The steward explained, “This is Along the River During Qingming by court painter Zhang Zeduan. The original was presented to the Official Family and stored at Wansui Mountain. Three years ago, our master borrowed it, had embroiderers make a scroll, and craftsmen turn it into this grand animated screen.”
Accompanied by the garden’s water sounds, Along the River During Qingming became a water-powered rolling screen over ten zhang long. Scenes shifted slowly via intricate mechanisms; layered panels cast figures against Kaifeng’s sights. Officials admired it, exclaiming in wonder.
Chaosheng couldn’t tear himself away. They watched the screen a while, then went to the side hall for tea. Someone called, “Chaosheng! Yingzong!”
It was Prince Kang Zhao Gou, asking, “Where’s Big Brother?”
Wu Yingzong explained again. Soon Gao Qiu spotted them too. Though neither knew Hulü Guang nor Mu Qingshan, Wu Yingzong was recognized, and Chaosheng received effusive greetings, leaving him somewhat dazed.
Finally, they sat amid the chaos. Zhao Gou had Cai Mansion adjust seats, placing himself beside Chaosheng, clearly intending to look after Xiang Xian’s “little brother.” Wu Yingzong couldn’t refuse.
“What are you sniffing?” Hulü Guang noticed Mu Qingshan had been scenting about since entering. This was his first grand feast; previously at Gaochang King’s banquets, he stood pouring wine. Excited and curious, he fiddled with the dishes, cups, and wares. A maid poured for him; he thanked her profusely, smiling and chatting everyone up.
“Thanks, thanks, beautiful! I can do it myself!” Hulü Guang chattered to the maids, even performing an aerial reverse pour.
“Sit down!” Wu Yingzong hissed. “Or I’ll thump you!”
“I have to go,” Mu Qingshan said, showing unusual wariness. Though a white deer, he bristled like a wolf.
“What?” Hulü Guang said blankly. “Where? Why leave?”
Mu Qingshan rose; Hulü Guang grabbed him. “What’s up? I’ll go with you.”
Mu Qingshan shook him off and whispered in Uyghur, “There’s a guy here I don’t want to see.”
Hulü Guang whispered back in Uyghur, “Who?”
Mu Qingshan: “Not here yet, but his scent is strong.”
Hulü Guang: “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”
Mu Qingshan: “I’m not scared! Just don’t want to meet!”
Hulü Guang: “An old enemy come to Kaifeng for you?”
Mu Qingshan: “Not an enemy.”
They conversed rapidly in Uyghur—Mu Qingshan’s Chilechuan home near Uyghur lands had taught him the tongue. Wu Yingzong noted the speed and asked, “What’s that?”
“Nothing,” Mu Qingshan said, not wanting Wu Yingzong to know.
“He says there’s a…” Hulü Guang started to translate, but Mu Qingshan flicked his hand urgently to shut him up. Hulü Guang yelped at the red welt, drawing garden guests’ eyes.
Wu Yingzong thought them just playing and didn’t press.
“You’re in Kaifeng now,” Hulü Guang earnestly continued in Uyghur. “He’ll find you eventually. Why hide? You can’t stay cooped in the Exorcism Division forever.”
Mu Qingshan frowned deeply at Hulü Guang, who didn’t mind. “Scared of an enemy? Later I’ll scoop you up and run—no one catches me.”
“Shut your mouth,” Mu Qingshan bluntly said.
Soon Cai Jing arrived, leaning on his staff. Guests rose to greet him—even Prince Zhao Gou stood, calling “Cai Xiang.”
Cai Jing toasted each in turn, lingering warmly with Chaosheng. “Later, this old man might need another visit. If Little Immortal honors me, shall we stroll the garden?”
Chaosheng, already munching snacks, laughed. “Sure! Write me a few more characters!”
Wu Yingzong wanted to stop it, but it was already too late. After all, accepting the Treacherous Prime Minister’s calligraphy meant owing a favor. When Xiang Xian returned, he would surely be scolded bloody. Xiang Xian wouldn’t blame Chaosheng, but he would blame him.
However, the words had already been spoken. Cai Jing laughed heartily and replied, “That’s natural, Little Immortal. Please eat first. This old man will go to the front courtyard to greet guests.”
“Good! Go ahead! I’ll call you if there’s anything!” Chaosheng was very satisfied. Everything he had seen that day was new, and the food was all things he had never eaten before. It was truly an eye-opener.
Wu Yingzong was quietly explaining that they must not accept Cai Jing’s calligraphy. Coming to the banquet gave face to the Cai family, but asking for a calligraphic treasure was another matter entirely. While he spoke, Cai Tuo arrived, leading two men and one woman. The guests all rose to their feet. Cai Tuo said, “No need, no need! Gentlemen, please eat and drink your fill. Enjoyment comes first.”
The officials took turns congratulating Cai Tuo. They had already exchanged pleasantries upon entering the mansion, and now with third and fourth rounds of greetings, their enthusiasm overflowed. Only Zhao Gou and Chaosheng’s group remained seated, unmoved. In the end, Cai Tuo sat down with a jovial smile and introduced the two men and one woman he had brought, seating the guests opposite Wu Yingzong and the others.
“This is the Grand Strategist of the Mo Sect,” Cai Tuo introduced a scholar. “Brother Zhou Wang.”
Those at the table knew nothing of this man’s background and merely smiled and nodded. Zhou Wang held a folding fan but did not unfurl it. He gazed at Chaosheng, a smile playing in his eyes that was not quite a smile.
When the woman took her seat, Mu Qingshan radiated extreme vigilance. His short hair stood on end, on the verge of bristling fully.
“This one hails from Haraholin in the north, the Shiwei People’s grandmaster and righteous older brother He Bule’s younger sister, Princess Baoyin. Her Han name is Luo Rongzhen.”
The woman was extremely striking when she stood. Her stature was tall and imposing, nearly matching Wu Yingzong’s height—a full head taller than Cai Tuo. Her skin was on the darker side. Though from the Tatars, she bore none of the typical Shiwei People’s features. Her nose was high-bridged, her eyes deep-set, her eyelashes long and delicate. Her hair was tied up in a single bundle with a bone hairpin, neat and crisp. Her eyes held a smile that was not quite a smile.
