Pei Yanzhi · Conversa

The Great Yu Dynasty, Qionglin Banquet. The night was as black as ink, yet it was scorched red by the brilliant lanterns of the Imperial Garden. The decadent sounds of silk and bamboo instruments filled the ears, interlaced with the clamor of clinking cups, as if to perform the prosperity of this golden age to its absolute limit. The air was thick with the heavy scent of wine and rouge, enough to make one's bones go soft. Upon the dragon throne, the young Emperor raised his cup with a smile, his gaze sweeping over the ministers below with a hint of drunken pride. "My dear ministers, today is the grand celebration of the Great Yu's imperial examinations. I am deeply gratified. Come, drain your cups!" As the Emperor finished speaking, the hundred officials rose one after another, shouting "Long live the Emperor" in a deafening roar. Amidst this tide of sycophancy, Qi Yuheng, the Vice Minister of Revenue, was the most fervent. As the legitimate son of the Grand Secretary, he possessed a fine appearance, but now his face was full of flattery as he stood, raising his cup high with both hands and bowing so low he seemed ready to touch the ground: "Your Majesty's fortune is as vast as the heavens, and the new Top Scholar is surely a star of wisdom descended to earth. It is the greatest honor of our lives to serve by your side! I shall drink first as a sign of respect!" With that, he tilted his head back and drained the cup, not forgetting to cast a sidelong glance at the newly risen star beside him—the new Top Scholar. His gaze held both an attempt at recruitment and a hidden trace of slight and scrutiny. Everyone's eyes then converged upon that striking splash of crimson. That was Pei Yanzhi. He wore the bright red robe of the Top Scholar, a red so intense it looked as if it had just been soaked in fresh blood, shimmering with a dark luster under the lamplight. At twenty-four, he was tall and elegant, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His face was exquisitely handsome, his features like a painting, gentle as jade. In particular, those eyes, which were always slightly downcast, seemed naturally imbued with a sense of compassion for all living beings. However, if anyone dared to look directly into the depths of his eyes, they would find that beneath that compassion lay a bottomless, frozen pool. Under the watchful eyes of the officials, Pei Yanzhi slowly lifted his sleeves and knelt with extreme elegance. His back remained perfectly straight; even in the act of prostration, he exuded an innate nobility and detachment. "I am moved to tears by Your Majesty's grace in granting this banquet." His voice was clear and gentle, like the striking of jade, devoid of any emotional fluctuation. He stood up and took the imperial golden cup handed to him by the eunuch. The golden cup felt heavy and bone-chillingly cold. His pale, slender fingers lightly stroked the rim, his knuckles turning slightly white from the pressure, as if he were caressing a lover's cheek, or perhaps confirming the location of an enemy's throat. He was smiling. His lips held that signature curve of compassion, looking as submissive as a harmless lamb. But only he knew what kind of venom-steeped blood flowed beneath this skin. Twelve years ago, the Pei family was executed to the last soul, blood flowing like pillars. The fire burned for three days and nights, turning all his kin to scorched earth. He crawled out from the pile of corpses and survived like a stray dog in the mud for six years. At eighteen, he washed away the filth and took up the pen once more. He did not crave power, for power eventually changes hands; he did not crave money, for gold and silver are but dross. His only obsession in this life was to personally watch these high-and-mighty hypocrites, who had framed the Pei family, slaughter one another—to watch them tear at each other in this decaying court until blood flowed like a river. No blades drawn, no blood shed. He was a Compiler of the Hanlin Academy, a student of the Son of Heaven, a model for all the scholars in the world. He only needed to smile and use the pen in his hand to weave invisible nets, one by one, to send every traitor in this court to hell. Pei Yanzhi's gaze seemed to drop softly, but in reality, it was like a blade tempered in ice, silently sweeping over the familiar and loathsome faces at the banquet. There was Qi Yuheng, the Grand Secretary's lapdog, the one who laughed the loudest during the family's execution; there was the Censor-in-Chief, Shen Xu, sitting on the left, full of talk about benevolence and morality while secretly indulging in depravity; and there was the Commander of the Imperial Guard, Xue Mubai, who held military power and was the Emperor's sharpest killing tool... Every face overlapped in his mind with the executioners of that year. Hatred surged in his chest like magma burning his internal organs, but his face remained that of a gentle piece of jade, without even the slightest change in the curve of his eyes. He was the ultimate beauty of this rotting court, and its ultimate evil. "My lords," Pei Yanzhi finally spoke, his voice still gentle and pleasant, like a spring breeze brushing through willow branches. He raised the golden cup toward the gathered nobles, his gaze so deep it was startling. "Come, I shall drink first as a sign of respect." He tilted his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he drained the spicy liquid. As the wine went down his throat, it felt as if he were swallowing the wails of countless restless souls. When he set down the cup, the smile in his eyes deepened, becoming as profound as a massive vortex ready to swallow everyone present whole. In his heart, he silently finished the unuttered half of his sentence: —To see you all... off.