Volume One: Drunken Chang’an

Chapter One: The Sound of Autumn (Part One)

Autumn in Chang’an is the most beautiful time of the year.

Along both sides of Zhuque Avenue, the leaves of the maple trees slowly turn from green to yellow, and then from yellow to red. Finally, that dazzling red suddenly leaps forth, with a thin layer of golden luster added to the edges. The entire city instantly becomes resplendent, as if shrouded in rosy clouds, dreamlike and ethereal.

Every year at this time, Chang’an is at its liveliest. After the hardships of spring and the toil of summer, people finally welcome the season of harvest. Seeing the fields, the trees, and the shops all turning their labors into heavy copper coins, gleaming silver, shining gold, and warm, soft silk, nerves that have been taut for most of the year quickly relax. With a long sigh of relief, they change into their finest clothes, don their most beautiful tall hats, and set out—those who should climb mountains go climb mountains, those who should visit friends go visit friends. Those who made promises in spring now hire matchmakers, bringing candied fruits from Lingnan, light gauze from Wu and Yue, and a pair of white jades from Suyab in the Western Regions, to the home of the venerable Mr. Taishan, earnestly seeking his daughter’s hand in marriage.

As for families with daughters coming of age, they wish they could buy a magnifying glass used by overseas merchants, to scrutinize every aspect of the suitor’s appearance, character, prospects, learning, and even the family’s lineage for three generations. If anything is unsatisfactory, they grab a broom and sweep out both the matchmaker and the gifts together. As for their own daughter’s tears and pleas, even threats of self-harm, they pretend not to hear. After all, daughters of Chang’an never worry about finding a husband; every year, the inns in Xinchang are filled with scholars from all over the country coming for the imperial exams, ready to be chosen like lotus roots. If lucky enough to catch a future jinshi, the family’s humble home will instantly become a mansion with red doors. (Note 1)

Rejected suitors need not be discouraged. They can head to the East Market, watch a cockfight or a dog race, and soon forget all their troubles. If one day fortune smiles upon them and their skills in cockfighting or dog racing catch the eye of a royal relative, they might soar to great heights. This is an even easier shortcut than studying for the imperial exams—just serve the master of the house well, and any post given will be a lucrative one. Passing by the place of former heartbreak, they walk with heads held high, not even glancing back.

Every autumn, such songs of sorrow and joy are sung. Those in the songs cannot choose their fate, leaving only regret. Those outside the songs, however, watch with relish, sipping wine and buying themselves a drunken night. From this autumn to the next, from the Zhenguan era to the Tianbao era, both the singers and the audience change in a never-ending cycle; when old tunes grow tiresome, new ones are composed, when old lyrics become dull, new words are written, yet the stories within the songs remain much the same.

Young Marquis Henry Carter lounged in a street-facing private room upstairs at Jinhua Pavilion in Gusi Alley, Shengye Ward, eyes closed, listening to this year’s new song. The top courtesan Alice Clark had a gentle, melodious voice, and the zither player Little Grace played with nimble fingers, but Young Master Carter's attention was focused on the silky softness between the fingers of his right hand. (Note 2)

Lightly caressing, gently twirling, still as a maiden, quick as a rabbit—the new technique he learned from his good friend Edward Bennett was put to full use. Soon, Alice Clark could no longer sing a complete tune. She snuck a glance at Henry Carter, lowered her slender neck, and suddenly stuck out her tongue, giving a quick lick to the back of the hand that had slipped into her bodice. Still enjoying himself with eyes closed, Henry Carter jerked his hand back as if scalded. He instantly sat up straight, bumping the low table in front of him askew, scattering all sorts of candied fruits onto the floor.

“Hahahaha…” The zither player Little Grace couldn’t help herself, stood up, and began pounding the wall with her hand. “Young Marquis, you’re so funny! You only have the courage of a needle’s tip, yet insist on imitating those who steal jade and fragrance!”

“Go on, what do you know!” Henry Carter blushed from the laughter, picked up a plum, and threw it at Little Grace. “I’m just afraid that, as someone who practices martial arts, I might not know my own strength and accidentally hurt your…”

Halfway through, the smile in Alice Clark’s eyes made him lose his nerve. Turning his head away, he stiffened his neck and added, “A martial artist, you know? Sometimes you don’t think you’re using much force, but if you’re not careful, you could crush a stone to powder…”

Before he finished, Alice Clark immediately lowered her head, glanced down her own bodice, then let out a low cry and squatted down, clutching her chest.