ITIEQ C50

Chapter 50 – Farewell, Yue Jie

“Why has Lord Shen suddenly changed his mind?”

Gongyang Ci stood by the carriage, watching the servants load up luggage one trunk after another.

“I thought it over carefully later. One has to go out and see the world. After all, opportunities are greater in the big cities.” Shen Qinghe smiled.

Gongyang Ci nodded, yet his eyes lingered on the exaggeratedly towering pile of baggage. “This is…”

“Ah, this.” Shen Qinghe tapped the chest at his side. “Our prefecture is rather poor. Rare to come across such a vast platform—I thought of bringing along some local specialties. I hear hauling goods to market can earn pretty profit. Lord Gongyang, care to join me?”

“I think I shall decline…”

“By the way, wasn’t this trip meant for blessings and purification? Why has Madam not come along?”

At this, Gongyang Ci lowered his gaze, sorrow shadowing his expression.

“Xiao Rou suffered another fit of palpitations yesterday. Travel’s jolting would be too harsh for her—better that I go myself.” He raised his head to Shen Qinghe with a faint smile. “Did not Lord Shen himself say earlier that sincerity matters more than form? They say on Yanshan in Huizhou, at Bao Hua Temple, there are venerable monks presiding. When the time comes, I shall offer incense there.”

The ledger had contained no record implicating Gongyang Ci. His efforts for that Miss Wei might truly come from deep attachment rather than ambition.

“My lord is truly devoted as a husband. Pitiful me, left still a solitary soul.” Shen Qinghe feigned a sigh, and then casually added: “Speaking of temples and monasteries, the White Lotus Monastery locally has been quite the talk. I had heard it too was effective. Did my lord not once go light incense there for your wife?”

“White Lotus Monastery?” Gongyang Ci mused a moment. “I had considered it before, but before my visit, the government confiscated it—Magistrate Zhongcheng and General Yao rode with you, Lord Shen, did they not?” His tone contained a trace of chiding. “Still, it was a good deed. The people all say White Lotus offended the heavens and received divine punishment. Lucky such retribution came in time, otherwise how many of our Cangzhou folk would fall into their delusion.”

“Yes. I intend not only to destroy the White Lotus Monastery itself, but also to seize the men pulling its strings, Lord Gongyang—” Shen Qinghe suddenly leaned close. Gongyang Ci did not shift away, allowing his boldness. “—would you think I am overstepping bounds?”

Gongyang Ci waved his hand, but his eyes glimmered with approval. “You still appear youthful, yet bold and daring. In days to come, your achievements will surely outstrip those of me, indolent as I am. Should you ever need my help, come without hesitation.” His words were easy, generous, kindly.

Shen Qinghe straightened.

“Good. Then I thank my lord first.”

It probably was not him.

Cangzhou’s governor was the greatest official of the region. Yet this Lord Gongyang was frank as a breeze, bright as the moon. No air of officialdom upon him—he despised the tedium of administrative policy, spoke with insight on poetry, tea, and wine instead. A more carefree soul, less like an “official” than Shen himself.

Had they met in the capital, perhaps they might have become friends, sharing banquets and drinks.

The carriages ambled along the official road, soldiers in guard beside. Such a retinue was far from ordinary folk’s means, thus the journey moved smoothly without bandit harassment.

After seeing the capital’s prosperity and the wastelands of the frontiers, Huizhou was yet another world again: spring breezes through willows, verdant grasses swaying, even the street hawkers carried an urbane confidence, radiating “I am a city‑dweller” spirit.

Their travelling carriage was rare grandeur in Cangzhou, but here it seemed meager. Gongyang Ci’s attendants were all born and raised in Cangzhou, never left their small prefecture. Now craning necks to watch this wealthy metropolis, they shrank into themselves like country bumpkins.

Shen Qinghe himself felt little shock at the city’s gates. Yet the banks of reeds, the perfume of flowers—undeniably soothing to the heart.

“The greening is well done. Note it down, note it—something to study back home.” He spoke aside to Xue Bufan.

Gongyang Ci was ever even‑tempered; in new settings too he moved unhurried. He arranged lodging at an inn, then retired upstairs, closed his door, and stirred no further. None seemed to stir his heart but his lifelong wife.

What a deeply introverted man.

Shen Qinghe watched him go, then stepped into his own quarters. Bright and spacious, windows thrown wide—outside lay overlapping greens, tiny boats sliding down clear waters. He stretched a hand to brush willow branches swaying at the pane.

Huizhou’s Yunzhong County—it was indeed a grand city. Among the five great clans, the Wei family resided here. At the spring purification³ festival, perhaps he would meet them.

On the third day by Zhuo River, Shen Qinghe indeed encountered Yunzhong’s Wei clan.

Beneath long pavilions, tender grasslings sprouted, beyond them the waters rippled, bird calls clear. Guards ringed the river’s upstream. Inside, noble men and ladies frolicked. At the pavilion’s heart, wine and talk flowed. Master Wei Sheng sat at the head seat—the hosts, who every year arranged the ceremony called xiu xi³, welcoming guests from near and far.

