Chapter Thirty-Seven: An Interesting Day

After all, good people were in the majority. Seeing Yang Lian selflessly offer up the score for "Rain Shatters the Southern Realm," many scholars and gentlemen applauded warmly. Li Hongji’s face turned crimson with rage; today he had truly lost all dignity.

"Just now, Mr. Yang's performance was proof enough of his mastery. I suppose there are no further objections?" Zeng Yiling said with a smile.

The crowd in the Xiaoxiang Pavilion fell into utter silence. Chen Tie, honest to a fault, responded loudly, "No objections."

Suddenly, Li Hongji sneered. He remembered now—what was this man’s surname? Yang Lian? He actually went by that name? With another cold laugh, he strode forward two steps and barked, "What did you say your name was? Yang Lian? I suspect you are a remnant of the previous dynasty!"

"A mighty accusation, Lord Dongping," Yang Lian replied, narrowing his eyes at him. Today, he did not mind stirring up trouble; since he had come to Jinling, it was only a matter of time before his name reached the ears of the Southern Tang’s court. Letting them know sooner might even be to his advantage.

"At this moment, Lord Dongping, to say such things—I rather think you are pursuing a personal vendetta. May I ask, Lord Dongping, these 'remnants of the previous dynasty' of whom you speak—who are they exactly?" Yang Lian pressed, not retreating but advancing.

"They are, of course, those who supported the former crown prince," Li Hongji replied.

"And who, pray, was this former crown prince?" Yang Lian pressed on.

"His surname was Yang, given name Lian. You share both name and surname with him—clearly you are implicated," Li Hongji thundered.

Yang Lian smiled faintly. This Li Hongji, it seemed, was rash and easy to handle. "And where is this former crown prince you mention, Lord Dongping? What is my connection to him? I beg you to enlighten me!"

"Well, that—" Li Hongji suddenly recalled that the former crown prince had died years ago, his body long since turned to dust. How could he possibly emerge now to stir up trouble? Yet unwilling to yield, he said, "Though the old crown prince is dead, many of his followers remain, intent on overthrowing the Great Tang. And you are one of them."

"Empty words without evidence. If Lord Dongping can produce proof, I will willingly accompany you to the magistrate’s office. But if you cannot, you ought not speak so recklessly. If such is the case, though I am but a commoner, I will demand justice from you!" Yang Lian retorted coldly, his tone unyielding.

Li Hongji, of course, had no evidence. He also knew that, although this man was called Yang Lian, his appearance and accent were utterly different; they had only just met—what proof could there be? Still, he refused to back down. "You want proof? I have plenty—once we reach the magistrate, you’ll see it for yourself."

"To condemn a man, one always finds a charge," Yang Lian replied coolly. Turning to Zeng Yiling, he bowed with a smile, "Miss Zeng, your selection of this number was indeed fortuitous. However, since Lord Dongping now claims I am a traitor and wishes to arrest and interrogate me, I fear the score of 'Rain Shatters the Southern Realm' may no longer be yours to have."

Throughout, Zeng Yiling had watched with cold detachment. Only now did she rise slowly. Yang Lian noticed for the first time how tall and slender she was—she would make a fine model in a later era. She walked over at a measured pace, her step trailing a delicate fragrance, and stopped in front of Li Hongji. "Lord Dongping, all present today are my guests. I absolutely will not permit such things to happen."

Li Hongji merely chuckled, drawing close to Zeng Yiling and muttering something inaudible to the others. Yang Lian, however, heard it clearly and sneered to himself. Was Li Hongji truly so brainless? No matter how beautiful Zeng Yiling was, as a member of the royal family, he could not risk the imperial reputation by marrying a courtesan, even if he could not inherit the throne.

Zeng Yiling smiled faintly, her brows and eyes brimming with charm. "How fortunate I am. Yet I am but a withered flower, well aware of my station. I ask Lord Dongping to stop here."

Li Hongji stared at her for a long moment, then sneered, "No matter what, you are but a caged bird; you cannot escape the hunter’s grasp."

"Is that so? Then you are welcome to try," Zeng Yiling replied without courtesy.

Li Hongji turned, gave Yang Lian a lingering look, and said, "I will remember you." With that, he strode away, his followers quickly trailing after him.

Yang Lian narrowed his eyes. Li Hongji’s conduct today was suspicious. He sensed that the matter was not so simple—there must be deeper intrigue at play, and this Zeng Yiling was by no means an ordinary woman.

Zeng Yiling sighed softly and walked unhurriedly over to Yang Lian. "I truly caused you trouble today," she said.

"Think nothing of it," Yang Lian replied with a smile, though inwardly he rather regretted that the incident had not become a bigger scandal. If Li Jing learned that Li Hongji had caused a scene in a brothel and even tried to take a courtesan as a concubine, what expression would he wear?

