Autumn winds blew cold, and the green-ant wine grew ever more precious. At the crossroads outside the city, willows stood thick and sturdy, and beneath their shade sat a clean, modest tavern. The old man behind the counter, nearing fifty, had seen his business flourish, so he enlisted his grandson and granddaughter-in-law to help. Originally, this task should have fallen to his daughter-in-law, for a woman’s touch was better suited to haggling with customers. But the old man, simple-hearted and shy, could never bring himself to ask. Besides, years ago, his daughter-in-law had nearly met disaster when she offended a group of rowdy soldiers. Only the timely intervention of a passerby spared her from calamity. Even now, the old man carried guilt in his heart, cursing his own weakness. Later, he heard those soldiers might have been part of the Crown Prince of Beiliang’s personal guard. He resigned himself to fate, but still muttered curses under his breath at the thought of the Crown Prince, the unworthy son of a great general. He often said, if it weren’t for General Chen Zhibao—invincible on the battlefield and kind to soldiers and commoners alike—Beiliang would have long fallen into ruin.
Today, the old man was in good spirits, pulling out his own treasured green-ant wine, a brew he rarely touched himself. Green-ant wine wasn’t expensive—rich and poor alike could afford it, unless greedy merchants watered it down. But there were better and worse varieties. The old man, though honest, wouldn’t give away his aged vintage for free, except for one man: the elderly gentleman seated nearby, his savior from that fateful day. Without him, the old man’s daughter-in-law would have been dragged off to the barracks. This jar of wine—on the house.
To the old man, the old gentleman, Master Xu, wasn’t especially wealthy either. Lean and dark-skinned, he likely earned his keep through hard labor. Still, he dressed decently, in silk-like robes, which the old man found pleasing.
After serving a table of customers, the old man finally had a moment’s rest. Draping a damp towel over his shoulder, he sat at a nearby table and chuckled, “Old Brother Xu, why not call Young Master Yuan over for a drink? It’s been two years since I last saw you two. What, afraid you’ll drink me poor?”
A tall, imposing man stood at the edge of the shade. The old man remembered clearly: it was this man who had beaten those ruffians years ago. Later, he learned he was Master Xu’s adopted son, Young Master Yuan. The old man had seen many noble sons over the years, but none compared to Yuan. Master Xu was blessed to have such a fine son.
But today was different. Master Xu was accompanied by two others: a young scholar and a quiet little girl. Strange. Why wasn’t Yuan sitting with them? Could the scholar be Master Xu’s real son or grandson? But they didn’t look alike. Still, the old man wasn’t one to pry.
Master Xu waved a hand and chuckled, “He doesn’t drink much, and he’s got a stiff manner. Even if I offer, he says drinking clouds judgment. Always has a clever excuse.”
The old man nodded, “No matter. Not drinking’s better than drinking too much. Unlike Yuan, my own son’s no great man. Sneaks off for a sip whenever I’m not looking. I just don’t bother scolding him anymore. We’re both old. We’ve seen enough.”
Master Xu took a sip of wine, exhaled, and smiled, “You speak plainly, my friend.”
The old man laughed, “Plain? I just talk nonsense. I don’t know much, but I know how to live. My grandson’s in school now. I’m just waiting for him to write the word for ‘wine’ on the sign. Doesn’t have to be pretty—just legible.”
Master Xu mused, “My son writes well. Maybe we can use his for now, and when your grandson learns to write Spring Festival couplets, we’ll switch.”
The old man scratched his head, “That’d be wonderful, but wouldn’t that trouble you?”
Master Xu waved him off, “No trouble. I’m here today to meet my son. I’ll have him write it after a drink. Just need ink and brush.”
The old man slapped his thigh, “Then I’ll send my grandson to fetch them! Only two li to the village.”
Nearby, a young boy, just a few years into his schooling, had been quietly watching the little girl. He beamed when his grandfather praised his legs. Without being asked, he stood and darted off like an arrow.
The old man accepted a bowl of wine from Master Xu and took a sip, asking, “Is your son a scholar seeking official rank?”
Master Xu shook his head, “Not much of a bookworm. I’ve pushed him to travel, and he’s gone far. Rarely home. Sometimes I regret it.”
The old man sighed, “That’s how it should be. A young man must see the world. You’ve built a great household, and he must carry it. It’s good for him.”
A quiet scholar nearby smiled faintly, glancing toward the end of the road.
The old man soon returned to serving other tables. The tavern saw many faces, few repeats. One table of scholars spoke loudly of politics, their words lofty but hollow. Another table held wandering martial artists—mostly rough-dressed, except one in fine robes, a loud-voiced outsider who ordered two jars of wine and five jin of beef. They kept to themselves, the scholars lost in their own world.
But the martial artists kept glancing at Yuan, who stood like a spear by the road. They eyed him warily. They were newcomers from Liaodong, fleeing a man named Yuan who had torn through their old sect. They sought a foothold in Beiliang, hoping for a stable job. They feared local bullies and hoped to impress the wealthy old man and his company. That was why they boasted loudly of their exploits.
