Young Marshal Gu’s victory lifted the spirits of the entire capital. Nearly everyone walking through campus was discussing the news, and Gu Ji had become a role model to many young students.
This was especially true since Gu Ji was handsome, dashing, and still single.
Amidst this atmosphere, Lin Ruan finished his final exams, packed his things, and prepared to start his winter break. Meng Zhen tugged at his sleeve, and Lin Ruan had to promise repeatedly that he would contact him during the break to hang out.
Compared to the students buzzing about their winter break plans, Li Mingwen stood out like a sore thumb as he silently packed his books.
Shi Ning’s car was parked at the school gate. He stared intently at the students passing by. They were all wearing black school uniforms and carrying backpacks and bags. Lin Ruan was among them, wearing a wool coat over his uniform—a new piece made for him by Zhan Xi that made him look lean and sharp.
Lin Ruan climbed into the car. The engine started and the car slowly navigated through the crowd.
A short distance from the school gate, a horse-drawn cart was parked by the roadside. An elderly man squatted nearby. Li Mingwen approached, laden with large and small bags. The man hurried forward to take them. Li Mingwen refused, afraid the man might dirty his belongings.
The man sheepishly withdrew his hands. As he watched Li Mingwen organize the items, the man muttered, “It’s just a little stuff. I could have carried it myself. Why hire a cart? Such a waste of money…”
Li Mingwen didn’t want to engage him. He felt like every passerby was staring at him. He didn’t dare lift his head to see if they were looking at him with contempt or disgust. The stares felt like needles piercing his back. He cut the man off. “All right, Dad. Let’s go!”
When Lin Ruan arrived home, Zhan Xi was coming down the stairs. He was dressed in a tailored suit and clearly preparing to leave. The impeccably tailored suit accentuated his physique, making him strikingly attractive.
Their gazes met, and his eyes still held a thousand worlds within them. Lin Ruan would always lose himself in those eyes.
“Vacation?” Zhan Xi approached.
Lin Ruan nodded. Zhan Xi pulled a velvet box from his coat pocket. “A gift for you.”
Lin Ruan took it, but before he could open it, Zhan Xi walked past him and left. Lin Ruan turned just in time to catch a glimpse of Zhan Xi’s profile as he slid into the car.
Back in his room, Lin Ruan opened the velvet box. Inside lay a pocket watch. The silver pocket watch felt substantial in his hand. Its chain was a slender, glinting strand of silver. Lin Ruan gently pressed the crown, and the cover sprang open. The dial was encrusted with tiny diamonds, and the slender, jet-black hands created a unique and striking beauty.
Engraved on the back of the watch in ornate script was a line of Latin:
“By the spring sat a young boy[mfn]泉水旁邊坐着一位少年[/mfn].”
—the opening line of Schiller’s poem “The Youth by the Brook[mfn]It’s from Friedrich Schiller (German poet, philosopher, dramatist). The Chinese title 《溪邊的少年》 is his poem “Der Jüngling am Bache” (“The Youth by the Brook”). Expresses the restless yearning of youth — the boy gazes into the flowing brook, seeking answers about love, desire, and life, but like time and fate, the brook only flows on in silence.[/mfn].” Lin Ruan murmured the verse several times, yet its meaning remained elusive.
He ran his fingers over the watch, then leaned close and pressed his ear against it. The steady ticking of the hands echoed in his ear: tick-tock, tick-tock.
Lin Ruan listened, feeling each second pass by with startling clarity. Time seemed to slow down because of it.
As soon as the twelfth lunar month arrived, matters began to pile up. The Wang mansion sent people to invite him on the first day, and again on the eighth day when they delivered Laba porridge[mfn]Laba porridge (臘八粥, Làbā zhōu), also called Laba congee, is a traditional Chinese porridge eaten during the Laba Festival (the 8th day of the 12th lunar month), usually made from rice, millet, beans, nuts, dried fruits, and sometimes lotus seeds or chestnuts.[/mfn]. Zhan Xi declined both invitations. He was busy auditing the year-end accounts for his holdings and making plans for next spring’s business ventures.
