Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Drunkard’s Mind Is Not on the Wine

“Sir, General Deng has arrived!”

Xu You slowly sat up, rubbing his hands together to warm them. He covered his eyes for a few seconds, and when he opened them again, his fatigue had faded. Muttering, “A life of toil,” he dressed with Autumn’s gentle, attentive assistance, and soon his daytime vigor returned.

When he entered the outer chamber, Deng Tao was just about to bow but was stopped by Xu You, who smiled and said, “We’re old friends; why bother with such formalities? Sit, please!”

Deng Tao smiled at this, but insisted on offering a respectful salute before seating himself in the armchair after Xu You. Yet, his tall, imposing figure still resembled a tower, drawing the eye.

“Curfew will be upon us soon, so I’ll be brief. I invited you here, General Deng, partly to catch up before I leave, and partly because I’d like your help with something.”

Deng Tao’s expression remained unchanged. “Please speak, Sir.”

Early the next morning, Xu You went first to bid farewell to Yuan Jie. Yuan Jie sincerely encouraged him and wished him a safe journey, though worry lingered in his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. Xu You had no wish to complicate matters, but after some thought, he asked, “Master Yuan, what troubles you so?”

Yuan Jie sighed. “You’ve noticed, have you? No harm in telling you, Seventh Son. The Prince of Hengyang is heading to Xuzhou to assume his post. He’ll pass through Jinling and plans to stay at my residence for a few days.”

“Hengyang Prince? Isn’t his fief in Xiangzhou? Why is he going to Xuzhou?”

Xu You recalled past memories: the Emperor of Chu, An Zidao, had twenty-one sons. Besides those who died young, from illness or war, thirteen remained. The eldest was Crown Prince An Xiuming, twenty-nine years old, and the youngest, Prince Shanyang An Xiuyuan, only six. Hengyang Prince An Xiuyuan, An Zidao’s tenth son, should be twenty this year—fond of literature, handsome in bearing, favored by his mother, Consort Yang, who held great affection from the Emperor.

“No wonder you don’t know, Seventh Son; this only happened recently.” Yuan Jie clasped his hands behind his back and walked to the door, his voice weighted with heaviness and resignation. “The prince’s status rises with his mother’s favor, and he’s greatly cherished by the Emperor. Just last year he was granted five thousand households as his fief, and now he’s entrusted with greater authority. He’s been appointed Right General and Governor of Xuzhou, overseeing all military affairs there. Fifteen days ago, he departed Jinling with his retinue. Last night, I unexpectedly received his visiting card—he says he has doubts about Confucian doctrine and wishes to consult me.”

After Chu’s consolidation, the princes were granted large domains, serving as pillars of the realm. Every prince over fifteen was given real power and command, many leading troops, and there was no taboo about private ties with ministers. Thus, many princes governed outside, forming alliances with influential officials and amassing significant power, posing a threat to the Crown Prince. Yet An Xiuyuan was an exception: his mother, Lady Yang, so favored by the Emperor that she drove the Crown Prince’s mother—the Empress herself—to death by jealousy. With this tangled history, An Xiuyuan, rather than distancing himself, chose instead to curry favor with the Crown Prince, fearing future retribution once the prince ascends the throne. He humbled himself, serving the Crown Prince, forging a strong bond.

Moreover, An Xiuyuan had a reputation for talent, often exchanging poetry with Courtier Gu Zhuo and Scribe Yuan Can in Jinling. But to say he would visit Yuan Jie merely for a question about doctrine seemed implausible.

Yuan Jie, a fifth-rank governor, was not the most prominent figure in the Yuan family. What was so extraordinary about him that An Xiuyuan would go out of his way to visit?

Xu You was suspicious but kept a composed face. “Master Yuan, you are a pillar of Confucian scholarship. Even the prince seeks your guidance—shouldn’t that be a cause for celebration rather than worry?”

A hint of sarcasm appeared in Yuan Jie’s eyes. “There are many great scholars at court. Why would the prince come to me for instruction? Gu Zhuo and Yuan Can, both are learned beyond measure. What I fear is only that…”

“The intention lies not in the wine!” Xu You blurted out.

