ALTHOUGH XIE JINGLAN might have been a young master in name only, he was arrogant by nature. He wholeheartedly believed that he would one day crush the main courtyard's young master beneath his heel; it was only a matter of time. As soon as he rode his horse through the streets after conquering the imperial examinations, members of the Xie family would kneel before him, weeping and begging for his forgiveness.
When he was abused, he choked down his mouthfuls of blood and broken teeth and envisioned the glorious future that lay ahead. His anger unappeased, the teeth and blood roiled inside him, sparking a slew of twisted daydreams. It was not Mencius's teachings of "conquering others with virtue"2 that filled his head but the words of Sima Qian: "A gentleman does not fear serving his revenge ten years cold."3
If Xie Jinglan wished to stand above all others, the imperial exams were his only option. The Xie family descended from a long line of scholars; the family had served as officials for generations. Alas, the family's talents had waned by the time the current patriarch, Xie Bingfeng, took over. Despite a lifetime of tireless effort, Xie Bingfeng rose only to the sixth rank within the Censorate. Nevertheless, he followed the teachings of the esteemed Confucian scholar Dai Shengyan, serving as an honest, upright official whose extensive knowledge and integrity earned him a commendable reputation.
In the current dynasty, a person's character was thoroughly scrutinized; reputation alone could keep one fed. Xie Bingfeng possessed no practical skills yet still managed to become a leader among scholars; the literati and Confucians took pride in associating with the Xie family. Since the family had been scholars throughout the generations, upholding that ancestral scholastic tradition was paramount. Thus, the Xie family prioritized the education of their descendants, enlisting their most esteemed scholars to manage the clan's school.
The first wife's son, however, was a fool beyond saving. Fearing that Xie Jinglan would overshadow him, Lady Xiao forbade Xie Jinglan to attend the clan's school and refused to provide him with writing materials. Left with no other option, Xie Jinglan resorted to scavenging in the storeroom for old books that had been used by the eldest young master, Xie Jingtao. He hid in corners to eavesdrop on the clan teachers' lessons, writing in the dirt with twigs. Despite the clumsiness of his efforts, he managed to grasp most of the Four Books and Five Classics, surpassing even the classroom's most earnest students.
Ignoring Xiahou Lian, Xie Jinglan sat at a table, meticulously picking through the heap of paper scraps. Slowly, he began to glue the shreds back together.
These books weren't tomes of mystical wisdom, merely his stepping stones. Only through these banal, inane precepts could Xie Jinglan climb above all others.
Just looking at the scraps, Xiahou Lian felt his head spin. He picked up a few at random; while he recognized the characters, the contents eluded him entirely. Aunt Lan had asked him to help, but all he could do was stand there and stare.
The sun set, and night descended. There were no oil lamps to illuminate the room, just a few flickering candles. Xie Jinglan refused to place any of those on the table for fear they'd ignite the scattered paper. Struggling in the dim light, he continued to glue the pages together. The boys' shadows loomed long against the walls of the rundown room, like two shades adrift in the darkness.
Xiahou Lian eventually dozed off at the table, only to wake and see Xie Jinglan still diligently gluing away.
Xie Jinglan was frail, and although they were the same age—twelve—Xiahou Lian was robust, whereas Xie Jinglan looked as if a mere wind could blow him away. After such a long task, Xie Jinglan's eyes had grown weary. The boy kept rubbing them, arousing a flicker of sympathy in even the insensitive Xiahou Lian.
A mischievous slacker, Xiahou Lian never practiced swordplay for more than four hours at a time. In the mountains, he'd spent seven out of every ten days chasing rabbits and pheasants, dedicating only the remaining three to memorizing and practicing saber techniques.
He picked up a scrap Xie Jinglan had discarded. It was covered in poorly handwritten words, the ink lines varying in thickness and blemished by a number of unnecessary strokes. The writer's brush had apparently been of poor quality, coarse and scraggly. Glancing around, Xiahou Lian spotted a thinning brush on the ground, its sparse bristles still stained with ink.
Not bad for someone so girly. Xiahou Lian might've been lazy, but he genuinely respected those willing to toil.
