Tian Xuan stared at Ning Chen, shocked. So young, and so deeply read.

“It seems the Great Xuan will produce a name to shake the literary world before very long.”

Tian Xuan was not stingy with his praise.

Even the shrill one, who had thought nothing of Ning Chen from the moment he opened his mouth, chose silence now.

He didn’t know much about poetry. But any fool could hear how high the feeling ran in that lyric.

Once it got out, it wouldn’t be long before the whole capital was talking.

Ning Chen gave a dopey grin. “I don’t want to be famous. I want a full stomach and warm clothes.”

Just then, a knock at the door.

The shrill one went over and opened it.

Several of the Top Scholar Tower’s waiters filed in, each carrying a tray of good food.

Ning Chen watched them lay it out on the table and his mouth wouldn’t stop watering.

Tian Xuan glanced at him and laughed. “Lan Xing. Sit.”

Ning Chen asked, testing the water, “Are you buying me a meal?”

Tian Xuan nodded.

Ning Chen was starving. He’d only just come off a serious illness, and he hadn’t had a bite since the day before.

Once Ning Chen sat down, Tian Xuan said, “Eat. Don’t stand on ceremony.”

“Thank you, Uncle. Then I won’t.”

He was too hungry for manners. He fell on the food and ate like a wolf.

Tian Xuan watched him eat and didn’t pick up his own chopsticks.

“So crude.”

The shrill one watched him bolt it down with open distaste.

Unfortunately, neither he nor the big bearded man rated a seat. Both of them stood respectfully behind Tian Xuan.

Ning Chen finally ate his fill and let out a full-bellied burp.

When he looked up he realized Tian Xuan hadn’t touched a thing, and felt a little sheepish. “Uncle, why aren’t you eating?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Then can I take the rest of this roast chicken with me?”

Tian Xuan looked at him. “Do you often go hungry?”

Ning Chen nodded.

“I’ll have them pack you a fresh one.”

“No need. This half is fine.”

Tian Xuan didn’t press. He gave a small nod, then changed the subject. “How much are you planning to sell this lyric for?”

Ning Chen thought it over. “Whatever you think, Uncle. You bought me a meal — I’ll give you a good price.”

Tian Xuan considered. “How does a hundred taels sound?”

Ning Chen’s mouth fell open.

Rich. I’m rich!

A hundred taels of silver was roughly a year’s salary for a third-rank official.

Ning Ziming was second rank. His annual salary was a hundred and fifty taels.

That was only the official wage, of course. Add the integrity stipend (TL Note: 養廉銀 — literally “silver to nourish incorruptibility,” a supplement paid on top of an official’s salary on the theory that a well-paid man has less reason to take bribes. It generally dwarfed the salary itself.), the other benefits, and the gray income, and his yearly take ran to something like ten thousand taels.

A hundred taels would buy a small two-courtyard house (TL Note: houses were measured by how many courtyards deep they ran, front to back. Two courtyards is modest but respectable — a real house with a private inner yard, not a room over a shop.) somewhere out on the edge of the capital.

Ten minutes later he walked out with a hundred-tael silver note, one tael of loose silver — and, right, half a roast chicken.

On his way out, Tian Xuan told him that he came by the Top Scholar Tower every three to five days. If Ning Chen had good poems, he could find him there.

After the boy was gone, Tian Xuan was still turning the lyric over, and couldn’t help praising it out loud. “A good lyric. A truly good lyric.”

The shrill one said quickly, “Congratulations, Your Majesty — this is a joyous thing. Once this lyric is out, Your Majesty’s renown is certain to climb another level!”

Tian Xuan was not just anyone. He was the reigning sovereign — the Xuan Emperor.

The Xuan Emperor gave him a look. “You would have this emperor put his name to another man’s work? This emperor is fond of poetry. He does not stoop to buying a reputation with it.”

Seeing that the emperor was displeased, the shrill one dropped to his knees with a thud.

