Chapter Twenty: The Grand Ceremony of the Alliance of Five Nations – Fulfilling the Trust of Others with Loyalty

On the morning after the banquet, Fu Chen, carrying a jar of wine, arrived with Wan Qi Shu at the private residence where General Mo Ziqiu was staying. As soon as they entered the garden, they saw two osmanthus trees planted across from each other, apparently six or seven years old. At this time of year, the osmanthus blossoms were in full bloom. The autumn wind carried their fragrance far and wide, the scent both pure and heady.

Wan Qi Shu bent down to pick up some osmanthus petals swept down by the morning breeze. He brought them to his nose and inhaled deeply; the delicate aroma from the heart of the flower seemed to ripple through his chest, soothing and uplifting his spirit. He then held the petals up to Fu Chen’s nose like a child. “Smell this, quickly, smell it.”

“Mmm, this fragrance truly haunts the soul,” Fu Chen praised sincerely after inhaling.

“Sixth Prince? Your humble servant greets Your Highness.” Mo Ziqiu, having heard voices from inside the house, hurried out. Seeing it was Fu Chen, he quickly bowed.

Only then did Fu Chen come to his senses. After handing the wine to Wan Qi Shu, he quickly helped Mo Ziqiu up and said with a bright smile, “General, there’s no need for such ceremony. Please, rise. We’re all far from home in a foreign land; such formalities are unnecessary.”

Mo Ziqiu, nearly fifty, looked both anxious and flustered. He took a step back and bowed again, saying, “You are a prince, and I am but a servant of the state. My words and actions must observe the proper decorum.”

Fu Chen and Wan Qi Shu exchanged awkward glances at this. They were long accustomed to informality, but since they’d returned, they knew it was time to mind their manners.

“Oh, by the way, General, where were you headed?” Fu Chen suddenly remembered their purpose.

“I heard voices in the garden and came to see. I hadn’t expected the Sixth Prince to arrive in person, nor was I informed,” he said, a note of irritation in his voice.

“It’s not their fault. We asked not to be announced,” Wan Qi Shu explained.

Noticing the distinguished-looking man beside Fu Chen, Mo Ziqiu asked, “And this is?”

“The Third Prince of Dongling, Wan Qi Shu,” Fu Chen introduced simply.

“My apologies for my poor eyesight, Third Prince,” Mo Ziqiu said, bowing again.

Wan Qi Shu smiled lightly. “No harm done. The reason we’ve come unannounced is that we carry a commission, and we hope you’ll forgive our intrusion.”

Mo Ziqiu seemed puzzled, but seeing no one else around, he gestured politely. “Please, come inside.”

Once the three were seated, Mo Ziqiu set out cups and poured the freshly brewed tea, offering it to them with due respect.

Fu Chen carefully set the wine jar before Mo Ziqiu and came straight to the point. “While passing through Beixiao, the proprietor of the Red Banner Tavern asked us to bring this wine to you.”

“This is an excellent vintage,” Wan Qi Shu added, propping his chin in his hand as he sipped his tea.

Beixiao? Red Banner Tavern? The proprietor?

Mo Ziqiu was filled with questions. In all his time in Beixiao, he’d never met the proprietor of such a tavern. He gazed at the wine jar, his eyes deep with confusion. “This?”

Fu Chen sipped his tea and met Mo Ziqiu’s questioning gaze. “The proprietor, Lin, only asked us to deliver the wine to you…”

At the mention of the name Lin, Mo Ziqiu trembled, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. Overcome with emotion, he forgot all etiquette and interrupted Fu Chen, his voice trembling, “You said their surname is Lin?”

Fu Chen had never seen the general like this and nodded mutely.

Wan Qi Shu, observing Mo Ziqiu’s reaction, guessed there must be some history between them. He recounted the events of their journey, including the story they’d heard.

If before Mo Ziqiu had only been startled, now, after hearing Wan Qi Shu’s account, he was certain that the proprietor Lin was his beloved Qing Ru.

