Chapter Forty-One: Old Friends Meet Amidst Unease

Mount Song’s Shaolin Monastery had, ever since the early Tang dynasty, been granted lands and rewards by the Emperor Taizong, with a commemorative stele inscribed to mark the occasion. Over the years, a great many nobles had come and gone, but Yao Hong, as the eldest grandson of the current Chancellor Yao Chong, had only ever visited the temple occasionally with his mother to pay respects to the Buddha. The significance of his visit today, accompanied by a generous donation, was thus entirely different.

The abbot, Master Yining, was accustomed to dealing with worldly affairs. He knew that escorting Yao Hong out in the open would only attract the attention of curious onlookers. As Yao Hong was speaking to him, the young noble’s gaze suddenly drifted and fixed intently on something in the distance. Master Yining followed his eyes and, recognizing Du Shiyi and Cui Jianxuan, smiled and asked, “Does Young Master Yao know those two gentlemen over there?”

Yao Hong had hurried from Luoyang to Shaolin for two reasons. First, though Luoyang was full of temples, his status made him stand out too much in the city’s religious circles. Second, in the depths of winter, though there were still worshippers at Shaolin, few would recognize him here. Thus, while still in mourning, he had brought a lavish offering on his mother’s behalf and presented a most devout prayer before the Buddha.

If word of his visit eventually spread, there was still an explanation to be had: his grandfather, Yao Chong, had no faith in Buddhism or Daoism, and the family’s ancestral rules forbade worship of either. Should he learn that Yao Hong had traveled all the way to Shaolin to pay respects, he would surely be furious. This, however, concealed the true purpose of Yao Hong’s journey—for he had come not only to make offerings, but to meet someone in secret.

At present, Chancellor Yao Chong was suffering from malaria, recuperating in the royal guesthouse, and the rumors outside were troubling. Yao Hong’s father had passed away in August, and he had heard chilling whispers that both his father and uncle had fallen out of the Emperor’s favor, dragging his grandfather down with them.

Now, as he glanced at Cui Jianxuan across the way, Yao Hong feigned nonchalance. “I know only one of them—an old family acquaintance I used to see often in the Eastern Capital.”

With that, he strode forward without hesitation and nodded to Cui Jianxuan. “Cui Eleventh, it’s been a long time. I didn’t expect to find you truly studying here on Mount Song.”

“Isn’t that Yao Dalang?” Cui Jianxuan had intended to avoid him, but seeing the usually aloof Yao Hong approach and greet him, he could only pretend to have just noticed, arching his hands in greeting. “I’ve been here over half a year now. I heard the snow at Shaolin was beautiful after a storm, so I came to enjoy it with my fellow students. But you—why travel so far in this bitter cold? Why not stay in the Eastern Capital, wrapped in furs, admiring the snow by the fire? What admirable enthusiasm!”

Du Shiyi, observing from the side, saw that Yao Hong’s smile was already forced; at the last remark, his lips drooped further. Du instantly realized that Cui Jianxuan’s tactless jest had likely offended the man. However, as a stranger to Yao Hong, there was no way to mend the situation now; he simply pretended ignorance and kept silent. Sure enough, Yao Hong’s brows knitted tightly as he sighed, “My father passed away recently. Though my grandfather does not believe in Buddhism or Daoism, as a son, I must do all I can to fulfill my filial duty.”

Cui Jianxuan was, by nature, sharp-tongued, but Yao Hong’s mention of his father’s death caught him off guard. Somewhat awkwardly, he bowed deeply. “My apologies, Brother Yao. I truly did not know of your bereavement. Please accept my condolences. These snowy roads are treacherous—do take care on your return.”

Even these words of apology, coming from Cui Jianxuan, seemed to carry an unintended double meaning. Even Du Shiyi, listening on the side, found them less than smooth. Thus, when Yao Hong forced a nod, exchanged a few words with Master Yining, and made his hasty departure, Du could only frown slightly. When Master Yining returned and excused himself before hurrying back to the monastery, Du sighed, “Cui Eleventh, I’m afraid your words just now might have offended him.”

“I didn’t know his father had died!” Cui Jianxuan retorted, raising his brows irritably. “He used to be even sharper-tongued than I am. I was being polite today!”

“I think he came to Shaolin for a special reason. If I’m not mistaken, Luoyang is full of Buddhist temples. If he only wished to fulfill filial duty, why travel so far in the depths of winter?”

Du Shiyi’s words gave Cui Jianxuan pause. As they walked out, he found the situation increasingly odd, but such matters never interested him for long. At the monastery gate, they reunited with two family servants watching over their horses. Mounting up, he shrugged indifferently, “Whatever his business, it has nothing to do with us! Since we’ve seen the sights, let’s hurry back to the Lu Pavilion. In this wretched cold, I bet the Sage has retreated again to the hot springs. Mount Song has everything but a hot spring—what a shame!”

