Chapter 12: The Way of Hospitality

Old residence, narrow alley.

Before a modest, ancient house, Xue Duizhu frowned in disbelief and whispered to Wang Wenshu: “Are you sure this is the place? A great Langya Wang clan member, a former official from the Grand Chancellor’s office, the brother-in-law of the Prince of Jiangxia—lives here?”

“This is called great seclusion within the marketplace; scholars love this style. Do you think he’s some nouveau riche?” Wang Wenshu said, then hesitated, muttering: “Though it does seem a bit too plain.”

Though the gate was unremarkable, remembering that the man inside was the mighty Wang Tai, Xue Duizhu could not help but feel reverence, turning to Wang Wenshu: “You knock?”

Wang Wenshu was also nervous, silently steeling himself, when Wang Yang, hands behind his back, spoke calmly: “Knock.”

The Black Han stepped forward and pounded on the door—thud, thud, thud.

Xue Duizhu watched the Black Han and silently hissed—he thought, this fellow’s courage has grown bold, trying to curry favor with a young aristocrat; he dares knock on the Langya Wang clan’s door!

The door opened halfway; a man in black stood inside, expressionless, gazing coldly at the group.

Wang Wenshu beamed: “We are from the Anqu Garrison of Jingzhou—”

Before he finished, the expressionless man moved to shut the door. Wang Wenshu quickly corrected himself: “We escort the Langya Wang Young Master here and have come to pay respects to our kin!”

The expressionless man paused, his sharp gaze sweeping over them before settling on Wang Yang.

Wang Yang felt the man’s gaze like a sword, as if piercing through his body—but he had already gathered his full spirit and resolve, determined to fight to the end, so his expression remained unchanged; he merely glanced briefly at the Black Han.

The Black Han presented a name card; the expressionless man took it and said to Wang Yang: “Wait a moment,” then closed the door.

Xue Duizhu muttered under his breath: “Damn, even a gatekeeper has such airs!”

That “moment” stretched over an hour.

Wang Yang felt uneasy—he knew not whether meeting would bring fortune or misfortune, so he dared not press. But Xue Duizhu could no longer hold back; he stepped forward and pounded on the door.

The same expressionless man opened the door. Xue Duizhu bowed: “May I ask, sir, what does your master say?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t know? What does that mean? Did you deliver the name card?”

The expressionless man shut the door again.

“Damn it,” Xue Duizhu muttered, “arrogant dog, riding on his master’s name!”

He turned to Wang Wenshu: “What do you think this means?”

“Stay calm, stay calm. Last time I came to Jiangling, I heard the Commandery’s Legal Censor visited the young master of the Hedong Liu clan—he waited from dawn until moonrise, a full day! And he didn’t even get a sip of tea! Think about it—he was a Legal Censor! What rank! He waited all day and still didn’t see him! For the Langya Wang clan to make us wait is normal.”

Xue Duizhu deflated, then suddenly realized: “Wait—that’s not us they’re making wait—it’s Wang Young Master they’re making wait!”

Both turned to Wang Yang, each pondering silently.

Wang Yang too found it strange—just a name card couldn’t verify truth, and besides, he’d added a subtle poem to pique interest; even if not immediately invited, surely they’d at least invite him inside to wait seated—that was proper hospitality! How could they make him stand outside like this?

Though puzzled, Wang Yang began considering another possibility: if he never met them, might that actually be better for him?

They waited another hour, until their backs ached and the sun sank west—still no movement from within. Even Ding Jiu’s gaze at Wang Yang grew suspicious; Xue Duizhu and Wang Wenshu had already drifted aside, whispering. Only the Black Han remained beside Wang Yang, respectfully unchanged.

Xue Duizhu whispered: “Could this kid really be fake? Even if he is, they should at least come out and say something.”

Wang Wenshu mused: “Not necessarily fake. But even if true, great clans have sprawling branches—status varies wildly, from heaven to earth. If they treat a name card this coldly, perhaps he’s no high branch.”

