Chapter 14: Breaking Into the Fu and Wrecking the Banquet

All they could see was Duan Wang Fu hung everywhere with red anger-quenching lanterns, casting a bright glow on all sides, with carved towers and painted beams near and far, exquisite and elegant, magnificent beyond compare, and a path of white pebble stones running straight ahead through the middle.

At that moment the patrolling soldiers inside the fu heard the noise and came running over, shouting: "Who dares break into Wang Fu uninvited? Have you no desire to live!"

Su Da revealed his identity, and the soldiers were greatly shocked, then said: "Even Yan Wang should not act so—let us report this first!"

Su Da would not listen no matter what, and pressed straight ahead; the soldiers tried to block him, and Zhao Ti called from behind: "Aren't they martial men?"

Su Da let out a roar and charged forward, while Bai Zhan and Yu Er behind lent their strength as well, and in an instant they had seized the weapons and knocked the soldiers to the ground.

Su Da grabbed the leader of the soldiers by the collar: "Where is Duan Wang?"

The leader spat out two teeth and sobbed: "His Highness Duan Wang is hosting a banquet for guests up ahead in the Jade Dew Hall."

"Hosting a banquet?" Zhao Ti nodded from behind: "Music and song every night, drunk on wine and wealth—truly living splendidly."

Su Da tossed the soldier leader aside: "Don't follow us, or you'll get another beating."

The group walked forward and in the distance saw a great hall, ablaze with light, like a resplendent pearl beneath the night.

Just then a little maid walked over from the side, in the tender years of adolescence, with two twisted buns, a charming fringe, features as lovely as a painting, skin white as jade, dressed in a pale green skirt, carrying a red-faced lacquer tray, stepping with delicate lotus paces.

She walked into the middle of the path, looked at the group in surprise, and said: "Are you gentlemen also here for His Highness's banquet?"

Su Da bared his teeth in a grin: "We're all martial men—I'm afraid His Highness Duan Wang wouldn't look twice at us."

The little maid's bright eyes flickered, fell upon Zhao Ti, circled him once, and said softly: "The pen pacifies the realm, the sword secures the nation—what's wrong with being a martial man?"

Having spoken, she turned and walked off down a side path, which actually did not lead to the Jade Dew Hall.

"Interesting..." Zhao Ti's lips curled slightly as he looked toward Zhou Dong.

Zhou Dong understood, lowered his voice and said: "The Wang's eye for people is not bad—she truly knows martial arts!"

"Just don't know which faction planted her here as a spy." Zhao Ti shook his head.

Before this, spies sent by other powers had also infiltrated his own fu—always the deliberate work of those with designs from outside.

In truth, Jingcheng was not as stable and peaceful as it appeared on the surface; apart from the old and new factions of court officials attacking one another, spying on each other, striking with vicious blows and laying down moles and spies, the same was true within the imperial clan itself, most of it masterminded from behind by the Court of the Imperial Clan.

The Court of the Imperial Clan was considered a clean-stream yamen—though the rank of Court of the Imperial Clan Chancellor was high, his actual authority was not that great, and ordinarily he merely managed clan affairs; but what was there to manage in a clan?

Within the clan everyone was kin; once a dispute arose, each side would drag out ancestors and take sides, and the crowds of those cheering from both walls grew ever larger, making it nearly impossible to judge right from wrong; as for evidence and the like, don't even think about it—there was no way to hold an open trial like Kaifeng Fu.

Thus, over time, no one knew who had schemed from behind, but the Court of the Imperial Clan began secretly planting spies in the fu of every imperial prince and noble, then gathering up any slips in the words and deeds of the imperial clan, and brazenly showing up at the door to extort money.

This kind of scheme was easy to tighten the noose, after all, there was only one side involved, and once they held the evidence in hand, they weren't afraid you wouldn't submit—otherwise they'd memorialize the throne, and with ironclad proof of misconduct, the punishment would be confinement, docking of salary, or even demotion; the imperial clan members, calculating it out, found it truly not worth it, and could only obediently let themselves be fleeced—who could blame them when the other side truly held their handle?

