Chapter 27 (Shanhe Runs Away) "Young couple..."
The storeroom contained various calligraphy, paintings, and ancient books that Liang Ye had brought to the capital, mostly intended for gift-giving. Other than that, there were two pieces of calligraphy by Liang Ye's late father-in-law, whom he had specifically instructed Liang Ye to keep safe so he could present them to his mentor and father-in-law in the future.
Although Old Master Liang's political achievements were not particularly outstanding during his lifetime, he was a man of high moral character and profound learning, highly respected by scholars. Therefore, his calligraphy was also highly regarded. Now that he has passed away, his legacy has been passed down to the Liang brothers. In just a few years, the value of his calligraphy will surely rise significantly. It would be a great pity if it were accidentally burned.
Liang Shao stamped his foot and sighed, "Oh no!" He threw on his clothes and was about to go put out the fire.
Shanhe hurriedly put on her clothes, got out of bed, and slipped on her shoes, but Liang Shao stopped her, saying, "You're tired, and there are too many people around. You should rest here. If anything happens, I'll have someone come and let you know." With that, Liang Shao and Cheng Bao left in a hurry.
The fire was extinguished quickly, completely out within the time it takes for an incense stick to burn. The damage was manageable; all the valuable items were kept close by Liang Ye in his cabin, and not a single spark was found. However, the small storeroom was badly burned and could no longer be used to display calligraphy and paintings, so it had to be left empty. The two adjacent small cabins were also affected, and all the miscellaneous items inside were moved out, leaving them empty as well.
But one thing remains unclear: the cause of the fire.
The boat was filled with Liang Ye's classmates, several relatives, and their families. They had no personal grudges against Liang Ye's brothers, so there was no need for them to set fire to the boat. As for the crew of the Jinxi Boat, the manager of the Jinxi Boat had a past relationship with Liang Ye, and since they were renting his boat, there was even less need for them to be involved.
Liang Ye assumed it was an accidental mistake by one of the workers, who, seeing the serious consequences, dared not speak up and take responsibility, so he didn't pursue the matter. Liang Shao, however, investigated the fire scene and concluded that someone had deliberately set it on fire. But everyone else dismissed the matter, urging him to quickly prepare for the farewell banquet that evening. He couldn't refuse, so he had no choice but to give up.
The banquet was held in the Water and Sky Hall.
Inside the hall, brocade and silk adorned the walls, incense burned, beaded curtains and embroidered screens veiled the space, and bright lamps cast their glow. The room, devoid of extravagance, exuded a refined elegance. Two rows of tables were set up, subtly separated by a gilded screen. Boat maids filed in, arranging tables and chairs, and setting out chopsticks and dishes. Because of Old Master Liang's affair, Liang Ye had dismissed all the dancers and musicians originally hired by Manager Jin; the meal consisted solely of drinking and quiet conversation. After several rounds of drinks, two storytellers, one playing the sanxian (a three-stringed plucked instrument) and the other the pipa (a four-stringed plucked instrument), began to sing "The Farewell to the Willow Tree" across the water, a lament for parting. Their melodious, tender, and poignant voices drifted across the misty water, carrying a sense of melancholy. Especially striking was the soft, gentle Wu dialect, emanating from Suzhou, the hometown of Shanhe's deceased mother. Everyone knew that this was Manager Jin's intention, and since the two storytellers were on another boat and could not be considered as having been prepared by the Liang family, they did not care. They simply lowered their eyes, drank their wine, and remained silent. Shanhe, in particular, felt her heart ache and her eyes sting with tears.
The next piece was "The Dream of Heavenly Rain," a piece Shanhe had heard in Jinling when she was young, back when Xue Yin and his wife were both alive. Thinking of the past, Shanhe couldn't help but look up, just in time to see Liang Shao looking over, his eyes also filled with sorrow and silence. His brow furrowed as he watched her turn her face, he smiled instead.
The maidservant serving nearby laughed and said, "How fitting! It just so happens to be raining right now!"
The ladies followed the sound and saw raindrops falling outside the moon-shaped window, sometimes sparse, sometimes dense, washing the muddy, damp smell of the river into the cabin.
By the time "Dream of Rain" was finished, it was already late afternoon. The ladies, unable to hold their liquor, left a table of unfinished food and went back to their rooms, while the gentlemen continued to drink heartily.
Shanhe rarely drinks, and tonight he only had one cup. His face was already slightly flushed and his breathing was a little rapid. As he helped Qingyue back to the cabin, Qingyue whispered, "Suiwen has already gone to sleep. Chengbao and the others will be with the Second Master tonight, and they'll inevitably have a few drinks. They'll just get drunk. I've already told him that I'll be taking care of the Second Master and Second Mistress tonight, so they don't need to bother."
Shanhe nodded.
After walking a few steps, they ran into Liang Shao leaning against the railing, dispelling the smell of alcohol. He was usually a heavy drinker, and had just drunk three cups. Now, his eyes were only slightly red at the corners, and his lips were a little pink.
