In the end, Song Pu did go off to play cards with Song Qianyuan.
Only, it was not the promotion-chart game Song Qianyuan had mentioned, but modern playing cards.
He fashioned a deck out of bamboo slips and, after explaining the rules, played a round with him. Song Qianyuan was instantly hooked, and before long his whole circle of dubious companions had joined in.
A game like this needed stakes to be entertaining, so they gambled lightly for amusement. With the advantage of familiarity, Song Pu won quite a tidy sum, his face flushed with excitement.
Song Qianyuan wailed, “Tang-ge, go easy on me. I only get twenty taels a month for pocket money!”
The other young masters had lost plenty as well, but none were discouraged. Rolling up their sleeves, they clamoured, “Again, again! I refuse to believe I can’t win!”
There was a reason playing cards had endured for so long, enjoyed by young and old alike. It had a charm all its own.
Very quickly, the game spread beyond their small circle. Before long, the whole of Yanjing had taken to this novel pastime.
In no time at all, Song Pu became something of a minor celebrity in the capital, largely because Song Qianyuan went about boasting everywhere, “These cards were invented by my tang-ge. He’s terribly clever. I’m telling you, he’s never lost a single game!”
Thanks to him, Song Pu slipped effortlessly into the social circles of idle young nobles. He drifted from table to table each day, his private coffers steadily swelling, until he was so delighted he scarcely knew which way was up.
Before long, he introduced mahjong as well, and Yanjing’s fashionable amusements became playing cards and mahjong.
Both were group games, lively and sociable by nature.
Song Pu was not afraid of losing. In truth, he was rather well-off. His position in the Eastern Palace came with a salary, and with the additional allowances from his father, mother, and elder brother, his personal funds were already considerable. Besides, he scarcely lost.
His father enjoyed mahjong too, and with such a large extended family, festive gatherings always turned into contests at the card table. Song Pu had inherited his father’s knack for it, so he was no slouch.
Moreover, both games involved an element of luck, and his luck was not bad. Thus he won time and again, gradually earning a name for himself.
Duke Song, however, worried that he was wasting his life on frivolities, while Madam Song said, “It is enough that Zhiyun is promising. At Ah-Pu’s age, if there is nothing else he wishes to pursue, let him be.”
The Duke sighed. “I do not know how he managed to offend His Majesty. It unsettles me.”
Madam Song paused. “I completely forgot to have Ah-Pu bring out the edict for us to examine.”
The Duke realised he had forgotten as well and at once sent someone to fetch Song Pu.
Song Pu was in his room playing mahjong with Song Qianyuan and the others when the message arrived. He had meant to call for Denglong, but swallowed the words and said instead, “I’ll fetch it myself. Behave yourselves. Don’t peek at my tiles.”
Song Qianyuan beamed, his dimples deepening. “Go on then, tang-ge. I’ll keep an eye on them!”
Song Pu did not trust him in the least. After days of playing together, he knew full well that Song Qianyuan was the worst offender when it came to cheating. If there was a chance to peek, he would never let it pass.
So Song Pu turned to the others. “You lot keep an eye on him for me.”
They nodded vigorously. “Song-gege, don’t worry. We’ll watch him!”
These boys, though playful, were far more upright than Song Qianyuan. Reassured, Song Pu left.
He took the edict from his trunk. Truth be told, ever since receiving it, he had simply tossed it aside without even glancing at it. Now, in a calmer state of mind, he finally unfolded it.
When Tantai Yi had written it, he must have been in a temper. Even the brushstrokes felt cold. It neither praised nor criticised, merely stated that the Emperor, in his benevolence, was granting him leave. Just two short lines.
Song Pu read it carefully, rolled it up, and brought it to the Duke.
The Duke hesitated when he saw it. “Why is there no imperial seal, nor His Majesty’s personal seal?”
In Liang, an edict required two seals: the jade seal representing supreme authority, and the Emperor’s personal seal representing his will. Neither appeared on this document. It was, in effect, no more than a scrap of paper.
After confirming it bore neither, the Duke asked in disbelief, “This truly came from His Majesty?”
