ITIEQ C6

Chapter 6 – I Have Special PUA Techniques

“Brother Chen—”

A folding fan poked out from behind a bamboo curtain.

“From across the hall I could already hear your racket. Let me see—what mischief are you up to again?”

The noise stuttered to a halt for an instant. Chen Xian’s eyes sharpened. “And you are?”

The young man in green robes beside him exclaimed in surprise: “Brother Shen? What are you doing here?” He turned to Chen Xian and explained, “This is the second son of the Vice Minister of Rites’ household. Brother Chen, you may not know him well—we used to play together often.”

Shen Qinghe stepped out from behind the curtain.

Chen Xian narrowed his eyes, scanning him up and down.

The second son of the Vice Minister of Rites? He’d heard vague mention of such a one—well known throughout the capital as a useless fop and easy victim for swindling.

Seeing him directly, his expression relaxed a little, and he cupped his hands with a gesture of courtesy.

But not far away, the one holding the vessel could no longer endure. With a dull crash, the copper pot slipped and hit the ground.

Shen Qinghe feigned shock. “Ah—what’s this? Some young lady collapsed onto the floor? And no one will even help her up?”

“A lady? Hahahaha! Brother Shen, are you once more moved by pity for fragrant jade and tender blossoms?” The youth in green laughed to tears.

Chen Xian gave a short, cold laugh. “What lady? Nothing but some base commoner filth. Some petty household brat, dreaming to cling upwards—fawning, crawling.”

“He claimed to have a gravely ill younger brother and begged money everywhere. Upon seeing his neither-male-nor-female looks, Brother Chen ordered him into women’s robes for our amusement… And would you believe it, he even holds the xiucaiⁱ degree? I’d never imagined one could be so devoid of backbone! We, of course, would have naught to do with such despicable creatures.” The green-robed youth snorted, then, as if to drive the humiliation deeper, drew from his sleeve and flung a handful of coins with a clatter across the floor.

“Since your brother’s a slave in Brother Chen’s household, this young lord will reward you. Tell me, what use is that xiucai degree? Born in dirt, stay in dirt—that is your fate.”

Lang Xinyue lay sprawled upon the ground, iron coins ringing in scatter about him. Beneath the crimson silk dress, his thin body trembled, the hem fanned out like a blossom wantonly unfurled—yet each petal curled inwards, crushed.

He crouched low, picking up the coins one by one.

Laughter erupted all around.

Up close, indeed his face was hard to classify—features exquisitely fine, brows soft as willow, lips red as blood, the visage of a hibiscus beauty.

On the sons of noble houses, such beauty bespoke noble bloodline, the continuation of refined heritage. But on Lang Xinyue—instead it spelled peril, like a flame too near dry kindling, a blade turned against the self.

Scornful gazes showered upon him from all sides like rain.

Lang Xinyue turned his face aside. His dark eyes opened and closed quietly, but inside carried the sting of a bee’s tail.

The crowd tossed him aside from thought, turning instead to chat with Shen Qinghe. One asked: “Brother Shen, what’s detained your steps all this while? Perhaps entangled in some warm nest of beauty, forgetting even us?”

For Shen Qinghe’s purse had always been open—banquets, wine, all costs falling upon him. A month of his absence meant fewer visits to Zhuangyuan Tavern all around.

“Ah, hardly that. I was merely off sitting the exams, and returned as a jinshi². My father, dear elder that he is, wishes me to bring honor to our clan—so he’s chained me to books and brush. Do you think me suited for such toil?” Shen Qinghe waved his hands as though overwhelmed.

“Jinshi?”

“You—passed the jinshi?”

“How could that be possible…!”

Their shock rose like a wave, just as Shen Qinghe had predicted. He pretended surprise himself. “What? But the results hang still upon the imperial board. Did none of you see? Ah, I suppose none of you care to pay attention. No wonder—I thought it odd none came to congratulate me!”

Scanning their familiar, twisted expressions, he nodded inwardly.

Now it was his turn.

“Unless I mistake, your household has had happy news,” Shen Qinghe said slyly. “Your parents bearing a son in old age—inviting grand celebration, no doubt. I must certainly come and share in the feast. You may forget trifles, but do not forget me.”

The smile upon the green-robed youth’s face froze.

“You never knew—having been an only child—just what it is to have younger siblings. Look at my family! So lively. And yet, Father shows such favor to my brother, I can scarcely help but grow jealous. Sometimes I fear—does he think me useless, so now raises a ‘sub-account’³ instead?”

“N-not at all, Brother Shen, surely you imagine it…”

“Ah! So you’re cleverer than I. You’re right—it is only my fancy. Still, on the day I brought back my degree, Father near tore the genealogy apart, wanting to re-start the family history from my name alone!”

The smile drained clean away.

Shen Qinghe turned to face Chen Xian.

“Brother Chen, your house is famed for its strict order. Until today, I had never yet glimpsed your dissipated side—three lifetimes’ fortune to see it so!”

“Why, just the other day, I received your younger half-brother. Came to consult my father about imperial exam matters, he did. But I thought then—his bearing falls far short of yours, Brother Chen! But come, I wonder—why did you not appear yourself? Could it be you already mastered all, and surely will pass at once?”

Instantly Chen Xian’s complexion darkened like a soot-stained pot.

Shen Qinghe beamed at the next.

“And your house—none in this generation of Fifth Rank⁴ or above, eh? Brother Zhao, though eldest, seems luckless without ancestral titles. Difficult matters indeed!”

“And Brother Meng—once proud partner in revelry with you, is now toiling at the Secretariat, worn thin as a reed. Compared, Brother Meng’s hardships do him no justice—for see how well-nourished and radiant you remain!”

…

After a full circuit of “greetings,” all wore expressions like wilted cabbage. Shen Qinghe’s vigor soared.

