On New Year’s Eve night, as dusk fell over Xingqing Palace, countless lanterns were lit until it shone like daylight. The imperial gardens were adorned with fiery red lanterns whose reflections danced on the jade-like waters of the dragon pond—shimmering and ethereal with every breeze. Inside the halls were glass lamps whose flickering flames refracted into dazzling brilliance.
The New Year’s Eve dinner was a family feast held in Nanxun Hall with no outsiders present. The entourage from Tuo Duo Three Guards led by Qi Lin sat distinctly apart from Prince Ning’s household retainers led by Chen Ling—each occupying their respective sides of the hall. The palace kitchens had begun preparations early in the morning; dishes from all corners of the empire were brought out one after another by teams of maidservants as night fell.
It wasn’t until all the dishes were served that Li Shi entered with Su Cen.
Li Shi wore his usual black robes exuding an air of majesty—golden threads embroidered along his collar and cuffs glinted faintly as he moved; on his chest loomed an elusive nine-clawed dragon motif. In contrast stood Su Cen—dressed in moon-white brocade with wide sleeves and orchid-patterned jade accessories—cutting a graceful figure as a refined gentleman. Yet when they walked together side by side there was no incongruity; instead they seemed to elevate each other’s presence—the noble appearing nobler still while icy aloofness grew colder yet.
Prince Ning hailed from military lineage; those seated below were rough-and-tumble types who cared little for formalities or decorum. Once Prince Ning took up his chopsticks first everyone else followed suit boisterously.
Given the festive occasion Li Shi uncharacteristically opened his private reserves bringing out several jars of fine aged wine for everyone’s enjoyment.
The crowd below consisted entirely of seasoned drinkers who knew quality when they saw it—and wines from Prince Ning’s private collection were all aged over ten years—far superior to bland imperial wines served elsewhere! As soon as one jar appeared it would be emptied immediately amidst fierce competition between Han Chinese guests versus Turkic ones deploying every trick imaginable, almost breaking into fights within central courtyards!
Before long fragrance wafted ahead heralding arrival yet another jar—a ten-year-aged *Qiulu Bai* (“Autumn Dew White”). Its aroma alone caused everyone present drop their chopsticks eagerly awaiting its arrival like starving wolves eyeing prey! However, before the maidservant carrying jar could even set foot inside the doorway, the nearest Turkic guest seized the opportunity snatching the jar mid-step claiming victory through proximity advantage!
Unfazed maidservant simply bowed retreating gracefully leaving the crowd free to squabble amongst themselves over spoils…
But just moments later disaster struck—the triumphant Turk stumbled tripping unexpectedly, losing grip momentarily allowing shadowy figure swoop intercept reclaim stolen prize mid-air utilizing deft sleight-of-hand maneuver!
It turned out to be the culprit was none other than Chen Ling whose nimble agility enabled swift retrieval now clutching jar protectively cradled tightly against chest wary lest anyone else attempt wrest control anew!
Seeing comrade’s hard-won loot snatched away, enraged towering Turk warrior Wu Chiha leapt forward blocking Chen Ling’s path, towering nine feet tall dwarfing diminutive opponent resembling a mere chick beside eagle!
Grinning wickedly scarred visage contorted grotesquely Wu chiha growled menacingly with his broken Chinese: “Man leaves wine stays!”
Chen Ling knew he was no match, so he offered the wine jug forward. Before Wuchiha could take it, he suddenly tossed the jug upward and delivered a swift kick between the giant’s legs.
Every man in the hall winced in sympathetic pain. The towering Turk collapsed silently, clutching his groin.
With a mischievous grin, Chen Ling reached for the falling jug—only to find it hovering mid-air above his head. He looked up into Qi Lin’s pale, unreadable eyes and immediately lost his nerve.
Qi Lin strolled back to his seat with the prize. Though nursing his injury, Wuchiha managed a pained smile seeing the wine claimed by their own—until Qi Lin placed it squarely before Qu Ling’er instead. The giant’s face fell, his groin somehow aching more fiercely.
Watching this drama unfold, Su Cen leaned toward Li Shi with amusement. “I considered joining the fray, but perhaps discretion prevails.”
“What would you have done with the wine?” Li Shi arched an eyebrow, cup in hand.
Blushing at having his intentions read, Su Cen poured himself a drink. “Enjoy it myself, naturally.”
As Li Shi drained his cup, Su Cen studied him closely. “Can you truly handle this?”
“Meaning?”
“That eunuch once told me you avoid chilled wine,” Su Cen confessed. “Cost me ten taels for that tidbit.”
Li Shi chuckled. “Hence your persistence with cold drinks at the Qionglin Banquet?”
“You denied me both the Emperor’s study companion and secretariat posts first!” Su Cen countered before grinning. “Else I might’ve soared higher by now.”
“Bold words.” Li Shi sipped his wine. “The northern campaigns required drinking for warmth. It took its toll.”
Su Cen snatched the cup away, distressed. “Then why drink now?”
“Frontier liquor was harsher than this.”
The revelry paused abruptly when palace eunuchs arrived bearing imperial dishes. Tension crackled through the hall—last time such “gifts” had left the prince bedridden and his household flogged.
As the terrified eunuch laid out succulent shark fin soup and venison, only Su Cen dared taste each dish. “Delicious,” he announced after deliberate chewing.
“No fear of poison?”
“New Year’s brings renewal. Empress Chu wouldn’t choose this night.” Su Cen wiped his lips. “And you’d have stopped me if there were real danger.”
Li Shi’s answering smile was confirmation as he served Su Cen snow lotus soup. “Eat more.”
The respite ended when Wuchiha lurched over, cup extended. “To Lord Su!”
This first toast opened floodgates. Dozens clamored to drink with Su Cen. Even Qu Ling’er joined, brandishing Qi Lin’s hard-won prize. “You must try this!”
After thirty-odd cups, Su Cen’s eyes glazed. He tugged Li Shi’s sleeve under the table. “I yield.”
Li Shi dismissed the crowd with a gesture. As fireworks erupted over Chang’an, Su Cen slumped against him murmuring wishes:”May our land prosper… may you know peace… may I stay true…”
![Flying Dust [Fei Chen]](https://www.freenovels.net/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/9k.png "Flying Dust [Fei Chen]")