"Hey, um, Shaoye," Xiahou Lian blurted awkwardly, scratching his head. Being a hoodlum, he still wasn't used to playing a servant. "It's getting late," he continued. "If you're tired, why not go to bed?"
Without even glancing at him, Xie Jinglan replied, "Just go to sleep if you want. You're useless here anyway."
The little bastard might not have mastered all the classics, but he'd sure learned how to tick people off. Xiahou Lian, however, was good-natured and didn't hold it against him. Instead, he said, "At this rate, you'll be stuck gluing paper until next year. Tomorrow, I'll steal you a book from the library. I've heard that the Xie family's Xiuwen Hall houses a huge collection of books; the family even prints their own volumes. Their copies are reputedly the finest you'll find in all of Jiangsu and Zhejiang, with wide margins and large characters so they're effortless to read. Why waste your time here when better books are practically right in front of you?"
Xie Jinglan finally lifted his head from the stack of paper. "Steal? What kind of life did you lead before coming here? Don't bring underhanded tricks you picked up elsewhere into this household. If you got caught, you'd drag us all down."
"Fine—since you're so high and mighty, just keep on gluing," Xiahou Lian said, feeling snubbed. He rose from the table and walked away. "It'd just be a couple dumb books. Yet here you are, a young master of the Xie family, cowering like a turtle and gluing paper scraps, too scared to take what belongs to you. If that fat kid finds out, he'll sure laugh his head off."
"Wait." Xie Jinglan glared at Xiahou Lian, sneering.
"What?"
"You have no right to mock me, no matter how low I've fallen." Xie Jinglan stood, seizing Xiahou Lian by the collar, and spat, "You're my servant. I don't need you lecturing me!"
"Give me a break," Xiahou Lian said, shoving Xie Jinglan aside. "You're worse off than even a servant right now. 'Young master,' my ass."
Xie Jinglan suddenly sprang forward and punched Xiahou Lian. His hard, craggy fist—little more than a bag of skin and bones—caught the other boy off guard and struck him squarely in the face. A fresh bruise bloomed instantly, accompanied by prickling pain. Furious, Xiahou Lian swung his fists without another word. The frail, weak Xie Jinglan was no match for him. After they'd exchanged a few blows, Xie Jinglan found himself pinned beneath Xiahou Lian, unable to get away no matter how hard he struggled.
"Do you yield? With that physique, you'd be too little to eat for lunch—and you still picked a fight?!" Xiahou Lian smirked, patting Xie Jinglan's face triumphantly. "Look at you, trying to take things out on me when you couldn't even beat that fatso. I may be your servant, but that doesn't mean I'm yours to kick around!"
Xie Jinglan struggled for a long time to no avail. At last, he slumped to the ground and stared up at the holey ceiling. As a wave of sadness and humiliation washed over him, tears suddenly filled his eyes. He covered them frantically with his hands, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to remain silent. He hadn't shed a tear during Xie Jingtao's daytime beating, but now his sorrow flowed out, impossible to stop.
"Why are you crying? Hey, don't cry!" Xiahou Lian said, flustered. He quickly got off Xie Jinglan and helped him up. "I only hit you a few times! Don't cry!"
"I'm not crying!" Xie Jinglan turned his head away, refusing to let Xiahou Lian see how red his eyes were.
Xiahou Lian had always known that he was afraid of girls crying, but he'd never expected to find a boy's tears equally unbearable. With a heavy sigh, he relented. "All right, all right. I'm sorry."
"Get lost! I don't want to see you!"
"Hey, don't be like that! I'm apologizing. I was wrong. I shouldn't have been so rude."
Xie Jinglan remained silent, which left Xiahou Lian with no choice but to sit there scratching his head. After a while, the latter said, "I'm heading to bed now, so please stop crying."
Xie Jinglan turned his head away, unwilling to look at him, and Xiahou Lian could only stand and walk away.
It was finally quiet. The candles had flickered out at some point, leaving a fog of darkness that crowded in on Xie Jinglan from all sides. He sat alone on the ground, and tears came again. Once his eyes had adjusted to the dark, he propped himself against a stool and tried to stand. The stool had one short leg; it wobbled precariously, and he nearly lost his balance.
