Just as Zhang Huailu had assigned a few people to accompany Cheng Chang to the Zuixiang Restaurant, a clerk hurried in from the front hall. “Lord Zhang, Minister Pei of the Ministry of Works and Lord Luo of the Privy Council have arrived.”
Minister Pei was Pei Lan’s father.
With the great victory in the north, Pei Lan would soon return to the capital, and the Emperor, overjoyed, had granted permission for the people of Jinling to line the streets in welcome. The Ministry of Rites had drafted the procedures for the reception, but the practical implementation fell to offices like the Capital Prefecture. Zhang Huailu had sent a formal invitation to the Pei residence the day before, hoping to consult the Minister’s opinion—he hadn’t expected Minister Pei himself to lower himself to come in person today.
Zhang Huailu said, “Quickly, quickly, come with me to the front hall to receive Lord Pei and Lord Luo properly.”
He’d taken only two steps, robe lifted, when he suddenly paused, as though remembering something, and glanced at Yun Xi.
Yun Xi was Pei Lan’s betrothed, not yet married to him. Now that Pei Lan was returning to the capital, with both of them of marriageable age, their union would surely be brought up for discussion soon.
By rights, since Minister Pei had come today, Yun Xi ought to be brought along to meet her future father-in-law—a happy occasion doubled. But the House of Zhongyong had fallen into such disrepair, its family fortune reportedly nearly exhausted, that Yun Xi, once a pearl in an oyster shell, had become something more like a thorn in the flesh. Whether Minister Pei even wished to see her was questionable—and the meeting, if it happened, could well prove more awkward than pleasant.
Better to find some way to send her off elsewhere.
“Constable Yun,” Zhang Huailu said, “I’ll go to the front hall to receive Minister Pei and Lord Luo. You shall accompany the Third Young Master to the Zuixiang Restaurant today instead.”
Yun Xi folded her hands and answered, “Yes,” without saying anything more.
Seeing her calm expression, Zhang Huailu felt somewhat guilty and added, unnecessarily, “Didn’t you want to continue serving as constable in this office? Now that the Third Young Master is unharmed, you needn’t blame yourself any further. Just carry on with your duties properly. Once the Prince returns to the capital, you’ll go to his residence and explain the matter of the Third Young Master’s fall into the water, and that will settle things.”
Then, turning to Cheng Chang, he said, “Third Young Master, this humble official has urgent matters to attend to. Constable Yun will accompany you to Zuixiang Restaurant.”
Cheng Chang had somewhat recovered his composure by now. Though he still couldn’t quite work out what exactly a “Third Young Master” was, he’d gathered it had something to do with this so-called Prince Cong’s household, and that everyone here held him in great deference.
Judging from what Zhang Huailu had just said, this striking young woman before him worked as an official in this office.
An era where women could hold government positions—what kind of era was this, exactly?
Yun Xi was preoccupied, thinking about how she would explain matters to the Prince’s household, when she happened to glance over at Cheng Chang and found him gazing back at her thoughtfully.
His eyes were remarkably calm, as though tinged with a wash of spring light.
An attendant from the Prince’s household called out from behind, “What are you standing around for? Making our young lord wait? Tired of living, are you?!”
Realizing her lapse in manners, Yun Xi stepped out of the small courtyard and led her horse over. “Third Young Master, the carriage is ready. Please.”
Cheng Chang gave a small “Mm” in acknowledgment.
Just outside the courtyard gate, as he was about to board the carriage, one attendant dropped to his knees ahead of him, offering his back as a footstool.
Cheng Chang paused, speechless for a moment, then withdrew his foot and walked around to the other side, climbing into the carriage himself.
Zuixiang Restaurant was located along the banks of the Qinhuai River. From the Capital Prefecture Office, the carriage traveled all the way to Tongzi Lane, the liveliest street in Jinling. The customs of Great Sui were remarkably open—curfews had been abolished years ago, and many vendors set up stalls late into the night. With spring just beginning and news of the northern victory alongside the Emperor’s impending return from his southern tour, all of Jinling buzzed with even more excitement than usual. Vendors’ calls rang out day and night, selling everything from bronze vessels and porcelain vases to bamboo cages of crickets.
Cheng Chang had once read a few books on antique appraisal in his previous life. Spotting a stall selling blue-and-white porcelain by the roadside, he wandered over and picked up a piece with a flared mouth and long neck, intending to determine its dynasty.
The vendor had been dozing off and was startled to find a young gentleman suddenly standing before his stall, examining a vase—checking the rim, the base, turning it over repeatedly, even tapping it with a finger and holding it to his ear to listen to the sound.
“Now see here, young master,” the vendor said, his temper none too even, “you’ve been looking at that thing for ages—are you buying it or not? Don’t keep fiddling with it if you’re not!” He stood and snatched the vase back from Cheng Chang’s hands.
Cheng Chang was about to explain when the attendants accompanying him rushed forward and shoved the vendor aside. “Have you no eyes? Throwing your weight around in front of our young lord?!”
