Chapter Ninety-Eight: Apricot Blossoms in February

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By February, in the midst of the Zhongqiu solar term, the red apricot blossoms were in full bloom. February was also called the Apricot Month, the very time when grasses grew tall and orioles sang, the scenery most enchanting.

With leisure at hand, Quan Ce took his family on an outing. Since the Tai Chu Palace was located to the north of the city and had a royal forbidden garden, nobles and wealthy clans often enjoyed strolling by the north gate. But Quan Ce thought otherwise. Though the north gate offered many sights, the marks of human axe and chisel were too heavy, and with the constant flow of people, all natural wildness was lost. Instead, he wished to go to the southwestern outskirts of Luo City, by the Yi River. There lay rustic farmlands, small bridges, low hills with verdant grass, emerald waters, reed wetlands, and wild birds fluttering about—imbued with a graceful charm.

The servants spread out thick Persian carpets, arranged seats and tables. Skilled maids laid out fruits and refreshments, like busy bees gathering from the surroundings, collecting brightly colored flowers to decorate the area. Kitchen staff busied themselves setting up stoves, catching wild chickens, fishing live fish, preparing a feast in the open air—engaged in cheerful toil.

Princess Yiyang and Fu Qu, with their personal maids, coaxed the little siblings Quan Zhu and Quan Luo to fly kites together. The brightly colored kites caught Quan Luo’s eye. Clasping her hands, she reached out to take one. Fu Qu had come prepared, handing her a large scarlet kite shaped in a grotesque form.

“Giggling,” Quan Luo was content, holding it in hand. But after a while, she pouted, finding the kite ugly and needing fixing. Her little hands tugged and tore vigorously in several places.

Fu Qu smiled quietly, already expecting this. She glanced at the kite, now tattered from the little sister’s rough treatment, then cast her eyes toward a distant small bridge. Leaning by the bridge rail stood a tall, elegant figure—her husband—busily painting at an easel.

Quan Zhu grinned and smiled at his sister, cautiously holding his swallow-shaped kite. “Mother, sister-in-law, will my kite fly? What if it falls and hurts itself?”

“If you release it with care, it will fly very high,” Princess Yiyang said with a gentle smile.

But Quan Zhu, hearing this, grew even more worried, clutching his kite to his chest. “If it flies higher, won’t it fall harder?”

Princess Yiyang was momentarily taken aback. Fu Qu chuckled softly, producing a cotton handkerchief to wipe the sweat from Quan Zhu’s forehead, soothing him: “Er Lang is kind-hearted and much beloved… Do not worry. Heaven cherishes life and is compassionate to all things. When the kite flies up and sways gently, it also descends softly. The higher you send it, the farther it drifts, allowing others to see it, just like Er Lang cherishes it.”

Quan Zhu listened, half understanding but feeling it made sense. He nodded determinedly, resolved to fly the kite as high as possible.

“Fly, fly!” Quan Luo paid no mind to all this. In her nurse’s arms, she twisted and wriggled, wanting to get down and snatch her brother’s kite. But Quan Zhu knew her temper well and lifted his kite high. “Chi Chi, stay here and don’t move. I’ll fly it high first, then I’ll give it to you to fly.”

Saying this, he ran with the kite held aloft, accompanied by a young attendant. The gentle breeze caught the kite, sending it soaring higher and higher. When the pulling became a struggle, Quan Zhu kept his promise and returned with the attendant to Quan Luo. “Chi Chi, now you can fly it.”

Nearby, a maid handed a small silver scissors, holding Quan Luo’s hand by the string. When she released her grip, Quan Luo decisively snipped the line. The swallow kite, now a mere speck on the horizon, fluttered erratically west and east, and soon disappeared from sight.

“Giggling, Er Ge, fly, fly more!” Quan Luo was delighted, clinging to Quan Zhu, pestering him affectionately.

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Quan Zhu watched his kite drift away, then laughed with his sister’s playful fuss. “Chi Chi, wait, big brother will fly it for you now.”

“Chi Chi, come here to sister-in-law, sister-in-law will fly it high for you!” Fu Qu smiled warmly, beckoning the little sister. Quan Luo’s eyes lit up, bursting into laughter, hurrying over on her short legs to her sister-in-law.

Quan Ce folded his arms, watching them, his smile slowly fading. Princess Yiyang, wearing a thin purple cloak, strolled leisurely across the meadow. She stopped beneath an apricot tree, tilting her head up to gaze at the blossoms blazing scarlet on the branches. Yet the limbs were dull yellow, dry and withered, the stark contrast painfully obvious.

Princess Yiyang caressed the weathered, prickly branch, her heart heavy with sorrow.

