SEHE Chapter 154

Drinking Tea

Long, straight black hair fell loosely down his back, carelessly scattered. Tangxi Zhui curled around Pei Yanci like a cold, slick, enormous serpent, his arms wrapped around Pei Yanci’s waist, his cool face and chilled nose tip nuzzling into the warm, fragrant hollow of his neck.

“Good Pei’er, you promised to help me pick—stop sleeping, get up.”

People had seen clingy, delicate types before, but never someone this grown who still insisted on burrowing into their partner’s arms and acting spoiled to win affection.

Pei Yanci shuddered, his expression flat, turning his face away in the opposite direction. He tried to peel the man off him, but couldn’t push him away—his body was locked in place completely. The soft flesh of his shoulder and neck was licked by that rough tongue until it itched, a damp flush of pink slowly rising to the surface.

The small blanket wrapped around him grew looser and looser, and his temper and drowsiness vanished entirely.

He let out a sigh. His fair, faintly pink little feet slipped out from under the blanket and kicked the man squarely in the thigh. “Change them one by one and let me see.”

Just see if I don’t torment you to death.

A flash of sly delight crossed Pei Yanci’s eyes.

“Pei’er is so good.” Tangxi Zhui pressed a kiss to that soft, fair cheek and went happily to change his clothes.

Clearly, he had underestimated this man’s love of beauty.

Each wide-sleeved robe was paired one by one with different accessories. Tangxi Zhui never tired of it, changing dozens of outfits without complaint, and still managing to throw seductive glances over his shoulder from time to time.

Pei Yanci sat on the bed, attended by servants who helped him wash up and eat his morning meal. Tormented beyond endurance by the teasing, he picked up a jade pendant from the tray in front of him—meant for selection—and tossed it at the man, laughing and scolding, “Take those filthy, shameless dog-eyes of yours and put them away.”

“Many thanks for Pei Daren’s generous gift.” Tangxi Zhui caught the thrown pendant with quick hands, brought it to his lips and kissed it, his gaze utterly unwilling to leave the person by the bed.

Pei Yanci, flustered under that stare, his heart warming and his ears reddening, softened his tone and deflected, “That outfit is a little lacking—go change into another one.”

He had barely looked down before the smile once again escaped the corners of his mouth, impossible to contain.

Tangxi Zhui toyed with the jade pendant in his fingers. The flawless, pale coolness of it gradually absorbed his warmth, as if he were not playing with a jade pendant at all, but a beautiful person’s bone.

He smiled as well. “All right. Whatever you say.”

After a whole morning of this, with the hour nearly gone, Tangxi Zhui finally scrambled frantically to help Pei Yanci change.

“Any one outfit would do fine for me.”

“No,” said Tangxi Zhui. He took the clothes he had selected to be fumigated with incense, himself dressed in a loose, snow-white long robe, and insisted that Pei Yanci wear the outfit he had chosen.

“Looking at it now, it rather matches yours,” Pei Yanci observed, gazing at his own reflection in the bronze mirror. He let out a small breath of relief—at least it hadn’t been too much trouble.

“Of course,” Tangxi Zhui said proudly, tilting his chin upward. “Every outfit I own, when it was made, had a corresponding set made to your measurements at the same time.”

“…If you’d put even a fraction of this effort into your own career, the Elu Bureau would be far more than it is today.”

“The Elu Bureau already has the entire realm watching it with dread. If it grows any stronger, this eunuch will be due for another death.” Tangxi Zhui wrapped his arms around him from behind, his cool, thin lips lightly kissing the back of his neck, his eyes drifting to the reflection of their two overlapping figures in the mirror. He smiled until his eyes curved. “To serve with my appearance, to remain ever at your side—that is enough for me.”

Pei Yanci watched the look of contentment on the person in the mirror and suddenly spoke, “Didn’t I recently have Wushu enter the palace as His Majesty’s study companion?”

“What about it?”

“Wushu has feelings for Xu Xiangqian’s only son. I’ve asked her to put in a good word for the Xu family in front of His Majesty.”

“You want to save Xu Xiangqian.”

“Mm.” Pei Yanci’s gaze dimmed slightly as he looked at the reflection.

“Xu Xiangqian neglected his duties—he brought destruction upon himself. Even if Wushu has feelings for his son, it isn’t worth your involvement on her behalf. Who’s to say that little girl won’t change her heart someday?” Tangxi Zhui’s pale face was half-hidden behind his neck, his crimson lips slightly parted, taking the smooth, milky skin into his mouth. “The man bears the infamy of causing the late Emperor’s death. He’s finished. There are still a few capable military generals in the court—you needn’t drag yourself into a messy affair for his sake.”

“And what if the person who reduced Xu Xiangqian to this state is also someone she and I both know?” Pei Yanci asked, his tone unhurried.

