This was his only way of changing his fate within the court. If it came to nothing, what would become of him?
The moment this thought surfaced, every muscle from his lips to his jaw went taut, and a keen, forbidding coldness settled over him more deeply than before.
Once this notion had arisen, it clung to Shen Xiao’s mind like a parasite burrowed into bone — inescapable. That day, when the morning roll call ended, he did not go home. Instead, he made his way to Zhuque Street.
The most bustling thoroughfare in Chang’an, steeped in the scent of wealth and power — carriages and horses rolled past in glittering procession, and those clad in fine silks and embroidered brocades were beyond counting. Shen Xiao, in his threadbare eighth-rank official’s robe, walked through the noisy brilliance of the evening entirely out of place.
The entire capital overflowed with the capped and the carriage-borne. Only he alone was wretched and fallen.
He did not know how long he had been walking. When he finally came back to himself, Shen Xiao discovered he had somehow come to stand before the doors of the Xiankelai restaurant. The gilded signboard gleamed in his eyes, seeming to mock his shabbiness and poverty.
Shen Xiao lifted his gaze and stared at the plaque for a moment, then quietly drew his eyes away.
Up in the brilliantly lit upper floor, a pair of beautiful eyes happened to glance downward at just that moment — and caught Shen Xiao’s sharp and upright features. Below, Shen Xiao was entirely unaware of being observed. Seeing that the sky was growing dark, he turned to head back — when suddenly someone called out from behind him.
“Master Shen… Master Shen…”
Shen Xiao turned in puzzlement and saw a young boy, still wearing his hair in twin top-knots, hurrying out from the entrance of Xiankelai, calling to him as he walked.
“Master Shen…”
The boy trotted up to Shen Xiao and caught his breath. “Are you the newly top-placed examination candidate, Surveillance Censor Shen Xiao, Master Shen?”
As the boy drew near, a wave of fragrance washed over him. Shen Xiao wrinkled his nose at the scent. The boy appeared to be about fifteen or sixteen, with lips red and teeth white — his features were so delicate and soft that they were more feminine than many a girl’s.
Shen Xiao hesitated a moment. “…I am indeed Shen Xiao.”
The boy then said, “I wonder if Master Shen has a moment to spare. My master would like to invite you for a modest cup of wine.”
Seeing Shen Xiao’s brow furrow, the boy quickly added, “My master is Wu Qing, a Senior Court Gentleman of the Ministry of Personnel.”
Senior Court Gentleman of the Ministry of Personnel…
Shen Xiao considered this for a moment. It was a rank-six official position — the grade was respectable enough, yet it was an honorary sinecure that held no real authority and dealt with no actual affairs. Such posts were generally obtained by the junior sons of great aristocratic families through hereditary privilege.
What business did this Wu Qing have with him? Forget that they had never met — prior to this, Shen Xiao had not even heard his name.
Seeing that Shen Xiao had not moved, the boy repeated, “Would Master Shen do us the honor?”
Shen Xiao said, “Please lead the way.”
Whatever the reason, the other party was of considerably higher rank than himself, and since the invitation had been extended on his own initiative, there was naturally no way to decline.
The boy led Shen Xiao into Xiankelai and up to the third floor. He walked half a pace ahead to show the way — then suddenly, hearing no footsteps behind him, turned back to find Shen Xiao had stopped at the entrance to the Jade and Gold Pavilion.
“Master Shen,” the boy said, “my master’s private room is just ahead.”
Seeing Shen Xiao staring at the Jade and Gold Pavilion, he offered a kindly reminder. “This is Xiankelai’s finest suite — Princess Pingyang has reserved it.”
The implication was clear: Princess Pingyang was not someone to trifle with. What are you staring at?
The doors of the Jade and Gold Pavilion were shut and no lamps had been lit — clearly Princess Pingyang Li Shu was not here tonight. Before Shen Xiao’s mind rose the image from that day: she had been dressed in a full-coverage brocade garment embroidered with golden peonies throughout, seated at the window at a game of chess, with the entire brilliantly-lit city of Chang’an spread out behind her.
Shen Xiao came back to himself and followed the boy onward.
At the far end of the corridor, there was another private room. The boy pushed open the door and announced, “Master, Master Shen has arrived.”
