Chapter Three: The Web of Poisonous Schemes

The square-faced scholar felt a faint surprise stir within him. In his memory, Yu Lang had always been a wild spirit, impenetrable and unyielding, yet tonight, despite enjoying every advantage, he had overcome Yu Lang far too easily. He even suspected Yu Lang might have some cunning plan, a retreat in order to advance. But Yu Lang remained sunk in silent dejection.

The scholar threw back his head and shouted, "Master Yu, are you listening? Your grandson has confessed! Are we going to the magistrate or settling it some other way?"

Suddenly, a feathered arrow shot forth, extinguishing two torches before embedding itself in a beam, still quivering. Old Master Yu emerged, bow in hand, his stride steady, his very presence commanding respect.

Before this imposing elder, the crowd lost all their earlier boldness. Yu Lang had just opened his mouth to speak when Yu Chaoran struck him with a scorching slap: "Useless wretch! You couldn't even hold your ground while I was dressing and fetching my bow!"

The square-faced scholar broke into a sweat, as if the slap had landed on his own face. He thought, This old man is a tough nut to crack. If he refuses to take responsibility for his grandson, things won’t end well.

Contrary to expectation, the matter resolved more smoothly than anticipated. Yu Chaoran took out a finely crafted nanmu wood box. "Inside are deeds to five shops in Yangzhou and this residence, and fifty acres of land in the east of the city, all for your Li family. Wen Shan, nephew, is this matter settled?"

Li Wenshan's face showed not a trace of anger, only irrepressible joy. His cheeks were flushed, like a gambler who had staked everything and won it all. "You are magnanimous, Master Chaoran. It’s settled, settled!"

"How did your sister die?" Yu Chaoran asked coolly.

"She took her own life rather than marry young Yu Lang. Ha, she was never that lucky." Li Wenshan replied carelessly, then spat at the corpse. "She lacked virtue!"

Only now did Yu Lang fully grasp the situation. If Li Wenshan truly sought justice for his sister, he could have gone to the magistrate. From the start, his aim was extortion, never expecting Yu Chaoran to be so generous as to give up the entire family estate. Thinking back to his own so-called illness, Yu Lang realized the poison in the wedding feast likely came from the Li family.

They had intended to poison the newlyweds; with Yu Chaoran unmarried, the estate would eventually fall to the Li family. Since Yu Lang survived, the Li family turned accuser, falsely blaming him for his wife's death—a vicious chain of schemes. The thought sent a chill down Yu Lang’s spine.

Grandfather and grandson packed their belongings with little ceremony and prepared to leave the grand residence in Jixian Lane.

Before departing, Yu Lang suddenly looked back.

Yu Chaoran asked, "Are you reluctant to leave this wealth behind? Without the courage to defend it, you have no right to possess it! With your weak demeanor, keeping the estate would only invite disaster!"

Yu Lang did not reply. His expression was mournful as he knelt beside the ignored corpse of the young woman, solemnly bowing: "May you be born into a good family in your next life."

With this bow, the bond of the past was severed.

Yu Chaoran sneered, "You claim to have lost your memory. I doubt you even know this girl’s name. Why pretend to care?"

Yu Lang slowly rose. "Even if she were a stranger, to be exploited and ruined by her own family—does that not deserve pity? I may not remember her, but I must have cared deeply. When they revealed her corpse, I was gripped by fear and despair, unable to restrain my feelings."

When he saw her body, the lingering consciousness of the other Yu Lang was utterly desolate, confessing in hopes of dying for love. This bow was not only for her, but also for the lazy youth once called Yu Lang in the Tang Dynasty—whose brilliant life ended abruptly because of my arrival. He must have been unwilling.

At this thought, Yu Lang’s eyes reddened, fists clenched. "I will see justice done for you!"

Though the Tang was in its golden age, abuses of power and oppression were common, and ten years hence, the chaos of the An Lushan Rebellion would engulf the realm. Yu Lang resolved to strengthen himself, to seek stability in troubled times. He knew his crossing was no accident; for now, he was too weak to pursue the truth, fit only to be a pawn.

