Chapter Five: The Recluse of Chang Ban Slope
A grief-stricken father hides his protective instincts behind a façade of hospitality and graciousness.
The aged gentleman guided Zhao Yun into the main courtyard of his estate, passing numerous green bamboo trees and goldfish ponds along the way. When the two had arrived at the main house, the old man paused and called out, "Yinchun!"
Moments later, a pretty young handmaid in lavender and pearls emerged from its interiors, and her master instructed her to attend to their honored guest.
"Oh, no, I couldn't possibly burden her like this," Zhao Yun protested, embarrassed at creating extra work for the household.
Before he could string together another sentence, however, the efficient Yinchun had smiled off his flustered words and deftly helped him out of his grimy armor. With the heavy metal suit in hand, she then set off to get it cleaned.
"Com here, Firelight." The lord of the estate now beckoned at the feisty little handmaid who'd matched words with Zhao Yun earlier.
Firelight came forward, and her master began to order of her, "Firelight, take the baby and—" Before he could finish, Zhao Yun quickly interrupted.
"It's all right," the young Tiger General insisted. "I should be the one to take care of Liu Chan; there's no need to trouble her with him."
Firelight made an indignant little "Hn!" from the back of her throat, rolling her eyes at Zhao Yun while demanding impudently, "Oh, so the great General Zhao is scared that I'm unqualified for attending to that rugrat?"
"Firelight, watch your mouth," her master reproved sternly, while Zhao Yun hastened to explain, "No, it's not that at all. Liu Chan is the only son of my lord, Liu Bei the founder of Shu, and as I am an officer of that kingdom, it's my duty to protect the little prince. Please don't be offended, Miss...Firelight, is it?"
After a deep silence, his host reluctantly acquiesced. Turning to Firelight, he said, "In that case, hurry inside and set out some supper for General Zhao."
As one handmaid was setting off, another one returned, for Yinchun now came back, balancing a bronze basin of water and a towel. At his host's benevolent nod, Zhao Yun proceeded to wash his hands and wipe his face clean, turning a little red as he realized how rough and dirty he must look to these genteel and impeccably-dressed civilians.
Thinking of this, he hurriedly scrubbed Liu Chan as well—it wouldn't look right for the Shu kingdom to have its future ruler debut to the public wailing and dirt-streaked.
Afterwards, host and guest continued inside the house and headed toward its dining room, where Firelight was just finishing setting the table. She acknowledged her master's thanks with a courteous movement of her head, then retreated (but not before impertinently wrinkling her nose at Zhao Yun one last time).
The two men sat down at the table, and the gentleman invited the warrior to dine with a graciousness which hinted of parties he'd presided over and guests he'd entertained in years long passed. As the old man poured some hot plum wine for Zhao Yun, he began to apologize about his earlier line of bizarre questioning, despite the latter's protests that there was no need.
"You see," the old man revealed with a sad half-smile, as though he needed to unburden himself of secrets carried for too long, "three years ago, I'm afraid I dealt an unpardonable insult to General Lu Bu. I have been in hiding ever since."
He paused reflectively, musing out loud, "If I'd known that General Lu were no longer a merciless sword hanging above my head...But, after all, we hardly receive any news here in the semi-wilderness."
He then gave a bitter laugh, before uttering these surprising words: "And, perhaps I do deserve this"—with a sweep toward his surroundings—"as punishment for doing what I did to Fengxian."
Zhao Yun's curiosity was piqued as to how this kindly old gentleman could have so insulted Lu Bu that he'd have reason to fear for his life. However, the young warrior was too polite to ask, choosing to focus instead on spooning the sweetened sorghum meal, which substituted for mother's milk, into Liu Chan's mouth.
His host, on the other hand, seemed to recognize the look of subtle curiosity on his face. After picking up a pair of ivory chopsticks and using these to gather some strips of beef, redolent with warm spices, and deposit them into his guest's bowl, the old man proceeded to explain.
"Three years ago, I promised one of my daughters to Lu Bu as wife," he disclosed quietly. "For reasons which I'd rather not remember, I later found that match to be a misalliance, and did my best to delay the wedding. When an angry Lu Bu came to demand his bride, I took my family and fled here to the country."
He stopped, and looked up at Zhao Yun before confiding bitterly, "Until your arrival tonight, General Zhao, I have been living in constant terror that someday, Lu Bu will come and take my little girl away."
"You did the right thing by keeping your daughter away from Lu Bu, sir," Zhao Yun reassured the old man.
He then proceeded to tell his host about the beautiful songstress Diao Chan, and her master Wang Yun's Chain-Link Plot, which had torn father and son apart and ultimately led both men to their ruin.
The old host laughed mirthlessly, before pouring some more wine for Zhao Yun and remarking, "If only this Diao Chan had become involved with Fengxian a year earlier, I would've been able to sleep more soundly at night these last three years."
