Chapter 141 Li Bai is here, wearing a dragon robe
At the banquet in Eastern Wu, wine cups clinked and music filled the air. Sun Quan, seated in the main seat, raised his cup and surveyed his ministers, his gaze finally settling on Zhou Yu. With a smile, he asked, "Gongjin, how has Songyang County been these days?"
Zhou Yu paused slightly in his cup, his jade-white knuckles standing out even more against the glass. Today he wore a crimson brocade robe, the cloud patterns embroidered with gold thread swirling in the candlelight, yet they could not conceal the melancholy between his brows.
In recent days, Zhuge Liang has been taking the initiative at every step, overshadowing the brilliance of this Jiangdong governor.
At this moment, his lord inquired about the affairs of Songyang County, which stirred up the pent-up emotions in his heart—that was supposed to be the place where he could realize his great ambitions, but now...
"My lord's inquiry makes me ashamed." Zhou Yu tilted his head back and drank the wine in his cup, leaving a trace of amber liquid on his lips.
The air was filled with the fragrance of incense, yet Zhou Yu felt a tightness in his chest.
—
Compared to Zhou Yu's depression, Kui Shun's life was much better. Every time he received his salary, he would secretly buy things that were easy to sell, such as pepper powder, refined salt, and brown sugar.
This time, receiving my salary was no exception.
As the moon rose, Wei changed into a worn-out gray cloth dress, covered most of his face with a headscarf, and, carrying the bag of brown sugar that had been repackaged, turned into the black market in the west of the city with practiced ease.
In the short time it takes for an incense stick to burn, the packet of brown sugar changed hands, and Kui Shun found himself carrying a heavy bag of gold ingots.
He hurried home with the gold in his pocket, the night wind carrying a chill on his face. As he passed through a desolate pine forest, Kui Shun's pace unconsciously slowed—deep within the forest lay the place where he had risked his life to bury Yue Fei.
Moonlight filtered through the pine branches, casting dappled shadows that perfectly illuminated the unremarkable mound.
Kui Shun's hand accidentally touched the bag of gold ingots in his arms, still warm from his body, and he suddenly felt the gold was burning hot. He stared blankly at the desolate graveyard, which didn't even have a tombstone, and his face gradually burned.
He couldn't possibly be subdued by a mere jailer. If he hadn't mustered the courage to bury General Yue, there wouldn't be a single word about him in the history books today.
But the real hero lies there, forgotten and unnoticed.
——
When Yuchi Jingde and Qin Shubao entered the main hall, weary from their journey, this was the scene they encountered.
Li Shimin held his infant son Li Zhi in his arms, pacing slowly through the carpeted hall. The setting sun streamed through the windows, gilding the emperor's robes with gold. His eyes were lowered, his fingertips gently tracing the baby's delicate cheek, his voice soft and almost a whisper:
"Zhi Nu, remember this: when you grow up, you must stay far away from women with the surname Wu... stay far away, and never let them get close to you..."
The baby opened his innocent, clear eyes, his pink lips still glistening with moisture after drinking his fill of milk. Seemingly amused, he babbled and spat out a round milk bubble, which landed perfectly on the emperor's fingertip.
Yuchi Jingde and Qin Shubao exchanged a glance, both seeing surprise in each other's eyes. His Majesty said the future of the Tang Dynasty could be changed, but they never expected it to be in this way.
Only then did Li Shimin notice their arrival. A fleeting look of disorientation crossed his eyes as he looked up, but he quickly regained his usual clarity. He carefully handed the baby to the wet nurse, and as he turned away, his robe sleeves fluttered lightly.
"You two ministers have worked hard." His gaze swept over them. "Now tell me about the matter in Songyang County."
——
As Du Fu, carrying a heavy bag, pushed open the creaking wooden door, the setting sun slanted into the courtyard. The potatoes his wife had planted had already sprouted, their tender green tips glistening with evening dew, radiating vitality in the afterglow. He knelt down and gently touched the delicate leaves, a smile unconsciously spreading across his lips.
Smoke curled from the thatched cottage, where Yang was busy in the kitchen. The steaming rice in the pot emitted an enticing aroma, mingled with the sweet fragrance of rice. On the cutting board sat a plate of thinly sliced cured meat, its fat glistening like amber, and next to it piled freshly picked shepherd's purse, its tender green color delightful.
Two young children huddled around the stove, their eyes fixed on the plate of cured meat. Younger Zongwen quietly tugged at his mother's sleeve: "Mother, can I try a piece? Just one piece..." Zongwu also came closer, his little nose twitching: "It smells so good, even better than the steamed buns the neighbor gave us yesterday."