Pushing the door open, he walked out into the lonely courtyard. It was strewn with fallen leaves, and the lotus flowers in the two planters had long since withered, leaving only pale stalks behind.
Twelve years of bitterness surged within his heart. Everyone had a mother except him. Although he had a father, he might as well not have had one. Growing up alone in this isolated courtyard, he'd been like a ball of rice anyone could mold as they pleased. Now, even his servant looked down on him.
He laughed derisively as Xiahou Lian's words echoed in his mind: "It'd just be a couple dumb books. Yet here you are, a young master of the Xie family, cowering like a turtle and gluing paper scraps, too scared to take what belongs to you. If that fat kid finds out, he'll sure laugh his head off."
Xiahou Lian was right. Those books were his. Xie Jinglan paused for a moment, letting the wind dry his wet cheeks, then clenched his fists and strode through the side gate.
All was deserted and eerily silent. In her scrimping, the first matron had extinguished even the lanterns in the walkways. It was the depths of winter, and the biting night wind stung Xie Jinglan's face. The path to the library was shrouded in complete darkness, but Xie Jinglan recalled the route and crept forward.
After walking for a while, he arrived at the library, only to find the door locked. Having no key, he couldn't get in. Instead, he circled the building, seeking a way to sneak in, but found all the doors and windows securely shut.
Xie Jinglan stood before the locked door for a while, now numb from the biting wind, then snapped out of his daze. Feeling as if he'd awoken from a dream, he turned to leave. Just as he did, a boy stepped from behind a pillar, smiling brightly at him.
Xie Jinglan stubbornly looked away, refusing to meet the bastard's gaze. "Why did you follow me? To watch me make a fool of myself?"
"How could my humble self dare?"
Xiahou Lian pulled a thin iron wire from his sleeve and deftly slid it into and around the keyhole. With a crisp click, the lock unlatched, and the door creaked open an inch. Xiahou Lian pushed it open wider and gestured for Xie Jinglan to enter. Xie Jinglan hesitated, biting his lip, but ultimately still stepped inside.
Xiahou Lian gently closed the door behind him. "Quick—which book do you want? Grab it!"
Xie Jinglan was silent as he stared into the pitch-black room. How am I supposed to find a book in this darkness? he thought.
Meanwhile, Xiahou Lian produced a firestarter and blew gently. A small flame flickered to life at his fingertips and illuminated their faces. They looked at each other, a mere arm's length apart, the glow from the tiny fire shining between them.
Xiahou Lian had tidied himself up. His face was clean, and his eyes shone like stars. His appearance was just pleasing enough to curb Xie Jinglan's displeasure somewhat. However, the recollection of Xiahou Lian pinning him down and punching him still weighed on his mind. Xie Jinglan wrestled with his discomfort for a while, then decided to ignore the other boy.
Noticing that Xie Jinglan was still sulking, Xiahou Lian grew a little worried. "You're not still upset, are you?" he asked. "Please, Shaoye, show me some kindness. Please don't be mad. Look at me, your humble servant, bowing before you and begging for your grace. Won't you please forgive me just this once?"
"Who's angry with you?" Xie Jinglan huffed, grabbing the firestarter as he turned to search for the book. "Hmph. I've never met a servant as insolent as you. You're lucky that I'm your master. Xie Jingtao would've killed you eight hundred times over by now!"
"Of course, Jinglan-shaoye! I'm truly fortunate to have such a kindhearted master. You have been gracious with my undeserving self, and you're willing to overlook my mistakes."
Xiahou Lian was an old hand at sweet-talking others. Xie Jinglan, appeased, softened his expression.
The library was packed with bookshelves, leaving just enough room for two people to squeeze through. The shelves loomed overhead, almost brushing the ceiling. A musty odor permeated the room, and a slight chill in the air made Xiahou Lian uneasy. He nudged Xie Jinglan's back, urging him to hurry up.
Passing three bookshelves, Xie Jinglan realized that the library was organized according to the Seven Categories.4 For what felt like an eternity, the pair searched with rapt focus, then finally located Chen Hao's Collected Explanations of the "Book of Rites" on the seventeenth shelf. Xie Jinglan decided to take only the first volume, planning to read it, then return for the second.
