Yuan Gonglu

With a heavy heart, even the most splendid banquet lost its flavor. In the main hall, toasts were exchanged and the birthday feast had just begun. Luan Yi gazed across the gaps between the dancing maidens in the center of the hall, his eyes fixed on Diao Chan, yet she never once glanced his way, as though he did not exist within these grand walls.

As Cao Cao and Yuan Shao chatted with Luan Yi, they noticed his distracted air and sensed he was troubled. With thoughtful understanding, they refrained from disturbing him, allowing him a moment of quiet contemplation.

After a short while, Luan Yi saw Diao Chan rise gracefully from her seat and walk toward the exit. He set down his goblet and hurried after her, knowing that now, more than ever, he had to say something to her. Yet what, exactly, he did not know. Still, he felt compelled to speak—to apologize, perhaps—for that night, for yesterday, for the many days he had spent in avoidance over these months. He had wronged her.

Stepping outside, his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of Diao Chan’s slender figure slipping past the corner of the left wing. He strode after her. Not far beyond, he came upon a garden. Though autumn had withered the plants, the many bare trees hinted at the lush greenery that must have filled the place in summer. Artificial hills encircled the area, pavilions interlaced—a truly delightful spot.

He glanced around, searching, but Diao Chan was nowhere to be seen. Disappointment flooded his face. Hands clasped behind his back, he gazed up at the full moon and sighed inwardly: he had not realized that he had wounded her heart so deeply that she would not even show herself to him now.

He had come in haste, but returned slowly. Only after losing what one once had does regret take hold—such was his state now.

Just as Luan Yi left the rear garden, a dainty face suddenly peeked out from behind the artificial hill. Upon closer look, it was Diao Chan’s maid. She smiled, then ducked back behind the rocks and said to Diao Chan, “That heartless man is a simpleton. How could he not think to look behind the rocks?”

Diao Chan feigned anger. “Say that about my Luan again and see how I deal with you! If I send you off to Plum Blossom Courtyard, don’t blame me.”

Feigning terror, the maid replied, “I know my mistake. I’ll never speak ill of your Luan again!”

A flush crept across Diao Chan’s cheeks. “What do you mean, my Luan?”

“Miss, you come out, and he follows straight after. Isn’t it obvious? He—” The maid drew out her words mischievously, “has... feelings... for you!”

“Nonsense!” Diao Chan covered her face in embarrassment. Yet, earlier in the hall, though she avoided meeting Luan Yi’s gaze, she had felt his eyes on her, making her heart pound. Still, she insisted, “But Mr. Ziqi hasn’t said anything to me!”

“He doesn’t need to! It’s written all over his face.” The maid giggled. “Just look how anxious he was when he couldn’t find you. Oh, it was too funny.” Then, turning serious, she continued, “Besides, isn’t the master planning to confront him today? When the master steps in, I don’t believe he’ll dare refuse to marry you.”

“Enough with your nonsense!” Diao Chan blushed even more furiously.

Not long after Luan Yi resumed his seat in the hall, Diao Chan returned as well. At the very moment she entered, she subconsciously glanced at Luan Yi.

That single glance calmed the turmoil within him. Suddenly, he felt—she did not hate him.

His spirits lifted, he raised his cup and joined Cao Cao and Yuan Shao in a lively toast. “Come, Brother Mengde, Brother Benchu! In this vast world, let us drink deeply to our fated meeting.”

“Splendid!”

As the wine flowed and the rounds of toasting increased, the hall grew ever more raucous. Some, tipsy with drink, wandered about, their gazes unfocused, offering toasts here and there.

The music reached its zenith—bells and drums resounding, zithers and lutes entwined, harmonious and refined. Luan Yi even found himself thinking that the music of ancient times surpassed the symphonies of later ages, not merely a delight to the ear, but a transcendence of the soul, leaving one utterly relaxed, every hair standing on end in pleasure.

Just as everyone was enjoying themselves, an unpleasant voice suddenly interrupted, “Ah… I heard that Miss Diao Chan recently performed at the Plum Blossom Courtyard and astonished the crowd. Alas, I rarely visit such places and have never had the pleasure… Today, with everyone in high spirits, why doesn’t the young lady sing us a tune and let us be graced by her voice?”

Each word was meticulously enunciated, emphasizing the “Plum Blossom Courtyard” and its reputation as a house of ill repute, as if afraid others would not know Diao Chan had sung in a brothel. The derision was plain. Moreover, though Diao Chan was the adopted daughter of Wang Yun, she was a guest at the Yuan family’s birthday celebration. To demand that a guest perform was a gross slight. Did they take her for a mere songstress? Even if she had indeed sung there, it had been for Luan Yi’s sake.

Luan Yi’s anger flared; he longed to rise and berate the man. Yet reason told him that none in attendance were ordinary folk—each had a powerful background. To offend the wrong person would bring harm not only to himself, but to Diao Chan as well. “Brother Mengde, who is that?”