Shanhe stepped forward and stood beside him. She realized that the place was right in front of the slanting wind and drizzle, which hit her face with a tingling sensation. Before long, her eyelashes were covered with raindrops.
"What are you doing standing here?" Shanhe took a step back, dodging the slanting rain.
Liang Shao turned around, slightly tipsy: "Let the wind blow."
She handed over a handkerchief: "Be careful not to catch a cold, or you'll get a headache."
Liang Shao took it and wiped his misty, drunken eyes: "It's alright."
A moment of silence fell. Shanhe followed his gaze to the dark horizon: "Is that the north?"
"yes."
Shanhe asked softly, "Beichuan is right there?"
Liang Shao simply hummed in response.
Shanhe knew his ambition—to join the army in Beichuan. A good man's ambition lies in all directions; Beichuan is the graveyard of heroes, and also their homeland. Shanhe pursed her lips: "I've never quite understood, going to Beichuan and going to the capital to take the military examinations, aren't they both ultimately for the sake of gaining fame and bringing glory to one's family?"
“It’s different.” Liang Shao stared intently at the horizon where the sky met the water, his gaze dark and deep. “Going to Beichuan is a matter of life and death, and if you have military merits, you will be posthumously awarded a title; but if you participate in the military examination, you may become a great general if you live.”
This is the truth. There are essentially two paths for military generals in the Great Yan Dynasty: one is to go to the northern battlefield, starting as a vanguard soldier; those who die become corpses on the battlefield, while the survivors return to the capital to be ennobled. The other is through the military examinations; those who pass are given low-ranking military positions and rise through the ranks. If they are lucky enough to encounter war, they can follow the general into battle, without fear of death, as the vanguard soldiers will take their place, and they will return alive to the capital to be ennobled. However, the military examinations are heavily reliant on family background; most are sons of noble families who use them to enhance their resumes. Few from poor families pass. Even if they pass, there may not be war every year; and even if there is war, they may not be able to go every year. The sons of high-ranking officials can afford to contribute provisions when they go to war, but what can the poor do? They can only serve as vanguard soldiers, stepping stones for these sons of high-ranking officials to advance in rank.
Shanhe frowned: "No wonder Grandfather and my elder brother want you to take the martial arts exam."
Liang Shao raised an eyebrow and chuckled: "Even if I go to Beichuan, I'll come back alive."
"So certain?"
Liang Shao raised the tip of his nose, looking triumphant: "I'm lucky and have a bad reputation, so even the King of Hell won't take me. I won't die."
Shanhe smiled and lowered her head, without responding.
After a few moments of silence, Liang Shao, unusually serious, spoke softly, "We have to think of a way to prevent those poor scholars from feeling disheartened again." His gaze was fixed on the distance, his expression serious. Turning his head, he saw a maid carrying the leftover food from the Tianshui Hall. He paused, then asked, "Are we leaving?"
"Yes. It's getting late."
"Well—" he smiled gently, "take care."
Shanhe's heart sank, and she quickly looked up at him.
Liang Shao's expression remained unchanged, revealing his usual nonchalant smile: "It's raining, the ground is slippery, you must take care. You can't even appreciate my well-intentioned words?"
“…No.” Shanhe’s voice was hoarse. “Then come back early tonight.”
Liang Shao smiled gently, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and whispering, "Okay, Shan Shan."
Qingyue opened a red oiled paper umbrella, and the two, master and servant, stepped into the misty rain hand in hand. Liang Shao leaned on the railing, turned his face, and watched Shanhe's figure gradually disappear into the misty rain. The smile on his lips gradually faded.
The young men didn't disperse until late at night, when it was already dark, with only a few stars remaining in the night sky. Liang Shao stayed until the very end, accompanying Liang Ye to see all the guests back to their rooms before returning himself in the rain, his shoulders already covered in the chill.
Shanhe had been waiting for him for a long time. When she saw him walking into the low cabin with his head down and back bent, covered in cold raindrops, she hurriedly went up to him and took off his cloak.
"Go back, go back." Liang Shao laughed, exhaling a breath of alcohol. "I'm cold, don't let you get cold."
"It's alright, it's nothing." Shanhe smiled, but her fingertips trembled slightly.
She rang the bell, and soon Qingyue brought in a copper washbasin, wrung out a hot towel and handed it to Liang Shao before leaving.
Liang Shao sat down on the edge of the narrow couch, wiping his face as he looked at Shan He with a smile: "Why aren't you asleep?" His cheeks were flushed, indicating that he had drunk quite a bit tonight.
Shanhe pursed her lips: "Waiting for you." Shanhe walked to the table, picked up the teapot and poured tea, muttering: "In the future, you should drink less alcohol."
Liang Shao lay back, a hexagonal palace lantern above his head. As the boat rocked, the light became dim, and his vision became blurry as well.
"Hmm." He closed his eyes. "Okay."
"Go to Pingkangfang less often." A few tea leaves floated in the soup, and Shanhe stared at her reflection. "The things outsiders say about you are never good for you."
