Chapter Forty-Seven: How Many Nights Bear the Moon, When the Stars Are Counted in Their Seasons

Qin Cheng and his companions, after verifying their identities with the fort’s cavalry patrol, did not linger further. However, their mounts had suffered in the earlier skirmish, three felled by Xiongnu archers, and lacking sufficient horses, they borrowed three war steeds from the fort. Given Qin Cheng’s rank as Junior Constructor and Wei Qing’s status as imperial general, there was no reason for the fort to refuse. They also procured four torches, and, following the route by which they had come, departed in haste.

Night vision was poor, so their pace was slower than before. Yet, after the day’s tumultuous events, a certain exhilaration filled their hearts; though few words were exchanged, the mood was far from morose. Around the hour of the Dog, they began their return, reaching Qiansang as midnight approached.

“Junior Constructor, the hour grows late. There’s nothing pressing in camp tonight—why not join us at an inn for a round of drinks? We promised ourselves a good bout of drinking back at Old Horse Plain. No time like the present, so why not now?” Once inside the city gates, they slowed their horses. Qiansang’s streets were now shrouded in dim lanterns, pedestrians rare, and it was difficult to find a tavern open at such an hour.

Wei Qing finished speaking and looked to Qin Cheng, seeking his opinion.

“I had the same thought,” Qin Cheng replied with a smile, “but I fear it may be impossible to find a tavern open now. Surely we won’t pull the proprietor and his wife from their beds to serve us wine?”

Wei Qing laughed heartily but remained unconvinced. “A city as large as Qiansang—surely there must be somewhere for us to drink and make merry?”

Long accustomed to the bustle of Chang’an, where pleasure houses abounded and streets remained lively even at this hour, Wei Qing found it hard to believe that a provincial capital like Qiansang would lack at least one place to drink. Though upright in character, pleasure houses were commonplace among officials of the era, especially for those of Wei Qing’s rank in Chang’an, and there was no need to avoid them. In truth, the luxurious and amorous lives of ancient officials were the norm, neither good nor bad; the tales of officials sacrificing themselves for the nation, tirelessly laboring without private lives, were but beautiful illusions woven by the people.

“In truth, I wouldn’t know,” Qin Cheng said with a bitter smile, thinking he’d only arrived in this era a few days ago and had visited Qiansang just once—how could he know such things?

“Oh…” Wei Qing’s expression was a mix of belief and skepticism.

“General, I’ve heard there’s a good spot in Qiansang,” Guard Zhao spoke up, riding forward.

“You know?” Wei Qing looked at Zhao, doubtful.

“Heh heh!” Zhao grinned mischievously. “A while back, the chief historian invited you to drink somewhere, didn’t he? You didn’t go, but I remembered the place—something like ‘Fragrance Pavilion,’ I think?”

Zhao frowned, struggling to recall. He’d hoped to impress, but now scratched his head anxiously.

“Linxiang Pavilion,” another guard interjected suddenly.

“Yes, that’s it—Linxiang Pavilion!” Zhao clapped his hands, then glanced oddly at the usually silent guard.

“Haha! Imagine, Guard Wei remembered. Excellent! Junior Constructor, shall we go to Linxiang Pavilion?” Wei Qing laughed. “Now that you mention it, I recall the chief historian said Linxiang Pavilion had a stunning girl, unrivaled in song and dance. Why not see her tonight?”

“Uh…” Hearing the name Linxiang Pavilion, Qin Cheng felt a strange unease, his expression complicated.

Wei Qing noticed and assumed Qin Cheng was unused to such places, letting out a few hearty laughs before urging him to lead the way.

Despite the late hour, Linxiang Pavilion was ablaze with light and bustling crowds—the only place in Qiansang still lively at midnight. Standing before its doors, they felt a wave of warmth sweep out, dispelling much of the autumn night’s chill.

Wei Qing surveyed Linxiang Pavilion’s architecture, nodding in approval. “Not bad. Just the décor alone has its own unique charm. I doubt tonight will disappoint us.”

With that, he and Qin Cheng entered the building together.

Though the night was late and the pavilion crowded, they managed to secure a private room. After listening to the waiter’s enthusiastic recommendations, Wei Qing ordered a generous spread of food and wine.