At the words “young lord,” the vendor took a closer look at Cheng Chang and froze. “Th—Third Young Master?” He dropped to his knees with a thud. “This lowly one failed to recognize such an esteemed guest and has caused offense—forgive me, Third Young Master, forgive me—”
With that, he snatched up the blue-and-white vase again and thrust it into Cheng Chang’s hands.
Cheng Chang stared blankly at the vase that had just been forcibly taken from him and then forcibly returned, utterly bewildered.
But since he said nothing, the vendor grew even more anxious. The Third Young Master of Prince Cong’s household was notorious for his tyrannical ways—the last time he’d visited Tongzi Lane, he’d taken a fancy to a piece of jade and offered a mere three coppers for it. When the shopkeeper refused to sell at that price, Cheng Chang had sent men to smash the entire jade shop to pieces.
Remembering this, the vendor decided it was best to cut his losses immediately. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed several more valuable pieces from his stall and stuffed them all into Cheng Chang’s arms.
Cheng Chang grew even more bewildered.
What was happening—a bulk sale? Would he get a discount for buying in quantity?
Cheng Chang looked down at the jars and vases in his arms, then back at the vendor, and finally reacted.
He asked, “How much?”
The vendor was confused. How much? Oh—how much silver.
What kind of tormenting new trick was this?
The vendor kowtowed hastily. “No charge, no charge at all!”
Cheng Chang handed the pieces back, his expression turning serious. “If there’s no charge, then I can’t accept them.”
Up ahead, Yun Xi had been leading the way, preoccupied with her own thoughts and not paying much attention to Cheng Chang. She’d already walked some distance when she heard the commotion and turned back to see Cheng Chang standing before the porcelain stall looking utterly baffled, with a vendor beside him kowtowing repeatedly and crying, “Mercy, Third Young Master, mercy!”
Yun Xi hurried over and called out, “Third Young Master.”
She didn’t bother asking what had happened—whatever trouble Cheng Chang caused never made much sense anyway.
“Zuixiang Restaurant is just ahead. Third Young Master, if you’re fond of these porcelain pieces, perhaps you could come back and look after you’ve eaten something.”
Cheng Chang glanced at the vendor, hesitated a moment, then said, “Fine.” He allowed the two attendants to lead him away.
Watching Cheng Chang’s retreating figure, Yun Xi felt a flicker of surprise—perhaps because of his near-drowning, his reactions today seemed somewhat slower than usual. Ordinarily, it wouldn’t have been so easy to redirect him like this.
The vendor, noticing the constable’s token and sword at Yun Xi’s waist, burst into tears. “Constable, I beg you, please save me. My whole family—more than a dozen mouths—depends on me alone. Once the Third Young Master finishes his meal and feels more himself, if he comes back looking for entertainment and brings people to smash my stall, my whole family will have no way to survive.”
Yun Xi thought for a moment, then asked, “Do you have anything among your wares that’s more distinctive, but less expensive?”
“Yes, yes, I do!” The vendor scrambled up and dug through his stall, producing a delicate small incense burner shaped like a fruit branch, and handed it to her. “Constable, ma’am, do you think the Third Young Master might like this?”
Yun Xi wasn’t entirely sure. “I’ll give it a try.” She took out her coin purse and asked, “How much?”
The vendor said, “Constable, you’re doing this to help me—how could I possibly take your silver?”
Yun Xi looked at him for a moment. Early spring still carried a lingering chill, and he wore nothing but straw sandals, his clothes worn thin and patched in several places, dark circles under his eyes betraying poor rest, yet here he was setting up his stall so early in the morning. He clearly had a large family depending on him.
She understood his position all too well—didn’t she herself carry the weight of the entire House of Zhongyong on her own shoulders?
Yun Xi took a small ingot of silver from her purse and gave it to the vendor. “Making a living out here isn’t easy for anyone. I won’t take advantage of you—I’ll pay you the going rate for a piece like this, as I have before. If it’s worth more than that, I’m afraid I can’t afford it.”
With that, she took the incense burner, wrapped it carefully in a cloth pouch, and hurried after Cheng Chang.
Cheng Chang had already settled into a private room on the second floor of Zuixiang Restaurant. The proprietor, wiping sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, instructed the waiter to bring out refreshments for Cheng Chang. Once the food was set out, he said carefully, “Third Young Master, our humble establishment’s fare is crude—I fear the seasoning may not suit your taste. If it doesn’t please you, please, I beg you, don’t hold it against us, don’t hold it against us.”
Please don’t have the whole restaurant leveled just because of one spoonful too much salt or too little sugar.
Cheng Chang acknowledged this and picked up his chopsticks, taking a bun. It was a bit salty, but the flavor was decent enough, and he finished off an entire steamer basket in short order.
Having vomited all morning, his stomach was empty, and a single small basket of buns wasn’t nearly enough. Just as he reached for another, he looked up to find the attendants and the proprietor all watching him with bated breath.
Puzzled, Cheng Chang asked, “Would you… like to sit down and eat together?”
