Chapter Thirty-Seven: An Interesting Day

After all, the good people were in the majority. Seeing Yang Lian’s selflessness in sharing the score of “Rain Breaks over Jiangnan,” many scholars and gentlemen applauded enthusiastically. Li Hongji’s face flushed with anger, feeling utterly humiliated today.

“Just now, Mr. Yang’s performance was proof enough of his skill with the zither. I believe there should be no objections from anyone,” Zeng Yiling said with a smile.

Within the Xiaoxiang Pavilion, all fell silent. Chen Tie, straightforward as ever, responded loudly, “No objections.”

Li Hongji suddenly sneered. He remembered—what was this man’s surname? Yang Lian? Was he really called that? He sneered again, took two steps forward, and shouted, “What did you just say your name was? Yang Lian? I now suspect you are a member of the former dynasty’s faction.”

“Lord Dongping, that's quite an accusation,” Yang Lian narrowed his eyes as he looked him up and down. He didn’t mind stirring up trouble today; since he had come to Jinling, his name would sooner or later become known to the court of Southern Tang. Better to have them know sooner—there were advantages to that.

“At such a moment, for Lord Dongping to say such things, I believe you are simply settling a personal score. May I ask, Lord Dongping, who exactly are these remnants of the former dynasty you speak of?” Yang Lian pressed forward, his tone unyielding.

“Naturally, those loyal to the old crown prince,” Li Hongji replied.

“And who was this old crown prince?” Yang Lian pursued relentlessly.

“His surname was Yang, given name Lian. You share the same name, so you must be related,” Li Hongji declared.

Yang Lian smiled faintly. This Li Hongji seemed rather rash—easy enough to handle. “Lord Dongping, where is this old crown prince now? What connection is there between him and me? Please enlighten me.”

“Well... well...” Li Hongji suddenly remembered that the old crown prince had been dead for several years, his body long since decayed—how could he possibly return to stir up trouble? Still, unwilling to lose face, he insisted, “Though the old crown prince is dead, his followers are not few. They still plot to overthrow our Tang dynasty. You are certainly one of them!”

“Mere words with no evidence. If Lord Dongping has proof, I will gladly accompany you to the authorities. But if you have none, do not speak recklessly. Though I am a commoner, I will demand justice from you!” Yang Lian retorted coldly, his words firm and unbending.

Li Hongji, of course, had no evidence. He knew well enough that this man, though named Yang Lian, looked entirely different, spoke with another accent, and was a stranger to him. How could he have proof? Yet he was loath to concede and shouted, “You want evidence? There is plenty. As soon as we arrive at the capital magistrate’s office, you will see all you need.”

“To frame someone, one never lacks an excuse,” Yang Lian replied coolly. Bowing toward Zeng Yiling, he smiled, “Miss Zeng, your choice of number was truly clever. But now that Lord Dongping accuses me of being a conspirator and wants to have me arrested and interrogated, I fear the score of ‘Rain Breaks over Jiangnan’ cannot be given to you.”

Zeng Yiling had watched with cold eyes until now. At this moment, she slowly stood. Yang Lian noticed for the first time that she was tall and strikingly slender—a model in another era. She glided over, trailing a faint fragrance, and stopped before Li Hongji. “Lord Dongping, everyone here today is my guest. I will not allow such things to happen.”

Li Hongji chuckled, leaning in to whisper something to her. The others, too far to hear, remained unaware of his words, but Yang Lian caught them and could not help but sneer. Was Li Hongji truly so brainless? No matter how beautiful Zeng Yiling was, he was a member of the royal family. Even if he could not ascend the throne, he still had to uphold his family’s honor. How could he possibly marry a courtesan?

Zeng Yiling smiled faintly, her eyes brimming with unspoken charm. “What an honor for me. But I know my place and would not dare presume. Lord Dongping, let us put an end to this.”

Li Hongji stared at her, their gazes locked for some time. Suddenly, he sneered, “No matter what, you are just a caged bird. In the end, you cannot escape the hunter’s grasp.”

“Is that so? Then why not try?” Zeng Yiling replied without courtesy.

Li Hongji turned to glance at Yang Lian. “I will remember you,” he said, then strode away. Several others hurried after him, following in his wake.

Yang Lian narrowed his eyes. Li Hongji’s behavior today was odd—there was more to this than met the eye. And Zeng Yiling, too, was no ordinary woman.

Zeng Yiling sighed and walked slowly to Yang Lian. “I truly brought trouble upon you today.”

“It’s nothing,” Yang Lian replied with a smile, though he secretly wished the uproar had been even greater. If Li Jing learned that Li Hongji had caused such a scene at a brothel, and even wished to make a courtesan his concubine, what expression would he wear?

