Chapter Twenty: Waiter, Bring the Wine!

Now in Yangzhou’s Ping’an Lane, a young man named Yu Zi You has proven himself with unmatched courage and valor. Alone, wielding a single blade, he eradicated three hundred bandits! He is awarded ten taels of gold and granted the honorary post of Commandant of the Eighth Rank by decree from the Chief Historian of the Yangzhou Grand Commandery.

Though the position is merely titular and without duty, and not as widespread as similar ranks in later dynasties, it nonetheless counts as an official honor. The Grand Commandery’s reward made Yu Lang’s name resound throughout Yangzhou, yet it did nothing to ease the pain in his heart.

Li Wen Shan’s family patriarch, Li Zhong Ting, dared not utter a word about his eldest son’s death, scurrying away and relinquishing the property he once seized from the Yu family. Yu Lang moved back to the ancestral mansion in Ji Xian Lane, spending his days lost in the courtyard, his spirit sunken.

These three hundred were men who felt pain and joy—not mere livestock. Though his murderous resolve had faded, the knot in his heart would never be undone. Three hundred heads built a tower, but could not call back his grandfather’s soul. Yu Lang, desolate and weary, found no light in anything. Chief Historian Li Shang Yin had sought this honor for Yu Lang, not so much to reward him, but to prevent this promising youth from wasting away. The official decree was meant to affirm his actions.

“You are not at fault. Had your blade not been sharp enough, the marauders would have shattered your skull without a hint of mercy. You merely did what should have been the court’s duty. The reward is your due.”

Understanding the intent behind Chief Historian Li’s gesture, Yu Lang felt comforted, though his mood remained bleak.

With the move to the mansion, Obaba found himself busier than ever. The three-winged estate took a whole day to clean, leaving him fulfilled. His virtue was not to dwell on things—eat well, work hard, sometimes squat to watch ants fight, and live peacefully.

Less than twenty days remained before the entrance contest at Washing Moon Academy. Qing Qing grew anxious seeing Yu Lang’s listlessness, trying everything to revive him, but nothing worked, and she became increasingly troubled. With Yu Lang inattentive, she took charge of the Yu family’s businesses herself. The managers of two taverns and two general stores resisted her authority, feigning obedience while undermining her, and she could not find skilled replacements. Qing Qing’s days were bitter.

One day, she discovered that Manager Pei of De Yi Tavern was watering down the wine. When guests noticed, he became belligerent. Unable to tolerate it any longer, Qing Qing declared she would dismiss him.

The attendants merely snickered, pretending not to hear. Manager Pei sneered, “Who are you to meddle in the Yu family’s business? You’re just a girl, living in someone else’s house, how improper! Is Yu Lang your lover? Or did the late Master Yu take you as a concubine, serving the old then the young? Who knows what rank your child would have! Tsk tsk.”

The attendants laughed stupidly, their eyes leering at Qing Qing, imagining the youthful allure beneath her thin garment.

No girl could bear such humiliation; Qing Qing wished only to dash herself against a wall to silence such rumors.

A wine jug flew, striking Manager Pei’s head and spilling blood.

Yu Lang rasped, “Leave! All of you, get out!”

Everyone had heard the tales—this young man stacked heads into towers after slaughtering his foes, fierce as a demon. Yu Lang was the true master of the tavern. The attendants hastily helped Manager Pei away.

Yu Lang bowed his head to Qing Qing, admitting fault. “I have wronged you much. Zhang Xiang entrusted you to my care, but in truth, you have cared for me.”

Qing Qing smiled, tears shimmering in her eyes. “It’s all right, as long as you promise to pull yourself together, I won’t mind any of this.”

Yu Lang did not answer directly. “I have lost my grandfather; I do not wish to lose another family member.”

The word “family” softened Qing Qing’s heart; inexplicably, she embraced Yu Lang, her voice trembling, whispering in his ear, “I never told you, but two days ago, I received a letter. My grandfather died of illness on the road home. The world is vast, but now you are my only family.”

Yu Lang held her tightly, his guilt deepening. “Are you sure it was illness? Not some trick by Li Yu?”