Shen Xiao followed the boy inside. In the seat of honor sat a young man in deep crimson official robes. Seeing Shen Xiao enter, he smiled. “Master Shen has come.”
His voice was uncommonly gentle — soft enough to wring water from.
Shen Xiao had not had much experience with women. He could only silently compare this man in the crimson robes to Princess Pingyang Li Shu, and arrived at a conclusion: by comparison, Princess Pingyang was decidedly lacking in feminine allure.
Shen Xiao clasped his hands and offered the formal court salute. “Your servant Shen Xiao pays respects to Master Wu.”
Wu Qing let out a soft laugh, finding Shen Xiao both proper and courteous. Though his features were somewhat too stern, he was at least a person who could be cultivated. He beckoned with a wave of his hand. “None of this ‘servant’ and ‘master’ — why not address each other as brothers? Please sit, Brother Shen.”
Shen Xiao took a few steps forward and took a seat below Wu Qing.
The moment he sat down, he nearly keeled over backward from a wave of fragrance — Wu Qing’s personal scent.
It was the custom of great aristocratic households to use incense, and there was nothing strange in that — but Shen Xiao had never encountered such a… sweet and cloying fragrance, as though countless fragrant herbs and flowers had been pressed and crushed together into one.
That Princess Pingyang did not use incense, Shen Xiao found himself thinking, without any particular reason.
This Wu Qing’s fragrance outstripped even a woman’s, and his appearance likewise was exceptionally fine — long lashes, pale skin, a slender and willowy figure. Even set against a woman, he would likely come out ahead.
Wu Qing poured out a cup of tea with graceful movements. The boy brought it to Shen Xiao’s table, and Wu Qing smiled. “Lushan Cloud Mist tea, Brother Shen — please.”
Shen Xiao knew nothing of the art of tea. He took a shallow sip, and found it far more fragrant than the coarse teas he was accustomed to. Setting the cup down, he said to Wu Qing, “I wonder what brings Master Wu to seek me out today?”
Straight to the point.
Wu Qing let out another soft laugh. “Did I not say — there are no masters here today, let us address one another as brothers. Brother Shen is forthright. In truth, there is no great matter. I simply wished to become better acquainted with Brother Shen, that is all.”
Before Shen Xiao could dwell on the meaning of “better acquainted,” Wu Qing continued, “To be candid with Brother Shen — since the day you claimed the top spot in the examinations, I have long wished to call upon you and make your acquaintance.”
Shen Xiao’s expression turned questioning.
Wu Qing took it in. “The Wu family is hardly a distinguished clan of any renowned pedigree,” he said.
The sentence seemed to lack any logical connection, yet its unspoken implication was clear: I am the same as you — we are both men of humble birth.
With the entire court and administration populated by the great aristocratic families, how difficult it was to make one’s way among them. To suddenly encounter another man of common origins and wish to befriend him — that was only human nature.
An old acquaintance met in a foreign land — that is always one of life’s great pleasures.
Because both men shared the same common origins, and because Shen Xiao had been consistently isolated at the Censorate in recent days, he felt an unusual warmth toward Wu Qing rise unbidden within him. “I am fortunate to have made your acquaintance today, Brother Wu.”
He had at last changed his address from “Master Wu” to “Brother Wu.” Having said this, Shen Xiao drained the Lushan Cloud Mist tea before him in a single swallow.
Wu Qing smiled again, softly.
But what Shen Xiao had forgotten was this: sinecure posts such as Senior Court Gentleman of the Ministry of Personnel were invariably obtained by aristocratic sons through hereditary privilege — how could a man of humble origins rise to such a post?
Had Shen Xiao been more familiar with the customs and unwritten rules of Chang’an’s society, he would have spotted many more telling inconsistencies —
Xiankelai was the premier restaurant of Chang’an, and only those of high imperial favor — like Princess Pingyang — were entitled to reserve private suites. Yet who was Wu Qing? A mere sixth-rank sinecure official, with no family pedigree to back him. What right did he have to occupy such a suite?
Furthermore, Lushan Cloud Mist tea was a tribute offering from the Jiangnan circuit, presented to the imperial household. How was a minor official like Wu Qing able to pour it out so casually?
