Chapter Forty-One: Jealousy and Rivalry (Part Two)

In Yongfeng Lane, Luoyang, at the Treading Song Pavilion, the most exquisite private room adorned with Taihu stones, the banquet proceeded as usual, with several new guests in attendance. Wu Yanxiu and Song Zhihuan had come at Wu Youji’s invitation, while Lotus sat beside Quan Ce, attending to him with meticulous care.

The singing and dancing girls performed with vigor, spinning and leaping, their energy radiating throughout the room. Yet, the guests’ interactions remained cold; no matter how Wu Youji and his wife tried to enliven the atmosphere with laughter and conversation, Wu Yanxiu and Quan Ce’s old grievances remained unresolved, and new animosities had arisen. Cui Rong and Song Zhihuan, burdened by longstanding resentment, ignored each other entirely.

After several rounds of wine, Wu Youji and his wife abandoned their efforts to mediate. Fortunately, such scenes were not uncommon, and each turned to their respective companions. The banquet, on the surface, seemed harmonious.

During the meal, Lady Wu inquired about Quan Ce’s intentions for Lotus, curious how he planned to settle her future. Everyone paused, setting aside their cups and chopsticks, intrigued; Lotus herself was so anxious she gripped her garment tightly.

Quan Ce pondered for a moment, then replied with utmost seriousness, “Matters of love in this world—many begin well, but few end thus. Often, prolonged companionship breeds resentment; sometimes, deficiencies lead to discord. The solution lies in complementing each other’s strengths, finding contentment within.” His words left the guests astonished, and Lotus’s face drained of color.

He continued, “Uncle and Aunt have a deep marital bond, enviable to all. I am unworthy, but wish to emulate their example. I do not want to cage Lotus like a gilded canary; I wish for her to have confidence, to pursue her own endeavors, and hope that one day, I may be proud of her.”

As his words ended, Lotus suddenly threw herself onto his back, arms clasped tightly around him, nearly suffocating him. Wu Youji clapped and laughed heartily, raising his cup, “You have won my heart, young man! A truly great man should carve out a world for the one he loves. Come, everyone, let us drink!”

Wu Yanxiu, dissatisfied, pursed his lips, but refrained from speaking since his aunt was present, and merely drank in silence.

Lady Wu left her seat and came to sit beside Quan Ce, gently stroking Lotus’s back. “You are fortunate. Young man here resembles his uncle—appearing considerate, but in truth shirking responsibility. You must learn to assert yourself.”

Lotus, embarrassed, released her hold, troubled. “I have no talents beyond song and dance, and my experience is limited to the brothels and pleasure boats. I fear I may tarnish my lord’s reputation.”

Quan Ce, undaunted, thick-skinned, sought support. “As long as it is within the bounds of propriety, what harm is there? Aunt, my purse is scant; I must ask for your generous assistance.”

Lady Wu waved him away, “Go on, go on! I will discuss matters with Lotus myself.”

Quan Ce, holding his wine cup, left to squeeze in with Cui Rong. Song Zhihuan invited him to drink, deliberately ignoring Cui Rong. Quan Ce, helpless, drank with Song first, then turned to toast Cui Rong, feeling uncomfortable caught between them.

Wu Yanxiu, ill at ease in such company, reached his limit, drank three cups in succession, then rose, “Uncle, I have urgent matters and cannot stay tonight. Farewell, everyone.” He approached Quan Ce, towering over him, “You’ve won another round, but you won’t always win. I won’t allow it.”

His tone was venomous, disregarding even Wu Youji’s presence, and he strode out, making the wooden floor creak loudly.

Wu Youji’s eyes grew distant; he rubbed his fingers, then resumed his genial smile. “Wife, how did your discussion go? If it’s suitable, let me review it. I’m more familiar with these matters of the brothel than you.”

“I have some ideas myself,” Quan Ce said, thinking that future industries could serve as inspiration.

Thus, the group launched into an animated discussion about opening a brothel. Cui Rong and Song Zhihuan temporarily forgot their squabbles, joining the venture in high spirits. Song Zhihuan, from generations of officials, and Cui Rong, scion of a noble house, were both wealthy, and all present contributed generously. The yet-to-be-opened ‘Valley of Forgetfulness’ already had initial investments totaling over a hundred thousand strings of cash.

With the moon full overhead, the banquet dispersed. Quan Ce was first to exit, when suddenly, a cold star flashed towards him—a flying dagger struck his abdomen, blood spurted, and he collapsed in a pool of crimson.

“My lord!” Lotus’s anguished cry echoed far into the night.

