Chapter 103: Fine Wine for the Madman, Ink Splashed...

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Zhang Xu’s reputation was as illustrious as his wild cursive script. From the moment he stepped out of the Zhang residence, he became the focal point of every passerby’s gaze. By the time they left Wenrou Lane, both the officials of Wuhou and the gate guards regarded Du Shiyi and Wang Wei as precious treasures, marveling endlessly at how they had managed to summon the most eccentric Zhang Xu. When the group reached the Wutou Gate outside the Cui residence in Yongfeng Lane, Du Shiyi had no chance to explain before the gate attendant suddenly recognized Zhang Xu.

“Is that really Lord Zhang?” The man watched as Zhang Xu, paying no heed to him, mounted his donkey and strode inside with his head held high, followed closely by the others. Only when Du Shiyi, lagging behind, nodded slightly at him did the attendant recall seeing Zhang Xu during his inscription work at the Quanzhen Temple. Muttering to himself, he wondered, “Could it be that the young master has invited Lord Zhang to transcribe the ancestral memorial? But no, memorial texts for the heavens must be neat—wild cursive wouldn’t do. Besides, Lord Zhang always gets drunk when he writes; he might ruin the solemn text. I must report this at once!”

He hurried inside, but by the time he reached the grand main gate, Zhang Xu and his party had already been ushered in. Out of breath, he conveyed the matter to the steward, who snapped tersely, “Lord Zhang is here to enjoy ink with Master Du, not to meet the young masters. Besides, it’s improper to receive guests during mourning! Mind your own gate and stop fussing.”

Though speaking lightly, the steward dismissed the attendant but did not neglect the matter, swiftly notifying the household. Within moments, word of Zhang Xu’s visit had spread throughout the Cui residence. Cui Ezhizhi was sitting quietly with his wife, Lady Li of the Zhao State, when he heard the news. Stroking the strands of his long beard thoughtfully, he sighed softly, “Everyone knows Lord Zhang Bo Gao is the hardest person to meet or invite. Yet Du Shijiu managed it with ease. Mother’s intuition never fails; he’s truly worthy of Zhenzhen.”

Lady Li smiled wryly, recalling the mercurial temperament of Cui Jiuniang. “But Zhenzhen only sees him as her sister’s choice. If she finds out Zhenzhen is the one betrothed, who knows what trouble she’ll cause!”

“What trouble? She can be indulged in trivial matters, but not in important ones. Besides...” Cui Ezhizhi sighed deeply, a shadow crossing his face, “Her sister has entrusted her to an unworthy man and stubbornly refuses to remarry. It’s better to marry our daughter to someone like Du Shijiu who understands her roots. A proud man like Shiyi would never betray his friends.”

“Let’s hope so.” Lady Li, seeing Cui Ezhizhi suddenly pale and retch violently, hurried to fetch a basin. After he emptied the meal he had just eaten, she could not hide her anxiety. She dismissed the maid and gently urged, “Sixth Brother, you should have a doctor examine your pulse. You’ve grown even more emaciated since Mother’s passing. You can’t keep mourning in that hut forever.”

“I’m fine, I know what I’m doing.” Cui Ezhizhi drank some warm water, suppressing the nausea, then spoke softly, “It wouldn’t do to have doctors visiting while Mother’s mourning is still ongoing. People would gossip... Bring someone in!” He called aloud and, without hesitation, ordered, “Du Shijiu’s courtyard has guests. It’s nearly noon; send the midday meal there. Don’t avoid meat—make it sumptuous. Also, send over that new clay jar from Xingyang.”

Although Cui Taizhi was the eldest brother and usually lived in Chang’an, in this eastern capital’s Yongfeng neighborhood where the six Cui households cohabited, Lady Li had once been the head of the household. But since her health declined and Cui Wuniang returned, the affairs were managed by Cui Wuniang’s daughter. Upon hearing Cui Ezhizhi’s orders, Cui Wuniang, clad in simple linen and sitting on a rush mat, paused her copying of scriptures for the matriarch, nodded, and said, “Understood. I will follow Grandfather’s instructions.”

The maid who had reported stood motionless, head bowed and stammering, “Eleventh Young Master... and Miss Jiu have already gone over upon hearing the news...”

Those two troublesome ones!

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Annoyed, Cui Wuniang was about to put down her brush, but recalling that the current scriptures were for the ritual to be burned for her grandmother, she steadied herself, placed her brush down, pressed her palms together, and silently recited the text once more before lifting her head. She knew Cui Jianxuan might be merely seeking excitement, while Cui Jiuniang was quarrelling with her, likely to cause some disaster with her sharp tongue. She could no longer focus on the scriptures, so she rose to instruct preparations for mourning attire but sat back down slowly. After all, one of those two would marry, the other wed, and she could not manage their entire lives!

In Du Shiyi’s small courtyard, Zhang Xu surveyed the various Duanxi inkstones presented by Yang Zongwan. Each piece was unique, and alongside the pine soot ink from the Ten Directions Studio, he fondled them with a desire to steal them all away. Though he loved wine, fine calligraphy, and treasured these scholar’s tools, he knew such thoughts were unrealistic. After admiring the inkstones and ink, he looked up and said bluntly, “Du Shijiu, just tell me—besides the sandalwood pipa you just offered me, what else do you want for that Duan inkstone and ink stick?”

