CCWAD – Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen: A Night Banquet at the Drunken Immortal Pavilion

Prologue:

“I thought Li Shishi’s invitation was an elegant affair, until I stepped into the Drunken Immortal Pavilion and saw a hall filled with high officials and nobles. She pressed me before the zither and said softly, ‘Play a tune, no one here thinks you’re a hero.'”

—

After the matter of Shi Xiu and the lesson of the Gold Melon Seeds, Yan Qing spent several days in quiet contemplation at the inn. She began to adjust her thinking, no longer solely seeing herself as a spy sent from Liangshan Marsh, but attempting to act with more independence in this chess game in the Eastern Capital. She used the funds provided by Lu Junyi to purchase an inconspicuous small courtyard in the city as a more secret base, and managed to establish more stable contact with Shi Xiu. This “Daredevil” was deeply grateful for Yan Qing’s generosity and, though he didn’t explicitly pledge allegiance, he expressed his willingness to be commanded.

Just as she had initially stabilized her footing, Li Shishi’s third “signal” arrived. This time, it wasn’t through Mozhu, but an elegantly worded invitation sent under Li Shishi’s personal name, inviting her to a night banquet at the Drunken Immortal Pavilion in three days.

The Drunken Immortal Pavilion, the foremost of Tokyo’s seventy-two major establishments, was inaccessible to anyone but high officials, distinguished nobles, and wealthy merchants. Li Shishi hosting the banquet here meant something extraordinary.

Holding the invitation, which exuded a faint, pleasant fragrance, Yan Qing knew this was no ordinary feast. It was more like an assessment, an “initiation ceremony” to formally bring her into a certain circle. She had to attend, and more importantly, she had to behave appropriately.

Three days later, as the lamps were lit, Yan Qing changed into her most precious lake-blue brocade robe, a jade belt cinching her waist, her hair bound with a golden crown, doing her best to appear like a true young master from a distinguished family. She practiced in front of the mirror for a long time, ensuring her gait and posture wouldn’t betray her, then took a deep breath and boarded the hired carriage, heading for the Drunken Immortal Pavilion.

The grandeur of the Drunken Immortal Pavilion far surpassed the side halls of Fan Lou. With its upturned eaves, intricate brackets, and brilliant lights, the entrance was crowded with carriages and horses, and servants like clouds. After announcing her name, a beautifully dressed and deferential usher immediately led her to an extremely spacious and luxurious private room on the third floor.

The moment she pushed open the carved wooden door, Yan Qing’s breath caught slightly.

The room was brightly lit and filled with fragrant incense. It wasn’t the music and dancing of singing girls she had expected, but rather several individual low tables. Seated behind them were mostly middle-aged men or elders in crimson and purple official robes, exuding a dignified aura, with a few merchants who clearly radiated wealth interspersed. They were either conversing in low tones or raising their cups with smiles, the atmosphere quiet and solemn, carrying an invisible pressure of power.

Li Shishi was not seated at the head, but at a table near the window. Today, she wore a simple moon-white Daoist robe, without any hairpins or jewelry, her dark hair loosely tied with a single wooden hairpin. Amidst the opulent attire of the room, she appeared exceptionally ethereal, like a fairy who had strayed into the mortal realm. She was quietly speaking with a lean old man in a deep purple official robe beside her.

Yan Qing’s appearance drew several gazes. Those gazes held scrutiny, curiosity, and even a hint of undisguised disdain. Her overly handsome and youthful appearance seemed out of place among these individuals accustomed to being in positions of power.

The usher who had led her seated her at a relatively secluded table near the door. The position was not ideal, clearly indicating that in the eyes of these dignitaries, “Yan Qing from Hebei” held little weight.

Yan Qing understood and paid it no mind. She merely lowered her eyes and sat quietly, observing in secret. She recognized the purple-robed elder conversing with Li Shishi as the current Grand Commandant, a man of immense power and prestige. The others, though their specific official positions were unknown, could be discerned from their demeanor as no ordinary individuals.

After three rounds of wine, the atmosphere became slightly more lively. Someone suggested a drinking game, others discussed the latest rare paintings and calligraphy, and the conversation revolved around elegance and power. Yan Qing spoke cautiously, only offering a brief remark when necessary, her words appropriate and neither humble nor arrogant, thus avoiding any mistakes.

However, the “Jianghu spirit” that belonged to the “Wanderer Yan Qing,” the stifling feeling of being out of place in this environment, began to accumulate. She felt like a mountain sparrow forcibly stuffed into an exquisite birdcage, utterly uncomfortable.