Song Pu had not paid attention to such details. “Of course it did. What’s wrong?”
The Duke turned it over, frowning. “That cannot be right. How could His Majesty make such an error?”
“What do you mean?” Song Pu asked.
The Duke glanced at him. “An edict without seals is worthless.”
Song Pu froze, then quickly understood. “…How could it not be sealed?”
The Duke’s tone turned meaningful. “Exactly. How could it not be sealed?”
Song Pu fell silent.
The Duke put the edict away and smiled faintly. “It seems His Majesty merely meant to frighten you. The old master was not wrong. For all his years, His Majesty still has something of a boy’s temperament. Not beyond remedy, it seems.”
Song Pu: “…”
Was it really necessary to say that aloud? Could he not have enjoyed a few more days of peace?
When he returned to the mahjong table, his mind was elsewhere. Still, he forced himself to focus and glanced at the boys. “You didn’t look at my tiles, did you?”
They all looked away guiltily.
“I see,” Song Pu said. “Carry on.”
Unsurprisingly, he lost that round.
Perhaps out of guilt, Song Qianyuan did not dare to gloat. He even seemed a little embarrassed to collect the money. “Tang-ge, I’ve never beaten you before. Let me have this one win. I’ll still play with you next time.”
Song Pu honoured the wager and paid up, but he had no heart to continue.
His thoughts were filled with the Duke’s words. Frighten him? Did it look as though he had been joking when he said he wanted to come home?
Seeing that he had stopped playing, Song Qianyuan exchanged glances with the others. One of them spoke up, “Song-gege, there’s a lantern poetry gathering on West Street tonight. Will you come with us?”
Song Pu looked up. “Tonight?”
“Yes, tonight,” the boy said. “Qianyuan mentioned you haven’t been to such lively events before, so we thought we’d take you. If you’re willing, let’s meet this evening.”
Song Pu agreed at once.
These boys were mostly a year or two younger than his current body, with similar interests and easy camaraderie. After days spent together at the gaming tables, they had naturally grown close.
That evening, after dinner, Song Pu went out with Song Qianyuan.
Yanjing was a prosperous city. Though there was a curfew, on special occasions it was extended until ten at night, giving them several hours to wander.
Only on such festive nights were unmarried young ladies permitted out, accompanied by maids and matrons. Even so, propriety dictated that they veil their faces, lest strange men see them.
Song Pu did spot a few women without veils, but their hair was styled in married coiffures, marking them as wives rather than maidens.
He himself stood at about one hundred and seventy-five centimetres, fairly tall, yet these boys—well-fed from good families—matured early. The youngest, barely fourteen, was already nearly his height. Even Song Qianyuan stood about the same as him. Yet out on the street, he noticed that many men were closer to one hundred and sixty.
West Street was the busiest thoroughfare in Yanjing, home to its largest market. Foreign caravans gathered there, selling curiosities from distant lands. On ordinary days one could always find something novel, but during festivals every stall displayed exquisite lanterns, using riddles and verses to draw in passers-by.
Song Pu had no talent for poetry and little patience for riddles, so he simply watched as the others tried their luck.
By sheer good fortune, Song Qianyuan guessed one correctly and won a delicate hexagonal lantern with upturned eaves. Holding it up proudly, he said, “Er tang-ge, I did peek at your tiles today. I really wanted to beat you. I’m sorry. Take this as an apology. We’ll play mahjong again next time.”
The boy’s sincerity was plain. Song Pu had not minded much to begin with, so he accepted it readily. “Thank you, then.”
Seeing this, Song Qianyuan’s smile widened, his dimples deepening. “Just watch, tang-ge. I’ll win you a few more pretty ones for your courtyard.”
With that, he ran off with his companions to crowd another stall.
Song Pu remained where he was, admiring the lantern in his hands. It was exquisitely made, almost like a work of art.
Before long, a commotion broke out nearby. Someone knocked into his shoulder. Caught off guard, he stumbled backwards, unable to steady himself.
A hand came up behind him, catching him and steadying his fall.
“Are you all right?”
The voice that followed was warm, gentle… and faintly familiar.
