Chapter Forty-Two: The Qixi Poetry Gathering (Part Three)

"Grand Mentor to the Crown Prince, Lord Yang Yaozong, has arrived!"

All conversation ceased at once, the hall falling into an unnatural silence as every pair of eyes turned toward the entrance.

Yang Yaozong had barely stepped into view before those who had just been ridiculing him found their expressions shifting in an instant—from mockery and disdain to a rich array of surprise, doubt, and disbelief. Some even rubbed their eyes vigorously, questioning whether they were witnessing a mirage. None was more astounded than Qin Haifan, for he had seen Yang Yaozong before. Yet now, aside from his features, all trace of the frail, sickly youth from before had vanished.

Far from the pallid, delicate invalid of rumor, Yang Yaozong stood revealed as a vibrant, spirited, and strikingly handsome young man.

Today, he wore the robes that Li Yijun had specially prepared for him: a gray-white long tunic with an offset collar and a jade belt that accentuated his tall, straight figure like a masterful line of division. His black hair was neatly bound with a blue scholar’s sash, and his sun-kissed, angular face was adorned with sword-like brows, star-bright eyes, a straight and noble nose, and well-shaped lips. The ease and boldness that emanated from his very bones rendered him all the more like a noble tree in the wind—dashing and extraordinary.

His hair today had been tied by Li Yijun herself. Unable to stomach Yang Yaozong’s own careless style, she had, despite her shyness, taken it upon herself to arrange it properly. Once finished, she found him exuding an air of otherworldly grace that made her heart race and her composure waver.

Before entering the hall, Yang Yaozong’s gaze fell upon Yin Ruxin seated in the place of honor. She wore a dress of pale yellow silk, her hair styled in a tassel bun adorned with just the right number of golden hairpins. On her delicate earlobes hung a pair of pearl earrings, each suspended by a thread of silver so the pearls naturally draped beside her cheeks. Around her neck was a slender silver chain threaded with six red beans, gleaming as it circled her flawless skin, the beans arranged delicately between her exquisite collarbones. Her stunning beauty was thus set off to perfection.

Yang Yaozong spared her no more than a single glance, but in that instant he saw the myriad emotions in her eyes—surprise, worry, longing, love, and fear.

As Yin Ruxin finally saw the man she had yearned for day and night, her fists clenched tightly beneath the table, nails digging into her palms so hard that blood welled up. Only pain could suppress the mist of tears threatening to rise in her eyes. She noticed that after a single glance, Yang Yaozong would not look at her again. She had never expected or desired their reunion to occur in such a manner. Her heart was in turmoil, her face ashen. She ached to flee at once, to spare him the sight of her here. Though she had longed to see him, the reality was more excruciating than the world’s harshest punishments.

Seated beside Yin Ruxin was a man of fair, smooth skin and refined features—a handsome and debonair gentleman.

Yang Yaozong surmised at once that this must be the illustrious Senior Prince of the royal house. His own feelings were equally conflicted, though he betrayed nothing.

He entered the hall calmly and bowed to the prince. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness, for my tardiness. I hope you will forgive me.”

He then bowed to the assembled guests. “Thank you for your patience, ladies and gentlemen. I beg your indulgence for the delay.”

The prince, Jing Min, smiled graciously. “Grand Mentor to the Crown Prince, you bear heavy responsibilities. It is my honor that you could attend at all. Please, take your seat so that our poetry gathering may commence.” He indicated the place at his side.

Yang Yaozong accepted without demur. “Thank you, Your Highness.” He proceeded to sit beside Mu Qinghan.

The composure and dignity with which Yang Yaozong conducted himself left those who had intended to challenge him at a loss for words.

Once he was seated, the prince raised his cup and announced the poetry gathering open. At that moment, Yin Ruxin leaned over to whisper a few words to the prince, then quietly withdrew from the hall. Noticing that the prince offered no explanation for her departure, Yang Yaozong surmised she had seized the pretext of leaving to avoid him.

Just then, Wang Youwei rose to speak. “Grand Mentor—”

He was cut off by Yang Yaozong, who stood abruptly and said, “Your Highness, forgive me, but I am suddenly in urgent need of relief.”

Mu Qinghan, hearing this, blushed with embarrassment and silently fumed: How could he need to relieve himself the moment he sat down?

Wang Youwei, thwarted in his attempt to speak, snapped irritably, “Grand Mentor, to excuse yourself so soon after sitting is most disrespectful to His Highness. It’s unseemly—an affront to propriety!”

