Chapter 60: A Poem Drives Away the Butterflies
Early the next morning, Yang Xuan set out for Taiping Lane. Now holding the post of county constable, he was permitted a retinue, so he brought along Old Wang and the Old Rogue.
Zhao Guolin, newly promoted to Commandant of Malefactors, had wished to accompany him, but was detained by a case.
“So many people,” the Old Rogue marveled.
“So much meat,” Old Wang grinned, gazing at the crowd.
Today, Taiping Lane bustled with activity—everyone from gray-haired elders to youths was converging on the grand mansion.
“Make way!” The Old Rogue forged ahead, panting from the effort.
When they finally caught sight of the mansion’s gate, they saw several men in their twenties or thirties standing outside, hands clasped behind their backs, conversing with refined airs.
“Brother Wang, have you got it yet?” one man asked with an easy manner.
The other, presumably Brother Wang, gazed up at the lintel above the door, hands behind his back. “I have it.”
He paced slowly as his companions smiled. After three steps, Brother Wang halted, tapped his forehead with his fingers, and recited with a smile:
“Southern lands…”
He intoned a poem, and his companions joined in chorus.
“They’re really going wild!” Vermilion Bird commented.
“Move aside!”
At that intoxicating moment, someone strode out with a hand on his sword.
The Old Rogue cleared the way: “Wan Nian County law enforcement—everyone move!”
Brother Wang’s mood was spoiled; he turned to Yang Xuan with a cold sneer, “So it’s you, Young Steward Yang. Pity this is the Southern Zhou guesthouse—it’s not under your jurisdiction.”
Yang Xuan had no patience for their nonsense. “Leave within ten breaths.”
Brother Wang erupted in fury, “Wretched cur!”
Yang Xuan replied coolly, “Strike.”
Smack!
The Old Rogue delivered a slap, thoroughly delighted—when had he ever had the chance to slap a noble scion outside a tomb?
He wished he could visit his parents’ graves and recount the story over and over, so they might rejoice in the afterlife.
“Get out.” Yang Xuan drew his saber and tapped its flat side against the lustful young men.
He strode to the door and knocked.
Brother Wang and his friends retreated in disarray. He pointed at Yang Xuan and cursed, “My lord will make him pay!”
The crowd muttered threats.
Someone inside called, “What is it?”
Yang Xuan replied, “Yang Xuan, county constable of Wan Nian County, ordered to protect the princess.”
The door opened a crack, and a man peered carefully at Yang Xuan.
In the rear courtyard.
Nian Ziyue sat in a pavilion, reading.
Her head was slightly lowered, one hand resting on the pages, her long hair at her temples fluttering gently in the breeze. Occasionally, she tilted her head to ponder, and her lively eyes turned vacant.
A retinue of dozens accompanied her, led by Zhang Jing.
The tall Zhang Jing had arranged the mansion’s defenses and approached with long strides.
“Princess.”
Nian Ziyue looked up, scolding lightly, “It’s so noisy outside.”
Zhang Jing’s face was cold, her elegant brows tinged with fierce intent. “Those shameless suitors refuse to disperse. I wonder who in Chang’an oversees such matters—someone ought to drive them away with sticks.”
Nian Ziyue set down her book and stretched her arms around her waist. “Oh! This journey has been exhausting. I just want to wander about leisurely.”
“There are too many people outside.” Zhang Jing, bearing heavy responsibility, dared not relax.
Someone arrived. “An official is at the gate claiming to be the county constable of Wan Nian, sent to protect the princess.”
Nian Ziyue spoke languidly, “Go handle it. If they wish to see me… tell them I’m tired.”
“Yes!”
Zhang Jing turned toward the front courtyard.
After she left, Nian Ziyue wrinkled her nose. “I’ll sneak out later!”
Zhang Jing reached the front yard and saw Yang Xuan with two others. She asked, “Which one is Young Steward Yang?”
“Sounds like ‘young wife’,” Vermilion Bird quipped, sharp-tongued.
Yang Xuan cupped his hands. “I am he.”
Zhang Jing halted three paces away. “The princess has just arrived in Chang’an, yet the outside is crowded to overflowing, with people reciting poetry and singing—utterly indecent. Tell me, Young Steward Yang, is this how guests are received?”
But you are not guests at all!
Yang Xuan swallowed his retort. “Two points—first, I wouldn’t normally come.”
“Good.” Zhang Jing raised her chin slightly.
“Second, before the princess goes out, someone must fetch me. If anything happens to her without me at her side…” Yang Xuan stared at Zhang Jing, “You will bear all responsibility yourselves!”
Zhang Jing hadn’t expected Yang Xuan to forgo waiting in the mansion for a chance to meet the princess. “Naturally.”
Yang Xuan spoke coldly, “Not ‘naturally’. I ask you plainly: can you?”
Zhang Jing nodded. “I can.”
“Then that’s settled.”
Zhang Jing sneered, “But what about those shameless suitors outside? Can you disperse them, Young Steward Yang? Can you?”
Yang Xuan nodded, turned, and said, “Open the gate.”
Zhang Jing warned, “If anyone rushes in, the blame is not ours.”
You talk too much… Yang Xuan barked, “Open the gate!”
Creak!
The gate swung open.
The crowd outside was stunned, then ecstatic.
Brother Wang stepped forward, cupping his hands. “I heard the princess arrived, and was overjoyed. I composed a few poems…”
Most of those present were there for the spectacle or the beauty; as for the few…
“They’re all old snakes!” Vermilion Bird shouted. “Ever heard of magnanimity?”
Yang Xuan shook his head.