“But isn’t his uncle a senior official?”

“His uncle is a Palace Attendant. He isn’t.”

Wang Wenshu glanced at Wang Yang:

“Likely some down-on-his-luck scion, using his uncle’s name to bluff. ‘Uncle’—who knows if he means a true elder brother or some distant cousin? Look at him—he’s waited this long without a single sign of temper. Where’s the aristocrat in him? Calling him a spoiled brat is too generous! We’ve been fooled!”

At that moment, Wang Yang realized his mistake!

Unlike Xue Duizhu and the others, who were anxious and restless, Wang Yang had no desire to meet the Langya Wang clan—he even thought avoiding the meeting might be better. If he had to meet, delaying it gave him more time to prepare—why rush? So he waited patiently. But he had forgotten: he was playing a noble young master—no true aristocrat stood silently outside a gate for hours!

Yet sometimes, mistakes, if used well, yield unexpected results.

He put on a face of bluster and fury: “What’s so great about Wang Tai? I honored him as an elder and waited respectfully—but he treats me with such arrogance, favoring the powerful and despising the weak! Because my family is down on its luck, he ignores me! Who says I won’t soar one day? Fine! No need to wait!”

Hearing this, Xue Duizhu’s heart sank.

So all this time, the Langya Wang clan’s “fallen branch”—Wang Wenshu had been right!

He was about to speak when Wang Wenshu grabbed his arm: “Very well. We’ll visit again another time. We’ll take our leave now.” He gave Xue Duizhu a meaningful glance.

Xue Duizhu understood, bowed, and said: “Yes, we’ll accompany the Young Master another time.”

Without waiting for Wang Yang’s reply, the two hurried off. Ding Jiu called: “Team Leader! What about us?”

Xue Duizhu waved without turning: “You get five days’ leave too—go home.”

Once they were far away, Xue Duizhu hurriedly asked: “What are you doing, Old Wang? Are we just leaving?”

Wang Wenshu countered: “What else can we do? Bring that little brat back and treat him like a prince? Our rations are already thin—give too much and he won’t thank us; give too little and he’ll resent us. How many dried fish do you have left? I’ve got no eggs.”

Xue Duizhu immediately said: “Right, right—can’t take him back!” But he worried: “But what if he’s fake? Do we just ignore him?”

“And what if he’s real? Afraid we’ll get ourselves locked up? Even fallen, he’s still Langya Wang—why provoke him? Better to avoid trouble. Since neither truth nor falsehood benefits us, why bother?”

Xue Duizhu nodded, then asked: “Should we report this?”

“Of course! We didn’t report before because we hoped for a cut. Now we see there’s nothing to gain—hand it off fast. Let superiors handle it. That way, if anything happens later, it’s not our fault.”

“But what if he’s proven fake, and they blame us for letting him go?”

Wang Wenshu looked at Xue Duizhu and smiled slyly: “We didn’t let him go—we left two soldiers behind.”

Xue Duizhu slapped his thigh and turned to go back: “Then I must tell them!”

Wang Wenshu held him back: “Oh, Team Leader, tell them what? If he’s real, telling them to guard him—won’t that offend him again?”

“But if he’s fake, and they let him go without orders?”

Wang Wenshu smiled: “That’s their negligence. What’s it to us?”

Xue Duizhu paused, then burst out laughing: “You scholars are truly cunning!”

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Note: Though the Langya Wang clan held high status, not all its members were wealthy or powerful. Within the family, branches differed greatly in fortune. As Lin Xiaoguang stated: “Even within so-called families, there existed a stark division between the noble, whose ancestors had served as Three Excellencies for generations, and the lowly, who tilled the soil with their own hands.” (See Lin Xiaoguang, *Wang Rong and the Yongming Era: A Case Study of Southern Dynasty Aristocracy and Aristocratic Literature*, Chapter One.) Yet even when suspecting the protagonist was a fallen scholar, Wang Wenshu still avoided offending him, for aristocratic status was far more than an empty label—see below.