Madam Yang smiled and shook her head, lightly flipping the pot with the spatula in her hand: "Wait for your father to come back so we can eat together." Seeing how pitifully the children were craving the food, she finally softened and picked up two slices of cured meat, handing them over: "Be careful not to burn yourself."
Just then, the wooden gate creaked open, and Du Fu's figure appeared in the twilight. Zongwu immediately ran over, holding the piece of cured meat he had been reluctant to finish: "Father, look! There's meat today!"
Hearing the sound, Yang emerged from the inner room, her skirts rustling, her eyes filled with tenderness. The children, like sparrows, swarmed around him, chattering incessantly. Du Fu carefully unloaded his bundle, and amidst the children's embrace, unbuttoned it. First were several packets of seeds tightly wrapped in oiled paper; he had specifically chosen cold-resistant seeds suitable for cultivation in Sichuan. Next were two packets of snow-white refined salt and sugar frosting. Yang exclaimed softly, "Ah!" Such exquisite items were rarely seen in the market.
What excited the children most was the bag of maltose candy; the glistening candies rustled inside the paper wrapper. Du Fu gave each of them a small piece, and his eyes lit up as he watched them carefully put it in their mouths.
He then took out a small iron box and demonstrated pressing the mechanism. With a "click," a blue flame shot out, startling Yang, who leaned back slightly, but couldn't resist getting closer to examine it. There was also a packet of pepper; he had specially crushed some and sprinkled it in his wife's palm, and the familiar spicy aroma immediately filled the air.
Yang asked carefully about the names of each item, her fingertips gently tracing the plump outer shells of the seeds. Du Fu patiently explained, his gaze frequently drifting to the newly green potato field outside the window—perhaps it wouldn't be long before they could taste their own newly grown crops.
As dusk deepened, the thatched cottage was warmly lit. The family sat around an elm wood table, in the center of which sat a large earthenware bowl of rice—cooked from modern white rice, each grain plump and glistening, emitting an enticing aroma, far whiter and softer than the millet rice commonly eaten in the Tang Dynasty.
Yang served everyone a full bowl. Zongwen couldn't wait to take a big bite. The rice grains were soft and chewy, and he couldn't help but widen his eyes: "This rice smells so good! It's sweeter and stickier than the rice I usually eat!" Zongwu hurriedly picked up a piece of cured meat and put it on top of the rice. The oil instantly seeped into the snow-white rice grains.
Du Fu gazed at the scene before him, his eyes softening with tenderness. He savored the exceptionally soft and sticky rice, and couldn't help but sigh, "How wonderful it would be if all the people of the world could enjoy such fine rice." As he spoke, he added a spoonful of rice to each of his two children.
Madam Yang smiled as she looked at the three men and said softly, "It's still steaming on the stove, there's plenty." The candlelight flickered in her eyes, making the simple meal on the table look especially warm.
At that moment, outside the door.
The knocking sounded abruptly, like a pebble thrown into a calm lake.
Du Fu's expression hardened, and he quickly gathered the scattered items into his bundle, his movements swift and gentle. In these turbulent times, an evening knock on the door always made one wary.
He winked at Yang, and his wife immediately understood, pulling the children behind her and quietly retreating to the shadows in the corner of the room. Du Fu then took out the kitchen knife he had bought at the market from beside the stove—its blade gleamed coldly, a purchase he had made specifically for it some time ago, useful for cutting vegetables and also for self-defense. Holding it in his hand now, it felt heavy and comfortable.
Who is it?
He asked in a low voice, opening the door a crack.
Dusk streamed in, illuminating the weary figures of the travelers. In that instant their eyes met, Du Fu almost thought he was dreaming. The cheerful call came clearly:
"Zimei!"
Standing outside the door was none other than Li Bai. His blue robe was dusty from his journey, his hair was slightly disheveled, and his eyes showed weariness, yet he still retained his ethereal, otherworldly charm. He had traveled a long and arduous journey, enduring wind and dew, overcoming countless obstacles, all to reach his old friend's doorstep.
Du Fu's kitchen knife clattered to the ground. He flung open the door, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"Brother Taibai! Is it really you?"
Du Fu stood there stunned, his throat bobbing a few times before he finally found his voice: "Brother Taibai! Is it really you?" He hurriedly ushered Li Bai into the house, his withered fingers trembling slightly with excitement, almost unable to hold the creaking wooden door.
Only then did they notice a young man standing behind Li Bai, dressed in a short blue tunic, his face covered in dust, yet his posture as upright as a pine tree. The man stepped forward, smiled and bowed to Du Fu and his wife, his every move exuding the straightforwardness of a wandering swordsman.
