Chapter 40
As the sun slants across the wine flag, the scent of sandalwood mingles with the fragrance of perfume wafts from the private rooms on the second floor. When the carved wooden windows are opened, the afternoon sunlight streams in, casting bright spots on the rosewood table.
Sheng Xuan took off his dark blue outfit and draped it over the back of the chair, revealing a pale white short jacket underneath. The collar was loosely buttoned, giving him a more carefree and youthful look compared to the austere appearance of his silver armor.
“Shengxuan, you’ve been so absent-minded these past few days. Did you lose at the martial arts arena?” The young man in the lake-blue robe across from me tapped the table with his folding fan, the Daughter’s Red wine in the pot swaying in waves. “The other day I saw you riding the Snow-Clad Eagle past the building, your face as black as the bottom of a pot.”
Sheng Xuan didn't look up; his knuckles were white as he gripped the wine glass.
He had changed into civilian clothes today, dark blue fabric embroidered with dark wolf heads, which was more comfortable than silver armor, but it couldn't hide the simmering anger in his heart. His personal guards who had returned from the military camp said that Su Zhelan had not only not returned, but had also gone to the back mountain to collect herbs with the old physician. Even the wound medicine that he had asked someone to send was returned untouched.
"What's troubling you?" Another young master, carrying a folding fan, leaned over and tapped the table with the fan rib. "Could it be that your brother punished you? My father said a bow was missing from the armory the other day. Did you take it...?"
"Get lost." Sheng Xuan slammed his wine glass on the table, splashing wine onto the tablecloth.
"I'm worried..." The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them back, his Adam's apple bobbing, "worried about that ungrateful wretch."
Seeing that he was truly angry, the crowd became even more intrigued. The woman in the lake-blue brocade robe moved closer to him and whispered, "Have you taken a fancy to some girl? Miss Su from the cloth shop on West Street? Or the daughter of the prefect? In my opinion, you should just send a matchmaker to propose marriage, make it a fait accompli, and see if she dares to do it again... Besides, with your status, you could be kidnapped, let alone invited?"
"Bullshit." Sheng Xuan stood up abruptly, the hem of his dark blue outfit sweeping against the stool leg. "He's not that kind of person." Realizing his words were off, he mumbled, "It's not what you think."
He recalled how Su Zhelan had avoided him in the peach grove, and the hot wine stung his throat. "What if... what if you told someone your innermost thoughts and they ran away?"
Everyone was taken aback by his words and exchanged bewildered glances. The man in the lake-blue robe awkwardly closed his folding fan: "Well... we can't just watch him run away, can we? Why don't you disguise yourself as a servant and loiter around his house, pretending to bump into him? Be very attentive, serving him tea and water; women's hearts are soft..."
A young man suddenly laughed: "In my opinion, the girl probably thinks you're too fierce. Who wouldn't be afraid of you?" He leaned over and offered advice, "You should learn from the talented scholars in those storybooks, send flowers, write poems, play the zither under the moon... I guarantee the girl's heart will be overjoyed."
"Write poetry?" Sheng Xuan scoffed, his fingertips grinding on the table. "All I can do is write annotations on military treatises."
But for some reason, the young master's words "storybook" felt like a fine needle, gently pricking him.
While everyone was still offering bad ideas, such as kidnapping people or forcing them to drink, Sheng Xuan, annoyed by what he heard, threw a silver ingot at them and said, "Get out of here, I'm annoyed."
After everyone left, cursing and swearing, he didn't go back to his residence. Instead, he went around to the bookstall in the back alley of the restaurant.
"What do you want?" The stall owner, a limping old man, flipped through yellowed storybooks. "Newly arrived 'The Match of the Mandarin Ducks' and 'The Jade Hairpin,' both about talented scholars and beautiful women..."
Sheng Xuan's gaze lingered on the cover of the storybook about "a talented scholar disguised as a doctor having a secret rendezvous with a rich girl," and his ears inexplicably burned.
He randomly pointed to a few books, threw down some loose silver, and left, his dark blue outfit concealing those thin booklets in his arms as if he were carrying a ball of fire.
The evening breeze carried the aroma of roasted mutton. Sheng Xuan touched the storybook in his arms and suddenly felt that the bad ideas of those young masters were not entirely without merit.
At night, the candlelight flickered inside the bronze stand.
Sheng Xuan sat cross-legged on the couch, his dark blue outfit casually tossed at his feet.
The few thin books he had just bought were already soaked with sweat. The last one the old bookseller had handed him was especially suspicious; the four gilded characters of "Dragon Yang Secret Play" were worn rough by his unconscious rubbing. The old man winked at him and said, "Young master, take a closer look. The 'talented men' in this book are all dressed as men."
He only wanted to find a "gentle" way to coax people, but after flipping through "The Jade Hairpin", he felt bored.
As if possessed, he picked up "The Secret Play of Longyang". The illustrated pages suddenly caught his eye, and his breath caught in his throat. The book's explicit and provocative descriptions, like a red-hot branding iron, seared his vision.
"Bang!" The candle wick suddenly burst into flames, the sudden light startling him and making his ears burn. He hurriedly closed the book, his fingertips unconsciously gripping the rough pages, a strange numbness creeping down his spine.
The patrol footsteps came and went, and the drumbeats pounded on my tense nerves. I forced myself to think about military affairs, drills, General Sheng Chi's reprimands... but those chaotic thoughts kept churning in my mind.
He stood up irritably and paced back and forth in the tent. Finally, he grabbed the book and went to the candlestick.
The flickering flames illuminated his struggling face. Just as the flames were about to engulf the pages, he slumped down, and the book fell to the ground with a "thud."
As the gray-white light seeped through the gaps in the tent curtains, he remained standing there, his bloodshot eyes staring blankly at the gradually brightening sky.
On the ground, "The Secret Play of Longyang" lay quietly, its charred pages curled up like a silent brand.
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