Chapter 95: Storms over Mount Song

The calligraphy Quan Ce wrote for Wu Youji first reached the desk of Princess Taiping.

"Where did he come from? When did he arrive? When did he leave? Why did he leave?" Princess Taiping asked, her face as cold and still as water, reeling off a series of questions.

Xiangnu had already interrogated the gatekeepers and understood the situation perfectly. "Master Quan came straight to the residence from Taichu Palace. He stumbled upon the corpse of the slave girl from the Wu household at the side gate. No sooner had he entered the second courtyard than he heard news of the 'Eyebrow-Painting Banquet,' whereupon he made an excuse of urgent business, left a letter, and departed."

A sharp, ruthless light flickered in Princess Taiping's eyes. "Beat that loose-tongued wench to death."

Xiangnu bowed her head in obedience and withdrew.

Princess Taiping sat motionless for a while, her expression shifting and clouding, before being slowly replaced by an air of haughty arrogance. She examined the calligraphy and snorted. "This little thief, he worries about so much; he sounds just like an old pedant when he starts lecturing... Pfft, though the handwriting is still just as ugly."

"Someone come!" Princess Taiping called out. "This was written for the Prince Consort by Master Quan. Take it to the west courtyard and give it to him. If he asks, tell him I have already seen it."

"The sea accepts hundreds of rivers, hence it is vast; the cliff stands thousands of fathoms high, hence it is unyielding."

Wu Youji savored the sixteen characters for a good hour. A self-mocking smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Very well, very well. I shall simply visit the Valley of Forgetfulness more often. To each their own freedom—it is quite a relief. Aside from the basic needs of life, what else is there?"

"Someone! Have this calligraphic work mounted and framed; hang it in my study as the centerpiece."

Mount Song, Songyang Academy.

Quan Ce stood outside the gate for a while before stepping inside. After making a few turns, he arrived at a courtyard. Seeing the furnishings within—not extravagant, yet clearly of unusual quality—his stomach churned with uncontrollable revulsion.

If Quan Yi had seen things through to the end, if he had held even a shred of genuine pity for the late illegitimate child and his mistress, and had observed mourning or offered prayers for them, then even if Quan Ce felt displeasure, he would still have owed his father respect. But as it stood, Quan Yi deserved only the assessment he had once made of himself: a father lacking in virtue.

Making a grand vow and severing an inauspicious tie—this was the answer he gave his mother. How could she have known that Quan Yi was no longer at Zhongyue Temple, but had moved to Songyang Academy? As for the reason: while the Taoist temple did not forbid female guests, living with a woman in a house of the Way was, after all, improper.

The matter of the "Wordless Stele" had been thoroughly investigated. The woman was the daughter of a concubine from a wealthy family in Songyang County. Her birth mother had long since passed away. One day, while visiting the mountain, she caught Quan Yi’s eye. He expressed his desire to take her as a concubine, and the mistress of the house, eager to be rid of her, made the decision on her own. She was hastily sent up the mountain; while the dowry money was accepted in full, everything else was kept to the bare minimum. There was no talk of matchmakers, and not even a small sedan chair was provided.

Now, by setting up a separate residence at Songyang Academy, he was essentially playing house. *Heh,* had Quan Yi ever considered that every penny he squandered here was earned through the hard work of the wife he left waiting at home?

Quan Ce’s mind was in turmoil. With the cautionary tale of Princess Taiping before him, he felt only gratitude that his mother and aunt, due to their backgrounds, had never developed spoiled or arrogant temperaments and knew how to maintain their dignity and self-respect. Had it been otherwise, he truly would not have known what to do.

"Eldest Master," a voice called, pulling Quan Ce from his thoughts. It was the old steward, Quan Fu, who had served by Quan Yi’s side. The man was aged, and as he struggled to bow in greeting, Quan Ce reached out to stop him. "Steward, there is no need for such formality. I have come to see my father; please, inform him of my arrival."

"The Master is not in the residence. He has gone for a stroll in the mountains and will not return until after midday." Quan Fu shook his graying head and turned to beckon several servants and maids. "This is the Eldest Master of the house. Why have you not yet served him?"

"No need for trouble. Take me to the study." They were all new faces, and there were too many of them. Impatient, Quan Ce headed straight for the study to wait.

The study was elegant, with a faint scent of chrysanthemums. A portrait of a beautiful woman hung on the wall—it was unclear if she was Quan Yi’s new favorite. He searched around, but the portrait he had painted of his illegitimate younger brother was nowhere to be found.

Looking at the books on the desk, they were all collections of poetry, literary anthologies, and novels—idle reading. That was, at least, acceptable.

