Bao Zhu was on tenterhooks, thinking Wei Xun would fall unconscious for many days like when his cold ailment had erupted before. However, this time with Zhou Qingyang present, after acupuncture treatment and drinking several bowls of hot soup, he sprang up lively again as if nothing had happened.
The same medical advice but completely different therapeutic effects from Qiu Ren’s treatment—this made Bao Zhu even more admiring of Daoist Qingyang’s medical skills.
Although Wei Xun insisted he could set out immediately, considering the hardships of travel, Bao Zhu remained uneasy and decided to stay an extra day at the inn for observation. Moreover, their next stop was Zhaoyi Military District, where crossing the border would require dealing with sentinel interrogations—every group member’s oral testimony had to match, requiring careful preparation.
Unlike the three Hebei military districts beyond central control, Zhaoyi was a defensive military district established by the Tang court to contain Hebei. Their opposing positions made the border as strictly guarded as between two nations, with every traveler’s identity requiring individual verification for passage.
Zhou Qingyang’s travel permit was a Taoist ordination certificate issued fifty years ago. The hemp paper was utterly dilapidated—if not pasted onto silk for reinforcement, it would have crumbled to pieces.
The sentries were quite puzzled by this, but seeing this female Taoist’s crane-like bearing and snow-white hair, out of respect for Buddhism and Taoism, they hesitated before letting her pass.
Traveling onward, checkpoint inspections became increasingly strict. Fortunately, with Yang Fangxie’s identity, Bao Zhu managed to overcome the difficulties. However, after seven or eight days, when the group reached Xingzhou territory, they encountered unprecedented obstacles.
Zhaoyi Military District had fallen out with neighboring Chengde Military District six months prior. With armies facing off and tensions high, large numbers of travelers were stranded in Xingzhou, unable to advance or retreat.
According to information Yang Xingjian gathered, the checkpoint blockade hadn’t originally been so severe. But two months ago, a highly skilled black-clothed woman had forced her way through, injuring over a dozen sentries—suspected of being a Chengde scout. Since then, unless specifically authorized by commanding officers, even the elderly, weak, women and children couldn’t pass through—the guards were impenetrable.
Though Yang Xingjian held an official appointment certificate, firstly, this place was far from the capital beyond imperial influence; secondly, his superior’s identity was sensitive—Youzhou’s relationship with Chengde was delicate, making wartime passage even more problematic.
The group was trapped in Zhongqiu County between the two districts, not knowing what to do.
Zhou Qingyang’s destination was Jingxing Pass where Chengde entered the Taihang Mountains. Wei Xun was suspicious and asked: “Did Master Uncle know Xingzhou’s situation all along?”
Zhou Qingyang rolled her eyes and said: “Exactly, otherwise what use are you? I could have ridden my donkey sightseeing through. Scarface said her martial arts were the worst—bringing me along, she couldn’t force passage. Let’s see what your skills are like. Oh, and Golden Elixir needs to be transported across too.”
Bao Zhu added: “I can’t bear to abandon Master Lushan either.”
Hearing this, Wei Xun fell silent. Even with his unparalleled lightness skill, carrying four people plus two donkeys to force passage was somewhat unreasonable.
With so many merchants and travelers forced to stay in Zhongqiu City, the group barely found lodging. The city was unusually bustling, with tea stalls outside the inn packed with people.
After storing their luggage, everyone went out to sit down, drinking tea while inquiring about alternative passage routes.
Cash-strapped travelers who had spent all their travel funds could only seek livelihood in the city. At this moment, two middle-aged performers in green clothing stood beside the stalls performing “Military Advisor Comedy” to earn tips.
This type of drama involved two performers: one man wore bird-shaped decorations as the “Goshawk” role. He twisted his waist and hips, suddenly making a bow-drawing motion while loudly reciting:
“Princess Wanhua with jade fingers notched arrow to bowstring—only hearing a whoosh, one arrow pierced through both eyes of a yellow goat. Truly hitting a willow leaf at a hundred paces, never missing a shot!”
The performer wearing an ordinary cap as “Military Advisor” immediately picked up the thread: “Oh, such skillful technique!”
The Goshawk said emotively: “Naturally! This Princess Wanhua is the sage’s beloved pearl, uniquely favored. From childhood, famous generals personally instructed her. Daily she wielded whips and rode horses, drawing bows for hunting. Seeing her figure and martial skills, Young General Han immediately lost his three souls and seven spirits, eyes going straight, falling prostrate beneath the princess’s pomegranate skirt on the spot.”
The Military Advisor played along: “Love at first sight then.”
The Goshawk clutched his chest, producing exaggerated admiration for the character: “Ah! How could there be such a peerlessly beautiful woman of such noble birth with such abundant martial virtue!”
The Military Advisor asked: “Who is this Young General Han?”