Zeng Yiling curtsied and said, “For the trouble you’ve suffered, I have nothing with which to repay you.” She removed a jade hairpin from her hair and handed it to Yang Lian. “This was a gift from a friend long ago. It may not be precious, but it holds great meaning. I give it to you today, Mr. Yang. If ever you come to the Xiaoxiang Pavilion, simply show this hairpin, and I will come to meet you, no matter the time.”

She smiled, gazing at him with her large eyes.

Yang Lian hesitated. He sensed something off about the Xiaoxiang Pavilion, though he couldn’t say what. Besides, he had no particular interest in a courtesan. But as his eyes drifted to the hairpin, he suddenly smiled. “Since you honor me with such kindness, I shall accept.”

Chen Tie, witnessing this, was pleased, feeling Yang Lian had brought honor to the Shenwu Army. The young master of the Zhou family pursed his lips and blinked in surprise—he hadn’t expected Yang Lian to be like this. Though he couldn’t see Zeng Yiling’s face, her graceful figure and lark-like voice suggested a peerless beauty. What man would refuse? Wasn’t Lord Dongping himself proof?

After this drama between talented scholar and beautiful lady, Yang Lian composed a melody. Together with Zeng Yiling, he performed—she played the zither, he the flute—the renowned “Smiling Proud Wanderer.” Though this was their first duet, the melody was exquisite, and the audience was entranced.

Li Congjia swayed with the music. Fond of poetry and music, he had thought himself familiar with every tune under heaven, yet both pieces Yang Lian performed were entirely new to him, and of outstanding quality.

The Zhou family’s young master fell into deep thought. Only when the music ended and the crowd began to disperse did he return to himself.

After mingling with the others, Yang Lian found Chen Tie flush with excitement, delighted that Yang Lian had won Zeng Yiling’s favor, which would make things much easier.

Yang Lian himself was indifferent. He took out the jade hairpin and offered it to Chen Tie, saying, “If you like it, you may have it.”

Chen Tie waved his hands repeatedly. “How could a gentleman take what gives another pleasure?” he refused.

The guests of Xiaoxiang Pavilion gradually left. It was now approaching the hour of the Boar; night had fallen, and the curfew would soon begin. Not wishing to linger, the group departed. Yang Lian was the last to leave, glancing back at the pavilion—this place was anything but simple.

Just then, the same maid with her face veiled in white hurried over. “Mr. Yang, please wait.”

Yang Lian turned. “What instructions does the young lady have?”

“My mistress asked me to warn you. After what happened today, Li Hongji will surely bear a grudge. Please be careful, and if anything happens, send word,” the maid said.

Yang Lian nodded and smiled. “Tell her I understand.” He thought to himself that he probably wouldn’t be coming here again.

The maid added, “That jade hairpin, please keep it safe. Do not lose it.”

Yang Lian was surprised. Zeng Yiling was meticulous—her special warning about the hairpin must have some purpose. He smiled. “A gift from Miss Zeng will be well kept.” With that, he strode away.

The maid watched his departing figure, her lips moving as if to speak, but in the end she said nothing. Moments later, she felt someone beside her—Zeng Yiling, still wearing her veiled hat, the tassels concealing her face.

Zeng Yiling raised a delicate hand and lifted the tassels, watching Yang Lian’s fading silhouette. “Is he really that person?”

The maid sighed. “He did not recognize me, after all.” There was a trace of melancholy on her face.

Zeng Yiling took her hand and smiled. “With your face veiled, how could anyone recognize you?”

The maid nodded, then asked in confusion, “Sister Ling, is he really the one Lord Dongping spoke of?”

Zeng Yiling shook her head with a bitter smile. “The world is ever-changing; I can’t be sure. If he is that person, he should recognize the jade hairpin. In that case, there is a place he will go.”

“What place?” the maid asked curiously.

“A place that holds special meaning for him,” Zeng Yiling replied, not giving a direct answer.

“A special place...” the maid murmured. She longed to reveal herself to him—for in this world, apart from her and Sister Ling, there was no one else she could trust.

As if reading her thoughts, Zeng Yiling led her back toward the pavilion. “Don’t worry. Since we are both in Jinling, one day you will meet again. I, too, look forward to that day.”

A smile played on Zeng Yiling’s lips. If he truly was that man, Jinling was about to become lively indeed. How would things unfold? She wondered also why he had appeared here. If her maid hadn’t found his invitation by chance, she would never have known of him, nor chosen the number thirty-three.

Yang Lian remained unaware of all of this. After parting ways at the entrance with Li Congjia and the Zhou family’s young master, he walked slowly along the bank of the Qinhuai River with Lin Renzhao and Chen Tie.