With the truth revealed, Yu Chaoran’s previous coldness faded. He patted Yu Lang’s young shoulder in consolation. "Losing things isn’t what matters—it’s lacking the courage to reclaim them! But you’re still too weak, don’t act rashly. Remember, the Li family dared this because they have connections in court. Even if we escape this time, we won’t next time, so I cut ties with that trouble once and for all."

After this ordeal, the pair grew even closer, like confidants across generations.

The Yu family, though not noble in Yangzhou, had once been counted among the wealthy. But Yu Chaoran was proud and would not mingle with the powerful or scheme with other merchants to defraud ordinary folk, earning the nickname "Yu Alone." Over time, he lost his friends, and now, with the family’s decline, there was no one to turn to. Fortunately, while Yu Chaoran refused to take even a copper coin from the residence in his anger, Yu Lang had cunningly pocketed twenty taels of silver.

At the time, the main currency was a square-holed coin called "Kaiyuan Tongbao"—though named for the Kaiyuan era, it was actually minted by Li Yuan in the Wude period. Silver, as a precious metal, was rare in circulation, mainly used for large transactions. Yu Lang calculated: eight coins could buy a dou of rice, so one coin bought a pound and a half. One tael of average silver equaled a thousand coins; twenty taels’ purchasing power was roughly equal to sixty thousand yuan in modern terms—not enough to buy property, but enough to survive.

For the time being, they found an inn to rest for a few days, then bought a house in Ping'an Lane. Ping'an Lane was a commoner’s district. Yu Lang bought neither a mansion nor a courtyard, just a few spacious tile-roofed rooms, but even so paid ten taels of silver.

Seeing a large ingot of silver cut in half, Yu Lang felt a pang of loss.

He sat in the newly arranged study, chewing the end of his brush, pondering his future. The first step should be to find Ning Xue, who had brought him here. To find her, he needed to make himself stand out; otherwise, searching would be futile. To make a name in this era, there were three main paths: passing the imperial exams, joining the army, or making money in business. As a transmigrant, he had innate advantages in any path. For the exams, he had a wealth of poetry from the mid- and late Tang periods stored in his mind, giving him a head start and leaving a good impression on examiners. If he joined the army, he could seek out the likes of Guo Ziyi before they became famous and earn great achievements. As for business—though it could be clever, it was hard to make a mark with little starting capital.

The more he thought, the more his confidence faded; each path was daunting. Passing the exams required more than plagiarizing poetry—he’d be outmatched in classics, current affairs, and policy debates by Tang scholars. Moreover, the exam system was neither fair nor perfect; examiners did not conceal names when grading papers, and most successful candidates came from noble families. He lacked resources for business, lacked skills for the army. Ah, how hard it was.

“Lang, come out and greet our guest,” Yu Chaoran’s drunken call interrupted Yu Lang’s thoughts.

Yu Lang donned a robe and shuffled out lazily, glancing at the two men, drunk and weeping together in the room, and hurried to fetch boiling water from the stove to prepare a sobering soup.

Drinking with Yu Chaoran was a dashing scholar, a sword and wine flask at his waist, about thirty years old.

Suddenly, the scholar slapped the table and loudly recited,

"I love Master Meng, renowned for his elegance in all the land!
A beauty who spurns official rank,
White-haired, lying amid pine and clouds.
Drunk beneath the moon, often sacred,
Lost among flowers, refusing the throne.
How can one gaze up to lofty mountains?
All I can do is bow to their pure grace."

He finished the poem and wept anew.

The bowl in Yu Lang’s hands crashed to the floor, breaking into three pieces and spilling the soup. His voice trembled, "Li—Li Taibai?"

Of course! This was the twenty-eighth year of Kaiyuan; Li Bai had come to Yangzhou in the spring, and his friend Meng Haoran had passed away that same year. This poem was written in his memory.

When inspiration struck, poetry flowed from his lips. In this world, only the Poet Immortal Li Bai possessed such talent.