A Pawn's Passage

Zhang Yuelu submitted the report to the Golden Tower Council via a rapid post talisman and awaited their response.

Although Qi Xuansu had not yet been officially reinstated because it was pending the Golden Tower Council’s reply, he was no longer strictly confined to the Taiping Inn or the Yuhuang Palace.

The investigation of Gao Mingyin’s death had already been transferred to Zhang Yuelu. Since he had not resumed his duties, he could not participate in investigations. Thus, this period became a rare moment of rest for Qi Xuansu. Now that he was no longer confined, he could freely move within the capital’s inner eight districts and outer four cities. He finally had time to attend to some personal matters.

On the second day of his partial freedom, Qi Xuansu received an invitation from his immediate superior, Shi Bingyun, who was also Zhang Yuelu’s martial aunt.

Shi Bingyun invited him and Zhang Yuelu to a banquet. However, considering her current role as the Golden Tower Council’s inspector over the Imperial Capital Daoist Capital, Zhang Yuelu deemed it inappropriate to be seen too close to both Qi Xuansu and Shi Bingyun. After all, Zhang Yuelu was under the scrutiny of many watchful eyes, and Qi Xuansu had yet to be formally reinstated. Thus, she politely declined the invitation using the excuse of needing to visit Yuhuang Palace’s Nether Prison.

Qi Xuansu understood Zhang Yuelu’s concerns, since Li Changge and the Mansion Master Li Ruoshui were watching closely. Thus, Qi Xuansu attended the banquet alone.

The banquet Shi Bingyun hosted was not far from the Taiping Inn by Penglai Pool. It was also located in the Haosheng Southeast District. However, it was a private residence.

Qi Xuansu had known since he first arrived in the Imperial Capital that the Haosheng Southeast District was a highly exclusive area. A large portion of the district was taken up by Penglai Pool, and the lakeside properties were divided among the influential elite. Some used the location as a summer retreat, while others used it to house their beautiful mistresses.

Qi Xuansu had also heard that those who could afford to keep mistresses here were not ordinary nobles. At the very least, they were marquises or third-rank officials. Naturally, the women housed here were not ordinary either. Their worth was not just in their beauty. They were also exceptionally skilled. A beautiful woman was commonplace, but a famous beauty renowned for her poetry and talent was rare. Perhaps the woman might also have a unique status in the Imperial Court or other institutions.

The Great Xuan Dynasty followed a one-wife-many-concubines system. Concubines were classified into high-ranking and low-ranking concubines. If a bride came with a proper dowry and a respectable background and only married as a concubine due to some unavoidable circumstance, such as her family’s fall from power, she was considered a high-ranking concubine. Though a high-ranking concubine still had to be obedient in front of the wife, she could not be insulted or beaten at will. If she bore a son who proved capable, she would rise in status accordingly.

All others, like maids promoted to concubines or ex-courtesans, remarried widows, and the like, were considered low-ranking concubines.

There was a vast difference between a wife and a low-ranking concubine, so much so that the wife was legally permitted to beat, kill, or sell a low-ranking concubine at will, treating the latter no differently from property.

Low-ranking concubines could only submit to the whims of the wife, but a kept mistress lived a far freer life, without needing to defer to anyone. Many household concubines had to work like servants, while a mistress was typically served by maids. After all, not everyone could afford to keep a mistress.

At the end of the day, it all came down to money.

Qi Xuansu believed that people could be measured by money. At one point, his life had been worth a hefty 20,000 Wuyou coins, offered by the generous Gao Mingyin.

Of course, Qi Xuansu was worth far less now. A person’s life had a market value that fluctuated high or low with the tides of circumstance.

Qi Xuansu had heard that Haosheng Southeast District often saw its share of scandals, such as wives storming into villas and getting into a catfight with the mistresses.

Such scenes were rare in the Daoist community, where rules on marital relationships were strict. Any scandal of this kind would ruin one’s future. However, among the Imperial Court’s nobility, it was merely treated as dinnertime gossip. Some examples of these stories include how a certain lord could not control his household and had his mistress and favorite concubine sold off by his wife, or how another lord’s favored concubine dared to challenge the wife’s authority.

Of course, there were also households with wives and concubines who appeared harmonious on the surface, living in apparent bliss and calling each other sisters.

However, Qi Xuansu had no need to fantasize about such things. He would never have that kind of chance in his life. If he ever betrayed Zhang Yuelu, there would only be two outcomes—she would either sever all ties and never speak to him again, or she would draw her sword and take his life. At the very least, she would give him a memorable punishment. There was no scenario where she would cry, plead for him to stay, or generously forgive him.

Among court officials, there was a common joke that Daoist women were all tigresses. The man would be tied to the Daoist woman for life, whether they liked it or not. For instance, the “Old Qin,” whom Shi Bingyun often mentioned, had remained without mistresses or concubines even though he never married her. Whether by choice or circumstance, in the eyes of many noblemen, he was considered utterly insane.