“Mother,” Quan Ce called gently, plucking a blooming apricot flower and slowly tucking it beside her temple. “This looks quite beautiful as well.”

Princess Yiyang forced a smile and chided, “Always meddling. After all your fussing, what have you been painting?”

Quan Ce grinned widely, rushing back to the small bridge to retrieve his painting, presenting it like a prized treasure. “Mother, look.”

Despite the tangled worries in her heart, Princess Yiyang could not help but cover her mouth to chuckle softly upon seeing her eldest son’s work. She poked him playfully. “You’re the eldest brother, yet you mock your little sister like this. Be careful—when she grows up, she won’t spare you.”

“Heh heh, well, she’s still little. It’ll be three to five years before she grows up. Then we’ll see if she dares to get back at me,” Quan Ce said, shaking his head with pride.

In the painting was Quan Luo, though not a realistic portrait but an imaginative one: wearing the county princess’s golden crown, wielding a scepter with a spirited air, her chubby cheeks full of mischievous cunning. Beneath her was a lively little lamb she was riding.

Beside the image were some words. From the opening line—“This mountain I have opened”—one could tell this talented eldest brother harbored no good intentions.

On the second day of the second lunar month, in the evening, the literary gathering hosted by Shangguan Wan’er took place as scheduled. The venue was elegant, chosen in a peony garden within the Western Garden.

The renowned Shangguan, in charge of imperial documents, held the literary gathering, and many responded to her call. Scholars and literati came and went in crowds. The vast peony garden buzzed with activity, so crowded it was hard to breathe. Without enough seats, some sat on the ground, others stood by the path, craning their necks to watch, unwilling to leave even as mere onlookers.

Quan Ce need not worry about a seat. Upon arrival, a servant led him to the main venue’s Feng Pavilion—a spacious structure capable of holding over a hundred people. After sitting, he glanced around and noticed most attendees were court colleagues, with only a few dressed in plain white robes—scholars here to take the imperial examinations. The gathering had thus somewhat changed its character.

Shangguan Wan’er was the undeniable star of the event. People composed poems and couplets, chatted about all manner of topics, laughed and joked, all revolving around her. Among the guests was a young scholar named Cui Shi, from the fourth branch of the Bo Ling Cui family. He was talented and often sought to please and flatter. Shangguan Wan’er admired him greatly and spoke many words of praise—words that surely aided his path in the imperial exams.

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Quan Ce spoke twice but his performance was average. Afterwards, he remained silent, not wishing to overshadow others. Out of boredom, he began observing those around him, finding it rather interesting.

Beside him sat a scholar in his thirties, dressed plainly, likely from a wealthy commoner family. He bore a calm temperament and a gentle smile, avoiding the spotlight. Cui Shi’s flattery had drawn envy and resentment from some scholars, but this man remained composed and steady.

“Greetings, brother,” Quan Ce couldn’t help but initiate conversation.

“Greetings, Inspector Quan,” the man replied, recognizing him. Quan Ce’s interest grew. After some talk, he learned this man was named Ge Hui, a scholar from Songyang Academy. They had met before at a distance. Ge Hui was a local of the Eastern Capital, born to a merchant family with considerable wealth. In childhood, he had spent five years in a temple observing mourning for his grandmother, cultivating a detached nature. Yet this also had side effects—he had little interest in women. His parents tried repeatedly, but he remained indifferent. Fortunately, as neither the eldest nor the legitimate son among many brothers, his parents left him to his own devices.

“Not to hide anything from you, Brother Ge, I also have some understanding of commerce. May I ask what business your family runs?” Quan Ce admired him and asked earnestly.

“I hope you won’t laugh, Inspector Quan. My family operates a brothel,” Ge Hui said calmly and matter-of-factly.

Quan Ce choked back a laugh. To hold Ge Hui in such high regard, yet his family ran a brothel and he managed to avoid womanly distractions—it truly was legendary. “I imagine, Brother Ge, you have a refined appreciation for the arts?”

“Fair enough. I lack talent. I know nothing of poetry or lyrics, but I have some interest in musical instruments—especially various types of huqin. I’ve taken apart many myself. My father often scolds me as a spendthrift,” Ge Hui spoke at length, clearly not lacking in eloquence. His composed demeanor was the result of cultivation.

Hearing this, Quan Ce felt even closer to him. “Musical instruments? Haha, I happen to have a matter related to music. After your exam, I’ll trouble you.”

“No need for trouble,” Ge Hui said with scholarly grace. “I have long admired your talents, Inspector Quan. Feel free to speak your mind. Taking the exam is just a pastime. If there’s work to do, all the better.”

Quan Ce laughed heartily in response.