Qing Qing nodded. “Zhang Xun and Brother Lei Wan Chun were with him. It was illness, nothing suspicious. Perhaps Li Yu hadn’t acted yet. My grandfather was old, his days numbered, but I don’t know why the Li family pressed so hard.”

Yu Lang sighed. “For those petty villains, nothing is more frightening than a principled, clever scholar like your grandfather. They can’t rest until he’s gone. I hope Brother Zhang Xun is safe.”

“Waiter, wine, more wine!” A sudden shout startled them both; they quickly separated, blushing as if caught in a scandal.

A drunken patron in the tavern, roused by their voices, lay half-dead at his table. He was about thirty, pale-faced but with the weary lines of premature age. He smiled, “Don’t mind me, I heard just a little, very little, you two go on, I won’t disturb you—unless you bring me another jug of wine, then I won’t disturb you at all. I want to drink.”

Yu Lang smiled, “I am Yu Lang, also called Yu Zi You. May I ask your name?”

“Du, Du Fu, courtesy name Zi Mei.” He said this, then promptly slumped asleep on the table.

Yu Lang was stunned, hastily carrying Du Fu back to the mansion for proper care. If the great poet died drunkenly here, he’d be a sinner for the ages.

Du Fu awoke the next day, thanking Yu Lang repeatedly for caring for him.

“Yu Lang, my friend, I came to Yangzhou chasing Li Tai Bai, but I heard he’s already left. I’m disappointed I didn’t meet the Poet Immortal.”

“What? Li Tai Bai is your uncle? Well, Yu Lang, my nephew, tell me about your uncle’s stories.”

Yu Lang replied, “Just now I was your friend, and now I’m your nephew?”

Du Fu lifted his chin, “I’m destined to be Li Tai Bai’s friend—even though being friends with you is nice, when weighed, I’d rather be Li Tai Bai’s friend. So you’ll have to settle for being my nephew, ha!”

Unexpectedly, the airy Li Tai Bai was a brooding soul, while Du Zi Mei, whose poetry was somber, turned out to be playful and wild—a delightful contrast between work and author.

Yu Lang raised a brow and smiled, “Let’s call each other brothers for now. When you meet my uncle, you can change your address.”

Du Fu considered, “That’s fine. I prefer friends to juniors.”

Both Li Bai and Du Fu loved making friends, but Yu Lang noticed their approaches differed: Li Bai liked to gather a crowd and drink, while Du Fu preferred conversation—in fact, Du Fu was a first-rate chatterbox.

“Hey, Obaba, why are you so dark? Do you like ants because they’re black, and remind you of kin?”

“Hey, Qing Qing, is your name inspired by ‘Green robes, my heart yearns for you’?”

“Come see my new poem—I’m falling in love with myself!”

Everyone but Yu Lang looked at Du Fu with pity, thinking him eccentric. Yu Lang, however, appreciated Du Fu’s natural, carefree ways, knowing the poet at his desk was a different person altogether.

Meeting such a free spirit during his low point, Yu Lang’s mood improved. He realized Du Fu often joked to cheer him up and was grateful.

Every evening, Du Fu sat by the canal outside the Yu mansion, fishing with a bowlful of bait, yet he never caught a single fish.

One day, after Yu Lang finished his training, curiosity drew him over. He discovered the spot was perfect for overhearing the laughter aboard the painted boats. “Damn, I thought you were emulating Jiang Tai Gong, fishing with a straight hook, waiting for the worthy. I thought you were nurturing grand ambitions, but you’re just here listening to bawdy songs from the boats! Have you no shame? And you think all this bait is free?”

Soon, they sat together. Yu Lang nodded, “Surprisingly, sometimes listening to these bawdy songs relieves stress.”

“I never thought you’d be like this, Du Fu.”

“I never thought you’d be like this, Yu Lang.”

Suddenly, an argument erupted from the boat—“Young Master Liu, please restrain yourself. I sell art, not my body.”—“Everything has its price; I have plenty of money.”—“No!”

After all this time in another world, at last, the chance for a hero to rescue a maiden! Yu Lang straightened his hair and sleeves, preparing to leap to her aid—only to see Du Fu already rushing ahead.