From CEO to Concubine-Chapter 177: Spotted Bamboo
Big Brother Wu Bin, a day of separation is as long as three autumns. 1
That lithe figure had already left the banquet hall, taking Wu Bin’s heart and soul along with it. From the corner of his eye, he could see the disapproving looks his father was directing his way. His father had been trying all evening to facilitate mindless conversation between Wu Bin and some of the new court officials who had recently joined the fold in the latest imperial examinations but the old fool was blind to the disdain the others held for them.
What Minister of Rites Wu Shengqi refused to acknowledge, Wu Bin saw as clear as day. Old noble clan or not, the name of the Wu Family no longer carried the same prestige as it once did.
In the past, the realisation that these young upstarts—most of whom were from smaller noble families or, worst still, mere plebeian backgrounds—had the gall to look down upon Big Young Master Wu, would have grated on his nerves. He would have stopped at no lengths to put them in their place.
But tonight, his mind, foggy with the fumes of heated wine and the promise of Yun Er’s passionate longing for him, could only fixate on the letter he held in his hands. The parchment was crumpled as though someone had rushed through its composition before balling it up to conceal it. Most importantly, it was written in a clumsy caoshu 1that was as familiar to Wu Bin as it was endearing. It also made his heart ache for his poor Yun Er; after so many years of being a slave, his promise as a bright young man who had once held a chance of becoming a prominent player in court politics had been buried under the shame of his family’s downfall. It showed in the way his writing remained as unpolished as a child’s, still rough around the edges like he was feeling his way through the brush lessons under the watchful eye of the schoolroom teachers.
By the Xiang River, the concubines weep for their lost love.
His thumb stroked lovingly over the words as if he were stroking the cheek of the lover he stupidly let slip from his fingers. He knew what Yun Er was alluding to; legend told of Emperor Shun, one of the Five Legendary Emperors to exist since ancient times, who had died a sudden death near the Xiang River. His concubines, the river goddesses, wept as they mourned him and their tears fell upon the nearby bamboo and left spots behind.
With this one letter, Yun Er was giving him hope. His beloved childhood companion was now imprisoned in the lavish cage that was the inner palace and had no other means to express his longing for his Big Brother Wu Bin. He already knew that little Yan Yun had been pining for him all this while; even Envoy Zhang had seemed to suggest as much.
Xiang river. Concubines. Bamboo. Xiangfei Bamboo. There was one such famous bamboo forest in a quiet part of the inner palace where Wu Bin once had the pleasure of attending a poetry gathering with the young princes when he was younger. He had returned triumphant from that encounter, having won first place for his ode to the very spotted bamboo that his Yun Er was writing about now. Wu Bin had wasted no time boasting about the poetry gathering to his proud family and Yun Er had been present then, looking up at his big brother with adoring eyes.
Yun Er still remembered. This must be a sign. Why else would he include a cryptic line about the bamboo in the letter?
It all made sense. The maidservant gave Yun Er an excuse to leave the banquet early...this was all part of Yun Er’s plan to engineer their reunion.
A fire stirred in Wu Bin’s loins. He wanted nothing more than to seize Yun Er in his arms and embrace him tightly, put their past behind them both and let bygones be bygones. He was willing to apologise to his little Yan Yun for ever letting him stray so far from the shelter of his wings and was more than ready to finally have a sweet taste of that delectable mouth.
Would it quiver beneath his ministrations? Would those fair gentle hands trace loving circles on his back when he finally joined them together as one? Just imagining it alone was enough to pool the lust deep in the recesses of his gut and Wu Bin absentmindedly reached up to loosen his collar to get rid of some of the all-consuming heat that burned through his veins.
He was too far gone now in his wildest thoughts to notice the derisive glances shot his way at his sudden lack of propriety or how his father, livid with anger and disappointment, shattered a delicate wine cup in his hands.
"Minister Wu, your son seems to enjoy his drink a tad too much, don’t you think?"
A loathsome voice cut through Wu Bin’s daydreams, snapping him back to attention temporarily as he tried and failed to focus on his surroundings. The hall fell silent once more as everyone looked Wu Bin’s way.
If he had been more sober, he would have realised that he was in a predicament. As it was, however, he merely looked up at the dais to meet the dark gaze of his liege. This in and of itself was a punishable offence but the wine lent him the strength to challenge where he ordinarily would not muster the courage to. As such, he met the emperor’s stare head-on with a defiance that made him feel very proud of himself indeed.
This was the man who sullied what was rightfully Wu Bin’s. Knowing that another man had savoured the purest version of his precious Yun Er left a bitter taste in Wu Bin’s mouth and if it weren’t for the last shreds of self-preservation holding him back, he might have risen to his feet to make a noble attempt at regicide.
Perhaps his father caught sight of the hatred in his gaze because—the world spun—and Wu Bin felt himself dragged out of his comfortable sprawl before a rough hand forced his neck down into a kowtow.
"Please forgive us, Your Majesty!" he heard his cowardly father exclaim. "Quanzi (3)’s impudence stems solely from his inebriation! He has been inappropriately behaved and this subject will punish him accordingly but I beg Your Majesty to give him a chance!"
Up on the dais, the emperor took a sip of his wine too. "This sovereign cannot blame quanzi entirely, I suppose. This wine is excellent."