Mo Ziqiu closed his eyes, his hands clenched into fists, grief overwhelming him. He lowered his head and murmured, “Qing Ru… In the end, I failed her.”

Seeing this, Fu Chen and Wan Qi Shu began to piece together the story.

“Er… General, about the wine…” Wan Qi Shu, uninterested in love stories but very interested in the wine, couldn’t help but swallow as he spoke, practically drooling with anticipation.

Throughout their journey, they had been extremely cautious, lest the wine spill or be damaged. Riding with it had been nerve-wracking, but thankfully, nothing had gone wrong.

Fu Chen shot Wan Qi Shu a meaningful look.

Wan Qi Shu stuck out his tongue, realizing it was perhaps inappropriate to be thinking about wine at a time like this, but he couldn’t help himself.

Mo Ziqiu understood and quickly composed himself, pushing aside his sorrow. He lifted the red cloth sealing the jar, but no familiar aroma greeted him.

His eyes widened in surprise as he pulled from the jar a wooden hairpin, a charming red ceramic doll, and a thick stack of letters.

“So there was no wine inside after all,” Fu Chen remarked.

Wan Qi Shu, meanwhile, felt as though he’d fallen from heaven to earth, consumed by disappointment.

Mo Ziqiu, his emotions in turmoil, hurriedly tore open the envelope, his hands trembling.

By the time he’d finished reading, an hour or two had passed.

Suddenly, Mo Ziqiu dropped to his knees. “Thank you, Sixth Prince, Third Prince!”

Seeing the joy on his face, Fu Chen and Wan Qi Shu were bewildered.

“What did the letter say to make you so happy, General?” Fu Chen asked as he helped him up.

Moments before, Mo Ziqiu had been desolate, yet now he was elated, as if he’d found a treasure. He quickly explained, “Qing Ru wrote that she was never actually betrothed to anyone; her parents only said so to make me give up. After I left her, her parents both passed away. Heartbroken, she feigned her own death, and then went to manage the Red Banner Tavern her family ran in secret…”

He continued, “After I left, I went to Nansheng, where I sought out Lord Bai Tiankuo, whom I’d met only once. He appreciated my talents and recommended me to the military. Since I’d read military texts since childhood, I soon became a deputy general. Still, I couldn’t stop worrying about Qing Ru, so I went to Beixiao, but the neighbors said she was no longer there…”

“I see,” Fu Chen and Wan Qi Shu said in unison, understanding dawning.

“If not for the two of you, Qing Ru and I might have regretted it for the rest of our lives. I made this hairpin for her. There are two dolls; this one is hers.” Mo Ziqiu showed them the hairpin and the ceramic doll.

“General, your love for Proprietor Lin runs deep. I suspect you’ll see each other soon,” Fu Chen said with a smile.

“Once the Five Nations Alliance Ceremony ends, I’ll ask the Emperor of Nansheng for leave and go to Beixiao to find her.”

“Well then, we’ll take our leave,” Fu Chen said, rising to go.

“This debt of gratitude—I will repay it if ever I have the chance.” Mo Ziqiu bowed again, his eyes resolute.

After leaving the manor, Fu Chen noticed Wan Qi Shu’s dejection and nudged him. “What’s wrong? Still thinking about the wine?”

“Of course I am,” Wan Qi Shu grumbled.

Fu Chen couldn’t help but laugh and teased, “Look at you—one day you’ll die for wine.”

“If I could die for good wine, it’d be worth it, even as a ghost,” Wan Qi Shu replied with a shrug and a smile.

Fu Chen shook his head in exasperation, unable to respond.

At the time, neither Fu Chen nor Wan Qi Shu could have known that this joke would one day become a prophecy…

“Why do you think Brother Zhao refused to come to the palace with us? It’s such a rare opportunity,” Fu Chen mused, recalling Zhao Xu’s flustered expression.

“Maybe he thinks there are too many rules in the palace,” Wan Qi Shu suggested.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Fu Chen agreed with a nod.