Chapter Forty-One: Auspicious Beginnings

The struggle within the court, though devoid of blades and bloodshed, was no less perilous than a battlefield clash—indeed, it was perhaps even more nerve-wracking. In this contest, the peace faction led by Han Xizai and Xu Xuan ultimately met with defeat. For the moment, the factional strife in the court seemed to have subsided, and a surface calm prevailed; yet, beneath this tranquility, who could say how many undercurrents still flowed unseen?

Yang Lian did not know, but he was certain of one thing: Han Xizai, Xu Xuan, and their allies would not simply accept their loss. If Feng Yanlu emerged victorious in his campaign, all would be well; but should he fail, it would become a pretext for attack by his political enemies. Should such a defeat occur, who could predict on whose side fortune would ultimately fall?

Setting aside such matters for the time being, Yang Lian’s inn and tavern were nearly finished with their renovations. Taking advantage of his day off, he decided to seize the opportunity and prepare for a grand opening. In recent days, Xiao Erhei had been running about ceaselessly, growing noticeably thinner. Wang Hu and Zhao Peng also looked haggard. As for Li Xiongxin and his son Li Shu, Yang Lian had been observing them; their conduct was satisfactory. Li Shu, in particular, had been studiously devoted to his books, no longer frequenting the gambling halls—a most auspicious sign, for Yang Lian had no desire to employ a bookkeeper given to vice.

Aside from the joyful prospect of the inn’s opening, Yang Lian’s relationship with Chen Tie and Lin Renzhao had grown notably closer since their shared ordeal. The three now referred to one another as brothers. Chen Tie, despite his fondness for violence, was a forthright and loyal man; treat him well, and he would return the favor in kind.

Though their friendship was sincere, each still harbored secrets they did not share. As September arrived, the weather gradually turned cooler and the fallen leaves gathered in the streets. During this time, Princess Huairou had not come to trouble Yang Lian, granting him a brief respite from her vexing presence. That fiery-tempered girl, with her odd ways—best to avoid her if possible.

On the fifteenth day of the ninth month, after much preparation, Yang Lian’s inn and tavern were finally refurbished. He spent two whole days inspecting every detail and was satisfied with Xiao Erhei’s efforts. With his funds nearly exhausted, Yang Lian, eager to expand business quickly, recalled an idea from more modern times—distributing flyers.

He spent several strings of cash to have thousands of flyers printed, advertising the Yang Inn’s cleanliness and comfort, and the Yang Tavern’s excellent fare at fair prices. For the first three days, all would be half price, inviting everyone to come and taste for themselves. He hired over thirty cleanly dressed boys from poor families, paying them ten coins a day, and instructed them in what to say as they handed out flyers in the streets.

A finely decorated carriage rolled slowly down the street. Inside sat Li Hongji, his mood sour. The recent court debate had ended in his defeat; Song Qiqiu and Feng Yanji’s faction had persuaded the emperor to send troops against Min, intent on seizing Fuzhou. Even though Changzhou was not the main front, reinforcements of twenty thousand were sent there to guard against an attack by Qian Wenfeng of Wuyue.

Li Hongji found events slipping from his grasp, unfolding not as he had hoped, and he was deeply frustrated. His aim had been to topple the Song and Feng faction and thereby weaken Prince Qi’s influence at court—but he had failed. Yet Prince Qi had his weaknesses: fond of letters and poetry, he was close to literary giants like Song Qiqiu and Feng Yanji, wielding influence in the court but lacking power in military matters. Li Hongji, though young, had served as military governor in Xuanzhou and Runzhou, earning a voice in military affairs and the respect of many soldiers—an advantage Prince Qi could not claim. This military backing gave Li Hongji hope that he might yet triumph in the struggle for succession.

Li Hongji’s carriage was heading out of the city toward Xuanwu Lake for a respite when, all at once, it lurched to a halt.

“What’s the matter?” he shouted angrily, nearly striking his head in surprise.

A bodyguard approached and said, “Young General, a boy darted into the road.”

Li Hongji snorted. “What boy?”

“He’s handing out something, shouting about the opening of a tavern,” the guard replied.

“Foolish brat. Chase him off,” Li Hongji ordered, but then, feeling a pang of hunger, he changed his mind. “Wait—go see what it’s about. Let’s get something to eat before we go.”

By the Qinhuai River, Yang Lian, dressed in a red robe and beaming with joy, was hosting the opening ceremony. The entrance to the inn and tavern was adorned with couplets, and firecrackers hung ready. Lin Renzhao and Chen Tie had arrived already, bringing modest but heartfelt gifts.

Neighbors crowded the street, making passage difficult for travelers; many paused to see what could prompt such fanfare for a tavern’s opening.

Li Hongji’s carriage was stalled more than five hundred paces from the tavern, so he left it under guard and set out on foot with several bodyguards. Even from afar, the golden characters—“Yang Inn” and “Yang Tavern”—gleamed on the signboard. Li Hongji’s eyes narrowed in suspicion; the handwriting was familiar. He led his men forward to examine it more closely, then realized with a start: it was Prince Qi’s calligraphy. Could the owner of this establishment be connected to Prince Qi?

