That day, Zili and A’Luo went to inspect Suxin Vegetarian Restaurant. Just as they sat down and were ordering, Liu Jue popped up out of nowhere and sat down without the slightest hesitation, smiling at Zili: “You don’t mind one more, do you? I’ve heard this is the Fourth Prince’s own establishment, stealing the spotlight from Qianfeng Tower — they call it the number one vegetarian feast in the city. This is the first time this humble prince has come to show support. Whatever you do, don’t chase me off!”
Zili smiled: “Last time I drank Little Prince’s wine — this time consider it a return invitation.”
Seeing that Zili said nothing to object, A’Luo couldn’t very well chase Liu Jue away either. This Liu Jue, no matter where she went, she always seemed to run into him. A’Luo wished she could turn herself into a cockroach or a mosquito, so that the moment Liu Jue saw her he’d flee on his own.
She lowered her head and drank her tea. Suddenly she wondered — why had she become so weak-willed lately? If this had happened before, she’d have told him to get lost long ago. But here she had to consider so many things. The more she thought about it, the more stifled she felt. She really wanted to stop caring about anything, to lose her temper whenever she felt like it, to be petty and unreasonable whenever she pleased. If she kept holding it in like this, sooner or later she’d go mad. A’Luo glanced at Zili — still wearing that same half-smiling expression — then at Liu Jue, still as cynical and carefree as ever. A’Luo thought, you two can just stare at each other and eat, this young lady isn’t going to keep you company.
She stood up and said with a smile: “I’ll go take a walk in the back garden and come back.”
The moment A’Luo left, the dishes arrived. Liu Jue laughed: “No standing on ceremony, then?” He picked up his chopsticks and took a taste. Zili watched with amusement as an expression slowly spread across Liu Jue’s face — clearly the first time he’d ever tasted vegetarian food like this.
Liu Jue clicked his tongue: “The Fourth Prince has quite the connections — wherever did you find such a fine chef?”
Zili chuckled softly: “A’Luo trained him.”
Liu Jue’s expression shifted slightly: “She personally coached the chef?”
Zili nodded: “She only taught him four or five dishes, said those were all she knew how to make. Still, people keep flocking here to support the place. We do have other vegetarian dishes too, but these few have become the signature ones.”
Liu Jue smiled: “Well, since I’m here, naturally I’ll have to try every single one.”
The two of them ate for a while. A’Luo still hadn’t returned, so they began chatting. There was almost a sense of mutual appreciation between them. Liu Jue felt that from the moment he’d met the Fourth Prince, there seemed to be an innate warmth about him. Zili felt that Liu Jue wasn’t nearly as arrogant and overbearing as he appeared — there was substance and conviction in the way he spoke. The two exchanged a glance, both thinking: anyone called one of the Five Young Masters of Fengcheng must have something extraordinary about him.
Zili raised his cup to toast Liu Jue: “Little Prince, this cup is to you. If I’d known earlier that you were fond of the Gu family’s young lady, I would certainly have stopped Father from arranging that marriage.”
Liu Jue was startled, then laughed: “Your Highness misunderstands. This humble prince simply feels that Miss Gu’s skill with the qin is extraordinary, that she’s a person of remarkable talent — I thought of befriending her as a kindred spirit. Fondness is putting it too strongly.”
Zili asked, puzzled: “Then why hang Miss Gu’s portrait in your hall? Gazing at it day after day?”
A chill ran through Liu Jue’s heart. Pine Wind Hall was practically forbidden ground within the princely residence — no one entered without his permission. Guarded by the Qing Corps, not even a bird could slip in. How could Liu Fei possibly know such a minor, private detail? Yet his face betrayed nothing as he said calmly: “This humble prince simply loves to paint portraits of beautiful women — any woman I’ve seen who could be called a peerless beauty, I paint and keep. This cup should rightfully be mine to offer you instead, and keeping Miss Gu’s portrait any longer would truly be disrespectful to the Fourth Prince’s future consort. I’ll have it sent to the Fourth Prince’s residence tonight without fail — please accept it.”
Zili smiled faintly: “Everyone loves beauty — Little Prince’s sense of propriety puts me to shame for seeming ungenerous by comparison.”
