It was finally quiet. The candles had flickered out at some point, leaving a fog of darkness that crowded in on Xie Jinglan from all sides. He sat alone on the ground, and tears came again. Once his eyes had adjusted to the dark, he propped himself against a stool and tried to stand. The stool had one short leg; it wobbled precariously, and he nearly lost his balance.
Pushing the door open, he walked out into the lonely courtyard. It was strewn with fallen leaves, and the lotus flowers in the two planters had long since withered, leaving only pale stalks behind.
Twelve years of bitterness surged within his heart. Everyone had a mother except him. Although he had a father, he might as well not have had one. Growing up alone in this isolated courtyard, he’d been like a ball of rice anyone could mold as they pleased. Now, even his servant looked down on him.
He laughed derisively as Xiahou Lian’s words echoed in his mind: “It’d just be a couple dumb books. Yet here you are, a young master of the Xie family, cowering like a turtle and gluing paper scraps, too scared to take what belongs to you. If that fat kid finds out, he’ll sure laugh his head off.”
Xiahou Lian was right. Those books were his. Xie Jinglan paused for a moment, letting the wind dry his wet cheeks, then clenched his fists and strode through the side gate.
All was deserted and eerily silent. In her scrimping, the first matron had extinguished even the lanterns in the walkways. It was the depths of winter, and the biting night wind stung Xie Jinglan’s face. The path to the library was shrouded in complete darkness, but Xie Jinglan recalled the route and crept forward.
After walking for a while, he arrived at the library, only to find the door locked. Having no key, he couldn’t get in. Instead, he circled the building, seeking a way to sneak in, but found all the doors and windows securely shut.
Xie Jinglan stood before the locked door for a while, now numb from the biting wind, then snapped out of his daze. Feeling as if he’d awoken from a dream, he turned to leave. Just as he did, a boy stepped from behind a pillar, smiling brightly at him.
Xie Jinglan stubbornly looked away, refusing to meet the bastard’s gaze. “Why did you follow me? To watch me make a fool of myself?”
“How could my humble self dare?”
Xiahou Lian pulled a thin iron wire from his sleeve and deftly slid it into and around the keyhole. With a crisp click, the lock unlatched, and the door creaked open an inch. Xiahou Lian pushed it open wider and gestured for Xie Jinglan to enter. Xie Jinglan hesitated, biting his lip, but ultimately still stepped inside.
Xiahou Lian gently closed the door behind him. “Quick—which book do you want? Grab it!”
Xie Jinglan was silent as he stared into the pitch-black room. How am I supposed to find a book in this darkness? he thought.
Meanwhile, Xiahou Lian produced a firestarter and blew gently. A small flame flickered to life at his fingertips and illuminated their faces. They looked at each other, a mere arm’s length apart, the glow from the tiny fire shining between them.
Xiahou Lian had tidied himself up. His face was clean, and his eyes shone like stars. His appearance was just pleasing enough to curb Xie Jinglan’s displeasure somewhat. However, the recollection of Xiahou Lian pinning him down and punching him still weighed on his mind. Xie Jinglan wrestled with his discomfort for a while, then decided to ignore the other boy.
Noticing that Xie Jinglan was still sulking, Xiahou Lian grew a little worried. “You’re not still upset, are you?” he asked. “Please, Shaoye, show me some kindness. Please don’t be mad. Look at me, your humble servant, bowing before you and begging for your grace. Won’t you please forgive me just this once?”
“Who’s angry with you?” Xie Jinglan huffed, grabbing the firestarter as he turned to search for the book. “Hmph. I’ve never met a servant as insolent as you. You’re lucky that I’m your master. Xie Jingtao would’ve killed you eight hundred times over by now!”
“Of course, Jinglan-shaoye! I’m truly fortunate to have such a kindhearted master. You have been gracious with my undeserving self, and you’re willing to overlook my mistakes.”
Xiahou Lian was an old hand at sweet-talking others. Xie Jinglan, appeased, softened his expression.
The library was packed with bookshelves, leaving just enough room for two people to squeeze through. The shelves loomed overhead, almost brushing the ceiling. A musty odor permeated the room, and a slight chill in the air made Xiahou Lian uneasy. He nudged Xie Jinglan’s back, urging him to hurry up.