Outside the window, sunlight fell through the lattice and into the bronze mirror, reflecting a warm amber glow—like gleaming needles shooting outward—blurring whatever expression lay in Pei Yanci’s eyes at that moment.

The arms Tangxi Zhui had wrapped around him slowly tightened. His fingers slid into the gaps between Pei Yanci’s, ten fingers entwined, clasped tight.

Pei Yanci seemed to sense something different in the mood, but looking at the person in the mirror—composed and at ease, still appearing to fret over this problem—it was a troublesome matter. “If that little girl is the sentimental sort, and after the two of them are together she suddenly learns that Xu Xiangqian was ruined by someone both you and she know well—it would inevitably end in falling-out and becoming enemies. At that point, caught between them, who would you choose?”

Choose between the two. Who would you choose?

Pei Yanci’s voice was cold and flat. “I would choose neither.”

The smile at the corner of the person behind him stiffened slightly. Upon realizing it, he immediately retracted the stiff half of his expression and retreated back behind Pei Yanci’s shoulder and neck—leaving only those large, narrow, pitch-black eyes peering out from the hollow of his neck, cautious and aggrieved, watching the two figures in the mirror, observing every movement on Pei Yanci’s face.

Before he spoke again, Tangxi Zhui saw the faint upward curve of Pei Yanci’s cherry-pink lips.

“I won’t let something that pointless come to pass.”

Tangxi Zhui still wanted to say more, but Pei Yanci had already turned around and looked up at him, gently taking his hand.

“Let’s go—His Majesty will be growing impatient.”

After all, the bronze mirror was cold—it must have made that expression seem colder too, distorting it.

Feeling the warmth of Pei Yanci’s palm, Tangxi Zhui’s heart settled.

“All right.”

****

In Great Yu, it was generally customary for senior women to hold grand celebrations only at the milestone “nine-year” after the age of fifty, for the number “nine” marked the exhaustion of yin—and the presence and vitality of family and friends was needed to ward off the difficult year and help them pass safely through it.

(TL: A traditional Chinese age-taboo customs, often called “逢九” (feng jiu) — meaning “encountering nine.” (九) can symbolize extremity or completion. For women especially, some folk beliefs say extreme yin energy peaks at certain ages. Ages like 19, 29, 39, 49, 59, 69, 79 were sometimes seen as unstable or risky years. 

Age 59 is often celebrated before turning 60 because 60 (the full sexagenary cycle) is very important. Age 69 and 79 are sometimes treated as “life hurdles” (坎年). Families may hold banquets to “ward off misfortune.”)

The current Empress Dowager Feng was no more than thirty years of age. Gu Yisui, thinking of all the bitter years the two of them—mother and son—had endured, was desperate to make it up to her. After the remonstrance officials had spoken up several times to no avail, the other ministers naturally had no desire to be so tactless as to say things about the banquet shortening the Empress Dowager’s lifespan. Every one of them smiled with delight, saying it was only a small gathering, and as long as His Majesty was happy, that was all that mattered.

“The Chancellor of the Imperial Academy, Pei Daren, has arrived—the Elu Bureau’s Chief Overseer, Tangxi Daren, has arrived—”

As the inner attendant’s announcement rang out, every person in the hall felt a quiet tightening of the heart.

Pei Yanci himself was briefly surprised upon entering, for this birthday banquet had not only invited court officials of the fifth rank and above—glancing around, he could see that the regional vassal kings had also been assembled in full.

Looking across the hall, nearly all of them were present.

It seemed the young Emperor was preparing to make his move.

He instinctively glanced at the person beside him, only to find Tangxi Zhui standing with perfectly straight, broad shoulders, chin lifted, his gaze drifting with deliberate nonchalance in the direction of Gu Wanchong and Gu Jiuqing—two unhurried passes.

Does this peacock think he’ll die if he doesn’t spread his feathers and provoke people?

Pei Yanci’s eye twitched. He quietly tugged the man’s hand.

“That’s enough.”

“Fine, I’ll let those ugly things off for today.” Tangxi Zhui withdrew his gaze with satisfaction and settled cross-legged before a food table set below Pei Yanci’s.

Gu Jiuqing took a sip of wine, spinning his empty cup, his expression shadowed and unreadable.

Pei Yanci had only just arrived when Gu Yisui came rushing in hurriedly.

“Grand Preceptor, I’m so sorry—I fell asleep this afternoon.” The young Emperor passed by Pei Yanci and explained in a flustered voice. “Those fools actually left the Grand Preceptor waiting the entire afternoon. Zhen has already had them given twenty lashes and sent to clean the latrines. Please don’t hold it against Zhen.”

Leaving him to wait idly in the outer hall all afternoon—regardless of whatever reasons lay behind it, the fact itself was the fact, and that said quite enough.

Pei Yanci had no patience for his rambling excuses, exchanged a few perfunctory pleasantries, and urged him to hurry to his seat.

Only then did Gu Yisui, reluctantly and with lingering steps, make his way to the seat at the head of the table.