The two of them laughed heartily and drained their cups.
A young server approached and said to Zili: “The Third Young Lady asked me to pass along a message — she suddenly felt unwell and has gone back to the residence ahead of time. She says the two of you should enjoy yourselves and not worry about her.”
Zili smiled, thinking to himself that A’Luo found this Liu Jue thoroughly unpleasant — with him around, she didn’t even want to eat.
Liu Jue appeared composed, but inside a great wave crashed through him: you, Li Qingluo — other people would be thrilled if I so much as glanced at them twice, and you take one look at me and lose your appetite entirely?
Both men were deep and calculating by nature, and they continued drinking without betraying a thing. Cup for cup, each secretly admiring the other’s capacity. Zili was the first to slump: “Lit-, Little Prince, your capacity for drink is too, too good.”
Liu Jue laughed heartily, his drunken eyes hazy as he looked at Zili: “Enough with this ‘Little Prince’ business — if you don’t mind, just call me Yunzhi.”
“Good, Yunzhi, don’t call me Your Highness this and Your Highness that — just, just call me Zili!” Zili said with a giggle, his face’s ever-present half-smile now thoroughly softened into drunken delight.
Liu Jue swayed over and sat down beside Zili, one hand gripping his shoulder while shouting: “Boy! More wine!” His eyes unfocused, he laughed foolishly: “Your Highness, Zili, tell me — what’s so, so good about Li Qingluo? She’s nowhere near as good as her elder sisters, any well-bred young lady in Fengcheng would beat her — why doesn’t she have eyes to see it?” He tried to stand, bracing his swaying body, and declared: “Has she even heard of the Five Young Masters of Fengcheng? Chancellor Li — so what? She’s nothing but an unfavored concubine-born daughter!” He finished, stumbled, and collapsed back into his seat, grabbing a jug and pouring more down his throat.
Zili giggled: “Yunzhi, you don’t know — A’Luo is simply a treasure. I still can’t see through her after all this time. She’s just different, different. She doesn’t seem like someone only thirteen or fourteen years old. And yet her heart is so good. If I could have her as my wife, my heart’s wish would be fulfilled.”
Liu Jue laughed: “Then what about the Gu family’s precious daughter?”
Zili smiled with self-assurance: “I will of course hold A’Luo in the palm of my hand. If she has feelings for me in her heart, she’ll understand it can’t be helped.”
Liu Jue drained another bottle, swaying his head, only laughing. Zili finally reached out and shook him: “Yunzhi, Yunzhi, heh heh, you’re even more drunk than I am.” With that, he tipped his head to one side and collapsed onto the table.
Liu Jue chuckled, pushing at him: “Zili, Your Highness, you still dare say I’m more drunk than you, ha ha!” Laughing and laughing, he suddenly opened his mouth and vomited a great mess, and slumped over onto the table as well.
A full hour or more passed. Then a shadowy figure flew in through the window, walked to Liu Jue’s side, and stood there silently watching him for a long while before swinging a blade down. The blade carried the force of the wind, sharp and deadly. As it swept toward Liu Jue’s neck, it suddenly halted. Liu Jue didn’t stir at all. The figure withdrew the blade and said in a low voice: “Your Highness, he’s drunk.”
Zili lifted his head from the table, his expression once again composed and calm. He gazed at Liu Jue for a long moment with a complicated look, then said to the figure: “Get a carriage, and see that he’s sent back to his residence properly.”
Liu Jue was already dead drunk, nearly limp as he was carried into the residence. In Pine Wind Hall, Sishu and Sihua bustled about in a frenzy; just as they’d finally gotten things cleaned up, Liu Jue opened his mouth and vomited again. It took most of the night before he finally fell into a deep sleep.
Sishu and Sihua gently closed the door behind them as they left. In the room, Liu Jue lay alone on the bed. Listening carefully and hearing no one nearby, he slowly opened his eyes. His gaze was perfectly clear — not a trace of drunkenness remained.
