Chapter Three: Zhang Buyi of the Five-Colored Dragon and Phoenix

“Although I was dearly cared for by Madam Qi in the Qingyue Pavilion, I always knew that, as a woman, being adorned in silks and satins and dwelling in splendid mansions was only to await a price on my affections. To be measured by one’s attire and headwear—this is the lowest, most degrading fate in the world. That I ever had a chance to leave that place, I remain deeply grateful to the Second Lord.”

“But…it was only upon arriving at the Yuan residence that I realized the Second Lord Yuan, outwardly a courteous gentleman, was in truth depraved and reckless in private, his temper cruel and violent, and—and in the bedchamber he harbored the most unnatural desires, more beast than man…”

Lü Shuang’s delicate form trembled, her lips pale, barely able to utter another word. Xu You’s heart was moved with pity, and he gently said, “I understand. You needn’t say more. Is this why you wished to leave the Yuan household?”

From ancient times, men with perverse predilections have been countless: the likes of Duke Xuan of Wei and Duke Hui of Lu in the Spring and Autumn period, Liu Ao, Liu Xin, and Liu Jian of the Western Han, Liu Hong of the Eastern Han, Fu Sheng of Former Qin, and others such as Liu Ziye and Gao Yang from the Northern and Southern Dynasties, Gao Baoxu of Southern Ping during the Five Dynasties, Liu Yan of Southern Han, Zhu Wen of Later Liang, and Ogedei Khan of the Yuan. All were preeminent figures in this shameful realm, known for their debauchery without limits, gathering men and women alike, sometimes even their closest kin—sisters, cousins, sisters-in-law, daughters-in-law, mothers-in-law, aunts, wives of subordinates, and even women of the common folk—none were spared if they caught their fancy. Some went even further, dragging cattle, dogs, and sheep into these scenes of unspeakable depravity. Compared to what later generations called “educational films” favored by reclusive men, the real-life tales were far more bizarre and incredible.

Absolute power breeds absolute depravity; when vice is unchecked, the ugliness and cruelty of human nature are bared for all to see.

This is an era when poets and scholars flaunt their wit and charm, when strategists and generals blaze with brilliance, yet beneath these dazzling cloaks lies a time of utmost ruthlessness, where blood flows, flesh is stripped, and bones are boiled in wine—a time of coldest cruelty.

A flicker of gratitude flashed in Lü Shuang’s eyes as she said, “Thank you for your understanding, my lord. Once, when he…he was tormenting me again, Shui Yi happened upon us. She pitied me deeply and privately mentioned she wanted to appeal to Mistress San, to see if there was a way for me to leave the Second Lord’s side, but she never found a suitable chance. Mistress San cherishes peace and rarely meddles in household affairs, and since this also involved her elder brother, Shui Yi dared not speak rashly.”

Xu You, wishing to ease the heavy mood, smiled and said, “So, when I arrived, you both saw your opportunity, didn’t you?”

Lü Shuang, anxious and apologetic, replied, “Forgive us, we were too presumptuous.”

“It’s all in the past… Go on, how did that scheming little minx Shui Yi manage to persuade you?”

“Persuade?” Lü Shuang echoed softly. “My lord means how she convinced me? She didn’t have to say much. In idle conversation, Shui Yi mentioned that the Xu gentleman, betrothed to Mistress San from Yixing, had come to Jinling, and also said that he…”

“I can guess it wasn’t flattering. Speak honestly, it’s no matter.”

“She said that this Xu gentleman was both foolish and clumsy, no different from the butcher of Wuyang, the stablehand of Lord Teng, the merchant of Yingyin, or the bumpkin of Quzhou—just another country oaf dreaming of climbing dragons and phoenixes, daring to covet that which is forbidden. She wanted to teach him a harsh lesson to vent her anger.”

Xu You snorted, “Shui Yi has scarcely read a line of ‘Zuo Zhuan,’ let alone the ‘Book of Han.’ I suppose those colorful epithets were your own embellishments. How harsh were her original words?”

The butcher of Wuyang, the stablehand of Lord Teng, the merchant of Yingyin, and the bumpkin of Quzhou—these are figures from the ‘Book of Han,’ all of humble origin, considered lowborn.

Lü Shuang glanced cautiously at Xu You, seeing he was not truly angry, and wisely sidestepped the topic, continuing, “So we discussed and decided I should pose as a maid from Yaju to meet you. If things went as planned, your humiliation would be certain, Shui Yi would have vented her spleen, and I would surely have incurred the Second Lord’s wrath. My best outcome would have been a swift death with my body intact. Given Mistress San’s temperament, even if she knew nothing beforehand, she would be furious afterward. But since she would be implicated, she could not stand idly by. Then Shui Yi would have an excuse to plead on my behalf, seeking life in the midst of death, hoping to escape this place that has made life worse than death.”

“To court death for a chance at life! You two women are truly bold, not lacking a certain ruthless decisiveness!” Xu You laughed, “If I weren’t the poor victim in all this, I’d almost be inclined to praise your cunning!”

Lü Shuang was embarrassed by his teasing and tried to kneel to apologize, but Xu You stopped her. “We were strangers before, you acted to survive, Shui Yi to vent her anger. You both had your reasons. Self-preservation is the law of nature, there’s no right or wrong. Since I bear Shui Yi no grudge, I won’t hold it against you either. Let us never speak of this again!”

“Yes, my lord.”

Lü Shuang replied softly, and, after waiting in silence for Xu You to speak, she glanced up to see that he was no longer sitting upright but reclining languidly against the boat’s side, his legs stretched out in a manner far from decorous—a posture of utter relaxation, with none of his earlier guardedness or reserve. Gathering her courage, she asked, “My lord, could you recite that poem you made earlier once more? I left in such haste that there was a line I did not quite catch…”

Xu You replied lazily, “It’s not my own composition, I forget where I read it. It simply fit the moment, so I recited it offhand. It’s nothing remarkable.”

