Chapter Fifty-Four: A Night Banquet at the Dou Residence—A Display of Power

Though there was a ban on venturing out at night, and the city’s curfew drums had long since emptied the streets, the upper echelons of society within the city’s wards continued to indulge in their nocturnal entertainments. Such was the difference between the privileged and the common folk.

The six great avenues lay silent, no travelers in sight, the vast crossroads empty but for the moon. This was how the capital was often described after dusk, once the closing drums had sounded and the city gates shut. Yet, even at this hour, the Persuasion Ward of Luoyang was far from tranquil. Along the crisscrossing streets, richly adorned ox-drawn carriages and horses, and people in splendid attire, still meandered through the night. The ward’s patrolling officials and guards turned a blind eye, intervening only when unfamiliar faces appeared.

Du Shiyi, himself a stranger, was naturally subject to such scrutiny. Yet, astride a tall steed, accompanied by his Kunlun slave Tian Mo who held aloft a dainty glass lantern, and presenting the gilded invitation from Duke Bi, Dou Xiguan, he was swiftly and courteously waved through by the guards, who even offered helpful directions: “Duke Bi’s mansion is in the northwest corner, sir. Just follow this street due west.”

Thanking them, Du Shiyi continued westward. Arriving at the Dou residence, he observed many guests arriving on horseback, each with only one or two attendants—a scene not unlike his own. Most wore silks and satins, their wide sleeves fragrant as they greeted acquaintances in passing. Clearly, this was not the first of Duke Bi’s evening banquets. Du Shiyi slowed his horse, waiting until the flow of guests thinned, then approached the gate, where a servant promptly halted him.

The servant regarded him, seeing at once that he was a new face. With polite reserve, he asked, “Do you have an invitation, young master?”

Dismounting, Du Shiyi motioned for Tian Mo to present the invitation. The servant, glancing at it, grew visibly skeptical—clearly literate, he frowned with suspicion. Sensing this, Du Shiyi smiled and bowed. “Duke Dou himself sent an invitation. I would not have refused, but my master, Elder Lu, is advanced in years and exhausted from travel. He retired without even touching a meal. Thus, I come in his stead, to thank Duke Dou in person for his generous regard.”

At last the servant understood, bowing respectfully. “So you are a disciple of Old Master Lu of Mount Song. I shall inform my master at once. May I have your name, sir?”

“Du Shiyi of Duling, Jingzhao.”

“Please wait here a moment, Young Master Du.”

As the servant hurried inside, Du Shiyi instructed Tian Mo to lead the horse aside. He himself gazed thoughtfully at Duke Dou’s mansion: a three-bay gatehouse painted vermilion, with bronze beast-head rings and four glass lanterns illuminating the broad street. Within the gates, faint strains of music drifted out—lilting strings and pipes intermingled with singers’ voices. It was already late; new guests were scarce and the other gate servants appeared relaxed, their idle chatter drifting across the courtyard.

“The Emperor’s decree forbids the use of debased coinage, will this affect our Dou family?”

“What difference does it make? The court issues order after order, yet the mints below keep on striking coins as ever. Our master is the Emperor’s uncle, after all. Ever since the passing of Duke You last year, hasn’t our master been honored above all?”

“That’s right. When Duke You died, the Emperor himself attended the mourning rites and suspended court for three days. Now, when our master hosts a banquet, who wouldn’t flock to attend?”

Hearing these bold and only slightly hushed remarks, Du Shiyi absentmindedly stroked his horse’s mane. Before long, Tian Mo announced, “Young master, someone is coming.”

Looking up, Du Shiyi saw the same servant who had taken his invitation return with a beaming smile. “Young Master Du, my master invites you in. Please, follow this gentleman.”

The man who came with the servant clearly held higher rank. With a wave, he ordered Du Shiyi’s horse to be led away to the stables, then walked ahead, allowing Du Shiyi and Tian Mo to follow.

The Dou mansion occupied nearly two-thirds of the northwest corner of the Persuasion Ward—almost one sixth of the entire ward. Though not quite as extravagant as the palaces of Prince Yong or Princess Changning in former reigns, it was still a grand residence, especially now that the Emperor promoted austerity following Princess Taiping’s downfall. And since Dou Xiguan kept a main estate in Chang’an, this opulent Luoyang residence was already among the city’s finest.

Du Shiyi followed his guide through the gatehouse and around a small, elegant four-sided pavilion before reaching another gate. Passing through, the space opened up. A spacious courtyard, over ten fathoms across, lay before him. At its head rose a grand reception hall, perched four or five feet above the ground on a stone platform, painted in red and white, with upturned ornamental ridges at the eaves. The hall’s three northern and side walls were enclosed, but the entire southern front stood open, like a vast stage.