Ever since Zili had inadvertently revealed Gu Tianlin’s portrait hanging in Pine Wind Hall, Liu Jue had naturally kept his guard up. He shouldn’t have suspected Zili, but a few days earlier on the grasslands, the wine Zili had tossed him — wine that Prince Ningqing had brought back from the border city — had been no ordinary wine. Anyone with a normal tolerance who gulped it down would choke on its fiery potency. Yet at the time, Zili had tilted his head back and downed a large mouthful without hesitation. By Liu Jue’s estimation, his own capacity for drink and Zili’s were roughly matched. There was no reason for Zili to fall drunk before he himself felt the effects.
So Liu Jue had been on guard from the start, and naturally played along with getting drunk too. He’d deliberately drunk two extra jugs, using his internal energy to force the mess out of his stomach. Just as his patience was nearly exhausted from lying slumped over the table, he’d heard breathing outside the window, followed by someone slipping in. If it hadn’t been for that intruder testing him, he wouldn’t have suspected Liu Fei of feigning drunkenness either. He’d already known on the grasslands that Zili’s personal guards always hid in the shadows — if the intruder hadn’t been one of Zili’s own men, the guards would never have allowed him to enter armed with a blade. What’s more, Liu Fei had already appeared thoroughly drunk.
Sure enough, after the intruder tested him with the blade, Zili had sobered up at once. He’d simply instructed that Liu Jue be sent home properly. Liu Jue understood clearly that he and his father mattered too much to the Fourth Prince. If he had taken advantage of appearing drunk today to raise even a finger against him, or spoken carelessly, the consequences would have been unthinkable.
What was the Fourth Prince testing, with this move? Testing whether he himself stood with the Crown Prince? Because he’d falsely claimed to have already proposed marriage to the Li family? And Chancellor Li was plainly aligned with the Crown Prince’s faction? The Fourth Prince kept probing his attitude toward the Gu family’s daughter — was he worried that if he took the woman Liu Jue cared for, it would breed resentment?
Liu Jue lay motionless on the bed. That the Fourth Prince knew about matters within Pine Wind Hall meant he must have laid groundwork long in advance. Who could this insider be, someone close enough to him to understand Pine Wind Hall’s affairs? Most who could enter Pine Wind Hall were orphans raised from childhood as loyal retainers. Just who had he bribed? Was this insider arranged by the Fourth Prince, or by Prince Ning?
He thought again of the Fourth Prince’s words — three parts truth, three parts lies. Whatever had let him detect the flaw always seemed to involve A’Luo. Was she Zili’s soft spot?
Liu Jue recalled how Zili, drunk, had said A’Luo was extraordinary, that he couldn’t see through her even now. He’d had people watching A’Luo — the intelligence showed that as a child her literary talent had been unremarkable, and she’d only learned the flute after the Peach Blossom Banquet. What was so extraordinary about her? Liu Jue racked his brain, turning over every one of Zili’s words from that day. Like a spark of lightning, it suddenly struck him, and he sat bolt upright on the bed.
Zili had said: “She doesn’t seem like someone only thirteen or fourteen years old.” Liu Jue let out a long breath. That was it. At the Peach Blossom Banquet, A’Luo had been only twelve. She’d nearly fallen into the water, and after he’d glimpsed a pair of jade-white feet, she’d actually blushed and cursed him as a lecherous scoundrel! The next time they’d met, the way she’d lain sprawled on the grass had been utterly unladylike. She also knew some martial skill — where this strange style of fighting had come from had never been established. She had the face of a child, yet her expression and manner of speaking at the time had absolutely not resembled a noble young lady who had never once left the household. According to his intelligence, Zili had by chance overheard her playing the flute by the riverside, and for months afterward had gone to the river every day to accompany her with his xiao flute.
The whole court knew the Fourth Prince excelled at the xiao — he’d been taught since childhood by the late Empress Chen, and after Empress Chen had died of illness, the Fourth Prince had grown even more devoted to it. For her flute to harmonize with his xiao meant she couldn’t be untalented. And yet at the Mid-Autumn banquet, she had concealed her skill entirely, forgoing any chance to show off her talent before the crowd.
Liu Jue thought, Zili really had spoken three parts truth and three parts drunken nonsense — this A’Luo was absolutely not ordinary. Very much not ordinary. Liu Jue lay back down. He wasn’t in a hurry. He would eventually work out everything that didn’t add up.