“It’s rare to gather with you, Junior Constructor. I feel truly delighted. To be frank, after these days together—especially today, galloping across Old Horse Plain—I admire you greatly. I won’t mince words; let’s raise a cup of Bamboo Green wine to you!” Wei Qing declared, taking the bronze pitcher from the waiter, pouring first for Qin Cheng, then for himself, and raising his cup in toast.

“General, you flatter me. Your valor is inspiring—it’s mutual admiration, is it not? We are both soldiers, no need for formality, let’s just drink!” Qin Cheng suppressed the strange feeling stirring in his heart and smiled.

After their first cup, Wei Qing smacked his lips. “Excellent wine! Tonight, let’s not leave till we’re drunk!”

“Agreed! Not till we’re drunk!”

…

Meanwhile, in the rear garden of Linxiang Pavilion, a young maiden in a splendid silk dress lifted her skirts and ran joyfully toward a small building, ascending the stairs with quick steps. She barely paused for breath before knocking fervently on a dimly lit door.

“You little rascal, don’t knock so hard—you’ll break the door!” came a playful scold from within, followed by soft footsteps and the creak of the door opening.

“Sister Bai, General Qin… General Qin is here!” The girl burst into the room before the door was fully open, her face flushed, waving her arms excitedly.

“What did you say?” Bai Xinxin caught the girl, her expression brightening in surprise, then, realizing her own excitement, took a deep breath and asked again in a composed tone, “The general… has come?”

“Yes!” The girl, Rong’er, nodded vigorously. “I saw him myself—General Qin came with three others, straight up to a private room on the second floor!”

Bai Xinxin let go, her eyes drifting toward the front courtyard. She murmured, “General, you’ve finally come. So you haven’t forgotten Xiner…”

“Sister Bai…” Rong’er, seeing Bai Xinxin in a dazed state, called softly.

Bai Xinxin wiped away a tear, smiled dazzlingly, pinched Rong’er’s chubby cheek, and said, “Let me freshen up, then we’ll go see the general together.”

“Hee hee, yes!” Rong’er replied happily.

Bai Xinxin turned to prepare herself, but after a few steps, she stopped, standing still.

Rong’er, wanting to help with her makeup, noticed Bai Xinxin’s sudden pause, thinking perhaps she was simply overwhelmed with joy. She ran over to tease her, but was startled by Bai Xinxin’s odd expression.

Moments ago, Bai Xinxin’s face had been radiant with excitement, cheeks flushed; now, her expression darkened, confusion and doubt flickering in her eyes, as if a vibrant flower had suddenly withered.

“Sister Bai, what’s wrong?” Rong’er was frightened by her demeanor, clutching Bai Xinxin’s sleeve, tears threatening.

Bai Xinxin lowered her head, walked silently to the dressing table, and sat before the bronze mirror, staring lifelessly at her pale, drained face.

“Sister Bai…” Rong’er knelt beside her, gazing up with worry.

Bai Xinxin glanced at Rong’er, sighing inwardly. This young girl was the only one in Linxiang Pavilion who understood her feelings for him.

But she was so young—could she really be told everything? Would she understand? Would such feelings influence her harmfully?

Looking out at the star-studded night sky, Bai Xinxin’s eyes were lost. At this moment, her heart was filled with melancholic self-pity and a yearning to break free from her cocoon.

“Sister Bai, I know what you’re worried about.” Rong’er wiped her tears, her expression resolute. “You fear the general doesn’t care for you, that your different statuses make you afraid to pursue happiness, right?”

Bai Xinxin was startled, turning to this girl who seemed to grow up in an instant. Her gaze softened, and she gently stroked Rong’er’s head. “Rong’er, we are but women of the dust—how can we speak of happiness? The general is gifted and brave; his future is boundless. He will be surrounded by women of equal status—how could he care for someone as insignificant as Bai Xinxin?”

“No!” Rong’er shouted, for the first time contradicting her beloved elder. “That’s not true! Sister Bai is irreplaceable—a rare woman in this world. General Qin surely cares deeply for you. Why do you belittle yourself?”

“Really?” Bai Xinxin asked with a sorrowful smile, wiping a tear from Rong’er’s face. “Do you truly believe that?”

“Yes! Absolutely!” Rong’er nodded fiercely.

“That is enough.” Bai Xinxin’s tone was gentle, yet tinged with longing and emptiness. “Xiner is not greedy. She has given her pure self to the general, served him, played music and danced for him, drank and talked with him—that is enough. Xiner should be content, shouldn’t she?”