“Fang Xing! It’s not a day unless he breaks someone’s leg!” Vermilion Bird declared.
Yang Xuan strode out.
Behind him, Zhang Jing ordered, “Be on guard!”
The escort formed a line, ready to block any drunken troublemakers.
Indeed, a few swaggering fellows carrying wine sacks staggered forward.
Smack!
Yang Xuan slapped one down. “Shameful creatures, go home!”
The remaining drunkards cursed as they advanced.
“Old Wang, don’t break their bones.”
Smack, smack, smack!
A circle of bodies littered the ground.
But Old Wang only struck their faces; blood and teeth spattered everywhere.
Yang Xuan paused, eyeing Brother Wang and his companions.
These were the real trouble.
They had status and some talent; they wouldn’t act rashly, but were as bothersome as flies.
Zhang Jing remarked, “They compose poetry outside day after day—we’re sick of it.”
Brother Wang’s expression remained unchanged.
A true old snake!
Yang Xuan walked over.
Brother Wang and his friends stood their ground, arms folded, sneering.
“With all this effort chasing women, why not serve your country in the army?” Yang Xuan asked.
Brother Wang and his companions were obviously from privileged families—never worried about food, nor about official posts. Years of wealth had corroded their bones with wine and women.
“The Tang Dynasty faces many enemies. The men of Chang’an are eager to serve at the frontier. Yet some idlers spend their days writing decadent poetry that saps the spirit—disgraceful!”
A slap in the face!
Brother Wang and his crew flushed, but most of the crowd was silent, apparently agreeing.
Brother Wang pointed at Yang Xuan. “How dare a mere county constable boast so? Do you think poetry is easy to compose?”
Yang Xuan stepped forward.
“Grapes and fine wine in luminous cups, as I drink, the pipa urges me on horseback.”
A chill frontier spirit swept over them.
Behind, Zhang Jing halted.
Ahead, some of Brother Wang’s companions stepped back in surprise.
Brother Wang’s cheeks quivered as he struggled to maintain composure.
Yang Xuan approached, hand on his sword.
“Drunk on the battlefield, laugh not—how many ever return from war?”
Defeated!
Brother Wang stumbled away, covering his face with his sleeve.
“Drunk on the battlefield, laugh not—how many ever return from war?” Zhang Jing murmured.
“They’ve dispersed!” a guard exclaimed joyfully.
The onlookers were nothing to worry about; the only real headache was these privileged suitors—too risky to beat, too hard to scold.
Zhang Jing watched Yang Xuan depart, then returned to the rear courtyard.
In the pavilion, Nian Ziyue heard footsteps and looked up, worried. “Did you fail to drive them away?”
“They’re all gone.” Zhang Jing entered the pavilion.
Nian Ziyue was surprised. “Are people in Chang’an so easy to reason with?”
“It’s not that Chang’an people are easy to reason with.”
“Then who?”
“That Young Steward Yang—he drove them away with a single poem.”
…
Leaving Taiping Lane, Yang Xuan went straight to the Imperial Academy.
“You’re still attending class?” Bao Dong exclaimed upon seeing him.
“I fear I won’t have time anymore.” Yang Xuan had mainly come to say he’d likely be absent henceforth.
He stood, noticing his classmates were all watching him.
“You’ve become a legend here,” Bao Dong said enviously.
When he reached Ning Yayun’s place, the music still flowed gently.
An Ziyu smiled and said, “Now that you’re a county constable, you’ve finally made it. Come back when you can…”
Women! Can’t they ever speak plainly?
Ning Yayun coughed. “Speak up if you need anything.”
Yang Xuan cupped his hands. “Yes.”
“I’ll see you out.”
An Ziyu walked Yang Xuan to the Academy gate, speaking softly: “Chang’an is divided by Vermilion Bird Avenue—one side Chang’an County, the other Wan Nian County. The Five Families and the aristocrats dream of planting their people in both. Most Academy students avoid serving in the counties, not just because they’re used to freedom… but because those places are whirlpools.”
Yang Xuan replied gratefully, “Thank you, Director, for your guidance.”
An Ziyu twirled the ruler in her hand and smiled. “Yesterday, a student told me something. The Chunyu clan had its eye on the Wan Nian County constable position, but you snatched it away. Also, the matter of Yingyue Tower…”
“Old and new grudges,” Yang Xuan understood.
“Exactly.” An Ziyu tapped his shoulder with the ruler. “Be careful. If anything happens… come back.”
Yang Xuan had expected trouble, but not so soon.
“Someone ate noodles and died.”
Han Ying trembled with fear at the Yang residence.
Yiniang waved away some chicks and sneered, “It’s not my lord’s doing.”
Cao Ying shook his head, signaling the matter wasn’t simple.
“Explain.”
His eyes darkened; if one looked closely, a hint of murder could be seen.
Anyone who obstructed his lord’s ambitions deserved death—even this businesswoman.
Han Ying sniffled, “Business was normal this morning. Not half an hour passed before someone came cursing, claiming a family member had eaten noodles and was vomiting and purging at home… Later, someone actually died.”
Cao Ying squinted at her, missing nothing. “Did you seal off the ingredients?”
Han Ying nodded. “When the second person arrived, I had Wang Shun guard the ingredients, even watched over the water in the jar.”
Cao Ying stood up. “If not, I’d have left you to your fate. But for now, stay here and await my lord’s instructions.”
He turned to Yiniang, “This matter must be handled swiftly—delay and there’ll be no evidence. Watch the house, and watch her. If she doesn’t obey…”
Yiniang nodded, her eyes fierce.
Cao Ying changed clothes and slipped out quietly.