“Forgive this servant, Your Majesty! I only thought that since Your Majesty paid for the lyric, it is Your Majesty’s.”

The Xuan Emperor snorted. “Do you truly believe that lyric is worth a hundred taels? A thousand pieces of gold could not buy it.”

“This emperor named a hundred out of consideration for the boy. He is young and frail. A great sum of money on him would only bring disaster down on his head.”

The shrill one said quickly, “Your Majesty is merciful!”

The Xuan Emperor waved a hand. “Fetch paper and brush. This emperor will write this lyric out and have it posted outside for all to see. All these scholars and men of letters, and not one of them the equal of a single boy. What a waste of the Top Scholar Tower this emperor built.”

“This servant obeys!”

The shrill one scrambled up and hurried off for brush and ink.

The Xuan Emperor thought for a moment. “Nie Liang?”

“Your subject is here!”

The bearded man with the brutal face went down on one knee in front of him.

The Xuan Emperor said, “Follow Lan Xing. Find out who he really is.”

“By Your Majesty’s command!”

Ning Chen left the Top Scholar Tower and went to a clothing shop, where he spent half a tael of silver on a set of thick clothes and another tenth of a tael on a pair of shoes.

The Great Xuan had copper cash — a thousand coins to the string — but the stuff was too heavy, and most people preferred silver. Ordinary people were the exception.

So every place of business kept a small scale regulated by the court, with a big pair of shears beside it.

However much silver you needed, you cut it off, weighed it, and that was that.

In his new clothes, half a roast chicken in hand, Ning Chen got back to the Ning estate and climbed in over the wall, using the stones piled in the corner for footing.

He had barely landed when he saw Ning Mao waiting for him with the household men.

“Well, well, Ning Chen. You really are a bastard nobody’s ever looked after. Climbing walls, going over rooftops — have you got any breeding in you at all?”

“Father ordered you shut in to reflect on your faults, and instead you dare go over the wall? If Father hears about this, I’d say you’re—”

Ning Mao pointed at him and cursed, spit flying.

Then the shouting stopped dead.

Ning Chen hadn’t said a word. He had simply picked up a stick as thick as his arm from the base of the wall and started walking toward him.

Ning Mao thought about Ning Xing, skull split open by a porcelain pillow, still in bed recovering. He thought about last night, when Ning Chen had invited their father to burn him alive. His skin crawled and he backed away fast.

“Ning— Ning Chen. What do you think you’re doing?”

Ning Chen’s voice was ice. “Don’t be scared. I just want to beat in that dog head of yours.”

“You— you’d raise your hand again? Think what Father will do to you when he finds out.”

“By the time he finds out, you’ll be dead. Worst case they kill me to pay for you. If you go down with me, I still come out ahead.”

Then Ning Mao remembered he had several household men at his back. What is there to be afraid of?

“What are you all standing there for? Take him.”

The men closed in on Ning Chen with clubs in hand.

Uncle Chai rushed over to put himself in front of him, shaking all over.

Ning Chen said furiously, “Let’s see which one of you dares touch me. I may be out of favor, but I am still the Fourth Young Master of the Ning house. Are you wretched servants fit to lay a hand on me?”

The men stopped where they stood, not daring to move.

He was right. A master was a master and a servant was a servant. Out of favor or not, he was the Fourth Young Master of the Ning house, and not something they could touch.

Ning Mao bellowed, “You worthless dogs! What kind of Fourth Young Master is he? In this house he’s worth less than a dog. Beat him. Anything comes of it, I’ll answer for it.”

Ning Chen laughed coldly. “He’s Minister Ning’s son. If something happens to me, what exactly is Minister Ning going to do to him? But you — servants raising a hand against your betters. The lightest sentence for that is thirty strokes of the rod. Think about those cheap bones of yours. Can they take it?”

“All of you — get out of my way!”

Ning Chen roared it, and every one of them flinched.

He swung the stick up and charged straight at Ning Mao.

Ning Mao let out a shriek, turned, and ran.

(End of Chapter 5)