Yang Yaozong, having noted the contempt in Wang’s expression, realized this was an attempt to make things difficult for him. Eager to meet Yin Ruxin, he had no time for such quarrels. With a look of urgency, he replied, “Brother, I think you exaggerate. Is answering the call of nature now so disrespectful? So improper? So offensive to scholarly dignity? Are you telling me you’ve never had such needs?”

Wang Youwei, stung by the retort, raised his voice. “I would never be so indiscreet at a moment like this!”

“Ah, so you choose your moments for such necessities,” Yang Yaozong replied.

“You—you’re being willfully contentious!”

“Brother, there is an old saying: reason is not in the volume of one’s voice. Shouting to the heavens cannot make you right. Have you ever heard that water from a fertile field does not flow to outsiders?”

Mu Qinghan, seated beside him, blushed scarlet and cursed him silently. Fertile water indeed! What an outrageous thing to say!

Qin Xueyao couldn’t help but snicker. Realizing no one else laughed, she pressed her lips together, her cheeks red. The phrase was so amusing, she wondered how he came up with it.

A scholar surnamed Li stood to Wang’s defense. “Grand Mentor, you are being a sophisticate.”

Yang Yaozong, still looking strained and clutching his stomach, replied, “If I were to commit an indecency here, you would hardly call it sophistry. Your Highness, I truly must go.”

Seeing the sweat beading on Yang Yaozong’s brow and his hand pressed tightly to his stomach, the prince guessed his need was genuine. He instructed a maid, “Please show Lord Yang to the lavatory.”

Yang Yaozong hurried after the maid toward the estate’s conveniences.

In grand households, the lavatories were divided by gender—built in the same area but separated by a road, men to the left, women to the right. The maid led Yang Yaozong to a corridor. “My lord, follow this corridor, turn left twice, and you will find the gentlemen’s facilities. I’ll wait here for you.”

“Very well. Wait here,” he replied, and hurried off.

But instead of going to the lavatory, Yang Yaozong concealed himself behind a pillar at the corridor’s first turn, where the light was dim and he would not easily be detected. He simply wanted to see if he might encounter Yin Ruxin; if not, he would return to the hall.

Just then, he saw Yin Ruxin approaching from the opposite end. As she reached the corner, Yang Yaozong swiftly covered her mouth and pulled her to his side, pressing her gently against the pillar. To prevent her from struggling, he pressed his body close to her delicate frame and whispered, “Xin’er, it’s me. Don’t make a sound.”

She started in fright, but on seeing it was Yang Yaozong, the tears she had held back finally spilled over. She nodded to him, and he released her, gently wiping the tears from her cheeks.

In that close embrace, both could feel the other’s ragged breath. Yin Ruxin, lifting her face, traced her hands along his cheeks. “You’re tanned. Why have you come out here too?”

He was now half a head taller than she; bowing his head, he pressed his forehead to hers and replied in a low voice, “I missed you.”

Those three simple words melted their hearts into one. She gazed at him, tears streaming down her face.

Unable to resist her fragile beauty, Yang Yaozong kissed away the tears from her eyes.

She longed to weep in his arms, for his initial indifference in the hall had nearly broken her. Now, his tenderness pieced her shattered heart back together.

Knowing they could not linger, Yang Yaozong kissed her forehead and whispered, “You must return to the hall soon. However jealous, however pained I am, I cannot distract you or place you in danger. Whatever you are planning, it matters not to me—I only want you safe.”

She could only nod, overcome with emotion.

He soothed her further. “The necklace you’re wearing is beautiful. I like it very much.”

She nodded again, still too overwhelmed to speak. Seeing her so gentle and vulnerable, Yang Yaozong felt both warmth and an aching sorrow. Suddenly, he lifted her up, settling her astride his waist so he could gaze up at her.

The very moment he pressed against her, his desire was kindled. She could feel his hardness, and knowing what it meant, stammered, “Not now…we must…we must go back…”

He pressed himself between her thighs, his breath growing heavier. “Mmm. But let me kiss you here first.” He bent and kissed the skin at her neck, right where the six red beans rested.

She melted beneath his touch, her body growing boneless and her breath coming in ragged gasps. She clung to him, supported only by his embrace.

He set her down gently, holding her close. “You go back first. I’ll return shortly.” Releasing her, he fixed her with a lingering look.

Yin Ruxin found her legs weak as she leaned against the pillar to straighten her clothes. Glancing at him, she saw the fabric of his robe still tented conspicuously. Blushing furiously, she stammered, “I…I’ll go now,” and hurried away.

Yang Yaozong glanced down at the evidence of his desire, smiled ruefully, and thought to himself, “That bewitching girl could steal a man’s soul—she’ll be the death of me yet.”