Half a Cup of Wine - Chapter 4
Part Four: Fleeting Dream1
When Shi Qiufeng left, I offered him the rest of the silver I'd won from Xue Wuyi as travel money, but he refused.
“Consider it compensation for the pearwood armrest I broke,” he said.
As he boarded the boat, Shi Qiufeng suddenly turned around and asked, "Yan Jiu, do you ever feel grief when you carve tombstones?"
"No."
"Never?"
"…Only once." When I carved Master's tombstone.
He suddenly smiled, like a cunning rabbit that had dug itself three burrows.2 "If I die by Huai Wuya's sword, will you carve my tombstone and seal my coffin?"
I looked up at him. He stood at the bow of the boat, his tall figure rising and falling with the current, his expression unreadable. "Are you coming back to Chang'an?"
"What do you think?" He smiled slyly. "Will you agree?"
He stared at me intently.
"Alright," I replied.
He smiled. “Take care, Yan Jiu.”
The sanxian on his back was like a sword, pointing at the sky.
Xue Wuyi didn't come to see him off. I found him sitting on the roof, drinking and stroking his saber. He wasn’t drinking plum wine, but Huadiao wine.3
“Yan Jiu, it’s been ten years since I’ve had strong liquor, hasn’t it?” Xue Wuyi held his cup and looked up at the sky, his eyes hazy and distant. “I used to only drink Huadiao wine. One sip, and I felt enlightened. I couldn’t live without strong liquor. Then Qiuchi died, and strong liquor lost its flavor. Even the strongest wine couldn't fill the emptiness after waking from a drunken dream. After Qiuchi’s death, I drank plum wine for ten years, thinking I was living a sober life, but now I realize I was merely living a fleeting dream. It wasn’t the wine that trapped me, but myself.”
I stopped him from pouring more wine. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m not.” Xue Wuyi looked at me. In the moonlight, his eyes were clear and bright, just like the naive young man in rough clothes who had declared he would conquer the world when I first met him. "You know I'm not drunk."
Looking at his suddenly bright eyes, a sense of panic rose within me. “What can you do now? You should have known ten years ago that you can’t kill Huai Wuya, let alone avenge Su Qiuchi.”
I looked at the saber in his lap. “I thought you had given up long ago.”
"I gave up when I lost to Huai Wuya ten years ago.” Xue Wuyi smiled faintly. “But Yan Jiu, I’ve suddenly realized these past two years that my blade isn't as fast as it used to be.”
“An older generation assassin once told me that in other professions, the older you are, the more skilled you become. But the way of assassination is the opposite. The older the assassin, the duller their blade, because the older you get, the more you value your life. An assassin without killing intent is as good as dead," he said. "Yan Jiu, I don't want to die like a coward.”
That night, Xue Wuyi drank for half the night and passed out on the roof tiles.
He rarely got drunk. He had a high tolerance for alcohol, used to drink my three-month supply of wine in one sitting. Even after Su Qiuchi died, he never drank himself into such a stupor. This was the first time.
Half-drunk, half-awake, he asked, "Shi Qiufeng left?"
I nodded. “Do you think he will come back to Chang'an?”
“He will," he answered without hesitation.
That night, I dreamt of myself over ten years ago, desperately begging a farmer to pay five copper coins4 to have a tombstone carved for his deceased wife.
He angrily kicked me away, muttering impatiently, "Who has the spare money for a tombstone? Wrap her in a straw mat, that’s enough. Where did this little brat come from trying to scam people? Go home, get married, and have children!”
I was kicked to the ground, but I didn't get angry. I got up and ran to the next house. After a whole day, I only earned a dozen or so copper coins. Covered in dust and footprints, I dejectedly returned home, only to be mocked by Xue Wuyi, who had just returned, ancestral saber in hand.
I angrily pulled his hair. “How dare you laugh at me! What about you? Did the head of the Huai family take you as his disciple today?”
Xue Wuyi’s smile immediately vanished. "He still refused. He said I only have brute strength and no talent for martial arts. But the villagers used to say I had exceptional potential! The head of the Huai family must be blind. Maybe I should try again tomorrow? Perhaps such a benevolent and kind person will be moved by my sincerity and finally agree to take me as his disciple?"
I scoffed. “He’s a renowned prodigy! If he’s blind, roosters will lay eggs.”
Furious, Xue Wuyi pounced on me, and we started wrestling.