The tale of the historian who won a beauty had yet to spread, when the disaster of a femme fatale became the talk of the city.

Quan Ce was gravely wounded in the assassination; though not fatal, he would need half a month’s bed rest and could not serve at court. His father, Deputy Commander Quan Yi, petitioned on his behalf to resign as Attendant-in-Charge. News spread swiftly through Luoyang.

Princess Gao’an, who had already begun her return to Chang’an, heard the news and turned back to Luoyang to visit. Lord Liang, Xue Huaiyi; Magistrate Wei Yuanzhong; General Zheng Chong of the Imperial Guard, and many others came to call.

Hanlin Scholar Cui Rong submitted a memorial impeaching Wu Yanxiu, his words fierce, accusing him of being vindictive and reckless, wielding weapons in the capital, unworthy of an imperial subject.

Cui Rong’s friends, Academy Scholar Du Shiyan and Official Li Qiao, echoed his sentiments. Wu Chengsi and his son’s prominence attracted envy; many seized the opportunity to exert pressure, causing a stir at court.

At Quan Ce’s house, Lotus’s situation was pitiable. Princess Yiyang blamed her, forbidding her to attend to Quan Ce. Steward Quan Xiang arranged a place for her, supplying her needs at a reduced standard, never neglecting her, but the servants kept their distance, and Lotus, filled with self-reproach, remained secluded.

Wu Youji and his wife came to visit. Lady Wu, finding Lotus absent, inquired and learned the truth, then sought her out. She found Lotus like a wilted flower, dazed, pale, and thin, dressed in plain white. Lady Wu hurried forward and grasped her hand, “What has happened?”

Lotus quickly withdrew her hand, her voice hoarse, tears streaming like rain. “I am ill-fated, bringing misfortune to my parents and now to my lord.”

“Do not speak nonsense! Is the young master such a person? Would he blame you unjustly? He will recover, but seeing you like this, how can he rest easy? Why did you enter the Quan family? Though he speaks little, he has risked offending the powerful for your sake, planned for your future, shown such devotion. All he asks is harmony with you; why care what others say? Your behavior places him in a difficult position. People claim men are heartless, but I see a heartless woman here.” Lady Wu scolded furiously, slapping the bedside in anger.

Lotus, chastened, quickly yielded, begging Lady Wu to take her to care for her lord. Lady Wu sighed, “In your current state, you should look after yourself first.”

Lotus realized her conduct had been improper and feared it had already drawn the attention of the household. She was filled with regret.

At Lijing Gate, Hou Sizhi held his paperwork, smiling, “So you’ve grown capable. If you didn’t track the assassin, how can you assert he has nothing to do with Wu Yanxiu?”

The black-clad official, flustered, replied, “Sir, my reasoning is that if Wu Yanxiu sent the assassin, he would be eager for news. I watched his residence for days, but saw no movement. Therefore, therefore—I was hasty. I will amend my report.”

“No need to change it. If you keep altering the report, aren’t you tired? I get tired for you.” Hou Sizhi’s smile widened. “Traitorous wretch, take him away and beat him to death.”

In the Palace of Primordial Beginning, Longevity Hall, Empress Wu’s desk bore two secret dossiers.

The Plum Blossom Guards reported, “...The assassin’s movements remain untracked. His intent was not to kill, but to wound... Wu Yanxiu’s conduct showed no abnormality, so the assassin was probably not sent by him...”

Lijing Gate reported, “...The assassin struck suddenly, and though he missed in the dark, still hit Quan Ce’s vital spot—clearly a master. Lijing Gate spies found nothing. Wu Yanxiu’s behavior was suspiciously repetitive, seemingly deliberate. Thus, this matter is likely related to him...”

Soon after, Shangguan Wan’er came at night to Princess Yiyang’s residence to deliver an imperial decree, approving Quan Ce’s resignation as Attendant-in-Charge, appointing him solely as Hanlin Scholar, and bestowing him with a hundred thousand cash coins, a thousand bolts of silk, and a cart of rare medicines, including ginseng and snow lotus.

Wu Chengsi was summoned to the palace; upon his return, his face was ashen. Without a word, he ordered several strong men to pin Wu Yanxiu down and personally administered forty strokes with the rod.

Wu Yanxiu gritted his teeth, in agony, mouth clamped shut, refusing to utter a sound, cursing inwardly, “Damn it, which filthy slave dared frame me? If I find out, I’ll wipe out your whole family.”

Outside Quan Ce’s sickroom, Juedi sat as usual on the ground, guarding. Suddenly, his nose itched, and he let out a tremendous sneeze.