The customs, the rules, the unspoken conventions — Shen Xiao did not know them, and had nowhere to learn them. Only those who had spent long years immersed in the world of aristocratic officialdom could perceive such fine distinctions.
Shen Xiao did not know these things.
Wu Qing refilled his cup, his voice warm and soft. “Chang’an is a vast city, and living here is no easy thing. Where has Brother Shen taken lodgings?”
He asked further, “The salary of a Surveillance Censor is not high, and Brother Shen’s family background is similar to mine — now that you have entered official life, with all the social obligations it entails, things must be rather strapped for you.”
The mist drifted and swirled, curling before Wu Qing’s delicate features. Shen Xiao felt, inexplicably, that his vision had grown slightly blurred. He noticed that even his own voice had softened somehow, and he replied, “I am lodging in Renshou Ward. Things are certainly tight, but I am not exactly destitute.”
The mist before him grew denser. A sudden wave of dizziness swept over Shen Xiao. The private room felt somewhat stifling — he felt a surge of heat rise through his body. He raised his hand and loosened the collar of his dark blue official robe, exposing the collar of his pure white inner garment beneath, which framed his sharp, severe features. In the brilliantly lit night, the contrast made him look particularly… appetizing.
Even with his collar loosened, Shen Xiao still felt the heat. He said to the boy, “Would you open the window wider, please?”
At these words, the boy did not move. Wu Qing, seeing this, exchanged a glance with the boy. The boy then walked a few steps — not toward the window, but toward the door, which he opened.
A haze of swirling vapor filled his sight. Through it, Shen Xiao saw standing at the entrance of the private room a woman dressed in magnificent robes — golden hairpins and ornaments, a long crimson skirt embroidered with peonies, gleaming and brilliant in the blazing lamplight.
Shen Xiao remembered: Princess Pingyang Li Shu owned such a gown, stitched all over with peonies.
The magnificently robed woman stepped inside. Wu Qing immediately rose from the seat of honor and moved to receive her.
“Your Highness,” he said with a humble bow, “he has fallen into the trap.”
The magnificently robed woman laughed. “Well done. Tell me what reward you want, and you shall have it.”
Wu Qing replied, “I want no reward. I only ask that when Your Highness has Shen Xiao in hand, you do not neglect me.”
His voice was extremely gentle, extremely pitiful and endearing.
The magnificently robed woman laughed again, and appeared to share an intimate moment with Wu Qing before giving him her assurance, “How could I ever…”
Wu Qing let out a soft laugh, satisfied, and led the boy out the door. The door slid shut without a sound, and the cloying, nauseating fragrance at last dispersed. Only the magnificently robed woman and Shen Xiao remained.
Shen Xiao felt as though a veil of mist separated him from her face, preventing him from seeing her clearly. He tried to stand, but only felt dizzy. Some invisible force held him pinned to his seat, and he could do nothing but watch as the magnificently robed woman walked toward him.
A princess…?
Shen Xiao’s brow tightened. His first thought was of Li Shu — the one he had impeached. Was she seeking to deal with him?
The magnificently robed woman drew near and stood before him looking down from above. Her voice seemed to drift in from a great distance. “Shen Xiao…”
She savored the syllables of his name on her tongue, studying Shen Xiao’s face carefully, as though appraising a piece of merchandise. She gave a satisfied nod. “Truly a man of refined and distinguished bearing.”
She settled herself beside Shen Xiao and reached out with her right hand, moving to touch his face. A high-bridged nose, deep-set eyes, sharply defined features. She had no shortage of handsome men around her, yet those who served as her paramours always lacked a certain masculine vitality.
Lately she had found herself wanting to taste someone of Shen Xiao’s cold and severe flavor.
Shen Xiao felt that she had a pair of moist, ice-cold hands. Her ring finger and little finger bore long, pointed finger guards, which moved across his face with an icy chill — like the crawling of a snake.
As her hand caressed Shen Xiao’s cheek, a wave of incense rushed toward his nose.
Thick. Dense.
The mist grew more enveloping.
In the last moment before he lost consciousness, the final thought that passed through Shen Xiao’s mind was: this person is not Princess Pingyang.