Chapter 85: The Three Rules (Part One)

First Month of the First Year of Qianfeng, on the first day of the second moon: The sons of Wu the Second were executed at Tai'an, their women and children taken as slaves to the mansion of Helan Minzhi. The Emperor further decreed the exile of Wu Hou’s second eldest brother, Wu Yuanshuang, to Zhenzhou. On the fourth day, the Emperor, newly recovered from illness, journeyed to Qufu to offer sacrifices to Confucius, bestowing upon him the posthumous rank of Grand Preceptor. On the ninth day, the Emperor arrived at Bozhou to offer sacrifices to Laozi, conferring upon him the title of Supreme Mysterious Emperor and exempting Bozhou from taxes and grain levies for the year. On the fourteenth day, the Emperor departed Bozhou for the capital, arriving after more than a month’s journey on the eighteenth day of the third moon, where Crown Prince Li Hong led the citizens of the capital in kneeling at the outskirts to welcome him.

Spring came late to the capital. Only in the third month did the blossoms burst forth, grass grew wild, trees put forth new shoots, and flowers bloomed everywhere—a scene of exuberant vitality. Yet for Luo Binwang, the grass in his own backyard seemed far too green, the flowers excessively red, and even the gentle sunshine felt glaring to his eyes. The reason was simple: he was about to be dismissed from office again. In such poor spirits, nothing could please him. If he were alone, it would not matter—he could always return to farming. But his aged mother’s illness grew worse each day, and he could not afford to lack for medicine or care. At the thought of the misfortune looming ahead, Luo Binwang’s heart sank with a dull ache.

The title “Academic Adjudicator of the Eastern Secretariat” sounded impressive, but it was merely an eighth-rank position. Counting salary, grain, and land allotment, it amounted to just three and a half stone of rice per month—converted to copper coins, barely six strings, a meager sum. Yet even this scant salary had become indispensable to Luo Binwang at this moment. Now, it seemed unlikely he would receive it again. Though Luo Binwang was loath to admit it, he could not help feeling a twinge of regret; perhaps if he hadn’t written that satirical poem, none of this would have happened. Yet whenever he recalled his colleagues’ embezzlement and graft, what little regret he felt was quickly drowned out by righteous indignation—when injustice occurs, one must speak out; how could he stand by and do nothing?

“Master, someone has brought an invitation from outside, asking you to attend a gathering. They said you must take a look at this.”

Just as Luo Binwang’s emotions surged uncontrollably, the old servant entered, holding a bright red invitation and bowing respectfully to Luo Binwang, who sat at the stone table in the backyard, reporting carefully.

“Go send them word that I am unwell and will arrange another time.”

Though Luo Binwang’s official rank was humble, his literary fame was considerable. Fellow poets often invited him for gatherings, and strangers would sometimes call upon him out of admiration. Luo Binwang had long grown accustomed to such visits. But today, with his mood so foul, he had no mind for revelry. Without even glancing at the invitation, he waved his hand dismissively and declined.

“Master, the man left the invitation and departed, but said that if you saw the signature on the card, you would not refuse. What do you say to that?” The old servant hesitated, seeing Luo Binwang’s dark expression, but did not leave, offering a cautious explanation.

“Oh?” Luo Binwang, though irritable, was intrigued by these words. He made no further protest, but grunted, reached out, and took the invitation from the servant’s hands, flipping it open for a quick glance. When his gaze fell on the signature, his face stiffened—Wang Sanlang. The signature belonged to the very youth who had once extended a helping hand in Luo Binwang’s darkest days. Though they had met only once the previous year, Luo Binwang had never forgotten that elegant young man. Over the past year, he had made many discreet inquiries among his friends in the capital, hoping to repay the favor, but no one seemed to know the youth’s origins. This left Luo Binwang with a lingering sense of indebtedness, a debt with no way to repay. He had never expected the youth to reappear at such a moment, and now he could not say whether he felt more anxious or excited.

“Uncle Mo, how much money do we have left at home?” After a moment’s contemplation, Luo Binwang looked up, his expression complicated as he asked the old servant.

“Master, I just bought medicine for the mistress yesterday. Now, there is only a string and a half left. Do you have something you wish to use it for?” Old Mo, who managed the household accounts, was well aware of their meager finances. Hearing that Luo Binwang might need money, he dared not neglect the matter and quickly explained.

