Chapter Forty-One: An Auspicious Start to Business

The battle in the imperial court, though fought without swords or soldiers, was as perilous as war itself, perhaps even more nerve-wracking. In this struggle, the peace faction led by Han Xizai and Xu Xuan met with defeat. For the moment, the factional strife had come to an end, and the court appeared tranquil; yet beneath this calm, how many hidden currents stirred? Yang Lian could not say for certain, but one thing he was sure of: Han Xizai, Xu Xuan, and their allies would not simply let matters rest. If Feng Yanlu's campaign proved victorious, all would be well; but should he fail, it would be seized upon by his political adversaries as a pretext for attack. In the wake of such a catastrophe, who would emerge victorious was far from certain.

Setting aside these political machinations, Yang Lian’s inn and tavern had nearly finished their renovations. Taking advantage of a public holiday, he planned to seize the opportunity for a grand opening. Over these days, Xiao Erhei had been running up and down, growing noticeably thinner from the effort. Wang Hu and Zhao Peng wore exhausted faces, while Li Xiongxin and his son Li Shu, after some observation, had performed adequately—Li Shu had recently devoted himself to his studies and had not visited the gambling houses; this was a promising sign, for Yang Lian had no desire to hire a bookkeeper with a gambler’s proclivities.

Apart from the happy occasion of the inn’s opening, his relationships with Chen Tie and Lin Renzhao seemed to have grown closer since their shared ordeal; the three now addressed each other as brothers. Chen Tie, despite his fondness for violence, was a straightforward and loyal man—treat him well, and he would treat you well in return.

Though their friendship was solid, the secrets buried within each heart remained unspoken. As September arrived, the weather cooled and leaves fell in greater numbers. During these days, the Princess of Huairou had not come to seek Yang Lian, granting him a temporary respite from worry. That peppery girl was unpredictable—best to avoid entanglement if possible.

On the fifteenth of September, after a period of preparation, Yang Lian’s inn and tavern were fully renovated. He spent two days inspecting the premises, and was satisfied with Xiao Erhei’s efforts, finally deciding to open for business. Funds were running low, so to quickly expand his clientele, Yang Lian recalled a modern tactic: distributing flyers.

He spent a dozen strings of coins to print several thousand flyers, advertising the Yang Inn as clean and comfortable, the Yang Tavern as offering excellent value, and promising a fifty percent discount for the first three days, inviting all to sample their fare. He hired thirty or so youths from impoverished but tidy families, paying them ten coins per day, instructing them on slogans and sending them into the streets to distribute flyers.

A beautifully decorated carriage rolled slowly along the street; Li Hongji sat inside, his mood sour. The recent debate in the court had ended in his defeat—Song Qiqiu, Feng Yanji, and their faction had succeeded in persuading the emperor to send troops to the Min Kingdom, aiming to seize Fuzhou.

In the Changzhou region, though not the main theater of war, an additional twenty thousand soldiers had been stationed to guard against an expedition from Qian Wenfeng of Wu Yue. The situation had slipped from Li Hongji’s control, or rather, had not developed as he had hoped, leaving him deeply frustrated. To topple the Song-Feng faction was to remove the Duke of Qi’s claws from the court—Li Hongji’s ambition, yet unattained.

Nevertheless, the Duke of Qi had his own weaknesses—he loved literature and maintained close ties with scholars like Song Qiqiu and Feng Yanji; his influence lay in the court, but he had little power in military affairs. Li Hongji, though young, had served as military governor in Xuanzhou and Runzhou, earning a certain command in the army and forging relationships with many soldiers—advantages the Duke of Qi could not match. With military pressure on his side, Li Hongji still harbored hopes of succeeding in the succession struggle.

He had taken his carriage intending to leave the city and clear his mind by the waters of Xuanwu Lake, when suddenly the carriage jolted to a halt.

“What’s the matter?” Li Hongji demanded, nearly striking his forehead in surprise.

A bodyguard approached. “Young general, a youth suddenly darted in front.”

Li Hongji snorted. “What kind of youth?”

“He’s carrying something and shouting incessantly—seems to be advertising the opening of a tavern,” the guard replied.

Li Hongji waved his hand, dismissing the matter. “Foolish boy, drive him away.” Yet his stomach rumbled, and after a moment’s thought he said, “Let’s go take a look, get something to eat before we leave.”

By the banks of the Qinhuai River, Yang Lian, clad in a red robe and radiant with joy, had taken the day off to oversee the opening ceremony. The doors of the inn and tavern were adorned with couplets, firecrackers hung ready—waiting only for the auspicious hour. Lin Renzhao and Chen Tie had already arrived, bringing modest gifts but sincere intentions.

Neighbors crowded the street, making passage difficult; many paused to watch—whose tavern was opening with such fanfare?

Li Hongji’s carriage could proceed no further, five hundred paces from the tavern, blocked by the throng. He left his men to guard the carriage and set off with several guards to investigate. From afar, the golden characters “Yang Inn” and “Yang Tavern” gleamed on the signboard, catching his eye with their familiarity. To confirm his suspicion, he moved twenty paces closer, and saw distinctly: it was indeed the handwriting of his nemesis, the Duke of Qi. Could the owner of this inn be connected to the Duke?