Su Qiuchi happened to return just then and hurriedly came to break us up. Upon seeing Su Qiuchi, Xue Wuyi ignored me and grabbed her hand, smiling like a puppy wagging its tail. “Qiuchi, Qiuchi! I ran into a group of bandits robbing a girl in the west of the city today. I chased them away, and the girl gave me one tael of silver as a reward!”
Su Qiuchi smiled and patted his head. “Wuyi is so amazing! I just sold a saber for ten taels of silver today. I’ll treat you to a jar of Huadiao wine.”
Xue Wuyi cheered and spun her around.
When I woke up, the rain was falling steadily outside.
I stood in front of the bronze mirror and saw only a blank, expressionless face.
Behind me, Xue Wuyi lay passed out on the cold stone floor like a stray dog. Empty wine jugs were scattered around him. One shattered at his feet with a "crack," the liquor spilling everywhere.
The moonlight was faint, falling on his pale, gaunt face. Streaks of gray were visible at his temples. I hadn’t even noticed when his hair had started to turn gray.
The night was cold and still.
Back then, I was determined to become Chang'an’s first female tombstone carver. Xue Wuyi would boast about conquering the world and dominating the martial arts world. Su Qiuchi would smile and watch us play, a rising star in the world of swordsmithing.
Yesterday’s events are now like yesterday’s deaths.
I didn't see Xue Wuyi for a long time after that night. I didn't know what he was planning. Perhaps it was for Su Qiuchi, perhaps for himself, perhaps for neither.
Chang'an remained as prosperous and bustling as ever. The Jianghu, with Shi Qiufeng's disappearance, returned to a temporary calm. After more than six months of turmoil, everything returned to normal. Those who were meant to wander the world continued to wander, those who were meant to be hypocrites continued to be hypocrites, and those who were meant to live precariously continued to do so. Nothing had changed.
Butcher Fang's stall had been replaced by a cosmetics shop, its business booming. Every time I went to the West Market to buy stone, I could smell the heavy scent of powder and rouge from afar.
Once, on a whim, I went over to take a look.
A middle-aged woman was selling the cosmetics, greeting me with a smile. “You look new here, miss. Are you looking for ‘Crimson Spring’ or ‘Pomegranate Glow’? I have the best quality and the widest selection in this area. Feel free to browse.”
I looked down at the array of bright reds. "Which one do you recommend?"
“Let me see… you… Oh dear, miss, why aren't you wearing any makeup? This won't do! Are you unmarried? You won’t catch anyone’s eye with such a plain face… ‘Charming Enchantress’ would suit you well. I use it myself. People say it makes me look ten years younger. What do you think?”
I looked up, momentarily blinded by her heavily powdered, pale face.
“After wearing rouge for so long, you can't even recognize yourself.”
The courtesan who had captivated half of Chang'an a few years ago had said this to me.
At the time, she had pursed her red lips and looked at herself in the bronze mirror with a faint smile. “But no one can live without it. Without rouge, women fade, and men lose interest.”
“Sometimes I envy you,” she said. “You don’t need to rely on men. You can live on your own.”
I knew she was just joking.
Anyone could live on their own. It wasn’t that they couldn’t, it was just too much trouble.
Later, she grew older and hastily married a wealthy merchant.
As she left, she said to me, “Yan Jiu, I now hope rouge can truly deceive people, at least help me deceive a good husband.”
Then she chuckled, a hint of heartache in her eyes. “Perhaps good husbands all know that rouge is just a deception in the end.”
A few years later, she died of illness. When I went to her husband’s house to carve her tombstone, I heard that she had worn rouge every day until her death.
Often, people think that by clinging tightly to something, they can gain something, but in the end, they are destroyed by the very things they desperately hold onto.
Like Master’s wine. Like Xue Wuyi’s saber.
There was a small, quiet tavern in the west of the city. I liked the view from the wooden window on the second floor, often sitting there from dawn till dusk. Later, I stopped going. Addiction was a dangerous thing.
Once addicted, loss becomes painful. Everyone understood this, yet everyone continued to make the same mistakes.
“Yan Jiu, you live too clearly, too consciously..”5
Master once said this to me, in a rare moment of sobriety. “Living too consciously is not a good thing, sometimes even more painful than living in drunken oblivion. You have nothing to rely on but yourself. Yan Jiu, you’ll go mad one day.”
I retorted, "Is living in a daze really better than being conscious?"
He didn't answer, only slowly picked up his wine gourd, filled the dozens of white porcelain cups on the table, and once again drank himself into a stupor.