In contrast, Lin Ruan had it much easier. His only task was to clean Zhan Xi’s room every day. When Zhan Xi was home, Lin Ruan stayed close by his side. When Zhan Xi was away, Lin Ruan was free to do as he pleased. As long as he didn’t linger around Uncle Tong, the old man didn’t have the energy to scold him constantly.
Before long, it was the Little New Year. From that day forward, Zhan Xi would stay indoors. Numerous visitors would arrive after this date—business associates, former subordinates, and acquaintances of the late prince—all of whom would require Zhan Xi’s hospitality at home.
Aunt Cao had prepared the Zao Wang Candy[mfn]竈王糖 (zào wáng táng), often called “Zao Wang Candy” or “Kitchen God Candy,” is a traditional Chinese sweet made for the Kitchen God Festival (usually around Little New Year, a week before Lunar New Year).[/mfn] in advance. The fragrances of sesame and malt sugar mingled together. She left them outside to freeze overnight, and by morning, they had set perfectly. One tray held long, rectangular pieces, each weighing two liang[mfn]1 liang (两) in the traditional system ≈ 50 grams.[/mfn] and arranged neatly. Another tray held round, melon-shaped pieces, all presented on large platters. Aunt Cao arranged them and topped them with red paper, creating a wonderfully festive display.
A Yue had frozen some yesterday, too—nothing fancy, just little rabbits and foxes and all sorts of shapes. One bite revealed a crisp, sweet crunch.
A Yue shared some with Lin Ruan. The two stood together, crunching away.
Dinner was especially lavish, Aunt Cao cooked a table full of dishes. Lin Ruan helped set out bowls and chopsticks. Shi Ning brought back two bottles of fine wine and several bottles of low-alcohol fruit wine.
Men do not worship the moon, and women do not offer sacrifices at the stove. Therefore, when the evening stove offerings were made, A Yue and Aunt Cao had to step aside. Zhanxi led Uncle Tong, Lin Ruan, and Shi Ning in offering incense and paying their respects.
Of the four, only Uncle Tong paid much heed to the occasion. Only Uncle Tong meticulously prepared for this day each year. In Uncle Tong’s calendar, there were many important days. Setting aside the formalities, Lin Ruan thought that Tong Bo was a man who cherished ritual and respected life.
On the second day of the Little New Year, a guest arrived at the Lan Mansion.
Tong Bo ushered him in. Lin Ruan saw a young gentleman who was somewhat frail and had a sickly pallor, yet he smiled warmly. He wore a long robe, a common garment, yet he possessed a unique aura that instantly transported Lin Ruan back to ancient times. The man seemed like a noble young master from bygone eras, exuding scholarly refinement and classical elegance.
“Lin Ruan,” Uncle Tong instructed, “Young Master Xie, Xie Qingming, has arrived. Go fetch the master.”
“Yes.” Lin Ruan glanced once more at Young Master Xie, who offered him a slight, courteous nod.
Lin Ruan ascended the stairs to find Zhan Xi. Shortly after, Zhan Xi came down with him.
Lin Ruan presented the tea. Xie Qingming accepted the cup and thanked him. Lin Ruan then stood behind Zhan Xi.
Xie Qingming took the tea but did not drink it. Instead, he examined the cup—a white-glazed, blue-and-white porcelain vessel with intricate patterns and a texture as delicate as jade.
“Looks like imperial kiln ware.”
Zhan Xi took a sip of tea. Xie Qingming continued, “Judging by the age, it can’t be too old—at most, it’s from the Wanli period.” He looked at Zhan Xi. “Third Master truly has deep pockets. Displaying antique Ming dynasty tea ware like this.”
“Aren’t all things meant to be used?” Zhan Xi set down the cup with a relaxed gesture. “How has your health been lately?”
“Much the same,” Xie Qingming said, coughing softly twice. “Not dying, but not getting better, either.”
Zhan Xi nodded. “I brought back some new medicine from abroad. You could try it.”
“Thank you,” Xie Qingming replied politely.