The banquet had not even begun, yet the rest of those present had already witnessed a small scene—their expressions varied considerably.

The first three months of mourning had not yet passed. There could be no wine, no music or dance. The atmosphere of the banquet was not particularly lively.

“I don’t drink boiled tea.”

While everyone was still watching to see how the evening’s situation would unfold, an incongruous remark emerged from Pei Yanci’s direction.

A young inner attendant smiled apologetically. “Would this servant fetch Daren some sour plum juice instead?”

“No need—I do enjoy tea,” Pei Yanci said. “I simply don’t enjoy boiled tea. Please steep me a pot.”

“Steeped tea? I’ve never heard of such a way of drinking tea.”

“Steeped tea—can that even be drunk?”

“The flavor surely won’t come through properly.”

Several ministers spoke up with curiosity.

“It’s merely a personal preference—please think nothing of it, honored Darens. I simply prefer the clean, original flavor that comes from steeping the tea leaves directly in water. I don’t care for all the extra ingredients mixed in.” Pei Yanci replied with a mild smile.

In the past he had been constrained by circumstances—he had no choice but to go along with them, sipping a few mouthfuls of boiled tea when gathered together. Now that he sat in this position, if he still followed their lead and drank the same, then what was the point of the authority he held in his hands?

Gu Yisui had never encountered such a situation before and did not grasp the undercurrent in their words. He said, “Since Pei Daren prefers it, bring two palace maids to steep tea for Pei Daren.”

Gu Yueqian said, “Pei Daren—boiled tea is the orthodox method of drinking tea that all of Great Yu, from the nobility down to the common people, has passed down for decades. Being so unconventional—do take care not to forget your roots.”

Pei Yanci replied, “Things must change in order to move forward and bring forth the new from the old. It is merely a habit of this official’s own—nothing more. If Your Highness wishes to keep drinking boiled tea, this official would never presume to force anyone.”

“Bring boiled tea,” Gu Yueqian said, raising her hand to summon a servant.

“Please do as you like, everyone. If anyone wishes to try steeped tea, I am always happy to share.” Pei Yanci said with a smile.

“Since you put it that way, I find I’d quite like to try.” One of the ministers spoke up. “This is the first time I’ve seen such an unusual way of drinking tea.”

“I’ll try it as well—might Pei Daren spare this old man a cup?”

“Come, add steeped tea to my table too.”

As more and more ministers chimed in in agreement, Gu Yisui finally sensed that something was slightly off, though he could not quite put his finger on what.

At that moment, Gu Yueqian turned and asked, “Your Majesty—will you have boiled tea or steeped tea?”

He glanced at the tea on her table and Gu Jiuqing’s. “Boiled tea, naturally.”

But having said it, he felt inexplicably unsettled.

It was an instinct honed from years of survival in the Cold Palace—a sharp and powerful sense of unease at the approach of danger.

It all came from this: across the banquet hall, the number of people drinking steeped tea far outnumbered those drinking boiled tea.

On the day the late Emperor was carried out for burial, he had been able only to stand far away outside the great hall, seeing his imperial father off on his final journey.

Tonight, he sensed it acutely—perhaps placing his faith in Gu Jiuqing’s side had not been a wise choice.

He looked toward Li Ren’an uneasily.

Li Ren’an leaned close and bowed his head. “Your Majesty, steeped tea is clearly thin and flavorless just from looking at it—boiled tea is far better. This servant has already made all the necessary preparations for you. Please put your heart at ease.”

Gu Yisui grew even more unsettled.

That unease arose because he had perceived it: Gu Jiuqing’s side held no possibility of winning.

The imperial examination case had been dragged out for more than ten days. Those arrested had all been peripheral figures—not a single core figure had been touched. What was more, Li Ren’an had personally led men to arrest Pei Yanci, only to be publicly humiliated by him on the spot, and in the process had made Gu Yisui lose face along with him.

Years of experience surviving against the odds told him: the wise man knows when to bend with the circumstances.

“Li Ren’an,” he called to the man at his side. “Have this cold tea replaced. Zhen also wishes to try the taste of steeped tea.”

Following a side that has already lost its footing—never mind how much longer he could hold onto this seat, the question was whether he could even preserve himself right now.

“Your Majesty, you must not—” Li Ren’an panicked.

“It is only a matter of tea. What does it matter? Whether boiled or steeped, the purpose is still to drink tea.”

Li Ren’an looked at his simple, unworldly expression and felt a thousand things he wished to say, yet trapped in so public a setting, none of them could be spoken aloud. He could only look helplessly toward Gu Jiuqing for guidance.

Gu Jiuqing remained as cold and indifferent as ever, as though untouched by the affairs of the world, drinking his tea in his own quiet manner.

Left with no choice, Li Ren’an turned and went to fetch a pot of freshly steeped, piping-hot tea from the back, carrying it to be placed before the imperial seat.