Passing three bookshelves, Xie Jinglan realized that the library was organized according to the Seven Categories.4 For what felt like an eternity, the pair searched with rapt focus, then finally located Chen Hao’s Collected Explanations of the “Book of Rites” on the seventeenth shelf. Xie Jinglan decided to take only the first volume, planning to read it, then return for the second.
“Do you think they’ll notice that the book is missing?” Xie Jinglan whispered.
“Notice? No frigging way! Can’t you see the dust on these books? They haven’t been touched in centuries!”
“Watch your language!” Xie Jinglan lightly swatted Xiahou Lian’s head, then reached for another volume. “I’ll take this one too.”
Xiahou Lian lifted the first volume and casually flipped through it. His eyes went wide.
“What’s wrong?” Xie Jinglan asked, noting Xiahou Lian’s odd reaction. He leaned in for a closer look and was instantly dumbstruck.
The book was full of lifelike, captivating erotic paintings. Men and women lay entwined in various poses, and even their expressions were rendered in exquisite detail.
“Wh-what is this?” Xie Jinglan stammered, his face flushed with embarrassment and hot enough to cook an egg. He slammed the book shut.
“Erotic artwork!” Xiahou Lian exclaimed in awe. “If I’m not mistaken, this is the famous Intimate Scenes of Leisurely Love by Yuan-dynasty painter Zhao Xiyan. My mother has a replica! Could this be the original? The beautifully drawn people, the rich colors, even the patterns on the clothes and the flowers and plants are lovingly detailed—it’s the pinnacle of erotic painting! Look—this one’s called Red Plum Hanging Down, and this one is Warbler Singing at Dawn. This one is Summer in Jiangnan.”
Xie Jinglan listened to Xiahou Lian’s lengthy explanation, then leapt on the least immediately relevant part: “Wait—did you say ‘my mother’?”
Xiahou Lian jolted, realizing that he’d slipped up. “No—no, I was saying that your father’s a hypocrite, hiding erotic artwork in his library!”
Xie Jinglan’s face flushed an even deeper red. He frantically shoved the album of erotic illustrations back onto the shelf and stammered, “I’m not taking this. I’ll grab something else.”
“Wait.” Xiahou Lian pulled down the album and tucked it into his shirt, lips curved in a mischievous smile. “Let’s bring it back to study. There’s a...certain charm to reading these at night, by lamplight. You’ve never seen anything like this, have you, Jinglan-shaoye? Aren’t you curious?”
Xie Jinglan firmly refused. “Put it back!”
Xiahou Lian chuckled. “Didn’t expect you to be such a goody two-shoes. Fine, don’t read it. But I’m still keeping it for now, since it might come in handy.”
Next, Xiahou Lian insisted that Xie Jinglan show him to the fat boy’s study. Although Xie Jinglan had no idea what he was planning, he agreed to bring him there, unable to take Xiahou Lian’s relentless badgering. The pair crept into the main courtyard. There, Xiahou Lian deftly used his wire once more to unlock the study door, and they slipped inside.
Xie Jinglan’s heart was in his throat. This was his first taste of thievery, but when he saw Xiahou Lian’s unshakable confidence, he refused to be outdone. He summoned his courage and feigned nonchalance, then followed closely behind Xiahou Lian, scanning the study and taking in the furnishings.
In the center of the study hung a plaque inscribed House of Sweeping Leaves. Xie Jinglan scoffed. Someone like Xie Jingtao just dragged down such an elegant name.
On the table sat an inkstone, brushes, and high-quality rice paper from Jing County in Anhui. Xie Jinglan caressed the smooth, silky sheets, and a twinge of envy stirred within him.
Xiahou Lian found a stack of books on the table and pulled out Collected Explanations of the “Book of Rites.” Sure enough, its cover was identical to the one he’d taken from the library; both had been printed by the Xie family’s Xiuwen Hall. Taking the genuine volume, he placed the counterfeit on top of the pile of books, then signaled Xie Jinglan to follow him.
Xie Jinglan quickly caught on to Xiahou Lian’s scheme.
Xiahou Lian shook his head and smiled. “On my way here today, I overheard a maid saying that the lord is returning tomorrow. If your hypocritical father values his children’s education above all else, guess what he’s sure to do upon getting back?”
Xie Jinglan felt a surge of warmth in his chest. “You always have inane ideas. This might not even work,” he said, refusing to betray his gratitude.
Xiahou Lian just grinned. “Let’s wait and see, then.”