Chapter Seventy-One: Dragons and Phoenixes Dance—Calligraphy, Wine, and Wagers

It was early spring, and the wind blowing in from the front still carried a hint of chill. Yet, having left the majestic city of Luoyang, Du Shiyi couldn’t help but urge his horse faster. The sensation of galloping like the wind electrified every nerve in his body, filling him with a profound sense of ease after many days of discomfort cooped up within Luoyang’s walls.

“Sir, isn’t the Princess Yuzhen’s villa right over there?”

The familiar voice carried through the wind from behind, snapping Du Shiyi out of his reverie. Looking up, he caught sight of the villa nestled at the foot of Longmen Mountain. Unlike the square residences within the city, many of the pavilions and towers of the villa were built along the contours of the mountain, arranged with pleasing irregularity. As he drew closer, he saw a stream—whether natural or diverted, he could not tell—trickling down from above, and the sound of water reminded him of the waterfall at Xuanlian Peak. Arriving at the main gate, a house servant hurried forward to greet him. Before Tian Mo could present the invitation, the servant smiled and said, “Are you Sir Du?”

Seeing Du Shiyi nod, the servant explained, “Today, our noble mistress is hosting a banquet at the villa. All the guests are familiar faces, and you, Sir Du, are the first to arrive.”

Since all were familiar guests except for himself, Du Shiyi understood at once why he was recognized. Following the servant into the villa, they called for another to lead the horses away. Tian Mo, busy untying the bundle from his back, presented a brocade box containing a gift, which the servant received with a smile, sending it off to the rear and instructing that Tian Mo be settled, before respectfully requesting Du Shiyi to relinquish his sword. Only then did he lead him inside.

The sound of running water grew louder. Passing through another gate, Du Shiyi saw up close the mountain spring he had glimpsed from afar, cascading down from on high, not quite a waterfall but beautiful in its own way. Beneath this spring stood a woman in Daoist robes, her back to him, seemingly oblivious to his arrival.

“Noble mistress, Sir Du Shiyi has arrived.”

The servant, clearly close to Princess Yuzhen, reported respectfully. As the princess did not respond, he smiled apologetically to Du Shiyi and quietly withdrew. At this moment, seeing the vast space empty but for himself and the princess, with only the sound of water and no other voices, Du Shiyi felt a strange sensation arise within him. He was a man led by impulse, and having sent off Lu Hong and his party through Jianchun Gate to the southeast of the city before riding here to Longmen Mountain southwest of Luoyang, he had been riding hard for over an hour without rest. Now, he simply closed his eyes and let his mind drift.

This time, Lu Hong returned to the mountain with an imperial appointment and yearly provisions of rice and silk. Du Shiyi knew Lu Hong would never use these for himself; impoverished scholars in the mountains were indeed fortunate!

He sat for a long while before the Daoist-robed woman by the spring asked softly, without turning, “I hear, Sir Du Shiyi, that you are an intimate friend of Master Sima of Tiantai Mountain?”

Faced with such an abrupt question, Du Shiyi replied openly, “I have only met Master Sima twice, and out of kindness he recommended me to Master Lu. I dare not claim to be an intimate friend.”

“Oh?” Only then did Princess Yuzhen turn around, gazing thoughtfully at the youth before her, perhaps fifteen or sixteen years old. Had he been someone else, having received a recommendation from Sima Chengzhen to Lu Hong, he would surely have boasted of his close ties to the Daoist master. Yet Du Shiyi denied it outright. She took a few steps forward, smiling as she asked, “But I’ve heard it was at your suggestion that Master Sima printed several medical books and pharmacopoeias using stitched binding, which are now known as ‘Du’s Books’ in the bookshops?”

“Du’s Books?”

Rising and bowing, Du Shiyi was genuinely surprised. In the past two years, he had been madly copying books in the cottage, drawing from the rich library of Lu Hong and the books carried by disciples and scholars. He had never visited the bookstalls in town, so after Sima Chengzhen printed his books, he paid little attention to whether stitched binding had become widespread or how successful it was. Now, he suddenly recalled seeing a couple of stitched books at Cui Jianxuan’s house in Yongfeng Lane, thinking them mere idle copies. In hindsight, how could that fellow have such patience?