“Brother Shen! We are friends of old. What need for such barbed words?” someone shouted at last.

Shen Qinghe sighed deeply. “You see? With so many flaws, you fly into fury at a few truths. Honestly now—your failing or passing bears no relation to me. My stipend is already secure. I only anger because I pity you! Only true brothers would speak so frankly—don’t you see?”

They shifted uneasily. “The examination system now is unlike in ages past—the questions more difficult than ever…”

“Oh, difficult? Nonsense! Standards remain as always. But His Majesty bears heavy burdens—how could the court be filled with wine-sacks and rice-bags?⁵ Think, reflect—your families already hired tutors, founded academies. So many years—did your marks rise? Exam after exam, did you reflect? Sit long enough and still fail—who can you blame but yourselves?”

“Yes, I passed—but seeing brothers fail, my heart… burns with grief!”

Clack, clack—his fan handle knocking rhythm upon the railing, anger and righteous sorrow interwoven.

From other booths around, scholars listening to the commotion grew moved by his words. The exams had just concluded; many scholars still lingered in the capital. Hearing this son of Shen cry harsh truths yet with warm heart, and seeing his striking poise—they cherished him all the more.

“To gain one confidant such as you is fortune enough! Brother, call me Cui Haowen of Changzhou. Might I befriend you?”

“I am Shang Nan of Anyang—count me a friend as well!”

“And I, Lin Shuangcai of Chaisang…”

…

The plot had careened wholly beyond his intent! Shen Qinghe flapped both hands dismissively.

Enough of this noise—my pork knuckles are going cold!

“Gentlemen, your praise is undeserved.” With a bow in all directions, then to his old companions, he added: “Good medicine tastes bitter but heals the illness; true words cut the ear yet guide the steps. Treasure yourselves.” He dabbed at phantom tears as though overcome, then turned and departed.

Leaving Chen Xian and his circle dumbfound.

Every eye condemning them, every word of Shen Qinghe had stabbed their lungs. None had spirit for revelry. Calling their servants, they slunk away, minds now burning with desire for study, even considering to dig old volumes from beneath moth-eaten chests.

System, puffing imaginary e-smoke: “Why provoke him at all?”

At last the storm settled, and tea cooled to drinkable warmth.

In a booth above, Jin Chang, who had listened all along, leaned to the darkly robed figure at his side. “The second son of the Vice Minister’s house, Your Majesty has seen him before.”

Xiao Yuanzheng, clad only in plain garb, dark wide sleeves, sat perfectly adorned. All under heaven called the royal house diminished, but faced with Emperor Zhaohuan, not a measure of that majesty was lost.

“I remember him.” The Emperor’s fingers traced the rim of his cup.

“Little did I think the young master Shen could show such a side,” said Jin Chang.

Through the pearl curtain Xiao Yuanzheng glimpsed, as the gauzy veil swayed—just barely visible, those lips curved into half-hidden smile.

That same boy who had thrown himself weeping at his palace steps begging vindication—now below, stood tall, fan in hand, conceding not an inch.

Testing his master’s mood, Jin Chang saw his eyes soft with approval. He chuckled: “The rumors indeed prove false. To my eyes, he somewhat recalls Your Majesty in youth.”

The Emperor smiled faintly. “A little too claw-and-tooth.”

“Yet for the young, high spirit is no ill thing.”

—

Lang Xinyue exited by the side gate, his hair ornaments shed who-knew-where, twisted bun falling loose, the rouge about his lips smudged. He cared naught—only clutched his skirts tightly forward, hoarding the scatter of coins against his chest as he bolted for the city outskirts.

“Hey—stop!”

A shout behind; he turned warily, one hand brushing the knife at his waist, honed daily to razor edge.

“Huff—you run so fast!” A youth in green brocade scampered up, face flushing red when met with Lang Xinyue’s stare. “That… our young master bade me give this to you.”

From his palm he offered a small embroidered pouch.

Lang Xinyue did not even look, only stepped back, fingers tense upon the warmed knife hilt.

“No, don’t fear! Our young master is no bad man.” The servant waved hands, opening the pouch. Inside glimmered a pile of golden leaves. The glint made Lang Xinyue’s breath seize.

With this money… Brother could be saved.

His eyes suddenly welled moist, bright liquid glimmer trembling, burning. He stared fixedly at the youth.

Startled in turn, the boy hastily tied the pouch shut and thrust it into Lang Xinyue’s arms, immediately retreating a step, gaze full of pity.

“Our young master said: Heaven gives each talent its use. Spend gold, gold will come again. Don’t repay—he believes in you.”

Lang Xinyue sagged, drained, shoulders bent. His voice cracked: “Your young master… what is his name.”

“Oh—that.” The runner scratched his head, flashing white teeth in a grin.

“Young master said… just call him Lei Feng⁶.”

Footnotes

1. Xiucai (秀才): The lowest rank in the imperial examination system, also known as shengyuan, which granted basic privileges but little real power.

2. Jinshi (進士): The highest rank in the imperial examination system. Passing makes one eligible for high official posts.

3. “Open a small account” (開小號): A tongue-in-cheek modern slang borrowed here. Originally “smurfing” in games or creating alternate accounts; Shen uses it as a metaphor for his father raising a “secondary son” to replace him.

4. Fifth Rank (五品): Refers to ranks in the official nine-grade system. Above fifth rank are senior officials; below are lesser functionaries.

5. “Wine-sacks and rice-bags” (酒囊飯袋): Classical idiom for useless men, existing only to eat and drink.

6. Lei Feng (雷锋): A modern PRC cultural icon, a soldier famed for selflessness and helping others. Shen cheekily uses “call me Lei Feng” as alias while secretly gifting gold.