Just as Du Shiyi was about to respond, he glanced toward the door and noticed a strange shadow cast upon it. His heart stirred. Casually, he said the matter was negotiable and quietly moved toward the door, pulling it open abruptly to find two nearly identical faces pressed against it. Both annoyed and amused, he glared at them and slammed the door shut, then turned back to the surprised Zhang Xu. “Wang Shisan told me earlier that the pipa you gifted is priceless, but logically this set of inkstones and pine soot ink is far less valuable…”

“Don’t bother with that nonsense. Priceless to you, but to me it’s just something to trade for wine when I’m broke! So, what’s your condition?”

“If Lord Zhang insists, then I shamelessly request two pieces of calligraphy from you. No more, no less.”

Since Du Shiyi was so reasonable, Zhang Xu’s face brightened immediately. Ever since he served as magistrate of Changshu, many treasured his calligraphy and collected it, though he rarely wrote with true care and disliked being seen as a money-maker. Usually, he’d casually write something to appease visitors. Without hesitation, he nodded, “What would you like me to write?”

“One is... ‘Duanzhou stone craftsmanship, divine skill grinding the sky, cutting through purple clouds.’ Lord Zhang, please wait a moment; I will write it out now.”

These lines were less about praising the inkstone and more about extolling the artisan. Yang Zongwan, steeped in stone craftsmanship since childhood, was visibly delighted, recalling the hardships and cold receptions he endured across the capital—he even had tears in his eyes. For Zhang Xu, this simple poem required no effort. After Du Shiyi wrote it and presented it, Zhang Xu nodded slightly and asked, “And the other?”

“Duanxi inkstone, Wangwu pine soot.”

Understanding perfectly, Zhang Xu laughed heartily. “That’s easy. Bring the wine; I’ll start writing immediately!”

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Du Shiyi was about to gently remind them that the Cui family was in mourning, but the door he had just closed was suddenly pushed open. Cui Jianxuan entered with a stern expression. Behind him, a maid carried a food tray laden with dishes, and another held a celadon wine jar. Cui Jiuniang, dressed similarly, was nowhere to be seen.

Cui Jianxuan let the maid place the tray before Zhang Xu, who began eating heartily without a word. Then, frustrated, he glared at Du Shiyi. “Don’t you appreciate kindness? If I hadn’t been outside guarding for you, who knows what trouble Jiuniang would have caused. And you even kept me outside!” He glanced at Wang Wei, casually nodding, “Are you Wang Shisan? I’ve heard Du Shijiu mention you often. They say you are a master of music and literary talent?”

Before Wang Wei could modestly reply, Cui Jianxuan warned sharply, “Be careful with Du Shijiu; he’s full of tricks. One careless step and he’ll fool you!”

Today, Wang Wei already felt fooled! He smiled wryly and, seeing Du Shiyi unfazed by Cui Jianxuan’s teasing, could only respond with a casual “uh-huh” while listening with interest to Cui Jianxuan’s low voice recounting the mischiefs Du Shiyi had coaxed him into before. Zhang Xu, meanwhile, stuffed himself like a storm, soon belching and grabbing the celadon wine jar. After one sip, his eyes flashed brightly, and he boldly commanded, “Hey! Prepare the writing tools, stretch out the paper! I’m ready to write!”

Knowing the troubles Wang Wei had endured at the Zhang residence and now with Cui Jianxuan showing up, Du Shiyi naturally pulled the eleventh young master into helping stretch the paper. As promised, Zhang Xu completed the two pieces swiftly, then, drinking heavily, surprisingly launched into writing a dozen more inscriptions in one sitting. Happily clutching his “tip money,” he left.

Faced with these seemingly divine writings, Cui Jianxuan was dumbfounded. Wang Wei and Du Shiyi managed to recognize the characters on one piece, a poem by Chen Zi’ang titled “Song of Ascending Youzhou Terrace”:

“Before me, no ancient to behold; behind me, no one comes forth. Pondering the boundless heavens and earth, I alone sadly shed tears.”

As they scrutinized the other scrolls, all were poems and essays by past masters, written in exquisite wild cursive that inspired awe. At last, Cui Jianxuan, his hand sore from stretching the paper, resolutely instructed the maid, “Collect all these and sell them one by one for a high price on a different day. Then the money for my and Du Shijiu’s wedding gifts will be secured!”

Du Shiyi, tired of arguing, seized the sandalwood pipa nearby, subtly signaling Wang Wei, and silently slipped out. They retreated to a side chamber, where the midday meal was served. After eating and studying the score of “Chu Han,” Wang Wei spoke, “This time, besides coming for this score, I’m here to bid you farewell, Du Shijiu. Soon, Fifteenth Brother and I will be heading to the Chang’an prefecture in Jingzhao.”

Upon hearing this, Du Shiyi couldn’t help but exclaim, “What a coincidence! I was about to bring Thirteenth Lady back to Chang’an soon. I wonder what your schedule is, Brother Wang?”