Zeng Yiling bowed and continued, "Having caused you such trouble, I truly do not know how to repay you." With that, she removed the jade hairpin from her head and handed it to him. "This hairpin was a gift from a friend long ago. Though not precious, it holds deep meaning. Today, I give it to you. Whenever you come to Xiaoxiang Pavilion, simply show this pin, and no matter the hour, I will meet with you."

She smiled as she spoke, her large eyes fixed on him.

Yang Lian hesitated. He felt there was something amiss about Xiaoxiang Pavilion, though he could not say exactly what. Besides, courtesans held little interest for him. But as his gaze fell on the jade hairpin, he suddenly smiled. "Since you are so sincere, it would be impolite to refuse." He took the hairpin and slipped it into his robe.

Chen Tie, witnessing this, silently cheered. He felt Yang Lian had brought honor to the Shenwu Army. The young master of the Zhou family, lips pressed in a thin line, watched with shining eyes. He had not expected Yang Lian to be such a man. Though he could not see Zeng Yiling’s face clearly, her graceful figure and oriole-like voice were enough to suggest she was a rare beauty. What normal man could refuse her? Wasn’t Lord Dongping proof enough?

After the drama between the talented scholar and the beautiful courtesan, Yang Lian composed a piece and performed it with Zeng Yiling. She played the zither, he played the flute, and together they rendered the famous "Swordsman’s Laughter" from later times. Despite being their first collaboration, the melody’s beauty won over all. When the last note faded, the audience was entranced.

Li Congjia swayed his head in delight. Fond of poetry and music, he prided himself on having heard every melody under heaven, yet both pieces from Yang Lian today were new to him, and of exceptional quality—surely the work of a master.

The Zhou family’s young master fell into deep thought, only coming to his senses as the guests gradually dispersed and Yang Lian retired to a private room.

Yang Lian exchanged pleasantries with the others. Chen Tie was brimming with excitement; never had he imagined Yang Lian would receive such favor from Zeng Yiling. That would make things far easier.

Yang Lian himself seemed unconcerned. He took out the jade hairpin and offered it to Chen Tie. "If you like it, take it."

Chen Tie shook his head vigorously. "How can a gentleman covet another’s treasure?" he protested, refusing repeatedly.

As the crowd thinned at Xiaoxiang Pavilion and night deepened toward curfew, the group took their leave. Yang Lian lingered at the rear, glancing back at Xiaoxiang Pavilion, thinking to himself that this place was anything but ordinary.

Just then, the same maid with the white gauze over her face hurried over. "Master Yang, please wait," she called.

Yang Lian turned. "Is there something you require, miss?"

"My lady asks that I remind you: after today’s events, Li Hongji is sure to bear a grudge. Please be careful. Should any trouble arise, she hopes you will send word," the maid said.

Yang Lian nodded with a smile. "You may tell her that I understand." Privately, he thought it unlikely he would ever return to this place.

The maid added, "Master Yang, please keep that jade hairpin safe—do not lose it."

Yang Lian was surprised. Zeng Yiling was not a careless woman; her insistence about the hairpin must have some purpose. He smiled. "A gift from Miss Zeng will, of course, be well kept." With that, he strode off.

The maid watched his departing back, lips moving as if to speak, but in the end, she remained silent. A moment later, sensing someone beside her, she looked up to see Zeng Yiling, still wearing her veiled hat, the tassels hiding her face.

With a fair, delicate hand, Zeng Yiling lifted the veil and gazed after Yang Lian’s retreating figure. "Is he really that person?" she murmured.

The maid sighed. "He didn’t recognize me after all," she said wistfully, a trace of sorrow on her face.

Zeng Yiling took her hand and smiled. "With your face covered in white gauze, who could recognize you?"

The maid nodded, then asked uncertainly, "Sister Ling, is he really the one Lord Dongping spoke of?"

Zeng Yiling shook her head with a bitter smile. "The world changes so unpredictably; I can't be sure. But if he is, he will recognize the jade hairpin—and then, he should visit a certain place."

"What place?" the maid asked curiously.

"A place that holds special meaning for him," Zeng Yiling replied, not answering directly.

"A special place," the maid repeated softly. She longed to be reunited with him—after all, apart from Sister Ling and him, there was no one else in the world she could trust.

Zeng Yiling seemed to understand her thoughts, leading her back into Xiaoxiang Pavilion. "Don’t worry—since we’re all in Jinling, the day of reunion will come. I look forward to it as well."

A smile crept onto Zeng Yiling’s lips. If he really was that person, Jinling was about to become very lively indeed. She wondered how things would unfold. Yet she found it odd—why had he shown up here? If the maid hadn’t happened to find his invitation, she would never have known of this man, let alone called out the number thirty-three.

Yang Lian, oblivious to all this, parted from Li Congjia and the Zhou family’s young master at the door, then, together with Lin Renzhao and Chen Tie, strolled slowly along the banks of the Qinhuai River.