Princess Yuzhen saw Du Shiyi’s surprise, then his thoughtful silence, and finally his realization. She raised her eyebrows, pondering to herself. Her palace staff had only discovered that Sima Chengzhen’s printed books had bindings quite different from the popular scrolls of the day; many bookshops imitated them, calling them “Du’s Books.” It was said that Sima Chengzhen himself credited Du for the method. She had linked Du Shiyi to the matter only because of a remark by Ninth Lady Cui, merely probing for confirmation, but now it seemed to be true!

Before Du Shiyi could speak, she smiled, “Even if you and Master Sima met only twice, it was your advice that led to the printing and spread of these books, and the fame of ‘Du’s Books’—it shows his high regard for you. Master Sima is a Daoist patriarch and a reclusive sage; ordinary people can scarcely hope to meet him. Yet you have earned his favor. How fortunate!”

Seeing the princess’s distant look, Du Shiyi finally understood why he had been invited today. He had thought that as the Emperor’s sister, Princess Yuzhen had become a Daoist merely for freedom, with no real devotion. Yet she truly seemed passionate. Remembering how Sima Chengzhen had vanished from Songyang Temple, Du Shiyi gained a faint insight.

Perhaps Sima Chengzhen had disappeared precisely to avoid those officials and nobles who were too fervent—whether in pursuit of Daoism or immortality.

Understanding the purpose of his invitation, Du Shiyi knew that hiding things would only breed suspicion, so he frankly recounted how he had encountered Sima Chengzhen at Songyang Temple during a mountain storm, received the Kunlun slave, and copied and recommended books, detailing everything. At last, he said sincerely, “Master Sima did indeed help me, but since we parted two years ago, I have not seen him again.”

“I see.” Though somewhat disappointed, Princess Yuzhen quickly let it go. She glanced at Du Shiyi’s waist, noting the sword hook still attached to his belt, recalling Ninth Lady Cui’s embellished tales of her brother Cui Jianxuan’s exploits, and grew thoughtful again.

Remembering Du Shiyi’s modest tone when discussing his dealings with Sima Chengzhen, she smiled and said, “Today’s guests are Miao Jinqing of Luzhou, Kou Zhao of Shanggu, Wang Lingran of Taiyuan, Sun Di of Bozhou, and more than ten sons of noble families from the Eastern Capital, all men of talent. The first few are often rivals, and during banquets, if Brother Song or Brother Qi is present, they act as supervisors, while I oversee the records. Today, feeling a bit lazy, I plan to be a leisurely supervisor—would you, Sir Du Shiyi, try your hand as the record keeper?”

At this, Du Shiyi’s heart skipped a beat. The princess’s “laziness” was clearly an excuse. He recalled accompanying elders to banquets at noble houses, but as a child, he always sat at the lowest seat, responding to orders but never acting as supervisor or adjudicator. Now, faced with the princess’s half-smiling gaze, he remembered how Cui Jianxuan had quietly told him, when seeing off Lu Hong, that it was Ninth Lady Cui who persuaded Princess Yuzhen to visit the palace, as Dou Shilang had said. He owed a favor, and could only smile wryly.

“Since the princess commands it, I must do my best. May I ask, will we play elegant or common drinking games today? If common, what tokens will be used?”

Seeing Du Shiyi accept readily, Princess Yuzhen nodded with pleasure. “As this is your first visit to the villa, let’s do both. Since the others don’t know you, we’ll start with common games, but using old tokens would be dull—why not create new ones? As for the elegant games, that will be up to you.”

Though the task sounded daunting—new tokens and mixed styles—Du Shiyi nodded. Princess Yuzhen was delighted, immediately ordering servants to bring dozens of polished, blank bamboo tokens, along with brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. She rolled up her sleeves and personally began to grind the ink, then picked up a bamboo token, dipped her brush, and smiled at Du Shiyi.

“A thousand cups with a kindred spirit are never enough, but a single word with one out of tune is too many. When conversation runs high, all drink twenty points.”