Master’s way of drinking was different from others. Others became more muddled the more they drank, but he became clearer, his eyes bright from the strong liquor. Only when he was truly drunk did he become hazy, his eyes glazed over.
Only once did Master become drunk after just a single sip.
Before drinking, we encountered an old friend of his.
The man was dressed in white, elegant and upright, a long sword strapped to his back. Sitting at the same table with the dirty, beggar-like Master, he seemed like a flower fallen into mud.
"…You shouldn’t be like this,” his old friend said.
Master didn't answer, only said, "You should go."
The man looked at him with pity. “After all these years, haven’t you come to your senses? Are you really content to live like this, muddled and destitute?”
Master flipped the table, pointed at the door, and glared at him. “Leave.”
The man looked at him for a long time, but in the end, didn’t say a word and silently left.
That night, Master only drank three bowls of wine, a rare occurrence. He held his wine gourd and stared at the raindrops falling from the eaves, his eyes empty. He sat there all night, beneath the eaves, until dawn.
Half-drunk, half-awake, Master suddenly grabbed my sleeve. “Is it better to be painfully conscious, or numbly muddled?”
He stared intensely at me, his eyes fierce. “Tell me!”
I didn't know who he saw in me, or who he was asking. Perhaps it was the old friend in white, perhaps himself, perhaps neither.
Master chose numb oblivion, Xue Wuyi chose painful consciousness. Drunken hands couldn’t hold a killing blade, and hands stained with blood couldn't grasp yesterday's fleeting dream.
I didn't want to face such a choice. Apart from my carving knife and bluestone, I no longer wanted to invest any unnecessary emotions. To live clearly and consciously, with a calm heart, that was best.
On my way back, I passed by the magistrate’s office. Mrs. Fang and her eldest daughter were beating the drum of injustice.6
They beat the drum for the time it takes to brew a cup of tea before a yamen runner7 slowly opened the door, pulled them away, and grumbled impatiently, “That’s enough, woman! We've told you countless times, we’ve searched the entire city and haven’t found your husband. He probably got involved in something shady and was silenced.”
Mrs. Fang pleaded, “Just search one more time, just once more!”
The yamen runner sighed. “People go missing every day. One search is already generous.”
Mrs. Fang held out a pouch of broken silver, trying to press it into the yamen runner’s hand. “Please…”
“More silver won’t help!” The yamen runner swatted her hand away.
“Bang!”
The iron door slammed shut.
The broken silver scattered across the ground. A swarm of beggars watching the commotion rushed forward, and in a blink, not a single copper coin remained.
Mrs. Fang collapsed on the ground, sobbing.
The cold moonlight fell on her tear-streaked face. I thought of the three nameless tombstones I had erected by the Wei River outside the city. I wondered where the parents and children of the other two unknown assassins were weeping at this moment, or perhaps, no one mourned them, and they truly died without a trace.
Certain despair or the desperate struggle against the unknown, which was more painful? I never understood.
Butcher Fang’s eldest daughter stood by, her eyes red-rimmed, wanting to speak, yet remaining silent. She bent down and helped her weeping mother to her feet.
As they turned to leave, a torrential downpour suddenly began, chilling to the bone.
1 黄粱 (huángliáng): Literally "yellow millet," refers to a fleeting dream, an allusion to the Chinese idiom "黄粱一梦" (huángliáng yīmèng) or "a dream of yellow millet," which comes from a story about a man who dreamt of a lifetime of success and happiness while his millet was cooking, only to wake up and realize it was all an illusion.
2狡兔三窟 (jiǎotù sānkū): A cunning rabbit has three burrows. A Chinese idiom referring to someone who is resourceful and has multiple backup plans.
3花雕酒 (huādiāo jiǔ): A type of Chinese yellow rice wine, often aged and known for its rich flavor. Often associated with more refined or special occasions compared to everyday strong liquor.
4Copper coins: 文钱 (wén qián) refers to copper coins, the common currency in ancient China.
5 清醒 (qīngxǐng): Sober, clear-headed, conscious, aware. It can also carry connotations of being overly rational, unemotional, or even cynical.
6击鼓鸣冤 (jīgǔ míngyuān): "To beat the drum and cry injustice" is a traditional Chinese way of petitioning for redress of grievances, typically by going to the local magistrate's office and striking a drum to attract attention to one's complaint.
7 衙役 (yáyì): Yamen runners, low-ranking officers or assistants in a magistrate's office in ancient China, responsible for various tasks, including serving summons, making arrests, and maintaining order.
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