Whatever the Yao family’s plans, they had nothing to do with him. Du Shiyi, recognizing his own paranoia, put the matter out of mind. On their way back, snow began to fall—at first lightly, then in thick flurries. The two family servants quickly rode ahead to block their path.

“Young masters, the snow is getting heavier, and the road to the pavilion is steep and treacherous. With the snow, it will be even more dangerous for the horses. Shouldn’t we seek shelter in Dengfeng Town for the night and return tomorrow?” Seeing their hesitation, the elder servant added, “If you’re worried that Master Lu might be concerned, I’ll ride ahead to Xuanlian Peak and deliver word myself!”

“Very well. Go and let him know. If the snow worsens, spend the night there—no need to rush back!”

Cui Jianxuan nodded, watched as the servant galloped off, then turned to Du Shiyi with a smirk. “Du Nineteen, besides copying books, reading, playing the pipa, and training those two bronze balls, you’d better add another skill—horse riding! If you weren’t so slow, we’d have been home ages ago!”

The remaining servant was newly arrived from the Cui family in Yongfeng Ward, Eastern Capital, having just replaced an old retainer. This was his first time meeting Du Shiyi and he only knew they were both disciples of the same master. Hearing Cui Jianxuan’s brusque words, he feared Du Shiyi might take offense, but to his surprise, Du merely tightened his hood and retorted, “Enough nonsense! It was you who dragged me out today. I’ll practice riding, but don’t forget you promised to copy out the Book of Han for me!”

With that, he gave his horse a smart crack of the whip and galloped ahead. Caught off guard, Cui Jianxuan was left behind, cursing with a laugh as he raced to catch up. The servant, relieved, hurried after them. As the snow thickened, they all slowed their pace, lest danger befall them. Still, they found their way to the main road and, before the city gates were locked, made it safely into Dengfeng.

It was the twelfth lunar month, and though an intercalary month lay ahead, many households in Dengfeng were already preparing for the New Year. The streets were nearly empty in the snow, but fragrant smoke from many a kitchen drifted on the air, making both Du Shiyi and Cui Jianxuan—having had only vegetarian food at noon—keenly aware of their hunger. “Those inns are all filthy,” Cui Jianxuan declared. “Let’s go straight to the county office. My Seventh Uncle won’t begrudge us a meal!”

Du Shiyi, for his part, would rather not disturb Cui Weizhi again. Whatever debts of gratitude had accumulated during the grasshopper hunts had long since been repaid by the gifts exchanged at the thatched hut at the foot of Junji Peak. If not for the heavy snow, he would rather have gone straight home to reunite with his cousin Du Shisanniang than spend a night at the county office. But under Cui’s persuasion, he finally agreed. As they arrived at the gate, the familiar constable Wu Jiu hurried over.

“Young Master Du, Young Master Cui!”

Though Du Shiyi was two years younger than Cui Jianxuan, he always felt awkward at the difference in forms of address. As Wu Jiu took his reins, he joked, “Drop the ‘young’ next time, will you? After the New Year, I’m not so little anymore.”

“If you say so, Master Du, I’ll change it!” Wu Jiu, ever obliging, immediately dropped the diminutive. Seeing Cui Jianxuan ride ahead with a snort, Wu deliberately lingered behind. When he saw the Cui party well ahead, he sidled up to Du Shiyi, ingratiating smile on his face.

“Master Du, I have a favor to ask. Back when you led us all over the countryside catching locusts, you told us they were excellent feed for pigs and ducks. So we saved up several hundred stones of them. Now our pigs and ducks are fatter than ever, and we were hoping for a good profit at New Year’s. But your advice spread—everyone started doing the same, and now the price of meat has dropped a lot. You know, the wealthy eat mutton, the common folk eat pork. If prices stay this low, we’re stuck feeding the pigs all winter!”

Du Shiyi frowned. “With that feeding method, three or four months should have been enough to fatten them. How is it you still have so much?”

Wu Jiu fell silent. Du Shiyi immediately saw through him—greed had driven them to raise even more after a first windfall, never considering that the market was limited. With most nobles preferring mutton, pork was already mostly for commoners; a glutted market could only drive prices down. And the cost of carting pork to neighboring counties was hardly worth it. Still, with their previous profits and the low cost of piglets, why come pleading for advice again?

Though suspicious, Du Shiyi had no intention of offering more free solutions this time. “I’m busy with my studies now and can’t help you. Besides, I’m only staying at the county office tonight—I’ll be heading back to Lu Pavilion first thing in the morning.”

Wu Jiu’s hopes were dashed as if a bucket of icy water had been poured over him. By then, they’d reached the gate to the officials’ quarters. However much he longed to beg for help, he could only watch helplessly as Du Shiyi dismounted and disappeared into the swirling snow.