood vine powder.”
At the mention of Nanzhao, Yang Jingyuan’s body involuntarily trembled.
Where did Second Uncle get such wine? From Sheng Fengze? Since when had Sheng Fengze been in league with Second Uncle? Sheng Fengze, it was him again! Why was he targeting the Yang family? Was it because of Ji Yingying’s engagement to himself?
He then realized that the Second Uncle had poisoned his father to take control of the family business from the legitimate eldest branch. With Father’s death by assassination, Second Uncle would surely try to eliminate his elder brothers to become the family head. With Sheng Fengze’s help, using subtle means against the unsuspecting, what seemed impossible had become extremely dangerous.
Yang Jingyuan dared not stay longer. He bowed to his master: “Master, the Yang family is in a crucial period. This disciple will visit you when free. I must return home now!”
“Don’t act rashly! Rest your body and nurture your nature, cultivate your qi…”
Before Old Daoist Huaqing could finish, Yang Jingyuan had already jumped over the fence, mounted his horse, and galloped away. He stared after him: “This child is too impetuous, prone to rash action when facing major issues.”
Xiangyou had been waiting at the foot of the mountain. Seeing Yang Jingyuan descend, he rode back to the city with him. Passing through Sandaoyan, Xiangyou couldn’t help asking: “Young Master, shall we visit the Ji family?”
“Return to the mansion.” Anxious to bring back news about the wine and worried about his brothers, Yang Jingyuan had no mind to stop.
As they galloped past Sandaoyan Street, Yang Jingyuan unconsciously glanced at the Huanhua Dyeing Shop by the road. Ji Yaoting, sitting in the shop, caught a glimpse of him and was about to stand up and call out, but Yang Jingyuan had already gone far.
“In such a hurry? Has something happened to the Yang family again?” Ji Yaoting wondered, looking at the two departing figures with a sense of foreboding. He sent Ji Fu to the city in a carriage to gather news.
Yang Jingyuan returned to the mansion. Upon entering, he unexpectedly saw Master Shu sitting on the doorkeeper’s bench. Shu Ye had said something amusing, making the doorkeeper’s servant laugh while holding his stomach. Ordinary guests wouldn’t lower themselves to chat with the household’s doorkeeper. This Master Shu was indeed strange.
Shu Ye had been waiting for Yang Jingyuan’s return. He stood up and cupped his hands in greeting: “Third Young Master has returned?”
“Greetings, Master Shu.” Yang Jingyuan returned the courtesy but walked straight inside.
Shu Ye said to the servants: “I’ll continue our chat tomorrow.” Seeing Yang Jingyuan taking large strides, he called out loudly: “Third Young Master, please wait for Shu.”
Yang Jingyuan stopped reluctantly: “Does Master Shu have a business?”
“Of course I do.” Shu Ye’s small eyes turned craftily, “Shall we find a quiet place to talk?”
Talk about what? About his father’s assets? About why the concubine rushed to hang herself? Yang Jingyuan didn’t want to hear it: “I have matters to attend to. We can talk another time, Master.”
Shu Ye lowered his voice: “Your father transferred a large amount of assets to me, asking me to give them to…”
“Give them to my mother. Now that my father has passed, his assets should naturally be handled by my mother,” Yang Jingyuan interrupted.
He didn’t want these assets. He hadn’t wanted them before, and he didn’t want them now. Currently, he only thought about how to deal with Second Uncle and Sheng Fengze, protecting his brothers who had treated him well. He didn’t want to uncover the truth about why the concubine rushed to hang herself because of these assets.
Yang Jingyuan left Shu Ye behind and walked away quickly. Shu Ye stood dumbfounded for a while, muttering: “Could I have guessed wrong? Yang Third Young Master knows about this matter. Interesting.”