Chapter Eighty-Eight: The Residence of Prince Song

Wherever people gather, there you will find a world of intrigue; this has been true across time and cultures. To deal with Zhao Yu, Xiao Xian and his cohorts truly had to devise some special strategies, for this young man was endlessly energetic and remarkably adaptable. Upon his arrival in the capital, it took him no time at all to befriend the city’s notorious playboys.

Moreover, Zhao Yu instructed his subordinates to spread the word that, on the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, the Prince of Song’s residence would be opened to the public free of charge, so the people of the capital could admire the snow sculptures within. Zhao Yu had initially intended to sell tickets, but was thoroughly dissuaded by Xiao Yiyi’s fierce pinching—how could the dignified Prince of Song stoop to squabbling over a bit of silver? Wasn’t it shameful?

The Emperor Tianzuo was by nature fond of amusement. Since Zhao Yu’s arrival in the capital, the court had been abuzz with reports and rumors about the young man’s antics. With the Lantern Festival just two days away, Tianzuo’s curiosity got the better of him; he donned plain clothes, took a few guards, and set out incognito for Zhao Yu’s mansion.

Rounding the corner, he saw from afar that the Prince of Song’s residence was bustling with activity. Citizens, servants, and numerous guards were coming and going. None were empty-handed—some carried blocks of ice and snow, others hauled tables and chairs, while many more transported ironware and various supplies.

The more Tianzuo observed, the more intrigued he became. He could not help but ask his attendant, “Doesn’t the Prince of Song’s residence have a back gate? Why is everything being moved through the main entrance?”

The guard, equally perplexed, was about to inquire further, but the emperor waved him off.

“Never mind. Let us see for ourselves.”

Tianzuo found himself growing a little annoyed. He thought, “I bestowed such a lofty title upon you—should you not conduct yourself with more dignity? Little wonder there have been so many memorials to impeach you of late...”

Of course, not just anyone could enter Zhao Yu’s mansion. The laborers were ignored, but strangers like Tianzuo would inevitably be questioned. Yet, though Tianzuo was in disguise, his attire and bearing were unmistakably noble.

A man who appeared to be a captain of the guards approached with a smile. “You’ve come for His Highness’s grand hotpot feast, haven’t you? You’re just in time—please, come in, it’s about to begin!”

“Hotpot feast?” The phrase lodged a giant question mark in Tianzuo’s mind, but he nodded and stepped inside.

The moment he crossed the threshold, the emperor was struck dumb with amazement. From the gate onward, both sides of the path were lined with sculptures carved from ice and snow—figures, animals, flowers, houses, and more.

At first, upon hearing that Zhao Yu was building an ice palace for Xiao Yiyi, Tianzuo had paid little mind. Young people, after all, are wont to experiment with novel amusements. Yet he had never imagined ice and snow could be transformed in such wondrous ways.

By chance, he saw a group of craftsmen inserting something into the belly of a beast-shaped ice sculpture. Tianzuo could not help but ask, “Are those oil lamps you’re placing inside? Won’t they melt the ice?”

One of the craftsmen chuckled, “Ah, a layman’s question! The lamp oil in these windproof lanterns is carefully measured. The fuel is spent before the heat can build up enough to melt anything. There’s no need to worry.”

Tianzuo nodded and pressed on. Several familiar faces flitted past, laughing and joking as they walked ahead. He recognized them at once—they were among the most infamous dandies in the capital. Who would have thought to find them here?

Tianzuo suddenly realized how little he understood his new brother-in-law. How could this young man, in just a few days, have won over so many notorious idlers?

Puzzled by Zhao Yu, the emperor found himself paying no heed to the snow sculptures lining the way. After a while, an unfamiliar but tantalizing aroma of meat wafted toward him. As emperor, he had tasted every delicacy, yet never had he encountered such a scent. The fragrance, which seemed to relax him from head to toe, made him swallow involuntarily.

He had almost reached the inner quarters when at last someone stepped forward to bar their way.

“Honored guests, may I see your invitations?”

Tianzuo’s guards quickly revealed their master’s identity. At the mention of the emperor, the steward nearly collapsed in terror, but Tianzuo stopped him.

“I have come in disguise—no need for ceremony. Tell me, what is happening inside?”

“Your Majesty, a few days ago, His Highness summoned some blacksmiths and had them fashion special pots—double-layered, with coals in the center and a unique broth in the outer ring. Slices of beef and mutton are swished in the boiling broth and eaten at once. The flavor is truly—”

Before the steward could finish, Tianzuo wiped the corners of his mouth and strode eagerly inside.

Of course, a meal could not be held outdoors. It appeared the feast was set in a grand hall. As Tianzuo approached the doors, he heard Zhao Yu’s voice from within.

“All men here, aren’t we? If you’re a true man, strip off your outer garments! That’s the proper way to enjoy hotpot. Don’t blame me if you break a sweat and I didn’t warn you!”

“Haha! Prince of Song is right—off with your coats! Any man who keeps his on isn’t a real man!”

Hearing this, Tianzuo jumped in surprise, for it was his second son, Yelü Yali, titled Prince of Liang, who had just spoken.

Another voice chimed in, “If Prince of Song could bring in some southern beauties, it’d be even—ow! Who hit me?”

“Hit you? You ought to look around and see where you are. Run your mouth again and I’ll strip you naked and toss you outside!”

Tianzuo recognized the voice—it was Xiao Duoli, son of Xiao Sixian, a notorious scoundrel whose name was a fixture in imperial reports. Yet even the wildest rakes feared someone: Xiao Duoli was terrified of Xiao Yiyi. Having been smacked by Yelü Yali, he suddenly remembered whose house he was in and dared not utter another word.

“Friends, that’s what you all are. Today, there’s only one task: eat to your heart’s content and drink until you drop! Bring on the food!”

At Zhao Yu’s command, the lively atmosphere in the hall surged anew.

Just then, a voice sounded behind Tianzuo.

“Brother Emperor, what brings you here? Hehe, are you tempted by the food too?”

Tianzuo, still hesitating at the threshold, turned to see Xiao Yiyi. He could hardly admit he’d come for the meal, so he stiffened his face and replied, “What is Prince of Song up to? How can a noble prince behave so unruly?”

Xiao Yiyi poked her head into the hall, stuck out her tongue mischievously, then affectionately took Tianzuo’s arm. “This isn’t the place to talk. In truth, I guessed you might come, so I had a private table prepared for you in the back. Try the specialties of Yulang’s homeland first. Later, let’s call him over, and you can give him a proper scolding.”

There is nothing that a hotpot cannot resolve, and if one meal is not enough, a small barbecue will do the trick. Even the sternest of men must yield before such hospitality.

Roast meat was not an invention of later times, but slicing it thin for easy eating and skewering it with bamboo was certainly something new in this era.

Upon learning the emperor had arrived, Zhao Yu ate hotpot with the capital’s playboys for a while, then slipped away to the back to host a barbecue with the emperor himself.