Before long, there was a bustle at the door. Quan Yi had returned.

"Your son pays his respects, Father," Quan Ce said, bowing.

Quan Yi swept a cold glance over him, grunted, and nodded. "Wait here. I will speak with you after I change my clothes."

Changing his clothes took a full hour. When he finally entered the study, his face was dark as he asked, "What have you come for?"

"Nothing in particular. I am here on official business in Songyang and have come to pay my respects to you, Father." Quan Ce had changed his mind; a husband like this, if brought back to the household, would not only fail to ease his mother’s burden but would merely invite more trouble and strife, making life even more unbearable. Keeping him at a distance—far away from them—was, in the end, a good thing.

Quan Yi was greatly surprised and stroked his beard uncomfortably. "Oh? Did your mother order you to come?"

"Mother did not order it; I decided on my own," Quan Ce replied with a faint, wry smile. It was hard for him to understand his father’s mind. It was true that being a Prince Consort in the Tang Dynasty held little appeal, but someone like his father was a rarity—posing as a victim for over a decade, blaming his wife for everything, never once stopping to consider if, given his own talents, he would have even managed to attain the fifth-rank title of Prince Consort at all.

In the end, it was nothing more than an insatiable heart.

"Hmm." Quan Yi’s expression shifted slightly as he looked at Quan Ce. "I heard you were caned again. How are your injuries?"

"They have completely healed. Thank you for your concern, Father; your son has been unfilial," Quan Ce replied in a formal, measured tone.

Quan Yi’s lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he stopped himself. He waved his hand. "Well, it is getting late. Preparations have been made in the house; stay for dinner."

"Forgive me, Father, but I have other travel arrangements for this evening. I must take my leave now," Quan Ce said, having no desire to linger.

Quan Yi looked at him, remained silent for a moment, and then nodded. He ordered Quan Fu to see him out. In the end, he never allowed his new concubine to appear. Quan Ce felt a sense of relief; had he been forced to kneel and pay respects to this inexplicable "aunt," it would have been truly awkward.

Leaving Songyang Academy, Quan Ce headed to the Songshan villa. By his count, he had not been there for over a month, missing several of the ten-day meetings he had promised Ruilai.

"Oh, if it isn't Master Quan. A rare guest indeed! Your grand arrival finds me quite unprepared to welcome you properly," Ruilai said, sitting by the window in the pavilion. She held a round fan, waving it listlessly, her face heavy with resentment.

In the wrong, Quan Ce could only smile. He sat down opposite her, unabashed. "How has Ruilai been lately? You look well. If you would only smooth that brow of yours, you would surely be even more beautiful."

"Pah! You rogue," Ruilai spat, rolling her eyes at him. She sat sideways, leaning against the railing and gazing into the distance at the green hills and waters, her eyes filled with longing.

Seeing her left aside, Quan Ce felt a pang of guilt. "If you are truly feeling stifled, you can go out for a walk. Just wear a veil or a hat so you won't be recognized."

Ruilai turned sharply, her large eyes fixed on him. The resentment had vanished, replaced by a look of panicked alarm. Her face drained of color. "You... you don't care about me?"

"I do, I care," Quan Ce said, his heart aching. He quickly added, "Of course I care. You may only go to the mountain villages and towns around Mount Song. You must not go to Songyang County, nor to any temples or crowded places."

Ruilai snorted, her body sagging as she slumped against the railing. "How is your candle business?"

Quan Ce brightened. "The first shipment has returned. I’ve rented a storefront in the Western Market. I felt that plain white candles were a bit monotonous, so I had them try melting them down and mixing in cinnabar and ocher to see if we could create other colors. They are working on it now."

"You certainly have plenty of tricks up your sleeve, though I fear you’re just ruining good goods." Her words were sharp, but the admiration in her eyes could not be hidden. She stood up. "Let's go. I've spent many days learning that 'Song of the General's Decree' you gave me. I’ve choreographed a dance to go with it; I shall perform it for you."

Quan Ce stood as well, then remembered something. "Ruilai, I had my family find a technique for distilling spirits in the countryside of Jiannan Circuit. The wine produced is fragrant and mellow, with a unique flavor. Would you be interested in managing it?"

"Why? Are you hoping I’ll save up a million strings of cash all the sooner?" Ruilai’s smile was sorrowful.

Quan Ce’s heart sank. She was, after all, a woman of great intelligence who had seen the world. After all that had happened, she had likely already pieced together the truth. He shook his head repeatedly, forcing a flippant air. "Of course not. I haven't even won your heart yet; how could I let you go so easily?"

"Pah!"