The Goshawk swayed his head saying: “This person is named Han Zhu, born of the Changli Han clan’s noble family, with father and brothers all high court officials. Young Master Han, just twenty years old, is Chang’an’s famous handsome youth—jade tree facing wind, eyebrows and eyes like paintings…”
Wei Xun noticed Bao Zhu’s expression had stiffened, her eyes staring directly at the two performers, her tea bowl tilted with water spilling out.
The Military Advisor Comedy had reached this point when Yang Xingjian also heard something amiss. He hurriedly produced some copper coins and approached to stuff them in the performers’ hands, making gestures to drive them away: “You’re too noisy—go farther away, don’t grate on our ears here.”
The tea stall customers were all concentrating on watching the performance. Seeing Yang Xingjian driving people away, they booed: “Everyone’s listening well—if you find it noisy, go sit elsewhere!”
Bao Zhu slammed her bowl heavily on the table, tea splashing everywhere, and loudly said: “Let them continue performing!”
Yang Xingjian dared say no more and could only slink back to sit down.
The two performers thanked the first tipper and continued their act. Military Advisor Comedy was mostly comedic entertainment, but also had story plots. Today they performed “The Wrong Golden Branch,” telling of love and hatred between a princess titled Wanhua and a young master of noble Han family background.
The specific content was that Han Zhu fell in love with the princess at first sight, but due to his father’s interference, he defied the imperial decree and refused the marriage, missing this good match. Princess Wanhua had long secretly admired Han Zhu and died of melancholy over this. The emperor, grief-stricken, gathered treasures from across the realm for his beloved daughter’s lavish burial.
Hearing the princess had died, Han Zhu was heartbroken and ran to guard her tomb, vowing lifelong chastity for her. The Han family father and brothers, fearing the emperor’s wrath, bound Han Zhu and sent him elsewhere for appointment—thus the two were forever separated by death.
From “Shooting Yellow Goats” to “Refusing Marriage,” followed by “Breaking Red Threads” and “Wanhua’s Tomb”—the plot was dramatic and moving. Despite numerous plot holes, the audience listened entranced and freely gave tips.
Midway through, Zhou Qingyang grew impatient and left. Yang Xingjian’s face alternated between pale and red, embarrassed and sweating continuously. Bao Zhu insisted on listening to the end, her face already livid with anger.
The audience all understood that because of his beloved daughter’s early death, the emperor angrily killed imperial physicians and emptied the treasury, burying her with millions in gold and precious treasures—clearly alluding to the current emperor’s doting on Princess Wangshou. But Zhaoyi District was a thousand li from Chang’an—somehow conspiracy theories about the princess’s sudden death hadn’t spread here. Instead, what circulated was an absurd romantic tragedy.
When the Military Advisor Comedy ended, the two green-clothed performers were richly rewarded and beamed with joy. Bao Zhu asked coldly: “What dynasty does your play depict?”
The “Goshawk” was quick-thinking and cleverly answered: “It’s a Western Han story.”
Bao Zhu laughed angrily: “So the Changli Han clan prospered from the Western Han dynasty. This opening of ‘Han Emperor values beauty, yearns for devastating beauty’ is indeed classic—using Han to allude to Tang, you can freely spread rumors and slander.”
The two performers wouldn’t admit anything, just smiled and looked around evasively, told a few jokes, then took their reward money to continue performing elsewhere.
Judging from the plot’s completeness, this story couldn’t have been improvised by street performers—it must be a popular contemporary drama. Even beating them up on the spot couldn’t stop others from singing it.
Bao Zhu was furious to the point of seeing stars, but having nowhere to vent, she angrily rushed back to the inn room. The three men hurried after her. Bao Zhu slammed the door shut, immediately followed by sounds of smashing cups and beating beds in frustrated rage.
Shisan Lang said: “This play is too outrageous—how can they force someone into a pair with Jiu Niang? She’s already buried—isn’t this bullying the dead who can’t speak?”
Yang Xingjian lowered his voice and stammered: “The problem is this Young Master Han isn’t entirely fictional—he has a real prototype…”
The two martial brothers looked at him in surprise. Yang Xingjian glanced at the tightly closed door, knowing he couldn’t resolve this situation alone, so he had to tell the truth:
“When the princess was fifteen, there was indeed marriage discussion in the palace. The man was Han Jun, youngest son of Minister of Revenue Han Ren. Jun is written with bamboo above and equal below—it’s another name for bamboo. The sage happened to hear of this talented youth and intended to summon him to the palace for viewing. His father Han Ren stubbornly refused to respond, so nothing came of it.”
Both martial brothers were shocked. Shisan Lang indignantly shouted: “Were this family’s eyes or hearts blind? Is there any woman in the world better than Jiu Niang?”