Xie Qingming’s father was a Hanlin scholar and Zhan Xi’s mentor. Xie Qingming suffered from congenital asthma and could rarely go without medication. Though they didn’t interact often, they could be considered friends.
“What brings you here?”
“Father sent me to visit upon hearing of your return.” Xie Qingming gestured, and a servant approached from behind him, bearing a tray. “These are gifts.”
Zhan Xi raised an eyebrow slightly. Xie Qingming chuckled softly and said, “Open it and see.”
Lin Ruan stepped forward to open the box. Inside were three items, one of which was a piece of porcelain: a beautifully shaped lotus leaf bowl. It was a deep purple tinged with blue, resembling jade, but not quite jade, with a lustrous sheen like agate.
Zhan Xi examined it. “Jun porcelain?”
Xie Qingming nodded. “A Northern Song Jun porcelain lotus leaf bowl with a lilac-purple glaze.”
Zhan Xi glanced at him. “Northern Song Jun porcelain? That’s incredibly valuable.”
Xie Qingming nodded. “Jun porcelain is rare today. I vaguely recall the palace having a few pieces, but I’ve never seen a lotus-leaf bowl like this one. This is the only one in existence.”
“Too bad it’s a fake,” Zhan Xi said suddenly.
Xie Qingming raised an eyebrow, his lips still curved in a gentle smile. “How do you know?”
“Earthworm-trace glaze.”
Earthworm-trace glaze is the most crucial method for authenticating Jun ware.
“This piece has earthworm-trace glaze,” Xie Qingming said, adjusting his robes. “Could your eyesight be failing?”
Zhan Xi set the object down. “Earthworm-like crackle patterns form because Jun ware typically has two layers of glaze. The first layer cracks during firing; then, the second layer is poured in, creating this texture. While your piece has such patterns, they lack depth and continuity. They don’t possess the naturally formed, serendipitous quality of authentic Jun ware.”
Xie Qingming frowned slightly as he took the lotus-leaf bowl to examine it closely.
Zhan Xi casually crossed his legs, his posture relaxed. “There’s another reason. I saw this piece over a decade ago. It was fired by a craftsman from my family, and it sat in my room for years.”
Xie Qingming was startled before breaking into a smile. “You’re right—this piece is indeed a fake. When I first saw it, I was startled and called my father to examine it. He couldn’t make up his mind either, so I brought it to you for your opinion.”
Xie Qingming examined the lotus-leaf bowl. “Though it’s a forgery, the craftsmanship is so convincing that it borders on divine artistry.” He shifted his gaze to Zhan Xi. “The other two pieces, however, are genuine.”
The remaining items were a Song dynasty silver goose-shaped sachet and a Tang dynasty bronze mirror.
Lin Ruan’s gaze lingered solely on the fake lotus leaf bowl. Zhan Xi must truly cherish this piece to display a forgery in his own room.
Zhan Xi looked at Lin Ruan and asked, “Do you like this?”
Lin Ruan snapped back to reality. “Not exactly…”
He couldn’t bring himself to say yes, yet he couldn’t lie to Zhan Xi, either. His words came out hesitant and stilted.
Zhan Xi shifted his gaze to Xie Qingming, who raised an eyebrow. “This bowl isn’t for you. I need it back to study how the forgery was made.”
Zhan Xi snorted. Xie Qingming could see Zhan Xi’s interest, and he was driving a hard bargain. Zhan Xi turned to Lin Ruan, who lowered his head. “Go to the study and bring the documents from the top drawer.”
Lin Ruan went to fetch them. Then, Zhan Xi summoned Shi Ning and exchanged a few words with him. Shi Ning nodded in agreement. Shortly after, he returned, placing a box on the coffee table.
Xie Qingming was baffled. He opened the box and found the Jun porcelain bowl with its lilac glaze and lotus leaf design resting inside.
Xie Qingming’s eyes widened. “The real thing is with you?”
“This for that,” Zhan Xi stated matter-of-factly.
Xie Qingming stared at Zhan Xi in disbelief, yet his hands moved swiftly. He snatched the box and clutched it to his chest. “Deal!”
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