Everyone shook their heads in unison.
If no one else was eating and he ate alone, it felt rather awkward. Cheng Chang set down his chopsticks and stopped eating as well.
The proprietor, assuming the food hadn’t suited the Third Young Master’s taste, broke into a cold sweat and was about to apologize when Yun Xi arrived. Seeing that Cheng Chang appeared to have finished his meal, she took out the small incense burner from the cloth pouch and said, “Third Young Master, the vendor from the porcelain stall earlier felt deeply guilty for having offended you, and asked this humble servant to bring you this small token of apology. Please don’t hold his offense against him.”
The little incense burner was barely the size of a palm—giving it as a gift felt almost insulting, like tossing scraps to a beggar. How could it possibly satisfy the discerning taste of a young lord of such standing?
The two attendants from the Prince’s household were about to erupt in anger, but to everyone’s surprise, Cheng Chang reached out and took it with one hand, examining it carefully.
Incense burners like this one were more commonly found in the Ming and Qing dynasties—but this clearly wasn’t either of those eras.
Cheng Chang set the burner down, falling into deep thought.
In the twenty-first century, his name had also been Cheng Chang—the same name as this body he now inhabited. He’d suffered from a congenital heart condition and, after dying suddenly, had ended up here, utterly bewildered. He’d considered pretending to have lost his memory, but decided against it. The reason was simple: the first time he’d woken up in the water, the constable who’d pulled him out had removed two heavy gold ingots from his sleeves—he knew that this “Cheng Chang” had been murdered.
The people here called him “Third Young Master,” but the attendants closest to him called him “young lord”—clearly indicating a position of considerable status, likely the son of this so-called Prince Cong. For someone of such rank to have been targeted for murder was troubling. Better to keep his composure and observe carefully for now, without revealing anything.
The Xia, Shang, Zhou; Spring and Autumn, Warring States; Qin, Han, Jin, Northern and Southern Dynasties; Sui, Tang, Song, Yuan, Ming, Qing.
These were the major eras of Chinese history, though there had been smaller dynasties too, lasting anywhere from a few decades to a century or so, plagued by constant warfare before quickly collapsing—none of them had ever achieved this level of prosperity.
Moreover, in the Tang dynasty and earlier, cities had been organized into enclosed wards, and ordinary people couldn’t move about within the city as freely as they did here—leaving one’s ward required a permit. It wasn’t until the Song dynasty that these ward systems were abolished, along with curfews, and city layouts shifted from a ward-based system to an open street-and-lane system. But by the Ming dynasty, especially its early years, the authorities imposed heavy restrictions on the populace—going outside at night could result in criminal punishment. Given how open the customs here were, and that women could even hold official positions, the only plausible candidates were the Song dynasty or the late Ming dynasty.
But in both the Song dynasty and late Ming, the capital hadn’t been Jinling.
So this particular dynasty likely didn’t exist within the scope of his knowledge at all.
Cheng Chang sighed inwardly at the vastness of his ignorance. His knowledge base wasn’t lacking—he’d graduated from a prestigious university, held an advanced degree, and read widely across many subjects. His major had been finance, and after his master’s degree, he’d spent several years in risk control. Out of professional habit, he tried to assess his current risk exposure using whatever limited resources he had.
At the moment, forget data modeling—he couldn’t even find a single useful clue.
At least the language was the same, so there was no communication barrier.
Seeing Cheng Chang remain silent for so long, the proprietor, his back drenched in sweat, dropped to his knees and begged for mercy. “Third Young Master, our chef’s skills are lacking and have offended your refined palate. This lowly one will have him pack his things and leave immediately—we’ll be sure to find a chef who satisfies the Third Young Master completely!”
Cheng Chang was baffled again—how had this turned into a matter about the restaurant’s chef?
The attendant from the Prince’s household shoved the proprietor aside brusquely. “Our young lord honored you by dining here, and this is how you repay him—serving him such crude fare!” He was already rolling up his sleeves, about to flip the table.
Yun Xi quickly raised her sword to block him and bowed to Cheng Chang. “Third Young Master, it’s growing late—we should return to the office. This matter can wait for another day.”
Cheng Chang nodded and walked out of the restaurant alongside Yun Xi.
By now, all of Tongzi Lane knew the Third Young Master had come, and the street outside had grown noticeably quieter. Those who did pass by cast furtive, evasive glances.
Having observed all this for a while, Cheng Chang thought of the vendor and proprietor who had begged for mercy over the smallest trifles, and further back, the young clerk at the office who had knelt in terror over a spilled cup of tea. Something finally clicked into place.
He turned to Yun Xi and asked, “Is there something wrong with me, as a person?”
Yun Xi was caught off guard—how was she supposed to answer that?
She glanced at him, opening her mouth several times, only to swallow her words each time, unable to say a single thing.
“Never mind, say no more. I understand now,” Cheng Chang said, looking rather heavy-hearted. “Too much to even begin, impossible to put into words—your expression says it all.”