Seeing that Zhao Yun had finished eating, he stood up and began to call out, "Firelight, hurry and bring some tea for the general."
Here, Zhao Yun stopped him, standing up and declaring, "Sir, I can't trouble you or your household any more than I already have."
"It won't be any trouble at all, General," the old man insisted; however, his guest was equally determined to be as little of a burden as possible, so that when Firelight arrived, her master hesitantly waved her away.
After that handmaid left, the old man stood up as well and began leading his guest to an unoccupied apartment, so that the latter might spend the night there. As the two walked down a hallway, they gradually passed a series of four scrolls, each bearing a delicately-painted portrait of a lovely young girl.
The most exquisite of the four was holding a pale pink lotus flower in her hands, while a second beauty was reading a book of poetry by moonlight. The next girl was painted laughingly chasing after a cloud of red mei(1) blossoms being blown by the wind, and the youngest of the quartet, barely a teenager, stood proudly wielding twin swords in an expert pose.
"Whom might these girls be?" Zhao Yun, quite charmed by the scrolls of four young beauties, asked his host.
The old man coughed and looked away, and would only say, "They're of no importance. Just some paintings I bought from a village peddler several years ago."
Zhao Yun, however, could tell that his host wasn't telling the whole truth here: For one thing, the scrolls were too finely painted, each brush stroke too perfect, to have been done by a mere village peddler. These portraits were the works of a talented professional artist, hired especially to paint the four girls' pictures.
For another, the models' names, written in flowing calligraphy on their scrolls, revealed that all four shared a common family name—Xi.
If Zhao Yun had to make a guess, he'd say that these girls were the daughters of his reclusive host...and one, among them, was to have been wedded to Lu Bu.
But the old man obviously didn't want to admit to this, and Zhao Yun was too polite to press him.
Soon, they reached the back doors of the main house, where Yinchun was already waiting for the two, holding a sunflower-shaped paper lantern to light their path. The group headed for the adjacent courtyard, Yinchun walking a few steps in front to illuminate the way, and they soon reached the apartment where Zhao Yun was to be staying for the night.
The old man bent down in a bow.
"I hope you will find our accommodations suitable, General Zhao," he murmured courteously, as Yinchun opened the doors and pushed aside the peacock-blue silk portieres.
Zhao Yun stood in the doorway, and turned around to thank his host for his hospitality, before retiring for the night at the old man's insistence.
That one walked down the steps, apparently heading for his own courts. A final glance over his shoulders revealed Zhao Yun slowly rocking Liu Chan in his arms while searching for a suitable crib. The old man briefly observed this, before turning and heading away.
He had already made significant progress down the willow-lined stone path, when he suddenly paused. Turning to Yinchun, he asked the young handmaid, "Yinchun, where is Amah?"
"Amah is sewing in Miss Xi Tian's court, my lord," she promptly replied.
Hearing this, the old man nodded to himself, before dismissing Yinchun with a wave of his hand.
"Take the lantern with you. I trust I can still find my way around my own property," he added.
Yinchun nodded and obediently left, taking the sunflower lantern with her.
Her aged master headed off in the opposite direction, before arriving at a courtyard bathed in pale moonlight. He stepped up to the charmingly-designed house set amidst frothy dogwood trees and orchid beds, and rapped twice on the mahogany doors.
These were immediately opened by a stout old woman in her early sixties—the devoted amah of the four Xi girls, who'd raised them ever since their mother had passed away, and whom everybody called by her title in the household. When the old man stepped inside, the startled Amah immediately set her sewing aside and greeted him: "Lord Xi!"
Xi Wen Qing, grown suddenly old under a heavy load of misery in the years since his third daughter's disastrous engagement to Lu Bu, held up one hand to stop Amah from hurrying off to fetch him some tea, and instead asked softly, "Has Miss Xi Tian seen General Zhao yet?"
The girl's nurse promptly replied in the negative, at which Lord Xi exhaled a quiet sigh of relief.
"One thing I've learned from that mishap with Lu Bu," he murmured darkly, "is that I'll never stand for my little girl meeting another warrior again, and have the brute decide she'll make a fine wife or concubine."
His fear was not unfounded, for pretty Xi Tian was now the only child he had left. Her younger sister, Xi Ai, had set out that winter after a band of river pirates who'd made off with the family's heirlooms...and that was the last her father had seen of her. Naturally, the bereaved Lord Xi was now dead-set on protecting his one remaining daughter from the world itself.
"Amah." He beckoned the faithful old nurse closer, and dictated some secret instructions, at which she nodded understandingly.
With this task done, Lord Xi picked up a lantern at the doorway, sweeping a pained look at the bed upon which Xi Tian slept. He then left, as silent and inconspicuous as a shadow in the night.
1. Plum.