The other guests tittered. Wu Bin felt his face redden, the humiliation adding to the unnatural heat he was already feeling, leaving him with a ruddy complexion that was wholly unflattering. He wasn’t so far gone that he couldn’t tell that the emperor was mocking him. From referring to him as the Minister of Rites’ son instead of his capacity as a court official, His Majesty was already dismissing his worth as a subject. To add insult to injury, the emperor also referred to him as ’quanzi’, which coming from anyone besides Wu Bin’s father, was blatantly derogatory.
How dare he. Did Liu Yao think he truly was secure upon his throne? Was he so arrogant as to believe that he didn’t need the support of the old noble clans anymore?
Unable to formulate the consequences of his actions, Wu Bin opened his mouth to retort but felt his father push his head back down as if he truly were nothing better than a disgraced pup, chastised for misbehaving in public.
Who would have thought that he was once the youngest principal graduate of the imperial examinations?
Through the roar of blood in his ears, he thought he heard the fourth prince drawl, "What a sickening sight. Royal Brother, rather than let this imbecile ruin our appetites further, why not put his poor father out of his misery and dismiss him? The cold night air should clear his thick head somewhat."
"So be it," was the emperor’s response. "As it is, this sovereign tires as well and will leave you all to enjoy the rest of the festivities."
"And his newly acquired beauty, no doubt," someone from behind Wu Bin gossiped under their breath. Wu Bin’s face was still pressed against the back of his hands and hence no one saw the sneer that spread across his lips. He didn’t remember all that much about Little Sister Yan but judging from what he knew of her fate after she had been sold and what he saw of her just now, she had already been well-trained in the arts of pleasing a man. With luck, the emperor would toss aside his treasure for this latest cheaper alternative that could bear him heirs and his Yun Er would have no choice but to seek solace in his arms once he no longer had any of the privileges of being a pampered consort.
"Your Majesty is magnanimous, Your Highness the Fourth Prince is magnanimous."
"Minister of Rites Wu, this sovereign has shown your family clemency time and time again. Don’t let this sovereign regret my past decisions."
Before Wu Bin’s useless father could stammer out more contrite apologies, the emperor continued, "Number Nine, how many of those roasted golden innards 1have you had tonight?"
A quiet coughing fit ensued before a childish voice piped up, "R-Royal Brother, don’t embarrass m—this subject-brother in front of everyone."
"Hah. If your tummy experiences discomfort later, your poor maidservants are going to have to spend the evening rubbing it for you. When that happens, don’t go crying for Imperial Physician Fu in the middle of the night, he’s not getting any younger and needs his rest."
A chorus of hearty laughter broke out. "Your Majesty has such a good relationship with your brothers," some sycophant chose that moment to add. "Even going so far as to share Imperial Physician Fu’s care. If the late emperor saw this, his heart would surely be at peace to know that the estimable sons of the imperial family are supporting each other in the ruling of this illustrious kingdom."
"Oh?" There was an amused lilt to the emperor’s reply. "In which case, this sovereign should start giving Number Nine the chance to prove himself."
"...Royal Brother, please spare this subject-brother..."
Wu Bin felt distanced from the merriment. The emperor didn’t pay attention to his father and him, grovelling on the ground whilst everyone else around them treated them like thin air. There was no surer sign to the rest of the capital that the old noble clan of Wu had fallen out of favour for certain. If the other five clans had any sense in them, they would band together to oppose the emperor; didn’t they know that they were next in line?
But Wu Bin knew that wouldn’t be the case. Deep down inside, the old noble clans were only united together by their unique circumstances. In reality, they liked each other as much as they liked the imperial family; power was regarded above all else. The Wu Family was merely following in the footsteps of the Yan Family and sooner or later, their influence would be shared amongst the greedy survivors...
Weak and defenceless against the throne, Wu Bin had no choice but to remain prone whilst the emperor left his flummoxed youngest brother in charge of the rest of the festivities. Secretly, he let out another mirthless laugh. At least it wasn’t just the Wu Family that His Majesty chose to slap across the face this evening. In front of the fourth prince and the sixth prince, the ninth prince should have no right. Wu Bin knew that after the banquet was over and the ministers were dismissed, they wouldn’t be headed straight back to the cosy warm blankets of their favourite mistresses. Instead, lamps in numerous studies would be lit throughout the capital as everyone tried to analyse this latest turn of events.
Didn’t the emperor favour the fourth prince above the others for a successor? Or was the fiasco with the imperial examinations enough to change his opinion and regard the Bright Prince as a threat?
Without much effort, Wu Bin tuned out the ninth prince’s feeble protests and remained bowed over even as he heard the banquet hall echo with a resounding, "politely sending Your Majesty off!" When the atmosphere became audibly more relaxed, with louder, more boisterous conversation, Wu Bin knew that the emperor had departed.
He straightened up and neatened his robes, unheeding of the gossip around him that was no doubt directed at his family. His father didn’t share the same nonchalance, however, and the glare he shot at Wu Bin was positively venomous.
"A waste of space," he snarled under his breath, "get out of here and sober up, I don’t want to see you again for the rest of this evening."
It suited Wu Bin just as well. Beneath his resplendent robes, his trousers were already so tight it was starting to hurt.
He had a secret rendezvous to get to.
Literally ’grass script’, a cursive form of Chinese calligraphy.An idiom derived from a poem in the Classics of Poetry (a compilation of poetry dating between the 11-7 centuries BC. Used to describe missing someone so much such that a day without them feels like three years. An exquisite imperial banquet dish of the Song Dynasty, made from lamb meat (fat to lean proportion of 3:7) and mixed with lamb intestines and egg yolk. Kind of resembles sliced sausages but the outside is crisp and golden and the meat within is even and smooth.