Of course, the Emperor and a few top-tier powerholders were exceptions to this. “Old Qin” could have had his pick of women. His mistake was choosing someone like Shi Bingyun, with such a high rank, position, and formidable background. Once he got involved with her, there was no easy way out.

It was also precisely because of her high rank and office that the Daoist Order did not want Shi Bingyun to become a royal consort, unless she gave up both her title as a Sage and her position as a Deputy Mansion Master.

Lost in these rambling thoughts, Qi Xuansu found himself standing at the gates of the courtyard before he realized it.

Since he had not resumed official duties, Qi Xuansu was not in formal attire. He wore a plain Daoist robe, without displaying his Novice License to signify his rank. He only had his Nine Yang Fiery Dome Replica hanging like an inconspicuous jade ornament at his waist.

Qi Xuansu had braced himself for some gatekeeper to look down on him, but instead, the doorman turned out to be quite perceptive. He greeted Qi Xuansu respectfully the moment they met, quickly deduced his identity, and addressed him repeatedly as Lord Qi, which boosted Qi Xuansu’s ego. Then again, Qi Xuansu figured that it was a doorman’s job to have a keen eye. Otherwise, he would have been kicked out in days for offending people. Moreover, Shi Bingyun had likely given prior notice that a guest would be arriving today, so the doorman was already prepared.

Led by the doorman, Qi Xuansu entered the courtyard and walked through long corridors, passing the second gate toward the garden. Since there were no other women in the residence, there was no “inner residence” protocol, where a maid would intercept as a guide halfway.

Being close to Penglai Pool, diverting water into a mansion in Haosheng Southeast District was not difficult. This particular courtyard had an artificial pond, with a winding water canal leading to a pavilion in the middle of the pond.

It was now winter, so charcoal braziers had been placed around the pavilion. If snow were to fall, one could even sit around the stove and enjoy the scenery.

The doorman stopped there. Qi Xuansu walked alone along the water corridor and entered the pavilion.

Inside, two people were already seated—one was Qi Xuansu’s direct superior, Shi Bingyun, and the other was a man in his forties, wearing an azure robe with a long beard under his chin. He had striking features and a refined demeanor, exuding an elegant air that made it obvious he was someone of noble upbringing.

Qi Xuansu could not help but admire the man’s appearance. He aged like fine vintage wine, possessing a unique charm that the youth could not match. His maturity tempered the naivety of youth.

The two seated together truly looked like a well-matched couple.

Qi Xuansu immediately understood that this man must be the “Old Qin” Shi Bingyun often mentioned. Such a man, with this appearance, status, and a reputation for generosity and righteousness, was likely of fine character too. It was no wonder he had won Shi Bingyun’s heart.

As the junior, Qi Xuansu took the initiative to pay his respects.

The two had already risen. Shi Bingyun introduced, “Tian Yuan, this is the Old Qin I often mention to you, formally titled Prince Jin by the Imperial Court.”

Qi Xuansu respectfully addressed him as Prince Jin. Before coming to the Imperial Capital, Qi Xuansu had done his homework and knew that this prince was a generation above Qin Lingge and a peer to the Emperor and Prince Liao. Though he looked youthful thanks to some anti-aging cultivation, he was nearly sixty.

The royal family had its own generational naming to match the Daoist generations. This was not established by the founding emperor but by Emperor Taizong for his descendants, starting from the third Guo-generation. Emperor Taizong was of the same generation as the Holy Xuan. The current emperor was the seventh Quan-generation, aligning with Sage Donghua and Sage Cihang’s generation. Qin Lingge belonged to the eighth Heng-generation, but after giving up his princely title, he also relinquished the associated generational name, later adopting the name “Lingge,” which coincidentally matched the Ciji Hall Master’s name, Sage Ning Lingge.

This prince’s name was Qin Quanyi.

Shi Bingyun said meaningfully, “We’re all family here, Tian Yuan. So there’s no need to stand on ceremony.”

Qi Xuansu understood. Clearly, the Imperial Court was not monolithic. Prince Liao supported the Taiping Sect, while Prince Jin leaned toward the Zhengyi Sect.

Qi Xuansu offered an apology on behalf of Zhang Yuelu. “Qing Xiao had planned to come with me, but Acting Deputy Hall Master Li and Superintendent Lu are still waiting for her, so she couldn’t get away. She asked me to extend her apologies to you and His Highness.”

Shi Bingyun did not mind her absence. She merely said, “So be it. It’s her loss, anyway. Old Qin fetched a nice jar of Dreaming Death from his wine cellar today and had a few pufferfish caught from the pond. He also specially invited a master chef from the Taiping Inn to prepare them.”

Qi Xuansu had long heard of the famed delicacy of pufferfish and its allure of danger, but he had never gotten the chance to taste it. Since arriving in the Imperial Capital, he had certainly broadened his horizons when it came to lavish indulgences.

Still, Qi Xuansu understood that today’s banquet was not merely to celebrate his exoneration.