As he pondered, Li Hongji caught sight of the innkeeper, dressed in red and conversing with several others. When he saw their faces clearly, he was startled—these faces were all too familiar, even after more than a month apart. In recent days, Li Hongji had been absorbed in court struggles, temporarily abandoning his investigation of Yang Lian, but now the memory returned, and he clenched his teeth in frustration. The connection with the Duke of Qi only deepened his irritation.

At that moment, someone called out, “His Highness the Duke of Qi arrives!”

With those words, the crowd parted, and the Duke rode forth on horseback, followed by the mischievous princess, wearing a look of triumph.

“Sooner or later, I’ll make you pay!” Li Hongji murmured, clenching his fist. Though the emperor had sworn before the tomb of the late ancestor that the brothers would succeed each other, and that Li Jingsui was unrelated, Li Hongji felt sure it was Li Jingsui who delayed the emperor’s decision to name a crown prince. He himself, the eldest son, remained only a duke, obviously suppressed—both his power and household allowance had been drastically reduced, fueling his resentment.

Yang Lian, chatting with Lin Renzhao and Chen Tie, heard of the Duke’s arrival and quickly stepped forward. “Greetings, Your Highness,” he called.

Li Jingsui dismounted, handed his reins to a retainer, and smiled, “Yang Lian, I heard your new establishment opens today. I’ve come specially to offer my congratulations—may your business prosper and your wealth multiply.”

Behind him, dozens of attendants carried or bore gifts.

Yang Lian protested, “Your Highness is too generous, how can I accept such lavish gifts?”

“No need for formality. This is your due,” Li Jingsui replied, his meaning clear.

Yang Lian smiled, no longer declining lest he seem insincere. “Thank you, Your Highness. Please, come inside!” He personally led Li Jingsui into the establishment.

Though not extravagantly decorated, the inn was spotless and orderly, its layout well planned. Li Jingsui looked around, nodding in approval. “Excellent, truly excellent.”

The Princess of Huairou nodded, “I didn’t expect you to have such discernment.”

“Your Highness, please take the place of honor,” Yang Lian said with a smile.

“Very well!” Li Jingsui answered, taking the chief seat without hesitation.

Xiao Erhei hurried forward with the finest tea, brewing a steaming pot. Lin Renzhao and Chen Tie approached, bowing, “Your humble servants, Lin Renzhao (Chen Tie) of the Shenwu Army, greet Your Highness.”

“You two are also with the Shenwu Army?” Li Jingsui smiled; Yang Lian had made friends upon first arriving in Jinling—this pleased him greatly.

“Yes, Your Highness, we serve under Commander Zhou,” Lin Renzhao replied.

“Commander Zhou? Do you mean Zhou Hongzuo?” Li Jingsui inquired.

“Yes, that is he,” Lin Renzhao confirmed.

Li Jingsui squinted, sizing up Lin Renzhao and Chen Tie—both were tall and robust, especially Lin Renzhao, who was striking in appearance and likable.

Lin Renzhao felt uneasy under Li Jingsui’s gaze—was the Duke of Qi enamored of him? The notion made him shiver. Li Jingsui, however, was thinking differently; he had long wished to recruit Yang Lian, but was unable to propose directly. Now that Yang Lian had made such good friends, winning them over would mean winning Yang Lian as well.

Unaware of these thoughts, Lin Renzhao chided himself for his own foolishness.

“Your Highness’s presence brings great honor to the Yang Inn,” Yang Lian said. “Would you do us the favor of presiding over the ribbon-cutting ceremony?”

“Ribbon-cutting?” Li Jingsui was taken aback. There was a custom of cutting colored ribbons for hats during the spring festival, but why at an opening?

Yang Lian laughed, “It’s merely for good luck, hoping for prosperous business,” and explained further.

Li Jingsui nodded repeatedly, “That makes sense.” He stood up at once. The Princess of Huairou, pouting, followed behind, somewhat displeased—why did he not ask her to cut the ribbon?

They stood at the entrance, Yang Lian checking the time—still half a stick of incense until the auspicious hour—so he chatted with Li Jingsui while they waited. In the distance, Li Hongji lingered, watching coldly; in his mind, Yang Lian was firmly in the Duke of Qi’s camp and must be guarded against.

After much deliberation, Li Hongji summoned a guard to investigate Yang Lian—where he hailed from, why he had come to Jinling, and how he had become acquainted with the Duke of Qi. The guard accepted the mission and slipped into the crowd to inquire.

Yang Lian chatted with Li Jingsui for a while, and when the time drew near, was about to give instructions when suddenly a woman appeared, dressed in white, wearing a veiled hat that concealed her face. Several women followed behind, carrying boxes as they moved gracefully forward.

“Such an important occasion as your opening, Young Master Yang—how could you not inform me?” The newcomer was none other than Zeng Yiling, the leading courtesan of Xiaoxiang Pavilion. Her delicate brows were slightly furrowed, her expression seemingly displeased, yet she was so enchanting that hearts were stirred. From afar, Li Hongji saw this scene and clenched his fist—these people, how had they all gathered here together?