Chapter 178 — A Night's Lodging

"Ji Jianming!" Gu Yu grumbled. "We ran into him, and Wang Dahai wanted to cozy up to him again. Surely we can't have us drinking at the same table as those stewards? It just so happens that the Young Master He traveling with Ji Jianming knows Zhao Zishu well, so we all went to Nanchan Temple Alley."

Wang Yu, courtesy name Dahai.

Song Yan was somewhat surprised.

Since the people accompanying Ji Jianming were well acquainted with Zhao Zishu, Ji Jianming clearly knew Zhao Zishu's true background. Ordinary men seeking pleasure went to brothels and houses of ill repute; he had done the opposite and gone to Zhao Zishu's establishment.

What exactly did he mean by it?

Did he think that because Zhao Zishu was an actor, no amount of carousing mattered?

But did he realize that if word got out that Wei Fan favored men, it would wound Dou Yi as well?

Song Yan mused, "What sort of man is Ji Jianming?"

"Very clever," said Gu Yu. "Amusing in conversation, learned and versatile, takes a joke well, and knows how to enjoy himself..."

In Song Yan's mind slowly took shape the image of a carefree young lord, successful early in life on the strength of wide reading.

Men like that usually did not conduct their affairs with much care.

He could not help asking, "Did Wang Dahai go too?"

Of that whole group, only Wang Yu was steady, prudent, and mindful of the larger picture.

"He went!" said Gu Yu. "Not only did Wang Dahai go, he's quite familiar with Zhao Zishu. The moment Zhao Zishu laid eyes on Wang Dahai, he called two pretty maids to wait on him—so Zhao Zishu clearly knows what Wang Dahai likes." He teased Wang Yu. "By now Wang Dahai is probably so besotted he can't tell east from west!" He went on, "That Zhao Zishu seems a shrewd one too—knows that business must be all-inclusive. Now anyone who goes there can play however he pleases! Still, I don't much care for the style of the place. It's plainly a flesh trade, yet he apes the scholarly households of Jiangnan, decking out the courtyard with pavilions and terraces, winding paths to secluded spots, even plum, orchid, bamboo, and chrysanthemum laid about—everything and everywhere straining after refinement and quiet elegance, till it's just like my own back garden. I ask you: I go there for pleasure. And what do I get? It's like sitting at home, looking at the same scenery, with the same people beside me. Deadly dull. If not for Wang Dahai's sake, I'd certainly never have gone..."

Gu Yu had patronized nearly every famous pleasure house, tavern, and teahouse in the capital.

Song Yan listened silently to his prattle, his expression gradually turning grave.

※※※※※

At that moment, in Beichan Temple Alley, the music had ceased. Zhao Zishu sat attending in the waterside pavilion.

Watching Ji Yong and Wei Fan raise their cups and drink with abandon, Wang Yu smiled and shook his head. To He Yu beside him he said with a laugh, "I'm only five or six years older than you all, yet I dare not drink as you do... Truly, time spares no man!"

He Yu drank little, but his capacity was shallow; his head was already swimming. At these words he chuckled foolishly, and one could not tell whether he had understood a word Wang Yu said.

Zhao Zishu smiled behind pursed lips. "My lord heir," he said, "you have matters in your heart more pressing than drink. Naturally you cannot give your whole mind to the cup." His hoarse voice seemed gentle; he rose and brewed a pot of tea for Wang Yu in a purple-clay teapot. "I hear that this year you have taken on not only the dredging of the canal but the reworking of the old Yellow River channel as well? In all the capital, how many can match such a grand undertaking as yours? Allow me to congratulate you in advance!" He cupped his hands toward Wang Yu. "Master Ji is the newly made tanhua. This is his hour of triumph; the Marquis of Jining has only just come out of mourning and does not yet know the hardships of the harvest. All of them are light of heart and free of burden—how could they compare with my lord heir? The whole Yan'an Marquisate rests upon your shoulders. When the great and powerful of the capital speak of my lord heir, who does not praise you? Even that Gu Yu, who styles himself the little tyrant of the capital—does he not yield my lord heir a measure of respect? I recall a ci that suits the occasion well." He smiled and softly recited, "In youth I knew not the taste of sorrow; I loved to climb the tower. I loved to climb the tower, and to compose new verses, forced to speak of sorrow. Now I have known the taste of sorrow through and through; I would speak, and yet I hold my peace. I would speak, and yet I hold my peace—and only say, what a fine cool autumn day!" Then he gestured toward Wang Yu, and then toward Ji Yong and Wei Fan. "It speaks precisely of my lord heir, Master Ji, and the Marquis."

Wang Yu roared with laughter.

The feelings stirred in his heart seemed to have been smoothed flat by a hot iron, every crease pressed neat.

Zhao Zishu shot a glance at the maid attending Wang Yu.

The maid understood; she leaned to Wang Yu's ear with a bewitching low laugh. Wang Yu laughed again, and supported by the maid, left the waterside pavilion.

Zhao Zishu breathed a sigh of relief.

Ji Yong had come once before with He Yu; Wei Fan he was seeing for the first time. He Yu and Wang Yu, however, dropped by every few days for a brief sit, and the two were somewhat different. He Yu mostly came when friends gathered and fixed the place here; he asked only for tea, wine, and music, and left the rest to the guests' own inclinations. Wang Yu each time invited others here to make merry, yet never touched a thing himself, only paying the silver. To speak of it, neither was an easy master to serve, yet both were lavish spenders who never blinked at parting with silver—his favorite sort of patron.

Seeing Wang Yu thus soothed, he meant to turn and exchange a few words with He Yu, but looking back he caught sight of Ji Yong's handsome face.

Zhao Zishu started violently. He hastily put on a smiling face and called out "Master Ji," but Ji Yong gave him a wink, seized him by the sleeve, and drew him out of the waterside pavilion.

Zhao Zishu's expression changed drastically.

Though he flew a gaudy banner, he was not one to tumble into bed with anyone he met—otherwise what would distinguish him from the common flesh-peddlers of the private brothels? And by what right would the great houses and noble lords fawn over him?

Ji Yong hissed "Shh," and came to a stop beside the Taihu rocks outside the pavilion.

"If you can keep the Marquis of Jining in your room for a night tonight," he said in a low voice, "tomorrow I'll have someone send you a bank draft for three thousand taels."

Zhao Zishu's heart began to pound.

When did pies ever fall from the sky!

Wei Fan was a man Gu Yu had brought; he feared he might earn those three thousand taels but not live to spend them!

But if he refused, would this Ji Yong let him off?

For a man like him, even hearing certain words was a fault in itself.

He stared at Ji Yong in horror, wavering.

The bright moonlight spilled across the lake, shimmering in threads of silver, mirrored in Ji Yong's limpid eyes—so that his gaze too was bright and cold as the moonlight, without a trace of warmth.

Zhao Zishu could not help shivering.

A man like this—could he truly want only for him to sleep with the Marquis of Jining?

He could not help demurring, "I fear the Marquis won't take a liking to..."

Ji Yong grinned. "That's just why it's worth three thousand taels!"

His teeth gleamed snow-white in the moonlight, as though they could devour a man.

Zhao Zishu's scalp prickled, and she could not help glancing toward the waterside pavilion.