“The intention lies not in the wine…” Yuan Jie finally smiled for the first time that day. “Seventh Son, you always have a clever turn of phrase! Indeed, I fear that his purpose is not what it seems. If so, it would be a most troublesome affair…”

Xu You suddenly recalled a rumor about An Xiuyuan, his brow furrowing as he looked at Yuan Jie’s profile. “Is it because of Third Daughter?”

Yuan Jie looked at him in surprise, as if not expecting him to grasp the implication. After a moment’s silence, he sighed. “Yes. The Yuan family has always been pure and unadorned, possessing neither treasures nor marvels of the world. What could the prince covet? Only a daughter, fair in appearance and gifted… I won’t hide it from you, Seventh Son. Before you proposed, the prince had also privately hinted at the matter, but I refused him…”

Since his rebirth, Xu You had occasionally pondered this question. He never understood why Yuan Jie agreed to the match, for in every aspect he and Yuan Qingqi seemed mismatched, save perhaps for lineage. Yet, among the many noble families of Jiangdong, the Xu clan was not unrivaled; it wouldn’t be difficult to find a better match in character and scholarship.

But thinking on it now, a woman favored by An Xiuyuan would not be easily married into an ordinary family. Only a powerful local clan like the Yixing Xu, with strong roots and military strength, would dare stand up to a minor prince. To marry Yuan’s talented daughter would be a mark of distinction, so the Xu and Yuan families quickly joined forces, sealing a union that has been the subject of much gossip.

“Ha, so I owe my fortune to His Highness the Tenth Prince!”

Yuan Jie understood well what he implied, shaking his head. “Seventh Son, don’t belittle yourself. Compared to the prince, you are already the most suitable husband for Third Daughter. Yet fate is fickle—what can one do?”

Xu You noted Yuan Jie’s clear disdain for An Xiuyuan in his words. Could the rumor be true? He couldn’t help but ask quietly, “His Highness and the Princess of Haiyan…”

Yuan Jie suddenly turned, meeting Xu You’s gaze with severe intensity. “The Sage says: ‘Do not look at what is improper, do not listen to what is improper, do not speak what is improper, do not do what is improper.’ You have read the classics; how can you not know this principle? When Xu You heard of abdication, he detested even the sound and washed his ears in the Ying River. His friend, Nest Father, blamed him for polluting his calf’s mouth. Even the wise avoid hearing of fame and fortune, let alone such foul gossip. This matter involves the inner palace; a gentleman, knowing nothing of it, should leave it be. Have you forgotten the teachings on careful speech in the Analects?”

Xu You’s head spun. The most troublesome thing about dealing with Confucian scholars was not knowing when you’d be drowned in a torrent of doctrine, especially since they always had a host of sages to invoke, making it impossible to argue back. The story Yuan Jie mentioned was about Xu You and Nest Father, ancient recluses. Emperor Yao, having heard of Xu You’s virtue, wanted to abdicate in his favor. Xu You ran away and washed his ears in the Ying River; Nest Father, tending his cattle, was angered by the tale and complained that Xu You’s dirty water would pollute his calf’s mouth.

The latter point was from the Analects, meaning that gentlemen reserve judgment about things they do not know. Yuan Jie was both warning and advising, quoting the classics. If Xu You hadn’t actually read a few books in his previous life, relying only on memories from this one, he would have been lost, dizzy and drowsy!

Xu You grumbled inwardly: if you hadn’t heard the gossip yourself, why react so strongly when I just began to ask? The Sage says, ‘If one cannot straighten oneself, how can one straighten others?’ Old Yuan, you’re something else!

“Master Yuan, your lesson is correct. I have not studied diligently and failed to grasp the Sage’s teachings. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Yuan Jie saw his respectful acceptance and was greatly pleased. “To speak when one should not is a lapse! You have already erred in speaking to me thus; the person who first told you is even more mistaken. Be honest: who did you hear this from?”

Xu You hesitated, recalling the shadow of someone he hadn’t seen in a long time. Once, the two of them traveled together—one literary, one martial—getting along splendidly. That friend resided often in Jinling, knew the Eastern Palace well, and thus heard such palace secrets.

But after that fateful night, he never appeared again, likely unsure how to face Xu You, and for his own part, Xu You did not know how to face him either.

When hatred stained with blood takes over, the days of youthful rides have faded into such darkness.