“No need for questions—just wrap it all up. You will accompany me to the banquet.” Hearing that so little remained in the household, Luo Binwang’s face darkened, but he did not hesitate long, issuing his instructions in a steady voice.

“But Master, last month's salary is nearly gone. If we do not save some for rice…” The old servant became anxious as soon as he heard that all their remaining money was to be brought.

“Very well, take only one string, then.” Luo Binwang shook his head helplessly, sighed deeply, and left the matter at that, heading to his bedchamber. The old servant, seeing this, dared not protest further and went off to wrap the string of coins, his face full of woe.

A year had passed, but the Hongyun Inn remained just as old and worn, even the waiter unchanged, busy as ever in the main hall. But Luo Binwang, returning once more, felt far more desolate than before—he had been destitute then, but at least the imperial examination gave him hope for the future. Now, with dismissal all but certain, hope was gone—leaving only anxiety and gloom.

“Well, if it isn’t Master Luo! An honored guest indeed! The magpies were chattering all morning—I knew good things were coming. It must be your arrival! Please, come in, sir. Whatever you need, just say the word—I’ll see to it myself…” The loquacious waiter recognized Luo Binwang as soon as he stood at the entrance, and hurried over, effusive in his welcome for the famous scholar.

“A year and more has passed, yet you’re as robust as ever. Business must be thriving?” Luo Binwang, ever grateful, had not forgotten how much help the waiter had given him before. Despite his mood, he greeted the young man with a smile.

“Very good indeed! To tell the truth, Master Luo, the inn has changed hands. Business is even better now, and the new owner says we’re expanding next year—double the size at least! I’ll benefit too—got to have hope for the future, right? Ah, but I’m rambling—seeing you, I can’t help but chat. I almost forgot the boss’s instructions! Please, follow me—he’s waiting for you in the rear courtyard.” The waiter, after his long-winded speech, suddenly remembered his orders and hurried to lead Luo Binwang inside.

“A new owner? Brother, is this new owner perhaps Wang Sanlang?” Luo Binwang, listening with a smile, grew alert at the mention of the new owner and, recalling that the invitation had specified the Hongyun Inn but not the room, quickly pressed for clarification.

“Wang Sanlang? No, you must be mistaken. The new owner is surnamed Deng, given name Cheng. He rarely comes by. Today’s the first time he’s here for a guest—Master Luo, no less! I’m frankly puzzled…” The waiter, having long forgotten Wang Sanlang, looked blankly at Luo Binwang and then launched into a lengthy explanation.

“Deng Cheng? Could that be his real name?” Luo Binwang ignored the waiter’s babble, frowning in doubt.

“What? Real name? Master Luo, what do you mean?” The waiter, confused, stopped mid-sentence and asked.

“It’s nothing. Please, lead the way.” Luo Binwang was eager to ascertain Wang Sanlang’s identity and had no wish to be delayed by the waiter’s chatter. He smiled, cupped his hands, and made his request.

“Certainly, sir. Please this way.” Though talkative, the waiter dared not delay his master’s business and, with a grin, gestured for Luo Binwang and his servant to follow. They passed through several courtyards to the rear, but at the entrance, several plainclothes men stepped out, barring the waiter and allowing only Luo Binwang to enter.

This was hardly hospitable, but Luo Binwang, intent on discovering Wang Sanlang’s identity, did not mind. After a few words to his servant, he took the small bundle from the old man’s hands and strode into the courtyard, guided by one of the men to the main chamber. When the man stood aside, Luo Binwang entered calmly, only to find a youth in a prince's robe waiting with a gentle smile. Luo Binwang was stunned.

“Sanlang? No—are you, are you His Highness Prince Zhou?”

Luo Binwang had a good memory. Though a year had passed, he recognized at once the mysterious Wang Sanlang. But seeing the prince’s robe, he hesitated—though he served in the court, his rank was too low even to attend or enter the palace, and he would not know the princes by sight. Still, he knew their ages, and seeing the youth’s slight frame, he realized at once that this was Prince Li Xian, though he could not be wholly certain.

“I am indeed Li Xian. Master Luo, it has been more than a year—how have you been since?” Li Xian, having come to seek Luo Binwang on urgent business, did not conceal his identity but greeted him with a gentle nod. Yet to his surprise, Luo Binwang did not rush forward to salute him; instead, his face darkened, and he took two steps back…