Seeing Du Fu's reaction, Li Bai stroked his beard and laughed, "That's right. Zong Jing is my brother-in-law. He specially escorted me all the way to find Zimei." He patted Zong Jing's shoulder and said, "I owe a lot to him along the way. The Shu Road is treacherous. He not only knows the shortcuts, but also always goes out to explore when there are dangerous places, which saved my old bones a lot of bumps."
Li Bai stepped into the house, his face still bright and clear despite his travel-worn appearance. He unfastened the sword from his waist and leaned it against the door, the cloud patterns on the scabbard appearing and disappearing in the dim light: "Having just been pardoned, I set out on the Shu Road. Along the way, I felt as if even the mountain moon was guiding me, and whenever I reached a dangerous place, a bright moon would always illuminate the path ahead."
Seeing this, Yang quietly led the children to prepare tea and food, walking slowly so as not to disturb this rare reunion.
Du Fu lit an oil lamp, its dim light swirling between the two men, casting long shadows on the wall. He carefully examined his old friend, noticing that although Li Bai looked weary and fine lines had crept around his eyes, his eyes had regained their former brilliance, shining like bright stars.
"I heard that when the pardon arrived in Yelang, you were writing poetry while drunk?" Du Fu asked as he poured Li Bai a cup of coarse tea. The tea was clear and cold, reflecting the two men's no longer young faces.
Li Bai laughed loudly, the sound shaking the dust off the beams: "Indeed. In my drunken stupor, I thought the bright moon had come to announce good news in my dream, but when I awoke, the pardon had already arrived." He took the teacup, his gaze suddenly falling on the packet of seeds that hadn't been properly hidden in the corner. "So, Zimei is now learning about farming too?"
Du Fu followed his gaze, his expression as gentle as spring earth: "In chaotic times, only the land is truly honest. Sow a grain of millet in spring, and reap ten thousand grains in autumn; this is far more reliable than the ups and downs of officialdom."
Upon hearing this, Li Bai remained silent for a moment, a complex expression flashing in his eyes, as if turbulent clouds were churning within. Suddenly, he took out a wine sachet from his bosom, the deerskin still bearing the marks of his long journey: "Though simple, this is a fine wine I specially purchased. Today, let us drink to our hearts' content, Zimei, and not waste this bright moon."
The moonlight outside the window gradually brightened, its gentle glow filtering through the windowpanes and bathing the two of them in a silvery glow, even gilding their simple meal. A few distant barks of dogs added to the tranquility of the thatched cottage that night.
After several rounds of drinks, Li Bai's cheeks were flushed. He suddenly grabbed Du Fu's hand, which was about to pour more wine, his gaze sharp as lightning: "Zimei, is it true that you can see Emperor Taizong?"
———
Unlike the others who were happy to return home, Wei Zhongxian bought some things but did not return to the Ming Dynasty. He was doing something big.
Everyone in the county knew that a mysterious embroiderer lived at the end of this alley. It was said she had once been a lady-in-waiting in the palace, her fingers flying across the paper to embroider dragons soaring through the clouds. When chaos erupted in the capital, she took her exceptional skills and went into hiding, managing to settle down in this small county town. During the famine years, while others ate tree bark and clay, she, through her skills embroidering wedding dresses for wealthy families, not only ate white rice every day but even managed to save enough to buy this small courtyard.
Now her hair is completely white, but her fingers are still long and nimble. However, she has rarely touched needle and thread in recent years. People in the county say that even if mountains of gold and silver were piled up in front of her, it would be difficult to persuade her to pick up that golden needle again.
Wei Zhongxian's brocade box, however, did not contain gold or silver. He gently knocked on the mottled wooden door, a deep, unfathomable light hidden in his eyes. He wanted to commission the embroiderer to embroider a dragon robe.
Five claws make a dragon, four claws make a python; he wants absolute sycophancy.
When the old embroiderer opened the door, her gaze lingered on his effeminate face for a moment. It was a eunuch; she hadn't seen him in so long.
When she was young, everyone called her "Xiuniang," and her features truly deserved the title "Xiuniang." Now, with graying temples, people only politely call her "Xiuniang." She doesn't mind—having lived to this age, she's even become indifferent to life and death, let alone a title.
"What brings this old man here so late at night?"
Xiu Niang's voice was as calm as a deep pool. She had lived alone in Songyang County for so long that even loneliness had become an old friend. She was so tired of the days that she felt no fear. The candlelight flickered on Wei Zhongxian's effeminate face, but she merely observed this uninvited guest calmly, her eyes filled with curiosity, yet devoid of any trace of fear.
Wei Zhongxian's lips curled into a very faint smile, a smile as hazy as smoke: "I've come here because I have a huge business deal to discuss, and I'd like to invite the master craftsman to come out of retirement."