“Why?!” Rong’er cried, standing abruptly, her gaze intense. “Why be content? Sister Bai could serve the general all her life, play music, dance, and drink with him every day—why stop at contentment? Didn’t you always say, ‘A man dies for a confidant, a woman beautifies herself for her beloved’? Why speak but not act?”

“Enough, Rong’er!” Bai Xinxin stood suddenly, reprimanding her, letting out a deep sigh as tears finally spilled over. She gazed at the night sky and murmured, “You’re still young—you don’t understand. There’s too much helplessness in this world, too many things that can’t be changed or crossed. People are small, not everything can be done at will. Some things can never be changed, can they?”

“Hah!” Rong’er, seeing Bai Xinxin like this, felt her heart ache, as if resentment threatened to burst from within. She scoffed, “Who would’ve thought the proud Bai Xinxin would belittle herself so? Rong’er may be young, may not understand—but do you really understand, Sister Bai?”

Bai Xinxin stared at Rong’er, speechless with disbelief. The girl who had always been timid and obedient now spoke words she’d never imagined. Bai Xinxin could hardly believe it.

“Rong’er may not understand, but I remember you once said: ‘Life in the dust is thin, suffering endless. But if one finds something to believe in, even rushing to destruction is worth it—the worst is a worthless life, the best is redemption of body and soul!’”

Rong’er spoke slowly, her words clear. “Do you remember, Sister Bai, the poem you once sang from the Classic of Poetry? ‘How many nights is the moon, when the stars shine bright?’”

“You, who always sought belief, now hesitate when it lies before you—will you really step back? You promised to dance for him all your life. The worst is only a worthless life…”

Bai Xinxin stared at Rong’er, her chest heaving.

…

In the front courtyard, second-floor private room of Linxiang Pavilion.

Qin Cheng and Wei Qing drank cup after cup, losing count.

“Junior Constructor, tonight I’ll speak frankly!” Wei Qing, swaying, sat beside Qin Cheng. “But you mustn’t laugh at me!”

“Speak freely, General. I won’t laugh.” Qin Cheng smiled. After several rounds, Wei Qing was tipsy, but Qin Cheng remained clear-headed; the mild Bamboo Green wine was not intoxicating, and Qin Cheng, having learned his lesson once, was cautious.

“Heh heh!” Wei Qing chuckled. “I’ve never felt as carefree as today! To be honest, in Chang’an I walk on eggshells, afraid to make a mistake and dishonor the emperor’s favor, always cautious. But today was different. I fulfilled His Majesty’s command, uncovered why Qiansang’s garrison defeated the Xiongnu cavalry, and, more importantly, gained insight into cavalry tactics—no more fruitless pondering! All thanks to you, Junior Constructor. If not for you, I might have returned empty-handed—how could I face His Majesty?”

At this, Wei Qing drained his cup. Qin Cheng, unmoved, smiled and refilled his cup.

“You’re not just talented, but daring. Today, when you leapt from the hilltop, I was in awe! And your knowledge of cavalry—I’ve learned so much from you!”

Qin Cheng smiled, saying little, quietly pouring drinks for Wei Qing and occasionally joining him in a toast. Wei Qing, tipsy, rambled on, “Meeting you, Junior Constructor, has been a highlight of my life. I consider you a true friend—cheers!”

“Cheers!”

From history, Qin Cheng knew Wei Qing was sincere—otherwise, after being stabbed by Li Gan, he wouldn’t have kept silent. This journey to Qiansang would earn him great merit before Liu Che, a tremendous relief for someone cultivated for years with no prior achievement. How could Wei Qing not be gratified and relaxed?

Today’s journey, Qin Cheng’s official and personal goals were achieved, perhaps even exceeded. He drained his cup in satisfaction.

Damn, this feels great!

Wei Qing kept rambling—the content was the same. Qin Cheng simply smiled; there was no need to say much to a drunken man. A smile sufficed.

Watching Wei Qing drink freely, Qin Cheng felt not only pleased, but that Wei Qing was now firmly in his camp—even if it was at a vulnerable moment, it was a result of years of tension, and Qin Cheng merely seized the opportunity. Thinking back, this was the second major accomplishment since his arrival in this era.

It seemed his luck in the Han dynasty was quite favorable. So Qin Cheng mused.