"Do you think they'll notice that the book is missing?" Xie Jinglan whispered.
"Notice? No frigging way! Can't you see the dust on these books? They haven't been touched in centuries!"
"Watch your language!" Xie Jinglan lightly swatted Xiahou Lian's head, then reached for another volume. "I'll take this one too."
Xiahou Lian lifted the first volume and casually flipped through it. His eyes went wide.
"What's wrong?" Xie Jinglan asked, noting Xiahou Lian's odd reaction. He leaned in for a closer look and was instantly dumbstruck.
The book was full of lifelike, captivating erotic paintings. Men and women lay entwined in various poses, and even their expressions were rendered in exquisite detail.
"Wh-what is this?" Xie Jinglan stammered, his face flushed with embarrassment and hot enough to cook an egg. He slammed the book shut.
"Erotic artwork!" Xiahou Lian exclaimed in awe. "If I'm not mistaken, this is the famous Intimate Scenes of Leisurely Love by Yuan-dynasty painter Zhao Xiyan. My mother has a replica! Could this be the original? The beautifully drawn people, the rich colors, even the patterns on the clothes and the flowers and plants are lovingly detailed—it's the pinnacle of erotic painting! Look—this one's called Red Plum Hanging Down, and this one is Warbler Singing at Dawn. This one is Summer in Jiangnan."
Xie Jinglan listened to Xiahou Lian's lengthy explanation, then leapt on the least immediately relevant part: "Wait—did you say 'my mother'?"
Xiahou Lian jolted, realizing that he'd slipped up. "No—no, I was saying that your father's a hypocrite, hiding erotic artwork in his library!"
Xie Jinglan's face flushed an even deeper red. He frantically shoved the album of erotic illustrations back onto the shelf and stammered, "I'm not taking this. I'll grab something else."
"Wait." Xiahou Lian pulled down the album and tucked it into his shirt, lips curved in a mischievous smile. "Let's bring it back to study. There's a...certain charm to reading these at night, by lamplight. You've never seen anything like this, have you, Jinglan-shaoye? Aren't you curious?"
Xie Jinglan firmly refused. "Put it back!"
Xiahou Lian chuckled. "Didn't expect you to be such a goody two-shoes. Fine, don't read it. But I'm still keeping it for now, since it might come in handy."
Next, Xiahou Lian insisted that Xie Jinglan show him to the fat boy's study. Although Xie Jinglan had no idea what he was planning, he agreed to bring him there, unable to take Xiahou Lian's relentless badgering. The pair crept into the main courtyard. There, Xiahou Lian deftly used his wire once more to unlock the study door, and they slipped inside.
Xie Jinglan's heart was in his throat. This was his first taste of thievery, but when he saw Xiahou Lian's unshakable confidence, he refused to be outdone. He summoned his courage and feigned nonchalance, then followed closely behind Xiahou Lian, scanning the study and taking in the furnishings.
In the center of the study hung a plaque inscribed House of Sweeping Leaves. Xie Jinglan scoffed. Someone like Xie Jingtao just dragged down such an elegant name.
On the table sat an inkstone, brushes, and high-quality rice paper from Jing County in Anhui. Xie Jinglan caressed the smooth, silky sheets, and a twinge of envy stirred within him.
Xiahou Lian found a stack of books on the table and pulled out Collected Explanations of the "Book of Rites." Sure enough, its cover was identical to the one he'd taken from the library; both had been printed by the Xie family's Xiuwen Hall. Taking the genuine volume, he placed the counterfeit on top of the pile of books, then signaled Xie Jinglan to follow him.
Xie Jinglan quickly caught on to Xiahou Lian's scheme.
Xiahou Lian shook his head and smiled. "On my way here today, I overheard a maid saying that the lord is returning tomorrow. If your hypocritical father values his children's education above all else, guess what he's sure to do upon getting back?"
Xie Jinglan felt a surge of warmth in his chest. "You always have inane ideas. This might not even work," he said, refusing to betray his gratitude.
Xiahou Lian just grinned. "Let's wait and see, then."