Lü Shuang found him hard to read. Among the gentry of Jiangdong, philosophical discourse and poetry are highly prized; should someone craft such exquisite verse, not only would they never disown it, they would boast of it to all they met. Who would ever act as nonchalant as this?

Just as she thought he would not recite it again and was feeling a bit disappointed, Xu You suddenly clapped his hands and declaimed in a ringing voice:

“The moon sets, crows call, and frost fills the sky;
By the river maples and fishing lights, sleepless with sorrow I lie.
From Cold Mountain Temple outside Suzhou’s gate,
The midnight bell sounds reach my boat in the night.”

His clear voice pierced the cabin walls, rippling through the empty night. Just then, a large boat passed closely by; at its prow stood a man, hands clasped behind his back, gazing up at the moonlit sky. Upon hearing the poem, his expression shifted from surprise to shock. He hastily ordered his boat to stop, strode to the rail, and called out, “Which gentleman is aboard that vessel? I am Zhang Mo of Zhuji. Might I come aboard and pay my respects?”

Zhang Mo of Zhuji?

Xu You had spoken out on a whim, never expecting to draw the attention of such a person. Searching his mind, he found no recollection of anyone named Zhang Mo.

Zhang Mo…wasn’t that the name of some famously disappointing son?

Lü Shuang gasped in surprise. “So it’s him…”

Xu You knew that Lü Shuang, having spent years in the Yuan household, had seen more than most women. He asked, “You know this man?”

“Zhang Mo of Zhuji—if I’m not mistaken, he is the one they call ‘The Five-Colored Dragon and Phoenix,’ Zhang Buyi.”

“The Five-Colored Dragon and Phoenix? He must be a literary prodigy from the Zhang family of Wu Commandery?”

There is a line in the ‘Selections of Refined Literature’: ‘With the flourish of brush, the writings of dragon and phoenix soar.’ Li Shan’s commentary states, ‘Dragon and phoenix, being of five colors, are used as a metaphor for ornate writing.’ Hence, such nicknames were often given to those with dazzling literary talent, and a man thus famed must surely hail from an illustrious family—if surnamed Zhang, likely tied to the prestigious Zhangs of Wu.

“I have heard that two years ago, at the West Garden Gathering in Wu Commandery, Zhang Mo excelled in every poetic contest, his bearing refined and his talent praised by the chief adjudicator of Yangzhou. Yet, due to his family’s circumstances, he was ranked as an eighth-grade official at best. He was later offered the post of county assistant but declined. As for his ties to the Zhangs of Wu, opinions differ. Some say his branch was long estranged, others that his line was expelled after a family feud and settled in Zhuji. Which is true, I cannot say.”

Xu You suddenly realized Lü Shuang possessed a rare strength: after years of immersion among the Confucian elite of the Yuans and growing up in Qingyue Pavilion, she knew far more about the affairs of scholars and poets than he did. He had Qiu Fen to manage the household, a perfect confidante, and Zuo Wen, unmatched in martial skill, to handle all matters of force. Yet in Qiantang and Wu Commandery, lands famed for their scholarly culture, he was utterly ignorant of the celebrated figures. If he were to mingle among them, what a fool he would look! Truly, everyone has their strengths—what matters is using them well. It suddenly occurred to Xu You: could Yuan Qingqi have foreseen this, knowing he would be a stranger in Qiantang, and so sent Lü Shuang, who grew up in Wu County, to him as both companion and guide? If so, Yuan Qingqi’s scheming was truly formidable!

Pushing aside his growing wariness of Yuan Qingqi, Xu You, caught in dangerous circumstances, had no wish to make new friends at such a time. He did not even open the cabin door, instead replying, “I have ladies aboard, and it is late; I fear it would be inconvenient. Should I offend, I hope you will forgive me, Master Buyi.”

Zhang Mo was not one of those unruly eccentrics who ignored propriety. Hearing there were ladies aboard, he did not insist, but instead praised, “Sir, your poem is unlike the ancient airs of the Music Bureau, nor does it rhyme every line like Cao Pi’s ‘Song of Yan.’ Instead, it alternates rhymes and carries a cadence between the words, possessing a swaying beauty that opens the mind’s eye. At first, its structure seems wonderfully paradoxical—both linked and broken, broken yet linked. The more I savor it, the more I sense the desolation and longing, the sleepless sorrow in the phrase ‘sleepless with sorrow’—it captures the utter loneliness of a soul with no place in the world! Though five-character verse is now prized, I myself favor your seven-character lines.”

Xu You thought to himself, This man is truly remarkable. In a moment, he grasped the subtlety of Zhang Ji’s “Mooring by Maple Bridge at Night” and immediately noted its alternate rhyme and tonal structure. In this era, five-character verse had reached its limits but still dominated; seven-character verse, after Han Zhang Heng and Wei Cao Pi, had languished. Xu You’s poem, in fact, was a fully matured Tang dynasty quatrain, centuries ahead in technique.

“Your praise flatters me! Five-character lines are exhausted, thus the seven-character verse expresses the meaning—a mere expedient when talent fails.”

“Hahaha!” Zhang Mo laughed heartily. “From your words alone, I see the heights of your character! But I do have a question I hope you will answer.”

“Please, ask.”

“Though Suzhou is ringed with many temples, the nearest to us—and the one whose bell you would have heard—ought to be named Maple Bridge Temple. Why did you call it ‘Cold Mountain’? Is there a particular story behind this?”