Chapter Twenty-Six: Riding the Wind, Go Where You Will

When Mingchu and her two companions sneaked in, the banquet had already begun. Nearly three hundred guests filled the vast courtyard, leaving only the stage at the front for performances, creating a lively atmosphere. The trio managed to find seats in a corner, with Mingchu in the middle and the others on either side.

The host, Xue Wan, a portly middle-aged man with a broad face and large ears, was busy greeting his guests. After making a round, he returned to the stage, cleared his throat, and announced, “Today is my son’s first birthday. I am truly grateful to all who have honored me by coming.”

Cheers rose from the crowd. Suddenly, a commotion erupted at the entrance as Jiang Zhenyuan swaggered in with two attendants. Xue Wan was puzzled—wasn’t this the third young master of the Jiang family? He was certain he had no dealings with the Jiangs, so what brought Jiang Zhenyuan here uninvited? But he quickly composed himself and, remembering the etiquette owed to any guest, greeted him with a broad smile.

Mingchu whispered, “There’s never a place without him.”

Jiang Zhenyuan carried himself with an air of great authority. He ignored Xue Wan, raised his hand, and commanded, “Xiao Xing, present the gift.”

“Though I came uninvited, I still know the proper forms,” he declared.

Xue Wan laughed politely, “It’s an honor to have the third young master of the Jiang family grace my humble abode.”

“Go,” Jiang Zhenyuan said curtly.

Xue Wan blinked, “What?”

“Arrange a place for me at the head table,” Jiang Zhenyuan sneered, “or do you think I’m not worthy?”

“No, no, of course not,” Xue Wan hastily assured him. He had heard that the third young master was a notorious little tyrant—now he saw it firsthand.

Mingchu quietly remarked to Yuewu, “Look at him, it’s as if he regards everyone with contempt.” She lifted her head, rolling her eyes and mimicking Jiang Zhenyuan’s arrogant demeanor. Yuewu chuckled.

“What are you two talking about?” Chen Shanglu leaned in.

Jiang Zhenyuan, spotting the trio, exclaimed, “Oh, it’s you!” He frowned, “Why didn’t you invite me when you came out to play?” Shoving aside a few people, he strode over.

“Move aside,” he said, clearing the seats next to Yuewu and taking one himself.

Xue Wan stared in bewilderment—now the young master of the Chen family had appeared as well. Was it fashionable to arrive without an invitation?

He clapped his hands and called, “Everyone, it’s time for the birthday ritual. Someone, bring Tian’er out.”

The guests’ attention returned to the stage. Two maids scattered a pile of objects across it—gold, silver, brushes, ink, paper, a powder box, an abacus, a seal—items for the birthday ritual.

A plump, fair baby was brought out and placed on the ground. Xue Wan stood by nervously.

Jiang Zhenyuan kept chattering, “Really, you all lack camaraderie. Mingchu, every time I go out, I buy you treats and toys. Why do you never think to invite me when something fun happens? If I hadn’t heard from my servant about the Qi Liang performer here, I would have missed it.”

Mingchu secretly rolled her eyes. Jiang Zhenyuan was relentless. She shrugged, “I thought you were busy preparing for the martial exam lately. How could I disturb you?”

“That’s just an excuse—you simply didn’t want to bring me along!”

Chen Shanglu interjected irritably, “So we didn’t want to bring you. Enough with the nagging, you sound like a woman.”

“Chen Shanglu, are you spoiling for a fight?”

“You think I’m afraid?”

Jiang Zhenyuan rose, but Mingchu snapped, “What are you two doing? We’re guests in someone else’s house.”

Yuewu pressed Jiang Zhenyuan back into his seat. Jiang Zhenyuan glared at him, “Yuewu, even you won’t help me?”

Onstage, Xue Wan shouted, “He’s got it! He grabbed the gold!” He laughed heartily, “My son will surely be wealthy.”

Chen Shanglu leaned over with a grin, “Mingchu, guess what I grabbed at my birthday ritual?”

Mingchu glanced at him, “You’re so fond of chasing girls, surely it was the powder box.”

“No, no, my father said I picked up a sword with my left hand and a piece of silver with my right.” He boasted, “Do you know what that means?”

Jiang Zhenyuan mused, “Sword and silver… sword, silver… scoundrel?” Yuewu smiled without comment, and Jiang Zhenyuan laughed, “It means you, Chen Shanglu, are a scoundrel.”

Chen Shanglu slammed the table and growled, “Who asked you to speak?”

“Shh, don’t make a scene,” Mingchu said.

The voice from the stage grew louder as Xue Wan continued, “Speaking of birthday rituals, I recall an old tale from the streets, let me share it for your amusement.”

He went on, “In the former dynasty, there was a Sixth Prince, Yongjia, a precocious child loved by all in the palace. But during his birthday ritual, he picked up something no one could have anticipated.”

The elderly guests who had heard the story before played along, while others speculated aloud.

“A seal!”

“An abacus!”

“A brush!”

“Ink!”

Xue Wan shook his head at each guess. The crowd grew impatient, “What was it? Hurry up and tell us!”

Mingchu turned to Yuewu and whispered, “What do you think it was?” She paused, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Yuewu’s usually serene face had grown noticeably colder.

Mingchu leaned closer, concerned, “Yuewu, are you all right? Not feeling well?”

Yuewu composed himself, forcing a smile, “It’s nothing.” Over the years, his memories had faded, and he almost managed to hide his emotions. But Mingchu, who had spent so much time with him, could always sense even subtle changes.

Chen Shanglu glanced at them curiously.

Xue Wan spoke, “No wonder you couldn’t guess—it wasn’t any of the usual items.”

Jiang Zhenyuan commented, “That’s something new.”

“The Yongjia prince chose neither seal nor sword nor gold nor silver. Instead, he crawled toward a paper kite that had just fallen. Strange, isn’t it? Private kites weren’t permitted in the palace, yet it landed in Changhe Hall and was picked up by the prince.”

Someone in the crowd remarked, “A kite is rootless, floating—inauspicious!”

Xue Wan continued, “He grabbed a kite with a broken string, even more unlucky.” He smiled, “Not everyone has the ambition my son has.”

Jiang Zhenyuan called out, “What became of the Sixth Prince?”

Xue Wan looked at him and smiled without replying.

The courtyard fell silent for a moment. Chen Shanglu muttered, “Are you stupid? The old dynasty is gone—what else could have happened to its princes?”

“Kite, floating without roots,” Mingchu murmured. Then she smiled, “I don’t see it that way. A kite with a broken string is no longer bound—it belongs to no one. The sky is its domain; it can fly wherever it pleases. How free!”

Yuewu’s eyes brightened. He turned to Mingchu, tenderness rippling in his gaze.