A scholar scoffed, “The Longxiang Army marched deep into enemy lands, and the Snow Dragon Cavalry reached the Nanjing of the Northern Barbarians. But what did the Crown Prince do? He was busy in a brothel in Liangzhou, ‘commanding’ from afar. Truly impressive!”
Another shook his head, “Same thing. He was riding hard—just on a woman’s body.”
A jade-bedecked scholar sneered, “Let’s see him ride the Empress of the Northern Barbarians. Then I’ll respect him.”
The first scholar smirked, “A bit old for him, isn’t she?”
The jade scholar shot back, “The Crown Prince’s always been fearless.”
The scholars erupted in laughter.
Far away, Yuan narrowed his eyes.
A cold, killing aura surged.
At the next table, a little girl clenched her fists, eyes brimming with tears. The old man sipped wine and smiled. The scholar, Chen Xiliang, smiled too.
At the martial artists’ table, one slammed his bowl, “I heard the Crown Prince went to Wudi City, climbed its walls. Then he rode with Old Sword Sage to confront the Prince of Guangling. I wouldn’t dare. Some people probably shit themselves at the thought.”
His friend tugged his sleeve, warning him to stay calm.
The jade scholar said coolly, “What do brutes know of great matters? Frogs croaking at the sky, trying to swallow the sun and moon?”
The martial artist, hot-tempered, gripped his knife, but his companions held him down.
Chen Xiliang finally spoke, “Frogs reaching for the sky? That’s ambition. At least they look up. Frogs at the bottom of a well—now that’s small-minded.”
A scholar sneered, “Who do you think you are?”
Chen Xiliang replied calmly, “I won’t say who I am. But even if you’ve read a few books, you’re still nothing. If I were your father, I’d never have mounted your mother. What good is your birth?”
The little girl stifled a giggle, giving Chen a secret thumbs-up.
Chen patted her head and ignored the fuming scholars.
Master Xu signaled to the old man, “Bring those men two more jars of wine and five jin of beef. On my tab. And don’t let them refuse.”
The martial artists didn’t hesitate, bowing in thanks.
Dust rose on the road.
The old man stood, hands in his sleeves, watching the north.
A rider approached.
Xu Fengnian dismounted. Bai Xiong Yuan Zuozong smiled faintly and took the reins.
“Thanks,” Xu Fengnian said. “Let’s have a drink with Second Brother Yuan later.”
Yuan nodded.
The old man ruffled his second son’s hair, then sat with his eldest at the table.
“You’ve gotten darker again,” he said.
Xu Fengnian nodded.
At the table, the little girl moved to Chen’s bench, greeting Xu with a shy, “Master Xu.”
He pinched her nose, smiling, “You’re fairer than me now. You’ll have plenty of handsome suitors.”
The old man sat alone. Chen and the girl shared a bench. Xu Fengnian and Xu Longxiang sat together. Xu Beizhi took the last seat. Yuan stood, drank a bowl, and returned to his post.
The old man asked, “I told Old Brother Huang you write well. He wants you to write the word for ‘wine’ to hang on the pole. Can you?”
Xu Fengnian wiped his mouth, “Of course.”
The boy rushed back with brush and ink, and a small piece of silk. Xu Fengnian wrote slowly, carefully.
The old man was delighted, thanking him profusely. Xu returned the brush and ink, joking, “Dad must come here often to swindle drinks. This is the least I can do.”
After a silence, the old man hesitated.
Xu Fengnian drank, then said, “I know.”
The old man nodded.
Xu Fengnian asked softly, “Are the men ready?”
The old man smiled.
Xu Fengnian pressed his lips together, “I’ll stay outside the city for now.”
The old man sighed.
Xu Fengnian rose, drank again, and stood.
The old man raised his arm.
Xu Beizhi bowed deeply to the old man before sitting.
As they drank, he and Chen exchanged a glance—brief, then away.
Xu Fengnian mounted and rode northwest.
Ahead, the Fengzi Battalion—eight hundred White Horse Righteous Cavalry—awaited.
To intercept Prince Zhao Kai!
The old man drank, then chuckled, “Master Xu, your son’s truly handsome. Not a bit like you.”
The old man laughed, “Good! If he looked like me, finding a wife would be hard. He takes after his mother. Lucky boy!”
The old man nodded in agreement.
The old man insisted on paying, finally handing the money to the tavern keeper. Before leaving, he said, “Those soldiers who hurt you that day—they weren’t from the Fengzi Battalion. I wanted you to know.”
The old man laughed, “No matter. We common folk just want peace.”
The old man said softly, “I wonder if I’ll ever drink here again.”
The tavern keeper snapped, “Don’t talk like that! I’ll always have wine for you!”
The old man patted his shoulder and left.
Standing by the tavern, the old man suddenly shouted, “Son! Take down the old ‘wine’ sign and hang the new one!”
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