Upon hearing this, Princess Yuzhen thought for a moment, then praised him and wrote quickly. Her calligraphy was elegant and lively, and the maid carefully placed the token on a tall table to dry. With Du Shiyi setting the tone, he continued smoothly.

“I urge you to drink another cup; west of Yangguan, there are no friends. Invite two companions to drink a cup.”

“Fine wine from grapes in a luminous cup, ready to drink, urged by the sound of the pipa on horseback. When competition is fierce, all drink a cup.”

“Draw the blade to cut water, but the water flows on; raise the cup to dispel sorrow, but sorrow grows. Those who sit alone and speak not, drink five points.”

“Lanling’s fine wine is fragrant with turmeric; served in jade bowls, it shines amber. Drink five points oneself.”

In no time, more than ten tokens were inscribed. The maid drying the tokens was astonished, but Princess Yuzhen was even more impressed. Though two or three of the phrases were familiar, most were ones she had never heard; Du Shiyi composed them with effortless grace, every line focused on the contents of the cup.

“Sir Du, your talent is swift indeed! It seems the saying that a poet’s inspiration runs dry is but empty words.”

“You flatter me, princess. I have simply read many books.”

“There are even more books in the palace, yet I have never seen these lines.”

Knowing that further explanations would only deepen the mystery, Du Shiyi chose silence. When twenty tokens were done, a report came from outside that Sir Wang had arrived. Princess Yuzhen put down her brush, rubbing her wrist and laughing, “All right, all right, though twenty tokens are too few, the hour is getting late—everyone should be here soon!”

As Princess Yuzhen was the hostess, only Du Shiyi, whose invitation listed an earlier arrival, was there ahead of time; the rest came shortly after. Among them, the eldest was just over thirty, while the youngest had barely reached adulthood. Seeing Princess Yuzhen accompanied by a boy of fifteen or sixteen, many were surprised. Among them, a young man recognized Du Shiyi at a glance, his expression subtly shifting. He had not expected Du Shiyi to remember him, but as the princess took her seat with a smile, Du Shiyi nodded to him, making it clear he recalled their brief acquaintance.

Two years ago, Liu Zhao, tasked by imperial command to inspect counties for locusts, returned to the capital only to be demoted after being accused. Though his grandfather remained secure at the time, that incident had likely planted seeds of concern. Later, Liu Zhao traveled to Shaolin and met Cui Jianxuan and Du Shiyi; after returning, his grandfather resigned as prime minister, but regained imperial favor by supporting the Eastern tour to Luoyang and submitting proposals for promoting talent, impressing the emperor who sought a peaceful, prosperous reign. The Yao family had stabilized, yet unexpectedly, Lu Hong, summoned by the emperor, declined his post and returned to the mountain.

At the banquet, rank was set aside. Princess Yuzhen took the main seat, introducing the guests and suggesting they be seated by age. Everyone complied. When the maids brought trays of food and wine, Princess Yuzhen laughed, “Today, so many talented guests are gathered; we ought to entertain you. If it were just music and dance, it would be dull, so let us play drinking games. Both elegant and common games; let us start with the tokens, then move to the elegant games. As it happens, Sir Du Shiyi, new to all of you and the youngest here, shall act as record keeper for the elegant games—what do you think?”

The old guests, having visited the villa several times, were accustomed to such arrangements. However, Wang Lingran, just over twenty, proud of his recent success in the imperial exams though not yet appointed, considered himself first among the guests and his expression changed sharply. He rose, looking down at Du Shiyi at the lowest seat, and said with a half-smile, “Du Shiyi of Fanquan? I have heard of you, but... Let us not speak of the past. This record keeper’s role is not easy; if you lack the ability, why not let someone more experienced take it? Though I am unworthy, I am willing to assume the task.”

Wang Lingran was known for speaking without restraint. Seeing him challenge Du Shiyi, those who disagreed with the princess’s proposal simply watched for amusement. Princess Yuzhen, recalling Wang Lingran’s arrogance on previous visits, frowned slightly. Du Shiyi, having agreed out of courtesy to the princess, was glad to relinquish the task, about to do so when a maid behind him whispered a gentle reminder.