Chapter 68: Attending the Banquet and Meeting Song Jiang

At night, Zhang Jie and Chen Wen arrived at the Jinxiu Pavilion in Yuncheng County for a banquet.

The Jinxiu Pavilion was the largest, most famous, and most luxurious tavern in Yuncheng County.

It was said that the head chef of Jinxiu Pavilion had once worked at Fanlou in Bianliang.

Zhang Jie suspected this claim was likely exaggerated.

After all, Fanlou was a tavern renowned throughout the land.

Even the Emperor of Great Song had visited Fanlou in disguise multiple times.

The amorous Prince Duan was rumored to have met the famed courtesan Li Shi at Fanlou.

The chef of Jinxiu Pavilion may have worked at Fanlou, but surely not as the head chef—

More likely, he had merely studied there for a time and learned a few recipes.

Yet Dongjing, Bianliang, was the most prosperous city in Great Song, and indeed across all of Liao, Xi Xia, and Dali.

It was naturally, like Paris in the 21st century, the trendsetter of its age.

Everything from Dongjing was eagerly imitated, so Jinxiu Pavilion’s business was naturally thriving.

Even at night, guests came and went without pause.

All who passed through wore gold and jade, draped in silk and brocade.

Clearly, they were wealthy families from Yuncheng County and its surrounding regions.

There were rotund squires and young masters waving folding fans, feigning elegance.

“The gates of the rich reek of wine and meat, while on the roads lie frozen corpses!”

Watching this scene, Zhang Jie thought of the refugees he had seen along the way to Yuncheng County, and sighed.

All men are born equal, yet some are more equal than others.

All men are born free, yet some are freer than others.

“Great Song is sick.”

As Zhang Jie gazed upward at the starry sky, he reached this conclusion in his heart.

“Master Chen, Master Zhang, the County Magistrate awaits you upstairs.”

As Zhang Jie and Chen Wen drew near Jinxiu Pavilion,

the sharp-eyed Head Hu had already spotted them.

Seeing Zhang Jie distracted, Chen Wen stepped forward.

He bowed to Head Hu, now dressed in civilian attire, and said:

“Kindly lead the way, Head Hu.”

“Follow me, gentlemen.”

Head Hu turned and walked into Jinxiu Pavilion.

Zhang Jie pondered a moment, then suppressed certain thoughts within him:

“The burden of Great Song’s realm is still too heavy for me to carry—at least not yet.”

Even if he had become a martial cultivator with the help of other Zhang Jies, what then?

Even if he went to Bianliang and killed Emperor Zhao Ji, another emperor would rise in his place.

Kill the corrupt minister Cai Jing, and another corrupt official would take his place.

Not to mention that he, alone, could never seize the realm—even if he could, what then?

One man cannot govern the realm.

The only way is to quietly accumulate strength and cultivate a group of enlightened men before replacing the current order.

Returning to the present, Zhang Jie followed Head Hu to a private room on the third floor of the tavern.

Tap. Tap.

Head Hu gently knocked on the room’s door.

Creak.

The door opened.

Head Hu stepped inside first and announced loudly:

“Your Excellency, Master Chen and Master Zhang have arrived.”

“Good. You may leave.”

Inside the room sat a middle-aged man on the main seat, his face lean, dressed in plain robes,

yet radiating authority—clearly a man long accustomed to high office.

“Yes.”

Head Hu bowed and withdrew.

Behind him, Zhang Jie and Chen Wen came into the man’s view.

“Ha! Master Chen, long time no see—off to Jinan, you’ll soar to the heavens!”

The middle-aged man rose, speaking with great familiarity to Chen Wen.

“Nonsense, nonsense. All thanks to Your Excellency’s grace.

Without your governance, how could Yuncheng County enjoy peace and prosperity?

How could I, Wen Yun, live in such tranquility?”

Chen Wen replied with a practiced, amiable smile.

This middle-aged man was clearly the fatherly magistrate of Yuncheng County’s hundreds of thousands—

County Magistrate Shi Wenbin.

Zhang Jie knew Chen Wen was not flattering him.

Compared to other corrupt officials, Shi Wenbin was upright in office,

honest in conduct, ever compassionate, always merciful.

He emphasized public order: since taking office, he had assigned Zhu Tong and

Lei Heng to patrol at night, using red leaves as their credentials.

In daily case rulings, he always discerned right from wrong.

Indeed, Yuncheng County’s present prosperity owed half its credit to Magistrate Shi Wenbin.

Yet in the case of Song Jiang killing Yan Poxi, due to his close ties with Song Jiang,

he displayed favoritism and corruption—this complexity defined his character.

But overall, Shi Wenbin was an official who maintained integrity and uprightness

amid a corrupt bureaucracy—a rare good official in Great Song’s court.

“This gentleman must be Zhang Jie, the newly crowned Jieyuan?”

After greeting Chen Wen, Shi Wenbin’s gaze fixed on Zhang Jie.

“What a refined young man!”

Shi Wenbin inwardly marveled.