Just then, a slightly tipsy, portly official, perhaps finding Yan Qing quiet and easy to manipulate, turned his gaze towards her and said with a hint of mockery, “This… Young Master Yan, I hear you are from Hebei? All the men under Steward Lu Junyi are heroes, so you must also be an exceptional talent. In this grand gathering, why not display some of your skills, so that we too may witness the demeanor of Hebei’s heroes?”

As his words fell, several gazes focused on Yan Qing again, with an air of watching a good show. In the eyes of these scholars, literati, high officials, and nobles, the so-called “Hebei heroes” were merely rough men with a smattering of literacy. Asking them to perform “talents” was no different from asking a fierce beast to bow.

Yan Qing’s fingers tightened around her wine cup, a surge of anger mixed with humiliation rising in her heart. She could tolerate being looked down upon, but she could not tolerate being mocked like an actor, alongside her Liangshan brothers.

Just as she was contemplating how to refuse gracefully, Li Shishi suddenly stood up.

She moved with graceful steps, and amidst the slightly surprised gazes of the crowd, she walked directly to Yan Qing’s table. She leaned down, and a cool, faint fragrance enveloped Yan Qing, shielding her from the probing eyes.

“Young Master Yan,” Li Shishi’s voice was as soft as a feather, yet carried an irrefutable power, reaching Yan Qing’s ears and clearly echoing throughout the private room, “If all the lords wish to hear a song, why not… have you play the zither for me, and I will sing for you, how about it?”

Without waiting for Yan Qing’s reply, she extended her slender jade hands and gently clasped Yan Qing’s wrist. Her fingertips were cool, but her grip was irresistible. She pulled Yan Qing up from her seat and led her to a seven-stringed ancient zither already prepared in the room.

Yan Qing sat stiffly on the zither stool, her mind a complete blank. Play the zither? She couldn’t even distinguish between the five notes of the pentatonic scale!

Li Shishi stood beside her, her sleeves brushing against the zither strings, producing a few scattered crisp sounds. She leaned down slightly, her mouth close to Yan Qing’s ear, and in a voice only they could hear, she spoke word by word, softly but like ice picks piercing her heart:

“Relax, just strum it randomly, making a sound is enough.” Her breath, carrying a hint of faint wine aroma, blew past Yan Qing’s ear. “Here, no one really cares how well you play. They just want to see if the person sent by Lu Junyi is just a brute who only knows how to wield swords and spears.”

Her voice paused, carrying a nearly cruel insight and a comforting tone:

“Let go of your Jianghu pride, Yan Qing. Here, no one thinks you’re a ‘hero.’ Play, and if you make a fool of yourself, I will bear it with you.”

These words were like a splash of cold water, instantly extinguishing the anger in Yan Qing’s heart, leaving only a cold clarity and an unspeakable humiliation. She understood that Li Shishi was using this extreme method to force her to face reality, to tear away her last shred of Liangshan pride and disguise.

At this banquet, where power and elegance intertwined, she, Yan Qing, was not a hero, nor even a man, but merely a tool or a collaborator who needed to prove her “usefulness” and understand “rules.”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and when she opened them again, her eyes were filled with a calm indifference.

She extended her fingers, which had once drawn bows and shot arrows, but were now excessively fair and slender. As Li Shishi had said, she randomly plucked the zither strings without any discernible method.

“Zheng—weng—”

A discordant, even jarring noise, echoed in the private room.

The entire hall fell silent. Several officials frowned.

However, Li Shishi acted as if she had heard celestial music. The corners of her lips curved upwards, and she opened her throat. Her clear, resonant voice, like a mountain stream, flowed out, somehow enveloping the discordant zither notes into a melodious and graceful Jiangnan folk tune.

The zither playing was clumsy, the singing exquisite.

This strange combination caused everyone present to exchange glances. Then, some revealed smiles of understanding, while others looked meaningfully at the purple-robed Grand Commandant seated at the head.

Yan Qing lowered her head, her fingers mechanically plucking the zither strings, feeling the gazes like fine needles pricking her back. She couldn’t hear how beautiful Li Shishi’s singing was; she only heard her own heart beating heavily in her chest, and the discordant zither notes, like her own chaotic and cold emotions at that moment.

At this moment, she realized with absolute clarity that she and Liangshan, and her past identity as a “wanderer,” were separated by a deep chasm.

And Li Shishi stood on the opposite bank, smiling and watching her struggle on this side.

—

(End of Chapter Fifteen)