Yuan Shao turned, his face apologetic. “That is my younger brother, Yuan Shu, courtesy name Gonglu. Please forgive his rudeness.”

Cao Cao was likewise displeased. “How could Yuan Gonglu act so, casting propriety aside and humiliating Zhonglang Wang so publicly!”

Yuan Shao sighed, helpless. “Alas, that’s his temperament.”

Yuan Shu’s cronies joined in, jeering, “Yes, let Miss Diao Chan sing a song!”

At this, Wang Yun’s smile vanished. To humiliate Diao Chan in such a setting was a slap to his face. He wished to lash out in anger, but today was Yuan Kui’s birthday, and the Yuan family had shown his own clan great favor; he could not make a scene. Coldly, he replied, “In my opinion, it’s best to let the matter rest.”

From the seat of honor, Yuan Feng and Yuan Kui reprimanded Yuan Shu. “Gonglu, that’s enough mischief.”

“How is this mischief?” Yuan Shu retorted. “Back then, the Yuan family did the Wang family a great favor. Now, not even asking for repayment, but only that their adopted daughter sings a tune—is that so difficult? Does Zhonglang Wang not fear the world will call him ungrateful?”

“You—” Wang Yun was so incensed he almost sputtered, but could not find the words to argue.

Reputation meant everything to these men. Luan Yi had once heard a story: in a village, a family’s child was accused by the villagers of stealing a neighbor’s chicken. The parents, mortified yet convinced of their child’s innocence, disemboweled the child before all to prove the truth, only to find a chicken feather inside. Overcome with shame, the couple took their own lives on the spot.

If even peasants so cherished their good name, how much more so must Wang Yun, famed throughout the land? Thus, to preserve his reputation, he could only endure Diao Chan’s humiliation.

As Wang Yun brooded, he heard Zhang Rang join in the clamor, “I too would like to hear Miss Diao Chan sing.” Of all present, no one wished more than he to see Wang Yun humiliated.

Though the eunuch faction and the literati were often at odds, they never showed it openly. Moreover, as Chief Eunuch and a favorite of the Emperor, Zhang Rang’s words weighed heavily—even Yuan Kui dared not gainsay him. Wang Yun could only bow his head in frustration, while Diao Chan could do nothing but feel mortified and indignant.

Just as the joyous banquet was mired in awkwardness, Luan Yi suddenly rose. Bowing deeply to Yuan Kui, he toasted, “On the occasion of Lord Yuan’s birthday, I wish you happiness as vast as the Eastern Sea and longevity as enduring as the southern mountains.”

The entire assembly was taken aback—did Luan Yi truly dare to disrupt Zhang Rang and Yuan Shu’s scheme? Yuan Shu looked him up and down with displeasure. “So it’s Luan Ziqi! Well, save your birthday wishes for later. We're all waiting to hear Miss Diao Chan play.”

Luan Yi smiled at Yuan Shu, silently cursing him a thousand times over. “I do not mean to deny everyone the pleasure of hearing music. But, having listened to Miss Diao Chan’s melodies, I found them rather trite, mere commonplace tunes unworthy of this grand feast. I myself have some little skill in music, and dare say I might surpass Miss Diao Chan by a margin. Therefore, if permitted, I would like to offer a song in honor of Lord Yuan’s birthday, and beg your indulgence.” With that, he bowed deeply, his manner sincere.

His intervention was perfectly timed. Yuan Kui, at a loss for a way to spare Wang Yun embarrassment, now seized upon Luan Yi’s self-recommendation as a pretext to excuse Diao Chan from performing. “Very well, Ziqi, please play a tune.”

With the host’s decision both appropriate and just, the matter was settled. Luan Yi had already claimed that sparing Diao Chan was for the guests’ benefit, lest her music offend their ears. This only raised the stakes—if so, then surely the song he would now perform must be far more exquisite.

Everyone present had read Luan Yi’s writings and admired them; his poetry, too, was renowned. But his singing? None had ever heard it.

“Wait!” Yuan Shu suddenly interjected. “Luan Ziqi! If your performance fails to please and offends our ears, what then?”

“Hmm?” Luan Yi was taken aback, but answered solemnly, “Whatever you say, Young Master Yuan, so shall it be.”

“Hahaha…” Yuan Shu burst into laughter. “Then if your music offends, you shall be stripped and left to shiver in the street for three days—how about that?”

Yuan Kui’s beard trembled with rage, his teeth grinding, but he could not show his anger before the guests. Inwardly he fumed: just as things had been smoothed over, this whelp had to stir up trouble with such a ridiculous wager. To be stripped naked and displayed in the street at Mid-Autumn—being cold was one thing, but the humiliation was far worse. “Gonglu, enough nonsense. Music is meant to entertain, not to punish.”

Yuan Shu ignored him, fixing his gaze on Luan Yi. “What’s the matter? Does our little prodigy not dare to accept the wager?”