Xiu Niang shook her head, her withered fingers unconsciously tracing the old marks on the door frame: "Father-in-law is joking. My eyesight is failing, my hands are trembling, I can't even thread a needle anymore, how could I possibly do such delicate embroidery?"
Wei Zhongxian was not annoyed by the rejection. Instead, he chuckled softly, his laughter icy: "What if I said... I have someone here whom the embroiderer has been thinking about for forty years?"
Xiu Niang's hunched figure suddenly stiffened. She remained standing inside the threshold, the dim light flickering on her face, her eyes already wavering, but she still stubbornly insisted, "This old woman... doesn't know what you're talking about, sir."
The sound of the night watchman's clapper echoed from the alley entrance, long and desolate. Everyone said that Xiu Niang had lived a pure and innocent life, free from all ties, a truly solitary figure.
"Palace maids who have spent too much time in the palace..." Wei Zhongxian's voice suddenly became extremely soft, like wisps of smoke drifting in the night, "lacking worldly wisdom, once they leave the palace walls, they are like fledglings leaving the nest. Occasionally, they might show off their skills and attract the attention of wealthy merchants, who are adept at using the word 'love' as bait, using the guise of taking concubines to seduce them." He took a half step forward, the embroidered hem of his robe fluttering slightly in the night breeze, "I have seen far too many pitiful people like this—thinking they have met a good man, when in reality they are nothing more than playthings and tools in the eyes of others."
Xiu Niang's fingers, gripping the door frame, suddenly tightened, her knuckles turning bluish-white.
Wei Zhongxian's voice grew increasingly low, each word like a poisoned needle, slowly piercing the night:
"Even if you manage to escape from the clutches of a wealthy businessman, a piece of your heart will be ripped out of you alive—those men know best how to make women suffer excruciating pain."
Xiu Niang's body began to tremble slightly, her withered fingers gripping the door frame tightly, as if only by doing so could she support her swaying body.
Wei Zhongxian took a half step forward, the candlelight making his beardless face look particularly eerie: "Xu Xiuniang, the piece of flesh that was cut off from you back then... was your own flesh and blood."
A sudden night wind swept through the alley, causing the lanterns under the eaves to sway violently. Xiu Niang finally couldn't hold on any longer and staggered backward, the last trace of color draining from her aged face.
"You...you..."
Wei Zhongxian reached out and supported her swaying body; his hands were unusually steady, yet as cold as ice. His voice was even lower, each word striking Xiu Niang's heart:
“We used information about your own flesh and blood to get a master craftsman to come out of retirement and embroider this garment. Do you think this deal was worth it?”
Is it worth it?
Forty years of longing surged forth like a tidal wave, instantly shattering the carefully constructed defenses of her heart. Xiu Niang had always thought her heart was made of bronze and iron; she hadn't shed a single tear when she left. Why, then, was she now weeping uncontrollably?
She raised her hand to wipe her face with her sleeve, the dampness on her fingertips was terrifyingly hot. After a long while, she finally nodded slightly and stepped aside to make way: "Come in and talk... I wonder what kind of garment you want me to embroider, Father-in-law? Is it worth going to such lengths?"
As Wei Zhongxian stepped inside, the candlelight cast a long shadow of him.
"A dragon robe."
Wei Zhongxian's voice wasn't loud, but every word landed clearly in the quiet hall, making the dust on the beams seem to fall in a flurry.
Xiu Niang heard it clearly, and her heart sank. No wonder they went to such great lengths; they wanted her to do this business that would exterminate her entire family.
Seeing her silence, Wei Zhongxian remained calm and composed. He took out a yellowed ancient book from his robes. The cover had no inscription, only intricate cloud patterns embroidered in gold thread. He slowly turned the pages, revealing densely packed illustrations of long-lost court embroidery techniques: double-sided three-dimensional embroidery, gold-threaded beaded embroidery, and the continuous warp and weft weaving technique in silk tapestry… Each page was enough to drive embroiderers across the land mad.
“Not only that,” Wei Zhongxian’s fingers traced a pattern of a phoenix soaring through the heavens, “we also want the master craftsman to embroider another phoenix on this dragon robe—spreading its wings and soaring into the sky, breaking through the nine heavens.”
Xiu Niang was completely stunned. The dragon and phoenix motif was originally auspicious patterns on the wedding robes of the emperor and empress, but this robe was embroidered with both dragon and phoenix designs…
"Is this...is this a dragon robe or a phoenix robe?"
A glint of cunning flashed in Wei Zhongxian's eyes, and a meaningful smile curved his lips: "It is a dragon robe, but a dragon robe for a woman." He gently pushed the ancient book in front of Xiu Niang, "The phoenix on the dragon, reaching for the moon in the nine heavens—does the old master understand?"
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Author's note: [pats head][pats head][pats head] Please add this new story to your favorites.
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