He remained calm and composed, his voice languid: "When they arrive, they'll just call me a heretic, a devil incarnate, whether I've committed murder, arson, gambling, or whoring..."
"You'd better not go there anyway."
Liang Shao turned his head and opened his eyes, seeing Shan He standing there holding a teacup, staring at him intently.
He slowly sat up straight, supporting himself with his hands behind him, looking at her with some confusion.
Shanhe approached and handed him a teacup. She felt her voice trembling slightly: "This is light tea. Drink some to help you sober up."
Liang Shao stared into Shan He's eyes, then glanced down at the emerald green tea, and suddenly smiled: "I'm not drunk."
The teacup came closer and closer.
"If you're not drunk, then just moisten your throat. I'm already passed out."
Liang Shao took the teacup, glanced at the turquoise tea, and bit his lip: "Let's drink it later."
Shanhe was a little anxious: "It'll get cold if you leave it there." Her voice was very soft, with the soft, sweet tone of Wu dialect that evening, almost like she was being coquettish.
Liang Shao looked up at her, his voice low and husky: "That kingfisher feather inlay set...do you like it?"
Shanhe smiled, nodded, and sat down next to Liang Shao, softening her tone: "I like it, but it's a pity I can't wear it now."
Liang Shao's lips moved slightly, and his eyes suddenly reddened. He took a deep sniff: "...Okay." He tilted his head back and drank it all in one gulp: "I hope you like it."
He casually tossed the empty cup onto the tatami mat.
"Shanshan," he felt as if his heart was being ripped out, "Can I kiss you tonight?"
Shanhe hesitated for a moment.
Liang Shao laughed and said, "Then let's hug."
The narrow, long couch was not large enough for two people to lie flat, so as before, Liang Shao lay on the bottom, and Shan He lay on top of him, with his two strong, long arms wrapped around his back.
The rain pattered against the window, incessantly, stirring a restless feeling in people's hearts.
Liang Shao said in a muffled voice, "I'm cold." He hugged her tighter, his voice soft and weak, unlike his former carefree self: "The cold rain falls on the river and enters Wu at night... If only it weren't raining, it's too bleak and cold. I used to love a lively atmosphere."
At dawn, I saw off my guest, alone amidst the Chu mountains. This is a poem of parting.
Shanhe replied, "The sky will clear up tomorrow."
“It was raining when you came to my house; it had been raining for several days in a row.”
"Oh, I don't remember at all." She chuckled softly.
"Really?" He was starting to feel dizzy. "Then will you remember me in the future?"
He found out.
Shanhe bit her lower lip, trying her best not to cry.
His voice was hoarse: "Young couple...they'll remember eventually, won't they?"
"I will remember you, Shanshan, don't forget me... I promise, I promise..." He spoke with great difficulty.
"Shanshan, Shanshan... Hold me tighter. I'm cold."
Tears soaked the blue satin brocade robe on his chest.
"Shanhe...I'm sorry for what I did before..." With those last words, he finally closed his eyes.
His stoic will crumbled, and all his explanations turned into a barely audible, heavy, and long sigh, followed by the faint rustling sound of his arm slowly sliding to his side.
Shanhe propped himself up, his face covered in tears.
Liang Shao slept peacefully with his eyes closed, his breathing even and slow, only the tear stains on his cheeks were still wet, hidden among his thick temples. His right fist was clenched tightly, and Shanhe pried his hand open, only to see the red musk bracelet lying quietly in his palm, the red beads burning hot from his grip, leaving shallow indentations on his palm.
It turns out he had been carrying it with him all along.
Shanhe wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes and gently exhaled a breath of stale air: "I will remember, I will remember for the rest of my life."
You'll remember, won't you?
After all, they were a young couple. The first person in her life, and perhaps the only one for her. A relationship that came two years late is always different.
Shanhe pulled the two bundles out from under the bed and rang the bell. Before long, Qingyue arrived carrying the bundles and holding Suiwen's clothes in her arms.
"Second Master didn't notice, did he?" Qingyue helped her tie her belt.
Shanhe lowered her eyes: "I've discovered it."
"Did you only realize it after drinking it?"
"Before you drink it." Shanhe covered her face, tears quickly filling her palms.
Qingyue sighed softly.
When they left, Cheng Min had been waiting at the end of the cabin for quite some time.
"Are you asleep?" Cheng Min led them to the back of the boat.
"She's asleep," Shanhe said softly.
Cheng Min said, "That's good."
Not far away, an unassuming awning boat, like a lurking beast, lay quietly moored in the moonlight. A faint fishing light flickered on the bow in the slanting wind and drizzle. The old boatman shook his rain hat, stood up, and laughed, "Let's set off!"
His words held a bright future.
*The cold rain falls on the river at night, entering Wu; at dawn, I see off my guest, leaving the Chu mountains lonely: This is from Wang Changling's "Sending Xin Jian Off at Furong Tower".
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