Chapter 363 — The Private Theatrical

Spring breezes blew without end over Yizhi Hall, but Xixiang Courtyard looked as though a great gale had scoured through it—even the grass and trees shivered, to say nothing of the maids and serving boys on duty.

Song Cen paced the study with his hands clasped behind his back, his face tight with anxiety.

The soft glow of the octagonal palace lantern fell now on his face, now on his back, so that his expression seemed to shift between light and shadow.

"I should have thought of it long ago. That little beast knows the Dou woman brought hundreds of thousands of taels with her into this house; he would never let her be wronged." He halted, and the look he bent on the lantern turned grim. "Today he stepped forward in that Dou woman's place and presided over the household. The venison was undercooked, the prawns still stank of the sea, eggshell was found in the egg-flower soup—and because that little beast stood there smiling and toasting the guests, not a one of them dared make a sound. They only kept praising how well today's theatrical had been sung..." Here something struck him, and he asked, "Over at Yizhi Hall—have we not always had someone watching? How is it that you did not know Song Yan had engaged Zeng Chusheng of the Guanglian Society to sing? Whose idea was this?"

Last month, when the Eighth Prince set up his own household, he invited Zeng Chusheng to sing at his theatrical. Zeng Chusheng dared not refuse and went, dragging his sick body along, only to lose his voice midway through. Everyone took it that his health was poor, and no household in the capital had invited him to sing during the New Year. That he should turn up at the Yingzhenguo Mansion—who, in their delighted surprise, would still care whether the wine and food there were good or bad?

Song Cen, as host, had been present too.

He was livid, his face ashen, yet he could not give vent to it; he had to swallow his fury and listen to the crowd's applause, and smile as he discussed Zeng Chusheng's arias with them.

Tao Jun could only smile bitterly at this. "I do not know what happened either," he said. "Beforehand there truly was not the slightest sign of anything over there."

Song Cen could no longer be bothered with what Tao Jun said. "You did not know beforehand—does that mean you cannot investigate afterward?" he said coldly. "Today he used Zeng Chusheng to save the day. Let us see what he does tomorrow."

Tao Jun was silent for a moment. Then he murmured, "Yes," and took the chance to withdraw.

Standing in the covered corridor, he could not help drawing a long breath.

The Zhenguo Lord seemed to have been angered into a muddle; his thoughts were all fixed on these trifles now. What use was it to hold the madam down? So long as the Heir kept the Emperor's favour, so long as the Heir's career ran smooth, those people would defer to the madam with a show of courtesy. Never mind that the madam was shrewd and capable, so that no fault could easily be found in her—even if a fault were found, would those people go so far as to censure the madam for the sake of a spectacle, and make an enemy of the Heir into the bargain?

Shaking his head, Tao Jun walked out.

As he passed the tea room, he saw Zeng Wu grinning and fooling about at the corner with a maid in a crimson jacket.

Tao Jun sighed in some helplessness.

This Zeng Wu whom the Zhenguo Lord had newly promoted fell far short of Lü Zheng!

The thought flashed through his mind, and his expression faltered.

That maid in the crimson jacket—she looked like Luoyan, from the Zhenguo Lord's own chambers...

He quickly turned back.

Zeng Wu and Luoyan were both gone.

Only a little maid remained in the tea room, watching the stove fire.

He made a circuit of the place and saw no Zeng Wu; but he did see Luoyan coming out of Song Cen's room carrying an empty small ruby-glazed bowl.

At the sight of Tao Jun she started violently. "Tao Jun!" she cried, her voice drawn tight, and then, visibly flustered: "The Zhenguo Lord has not yet retired. I shall go and announce you to him at once."

"No need," Tao Jun said without any change of countenance. "I have just come from the Zhenguo Lord's room. Go about your business." And with that he walked outward.

Luoyan breathed a sigh of relief.

Then, watching Tao Jun's figure vanish into the night, she picked up her skirts and ran for the osmanthus grove behind the tea room.

Zeng Wu was waiting there, craning his neck.

Seeing Luoyan, he said at once, "How did it go?"

Luoyan clutched at her chest and panted, "I was nearly caught by Mr. Tao... Write it down quickly, this is all I can remember... Twenty-eight people in all. Every one of them from the Third Princess's household—besides the Third Princess herself, twelve are womenfolk..."

She got out, more or less, the names of those Song Cen meant to feast the next day.

Zeng Wu could scrawl a few characters that looked as though dogs had crawled through ink, but here in the pitch dark, with no paper and no brush, what was he to write with?

Yet his memory served him well, and he had taken in most of the names Luoyan listed.

He pressed into Luoyan's hand a gilt hairpin, two pearl hair ornaments, and a few pieces of broken silver; then he was off like a streak.

Luoyan wanted none of the hairpin or the pearl flowers—if anyone found out, they would think she and Zeng Wu were carrying on. But Zeng Wu ran so fast that he was gone before she could get a word out.

She had no choice but to leave the osmanthus grove in ill humour.

At the door of the tea room, however, she saw Tao Jun peering inside.

For a moment she was taken aback.

But Tao Jun only smiled. "Just now I thought I saw Zeng Wu..."

Luoyan felt the trinkets in her sleeve turn scalding hot. "I did not see Zeng Wu..."

"Perhaps my eyes played tricks on me," Tao Jun said with a smile, and walked out. Once outside Xixiang Courtyard, however, he puzzled over it in secret: could he have read the thing wrong?

He went to Zeng Chusheng's residence beside the North Zen Temple.

Zeng Chusheng came out to greet him in person and said with great courtesy, "The Zhenguo Lord has already rewarded me with generous gifts of silk; how could I trouble Mr. Tao to come in person? If there is anything you want, only send a man to tell me." And he served his guest the finest Biluochun tea.

Tao Jun was secretly astonished.

From Zeng Chusheng's tone, it was the Zhenguo Lord who had invited him to sing at the theatrical!

How could that be?

Could someone be using the Zhenguo Lord's name to do this?

He probed: "It is nothing of any consequence. The Zhenguo Lord merely sent me to ask what Master Chu has planned next."

Zeng Chusheng smiled and told his disciple to fetch a playbill of crimson paper sprinkled with gold, which he handed to Tao Jun. "These are the plays I am to perform next. Should the Zhenguo Lord find them unsuitable, they may be altered at any time to suit his pleasure."

Tao Jun accepted the playbill and said, "The order came to me on the spur of the moment, and I know nothing of how it came about..."

Zeng Chusheng, long accustomed to moving among the great houses, took Tao Jun for a man vying for precedence with some steward, and said hastily, "It was Steward Cui Min of your esteemed mansion's reception office who engaged me. This playbill is Steward Cui's choice as well."

There was no one surnamed Cui in the Yingzhenguo Mansion's reception office.

For a few breaths Tao Jun was at a loss; then it came to him that this Cui was in all likelihood a kinsman of the Cui clan, the old concubine of the Madame's own maiden house...

Zeng Chusheng had already performed a full set, and the Yingzhenguo Mansion had received him. How could he now declare the man surnamed Cui an impostor?

Short of breath and sick at heart, Tao Jun exchanged a few civilities with Zeng Chusheng, then rose, took his leave, and returned to the Yingzhenguo Mansion.