At first glance, Zhang Jie had not struck him as extraordinary, but as he focused on him,

he grew increasingly aware of an indescribable charm about Zhang Jie.

Especially Zhang Jie’s eyes—warm, luminous, like polished ink jade—left a deep impression.

Confucius’s saying, “The gentleman is like jade,” must have meant this.

“Your Excellency.”

Zhang Jie bowed with neither humility nor arrogance.

“Ha! Master Chen, Master Zhang, please, take your seats.”

In high spirits, Shi Wenbin invited the two to sit.

At that moment, Zhang Jie’s gaze was drawn to a short, dark-skinned man who,

despite his plain appearance, radiated an extraordinary presence.

“May I ask, Your Excellency, who is this gentleman?”

Zhang Jie asked, already suspecting the answer.

“Ha! I was just about to introduce him—this is our Yuncheng County’s Yasi,

Song Jiang, Song Gongming.” Shi Wenbin smiled as he introduced him.

“Of course. Such distinctive features, combined with an invitation to the Magistrate’s private banquet,

could only belong to the Heavenly Kui Star—Song Jiang, Song Gongming.”

Zhang Jie understood at once.

Yet Zhang Jie found Song Jiang did not match Shi Naian’s description:

“Eyes like phoenixes, brows like curled silkworms; ears dangling with pearl pendants, eyes bright as polished lacquer.

Square lips, straight mouth, a light beard gracing the chin; broad forehead, flat crown, plump cheeks.

Seated, he resembles a tiger; moving, he moves like a wolf.

In his thirties, he possesses the generosity to feed ten thousand;

Six feet tall, he harbors the ambition to sweep clean the four seas.”

He was merely a short, dark-skinned middle-aged man.

If anything set him apart, it was Song Jiang’s natural warmth and approachability.

“Zhang Jie greets you, Song Yasi.”

Zhang Jie silently scoffed inside, but his expression showed no sign of it.

Song Jiang was slightly taken aback by Zhang Jie’s courtesy.

He was merely a lowly clerk with no official rank.

Yet Zhang Jie was a rising star, destined to enter the imperial court and govern a region as the top provincial scholar.

The gap between them was like chickens and ducks on the ground versus phoenixes in the sky.

Song Jiang quickly bowed in return: “Song Jiang greets Scholar Zhang.”

One was curious, the other eager to flatter;

for a time, the two men with vastly different outlooks conversed with great ease.

Shi Wenbin, seeing Zhang Jie and Song Jiang chatting merrily,

could not help stroking his beard and smiling—he had not wasted his effort bringing Song Jiang along.

In official rank and status, the Assistant County Magistrate and County Commandant both outranked Song Jiang, the Yasi.

Yet Song Jiang maintained excellent relations with everyone in the yamen—he was truly a rare talent.

He had long heard of Song Jiang’s reputations as “Holding Righteousness,” “Timely Rain,” and “Filial and Righteous Black Third Brother.”

For this banquet honoring Zhang Jie, he had specifically brought Song Jiang along,

using him as a lubricant to deepen his bond with Zhang Jie.

He paid little mind to Chen Wen—just a juren who had only reached mid-tier after turning thirty.

Even if he later passed the palace examination, he would still be on the same starting line as Shi.

Shi Wenbin himself was a genuine third-rank palace graduate!

But with Zhang Jie, he had to take care.

Zhang Jie was too young; as the saying goes, better to anger an old man than to mock a poor youth.

Youth meant Zhang Jie had limitless potential.

As he knew, the ministers of the Six Ministries and above in the imperial court

were eager to take a young talent like Zhang Jie as a son-in-law.

In a few years, Zhang Jie might rise swiftly and become his own superior.

“Ha! Since everyone has arrived, let the banquet begin.”

Shi Wenbin instructed the owner of Jinxiu Pavilion, who stood nearby.

“Your servant will attend to it at once.”

The owner of Jinxiu Pavilion, who had been waiting, bowed and departed.

Zhang Jie was not surprised by the owner’s deference.

Though Shi Wenbin was only a seventh-rank county magistrate,

occupying the lowest rung of the Song bureaucracy’s pyramid,

within a hundred li of Yuncheng County he was a true “Hundred-Li Lord,”

though “life and death” might be an exaggeration, controlling a mere merchant was child’s play.

Offend Shi Wenbin, and he had ten—or even nine—ways to shut down Jinxiu Pavilion.

Even Song Jiang, an unranked Yasi, was a significant official by modern standards,

roughly equivalent to a clerk or secretary in a county government office today.

Soon, the sharp and efficient waiters of Jinxiu Pavilion swiftly brought out the dishes.

Shi Wenbin raised his cup and invited:

“Come, everyone, drink deeply.”

“Drink deeply.”

Chen Wen and Song Jiang both raised their cups.

“Drink deeply.”

Since he had come to the banquet, Zhang Jie would not insult Shi Wenbin—he raised his cup too.

With Song Jiang as the lubricant, and Shi Wenbin, Chen Wen, and the others all adept at social graces,

the feast ended with all guests delighted.