Yang Xingjian smiled bitterly: “The Changli Han clan is a noble family—naturally they wouldn’t refuse imperial marriage without reason. Only because unfavorable rumors about Prince Shao were intensifying then, creating father-son estrangement. The siblings shared honor and disgrace together—one prospers, all prosper; one suffers, all suffer. Though the princess still enjoyed favor, the future was uncertain. Old Han was very shrewd, gritting his teeth and kneeling persistently. Because he didn’t appreciate the honor, soon after, the sage found a pretext to demote Han Ren to Fengxiang.”
Shisan Lang’s eyes widened: “Even being demoted, they wouldn’t marry the princess?!”
“Demotion is just personal career ups and downs. But being drawn into succession’s bloody storms concerns an entire family’s survival. You should know that throughout history, cases of marrying princesses leading to the consort’s whole family being implicated have happened more than once or twice.”
Yang Xingjian sighed: “When the princess died, she was already seventeen—by rights, she should have had a betrothal long ago. But after the Han family refused, other noble families followed suit, declining with claims of illness. Having lost her mother’s protection and her brother falling from favor, her marriage was delayed. Though the princess hadn’t planned to marry out anyway, as a golden branch and jade leaf, being refused marriage ultimately damaged her dignity. She was always proud and high-spirited—this was an unresolvable knot. Dying unfortunately and being randomly dramatized by performers afterward could anger anyone to death.”
Wei Xun summarized: “So she and this Han bamboo pole never met face to face.”
Yang Xingjian emphasized: “Naturally! An imperial princess with strict palace prohibitions—how could any random cat or dog see her?”
Speaking of this, he couldn’t help but recall that morning scene of catching Wei Xun emerging from the princess’s room, feeling extremely vexed but unable to express it—quite awkward.
As grassland people, the Wei Xun martial brothers didn’t understand these court intricacies, only finding it incredible that someone would refuse Bao Zhu.
The three men stood at the door looking at each other. Suddenly, the door was yanked open. Bao Zhu appeared with disheveled hair and reddened nose, saying viciously: “All of you come in!”
After the three entered, she forcibly suppressed her anger and analyzed clearly: “I was buried in mid-May, less than half a year ago. Relying only on folk songs, these details shouldn’t have spread so fast or far. Someone must be deliberately stirring up trouble. Go out and carefully investigate when this play reached Zhaoyi and how the plot was written this way!”
Yang Xingjian and Shisan Lang went out on this mission while Wei Xun stayed to accompany her. He first requested a broom from the innkeeper and swept up the porcelain shards on the floor.
“Petty villains are like chattering sparrows. You are a phoenix, a great bird—no need to heed their clamoring.”
Before Wei Xun, Bao Zhu had no reservations. Tearfully she raged: “If I could leave a few words in historical records in this lifetime, there would be no name, nor necessarily any account of literary or martial accomplishments. But historians would definitely emphasize ‘noble families declining with illness excuses’ and ‘wastefully exceeding regulations for burial.’ Finally becoming a supporting character to strangers in fabricated wild historical notes.”
Wei Xun pulled out a cloth handkerchief to wipe her face and nose, saying: “I haven’t read any historical records. But aren’t those books for recording dead people’s deeds? I’ve heard of ‘final judgment upon death’—I’ve lifted your coffin lid, you’re standing here alive, the story hasn’t ended yet.”
Bao Zhu was stunned, repeatedly pondering this phrase in her heart as the torrential tears gradually subsided.
In the small area of Zhongqiu, Yang Xingjian didn’t expend much effort to thoroughly investigate the matter’s origins.
As Bao Zhu had suspected, this “Wrong Golden Branch” hadn’t come from Chang’an but was drafted locally in Xingzhou. The scholar who enthusiastically recorded anecdotes shared his new work with like-minded friends, and word spread. Commoners most loved legendary stories of emperors, generals, talented scholars and beautiful ladies. This book combined all attention-grabbing elements and was immediately adapted by folk performers for wider dissemination.
As for inspiration and source material, it came from a visiting servant at Zhongqiu County offices. Coincidentally, Han Jun—the unlucky noble son who missed his good match in the play—was currently stationed with troops in Zhongqiu City.
Author’s Note: Military Advisor Comedy was a popular Tang Dynasty comedic form with two performers engaging in humorous dialogue, much like later crosstalk. It later developed into multi-person performances with complex storylines. Military Advisor Comedy influenced various later operas and dramas—some consider it one of crosstalk art’s origins. Since no original texts survive, I wrote it in crosstalk style.
The inspiration for noble families unwilling to marry princesses, all declining with illness excuses, comes from “Old Book of Tang” records of Tang Xianzong’s eldest daughter Princess Qiyang selecting a consort: “Consorts serve three years mourning for princesses, so half of noble families don’t wish to become imperial relatives for this reason.” They didn’t want to wear mourning that long, so they didn’t want to marry princesses.