Lost in thought, Li Hongji spotted the owner in his red robe, chatting with some others. As he recognized their faces, he was startled—they were all too familiar, and though he had not seen them for over a month, they could not be forgotten.

Li Hongji had lately been preoccupied with court intrigues and had set aside his pursuit of Yang Lian, but now, seeing him, his anger rekindled—especially knowing of Yang Lian’s connection to Prince Qi.

Just then, a voice rang out: “His Highness Prince Qi arrives!”

The crowd parted as Prince Qi rode forth on his warhorse, the troublesome young lady following at his side, both wearing expressions of triumph.

“One day, you’ll pay for this,” Li Hongji muttered through gritted teeth. Though the emperor had once sworn before the tomb of the founding emperor that the brothers would succeed one another, Li Hongji blamed Li Jingsui for the emperor’s reluctance to name a crown prince—and for the fact that Li Hongji, though the emperor’s eldest son, remained merely a duke, his power and household diminished. How could he not resent it?

Yang Lian, speaking with Lin Renzhao and Chen Tie, heard of Prince Qi’s arrival and hurried forward, bowing low. “Your Highness, welcome.”

Prince Qi, Li Jingsui, dismounted and handed the reins to his attendant, smiling. “Yang Lian, I heard your new establishments open today, so I’ve come to offer my congratulations. May your business flourish and bring you wealth beyond measure.”

Behind him, dozens of attendants appeared, carrying gifts both great and small.

“Your Highness, such generosity is too much for me to accept,” Yang Lian protested.

“No need for courtesy—you deserve it,” Li Jingsui replied, his meaning plain.

Yang Lian smiled and did not demur further, realizing refusal would seem affected. “Thank you, Your Highness. Please, come inside!” With that, he led Prince Qi into the tavern himself.

Though not lavishly decorated, the inn was spotlessly clean and neatly arranged. Li Jingsui looked around, nodding with approval. “Excellent, truly excellent.”

Princess Huairou nodded. “I never would have guessed you had such an eye for things.”

“Your Highness, please take the seat of honor,” Yang Lian invited.

Li Jingsui agreed readily and sat at the head of the table. Xiao Erhei hurried to serve the finest tea. Lin Renzhao and Chen Tie stepped forward.

“Your subject, Lin Renzhao of the Divine Martial Army, greets Your Highness,” they declared in turn.

“You’re both with the Divine Martial Army?” Li Jingsui asked, delighted that Yang Lian, so new to Jinling, had made such friends.

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

“Commander Zhou? Zhou Hongzuo?” Li Jingsui queried.

“The very same,” Lin Renzhao answered.

Li Jingsui narrowed his eyes, studying the two men, both of whom were tall and sturdy—Lin Renzhao especially, a striking figure. Lin Renzhao, feeling the prince’s gaze, grew uneasy; could it be that His Highness harbored a certain fondness for men? The thought sent a shiver down his spine. But Li Jingsui had other ideas: he’d long intended to draw Yang Lian to his side, but had not found the right opportunity to ask. Now, seeing Yang Lian’s friendship with these two, he realized that winning Yang Lian would bring the others as well.

Unaware of the prince’s thoughts, Lin Renzhao was spooked by his own imagination and found it amusing in retrospect.

“Your Highness, with your gracious presence, the Yang Inn is truly honored. Might I ask you to preside over our ribbon-cutting ceremony?” Yang Lian said with a smile.

“Ribbon-cutting?” Li Jingsui was taken aback. He knew the tradition of cutting colored ribbons at the start of spring, but not for a business opening.

Yang Lian explained, “It’s just for good fortune, to wish for a thriving business.” He elaborated further.

Li Jingsui nodded in approval. “That’s a fine idea.” He rose at once. Princess Huairou, pouting, followed behind, unhappy at not being asked to cut the ribbon herself.

As the group gathered at the entrance, Yang Lian checked the time—half an incense stick remained before the auspicious moment. He continued chatting with Li Jingsui. In the distance, Li Hongji watched coldly, making note in his mind: Yang Lian was firmly in Prince Qi’s camp and must be watched.

After some thought, Li Hongji summoned a bodyguard and instructed him to investigate Yang Lian: where he came from, why he had come to Jinling, and how he’d come to know Prince Qi. The guard received his orders and slipped into the crowd to inquire.

Yang Lian chatted with Li Jingsui until the appointed hour approached. Just then, a woman in white, her face veiled by tassels, approached, followed by several ladies bearing gift boxes, moving with grace and poise.

“Master Yang, such an important occasion, yet you didn’t inform me?” The speaker was the famed courtesan Zeng Yiling, head of the Xiaoxiang Pavilion. Her delicate brows were furrowed in a show of displeasure, though her beauty was captivating. From afar, Li Hongji watched, fists clenched—how had all these people come together here?