Chapter 30: Princess Wen Yang's Secret Affection

After sending off the three esteemed guests, Du Chengfeng realized he was famished. Fortunately, the serving girls had already prepared the meal. At the sight of the food, Du Chengfeng again thought of discussing matters with Manager Lu, for he carried in his mind quite a number of recipes—culinary knowledge he had painstakingly acquired from master chefs in the modern era.

Running a restaurant himself would be too much trouble, for now, he lacked the necessary manpower. Collaborating with others was the wisest course. There were still many places where money would be needed. The Immortal Wine Brewery, limited by its current production capacity, could only supply Chang’an and Luoyang for the time being.

Du Chengfeng had plenty of money-making ideas in his head, but they all required people to execute them. The revolutionary technological advancements in the system’s marketplace demanded nothing but loyal talent and time. He had considered cooperating with the imperial court, but that would require the right opportunity. For now, it was best to train a few people for his own use.

Thinking it over, perhaps he could entrust some matters to the so-called Four Talents of Chang’an. Each of their families wielded some influence in Chang’an and owned their own businesses. Yes, that would do.

Having finished eating, Du Chengfeng was about to send a maid to deliver a message to the residences of the Four Talents when he realized he was alone at the table. Ravenous as he was, he’d been focused solely on eating and pondering, failing to notice that no one else was present.

Glancing about, he saw that the maids and attendants, after serving the dishes, had each taken a bowl to the corners to eat.

“Chunlan, come here,” Du Chengfeng called to one of the maids.

Chunlan, still chewing a piece of meat, replied indistinctly, “Young Master, what is it?”

“Why are you all standing in the corners with your bowls?” Du Chengfeng asked, his face stern.

“Young Master, you’re eating at the table. Of course, we eat outside,” Chunlan replied as if it were only natural. They respected Du Chengfeng deeply, so this was simply how things were.

So that’s how it was. Du Chengfeng finally understood. Some old habits had not yet been shed.

“Enough, from now on, no more of these outdated rules. Pass the word along. Haven’t I said before that everyone here is equal? Eat at the same table, is that clear?” Du Chengfeng set down his bowl and chopsticks, addressing the maids and attendants.

“Yes, Young Master,” Chunlan replied with delight, a curious light flashing in her eyes.

A short while later, Du Chengfeng instructed, “Go to the residences of the Four Talents and deliver a message: Seven days from now, I, Du Chengfeng, invite them to my house to discuss important matters.” He burped contentedly as he spoke, his tone languid.

Chunlan nodded, “Yes, Young Master.”

“Go about your business,” Du Chengfeng waved her off, then returned alone to his study to organize his recipes.

People live by food—eating was no small matter. If there was both sustenance and profit to be had, why not pursue it?

In the estate of Princess Wenyang, the princess sat quietly on a stone bench in the pavilion. All around, clusters and bouquets of vibrant flowers vied in beauty, a riot of color under the gentle breeze, their fragrance wafting richly through the air.

But Princess Wenyang had no mind to admire such loveliness. Her gaze was fixed, almost dreamily, on two poems laid out upon the stone table. She murmured to herself, “Clouds long for her raiment, flowers for her face; the spring breeze brushes the balustrade, the dew glistens bright. If not seen atop the Jade Mountain, she would meet me beneath the moon at the Jade Terrace. Was this written for his beloved?”

Indeed, she was reading the two love poems Du Chengfeng had composed at the Chang’an Poetry Gathering.

She had attended that gathering herself and, upon reading Du Chengfeng’s verses, found herself utterly enchanted. Having also seen his countenance, her heart was quietly given. Not only was Du Chengfeng striking in appearance, his literary and calligraphic talents dazzled all present. He was like the spring wind of March, stirring her heart into gentle ripples.

Her maid, seeing the princess’s shy expression and eyes like autumn waters, asked with concern, “Your Highness, you’re not falling for that Du Chengfeng, are you?”

“Silly girl, what nonsense is that?” Princess Wenyang feigned annoyance.

“Your Highness, your thoughts are written all over your face,” the maid teased.

The princess’s cheeks flushed slightly at the jest, but she retorted, “I simply admire his talent and calligraphy, nothing more. Stop your nonsense, you impudent girl.”

“I only worry for Your Highness. You are noble, a golden branch and jade leaf. How could a commoner hope to win your favor?” the maid grumbled.

“Xiaomei, how many times have I taught you not to belittle others so lightly? This Young Master Du has such talent and artistry—who’s to say he won’t achieve greatness someday? Look at the last poem he wrote; it’s clearly the work of someone with grand ambition. You must pay attention to any news about him. In the coming days, find out all you can and report back to me. Do you understand?” Princess Wenyang, looking at the maid who had served her for years, could not bring herself to chastise her harshly.

“Oh, I understand,” the maid said with a pout.

Unaware of Princess Wenyang’s interest in him, Du Chengfeng was facing a troublesome matter: Li Shimin had summoned him to the palace, with the edict delivered by none other than Chu Suiliang himself.

What could Emperor Taizong want with him? Du Chengfeng wondered.

After the three calligraphy masters visited Du Chengfeng’s residence, they realized the matter was significant enough to be reported to the Emperor, especially in light of Du Chengfeng’s final words, which were anything but ordinary. Knowing that the Emperor had been paying close attention to Du Chengfeng of late, they hurried back to their own homes for a quick meal, then made their way together to the Sweet Dew Hall to make their report.

Li Shimin, after hearing their report, remained silent for a long while. Du Chengfeng’s ideas were profoundly shocking in this feudal age, even to one as elevated as the Emperor.

Li Shimin found this mysterious young man of barely sixteen more and more unfathomable. He had secretly ordered the Secret Division to investigate Du Chengfeng’s background: an orphan, raised in Dujia Village by an old man, with no living relatives save for a brother of similar age. He had rarely left the village, nor attended school.

No one could say where he had learned his astonishing calligraphy and scholarship. The report delivered by the three masters only deepened Li Shimin’s amazement.

After much deliberation, he decided to meet Du Chengfeng in person and test his talent.

Tragically, when Chu Suiliang had boasted to Li Shimin about the calligraphy he’d obtained from Du Chengfeng, the Emperor—himself a lover of the art—had snatched it away. Thus, Chu Suiliang came to deliver the imperial summons, his real aim being to acquire another “Immortal by the River” poem from Du Chengfeng.

Du Chengfeng realized he had become too conspicuous. For a mere orphan from a remote mountain village, uneducated and unknown, to display such monstrous talent—anyone would be suspicious.

He was now under Li Shimin’s scrutiny, especially after his final words to Yu Shinan. The notion of equality for all, in this age of absolute monarchs, was tantamount to overturning thousands of years of tradition. It was more than Li Shimin and his ministers could easily accept. Thankfully, Li Shimin was a relatively enlightened ruler and had not branded Du Chengfeng a traitor.

Since things had come to this, he might as well go and meet him.