From where he stood, Du Shiyi could clearly see the hall filled with distinguished guests. In the open space between dozens of banquet tables, a dancer in foreign dress performed the whirling “Hu Xuan” dance, accompanied by musicians. Cheers and applause mingled with lively music, filling the hall with noise and energy. Du Shiyi marveled that such a banquet could be held in this uncertain spring weather.

Suddenly, his guide halted, smiling awkwardly. “Young Master Du, I dare not proceed further. Please go on alone.”

After a deep bow, the servant hurried away. Du Shiyi stood for a moment beneath a tree in the courtyard, taking in the revelry within the hall, the dancers, the applause, the servants standing at attention below—none of whom seemed to notice him. His heart sank. He had made excuses for Lu Hong when announcing his arrival, but for someone like Dou Xiguan, a high official renowned for empty honors, it was likely he had boasted to his guests of inviting the famed recluse Lu Hong. Upon learning the truth, Dou would surely feel slighted, and now he seemed to be pointedly leaving Du Shiyi out in the cold—a clear show of dominance.

Du Shiyi withdrew to the tree’s shade, but before long, a sudden commotion erupted within the hall. At first it was confused and indistinct, but as the hall quieted, a single arrogant voice rang out: “They say Duke Bi’s house is famed for music and dance. The dance, perhaps, is passable, but the music is hardly worth mention! Everywhere one goes, it’s the same tired melodies—enough to make a man impatient!”

The whirling dance had ended, and the dancer, flustered by the unexpected criticism, stood uncertainly. The musicians behind her were even more terrified, not daring to utter a sound. Host and guests alike seemed struck dumb by the outburst, but the young man who had spoken rose, stretched lazily, and yawned loudly.

“Duke Bi, I’ve had a busy day, and now it’s late. I’m afraid I must take my leave!”

Before the young man could stroll out, Dou Xiguan at last roared from the host’s seat, “Guards, throw these disgraceful wretches out!”

In an instant, the musicians who had just performed for the guests were dragged out by fierce servants. The leading musician, a middle-aged man clutching his pipa, struggled desperately as he was hauled past Du Shiyi, who could not help feeling a pang of pity. Then, an idea struck him. Without hesitation, he stepped forward.

“May I ask that you wait a moment? And—would you let me borrow that pipa?”

The startled servants watched as Du Shiyi took the instrument from the musician and strode boldly up the steps into the hall. They glanced at each other in confusion.

“Who is he?” one servant muttered.

Another, more burly, eyed Tian Mo, who still waited outside. “If the gate allowed him in, perhaps he’s just a late-arriving guest. Let’s see what he intends.”

Entering the hall, Du Shiyi felt the night’s chill vanish, replaced by a gentle warmth. Whether the corpulent Dou Xiguan on the host’s seat or the assembled guests, all were startled or suspicious at his sudden entrance, their faces a mixture of surprise and curiosity. Yet Du Shiyi advanced calmly, pipa in hand, and smiled.

“Tonight is a joyous occasion for Duke Dou’s feast. Would it not spoil the mood to punish the musicians just for lacking new tunes? I am no master, but I do have a new piece I would like to offer Duke Dou.”

Dou Xiguan, who had already received word of Du Shiyi’s presence, had feigned ignorance out of spite at Lu Hong’s absence, hoping to make Du Shiyi squirm. But compared to the public insult from Jiang Du, son of Duke Chu, who had mocked his musicians to his face, this was a far greater humiliation. Hearing Du Shiyi offer a new tune, Dou’s anger turned to delight. He clapped his hands and laughed, “If you have a new piece, Master Du, play it now!”

In truth, Du Shiyi had studied the pipa for just over a year. His teacher, Pei Ning, had instructed him for only a few months, but with strict guidance that built a solid foundation. After Pei Ning returned home, Lu Wangzhi, also skilled in the instrument, occasionally tutored him. Coupled with Du Shiyi’s innate musical talent and perseverance, he had mastered, beyond Pei Ning’s demanded “Song of the Frontier,” most of the pieces in Lu Wangzhi’s collection.

He knew well that in front of such a discerning audience, the common tunes of the day, no matter how well played, would not suffice. Only something new and unheard would do—something from his own repertoire, practiced most often in recent days, drawn from the depths of his memory.

Taking a seat on the cushion arranged by a respectful maid, he wrapped his fingers with his leather plectrum, slipped on his tortoiseshell picks, and tested a few notes on the unfamiliar pipa. Finding the instrument well tuned, he took a deep breath, then cradled the pipa upright and gently plucked the strings. Instantly, a cascade of flowing notes poured forth, as smooth and elegant as drifting clouds and flowing water.