From Qi Changliu also guests had come. In that society’s fashion, attire now leaned to light sheer robes, wide and floating like drifting mist.

Though Gongyang Ci had ties with the Wei household, he was not esteemed; his seat was set at the end. Governor though he was, his own indifference kept him unbothered. He enjoyed the river and hills unconcerned.

As for Shen Qinghe, mere retinue, he was fortunate simply to share a seat at all—far distant from the center of power.

Of the Five Surnames⁴, four were present. Only the Yue clan had not been spoken of. Shen Qinghe felt relief—the aristocratic clans had endless lines and branches, so he recognized none. Better, this way he avoided old enemies, free to probe White Lotus affairs without tethers.

He had just poured himself wine, when lifting eyes he caught a familiar face—and nearly choked, almost spraying his cup.

“Cough, cough…”

Yue Jie?!

At the very moment Yue Jie lifted his robe hem to sit, he heard the commotion at the far table end. Turning with a frown, he too froze.

“What is it, Yue gongzi?” Wei Sheng asked, following his gaze. At the far seat, a guest half‑covering his face, coughing. Unfamiliar, not of Yunzhong—no doubt someone’s tagalong.

“Nothing.” Yue Jie lowered his eyes. In just three years, his star had soared—two promotions in the Secretariat, holding true power, the Yue family at his back. Even senior ministers gave him deference.

In their examination year, he and the bangyan⁵ had already secured prestige, but the once‑brilliant tan hua⁶ had faded, exiled and disgraced.

Never thought to meet him today.

Yue Jie had once held Shen Qinghe in distaste. But years tempered the sharpness; childish animosity softened. Now the sight across the hall brought complex feelings. He sipped down his sake in one swallow.

“What’s wrong with you?” Yaoguang beside Shen Qinghe noticed his fit of coughs, patting his back. “These tiny dishes—one bite and gone! And they chew and savor each for hours. And this so‑called ritual? It’s nothing but banquet and drink, splashing a bit of river water! How does that dispel demons? Wearing this attire stifles. If not for women and children here, I’d strip and plunge the river, let them see what a true man looks like!”

“…”

Always at odds with such occasions, Yaoguang’s absurdities made Shen Qinghe pinch his forehead, restraining his hand. “Perhaps you’d like to swing from vines in the trees, peeling bananas whilst tasting the joy of returning to primal ancestry?”

Yaoguang’s eyes lit up. “Good idea! Sounds fun! But… what’s a banana?”

Shen Qinghe sighed, “Enough, cease embarrassing us. We’ve serious business.”

At once, Yaoguang subdued his restless heart. “Xue Bufan vanished at dawn—else he’d be here to accompany you.”

“The Xue’s estate lies here in Huizhou. Perhaps homesick, he went to visit.” Shen Qinghe steadied himself, noticing Yue Jie’s glances that pierced without concealment. He patted Yaoguang’s arm. “If you cannot bear it, do something for me.” Leaning close, he whispered. Yaoguang looked confused, but nodded and left.

“Lord Shen, remain seated. I will wash at the river.”

Gongyang Ci, disinclined for mingling, excused himself gently and went to the banks.

Left alone, Shen Qinghe drank a little more. Red tinged his pale cheekbones; half leaning, chin propped, he toyed with the wine. Wind‑borne elegance, unclear if sunk in thought—or just drunk.

Spotting the languid scene, someone at table, spring lust stirred, attempted chat. Shen Qinghe only glanced blandly, then rose and left. The snubbed man, baffled, turned—and discovered Shen Qinghe striding with cup straight toward the main seat.

Humiliated, he sneered aloud:

“Too bold! Does he know his standing? Look at that face!”

“Indeed. Those lords will not be polite as we have been.”

Many eyes turned, awaiting a jest. Shen Qinghe did not care. He walked up, stood beside Yue Jie, and boldly raised his cup.

“Yue gongzi—long time no see. Shall we drink together?”

His fair face flushed with wine; Yue Jie recalled—they had not met often, but there was this image, familiar. At the Gold Scales Banquet⁷, when all congratulated, Shen Qinghe alone had accused before Emperor Zhaohuan, turning truth to inversion. He had thought, then, this man would be a treacherous minister.

Now laughter at the main seats stilled.

Wei Sheng, Qi Changliu and others looked up—their eyes moving between the two. None spoke.

Suddenly, a shiver ran through Shen Qinghe’s soul, scalp bristling.

Exactly this!

Just like at an academic conference, dragged by his advisor, where after uttering absurd theory, he had been stared down by the titans of the field.

Three parts mockery, three parts chill, four parts careless disregard… Never had a pie chart been so precise.

Footnotes:

 

1. 修褉 (Xiuxi): Traditional “Spring Purification” ceremony on the third day of the third lunar month, when nobles gathered by rivers to drink, wash away evil, and compose poetry. Later a social festival. 
2. Bangyan (榜眼): The scholar who ranked second in the highest imperial examination. 
3. Tanhua (探花郎): The scholar ranked third in the jinshi finals. Shen Qinghe had been this once. 
4. Gold Scales Banquet (金鳞宴): Elite celebratory feast for new examination laureates.