Zhao Ti's fu had once caught a man sent by the Court of the Imperial Clan, shaved his head and eyebrows, bound him into a zongzi shape in the middle of the night, and tossed him over the wall into the Court of the Imperial Clan yamen, but there was no follow-up—perhaps the Court felt that this great-nation Prince of Yan was not easy to handle, and let the matter drop.

Apart from these, the Liao, the Tangut Western Xia, and even certain factions to the south with treacherous intentions had all planted no small number of spies and agents in Jingcheng, waiting for their chance to act.

These were matters of state, but the Military Strategy Bureau could not block them all, and the Secretariat's Rapid Dispatch Office certainly lacked the ability to catch every spy throughout Jingcheng—so Jingcheng looked peaceful on the surface, but in reality the situation within was extremely complicated.

Zhao Ti did not bother with the little maid's origins—whether planted by some faction, or whether his own eye had simply failed and she was originally a person of Duan Wang Fu, it had nothing to do with the matter at hand; the group walked straight toward the Jade Dew Hall, and in no time arrived nearby.

It was early summer then, hot by day, cool by night; looking at the hall, its three doors stood wide open, the windows were all thrown up as well, inside the singing and dancing had just ended, with tables lined on both sides filled with people drinking and making merry, the sounds of flattery and fawning ringing without cease, stale and hackneyed phrases filling the seats.

There were guards at the door about to question them, but Su Da and Yu Er stepped forward and knocked them out directly, then strode into the hall.

The guests in the great hall had been drunk and oblivious, but as more and more people came in from outside, they could not help but be startled one after another, their faces showing bewildered expressions.

Zhao Ti walked to the center of the hall, looked inside, and lightly clapped his palms: "What fine spirits you are in, Eleventh Brother—a night banquet with all these guests, such a splendid affair, and you didn't invite anyone from the Hanlin Painting Academy to paint a 'Night Banquet at Duan Wang's' in imitation of Han Xizai's Night Banquet?"

Behind the innermost carved table in the great hall sat a youth, his hair bound with a golden crown, dressed in a pale blue robe, with an elegant and scholarly appearance, his face originally carrying a trace of self-satisfaction, but now turned to shock and fury—none other than Emperor Shenzong's eleventh son, Zhao Ji.

Hearing the words, he sprang to his feet with a "whoosh": "Yan Wang, what business do you have coming to my fu?"

Zhao Ti shook his head and said: "It slipped my mind—Eleventh Brother is himself a master of painting, no need to invite anyone from the Hanlin Painting Academy, you can paint it yourself; where have you painted it? Let this Wang admire it."

"Yan Wang, do not push people too far!" Zhao Ji's face turned iron-blue; he had never imagined that the other would not even wait a single night to take revenge—barely finished fighting over there, and already come rushing here.

Zhao Ti glanced at both sides; the guests, judging by their dress, were mostly idle literary men of Jingcheng, and he could not help but darken his face: "This Wang has some family matters to handle—come, see the gentlemen out of the fu!"

These literary men had already seen his fierce bearing, and on hearing he was actually Yan Wang, none dared move; now that Zhao Ti spoke, without waiting for Su Da and Yu Er to "invite" them, they immediately rose of their own accord and ran for the door.

"This is my fu, it's not your place to call the shots—everyone don't..." Zhao Ji shouted urgently, but which guest would listen? It was clearly an internal matter of the imperial house; they did not dare cast a single glance, lest trouble find them later.

"Yan Wang, you bully me too far..." Zhao Ji's eyes flickered, fury surging.

"Not bullying, not bullying—when Eleventh Brother went to my fu to throw his weight around, didn't you say this Wang was a martial man? Then this Wang has come to let Eleventh Brother see just what a martial man looks like." Zhao Ti said with a smiling face.

As his words fell, the men behind him drew their weapons one after another; for a moment the clash of metal rang out in a chaotic clatter, reflecting the candlelight and pearl-glow within the hall, cold shadows flickering, a chill assaulting the senses, killing intent surging.

"Ah..." Zhao Ji saw this, his expression changed drastically, his body trembled, then he suddenly turned and bolted toward the rear door of the great hall...

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