Chapter 88: Gathering of the Prodigal Sons

“Bang!”

The girl in the purple robe slammed the teapot heavily onto the stone bench beneath the willow tree, turned away in a huff, and strode off.

“Well, looks like I’ll have to do it myself,” Qin Huaiyu said, utterly unconcerned, picking up the teapot and leisurely pouring himself several cups to quench his thirst.

The two of them, with nothing better to do, had taken leave from the Imperial Academy, checked in on Mo Dun, exchanged a few words, and were about to depart. “Young masters, why not stay for a meal?” Uncle Fu invited them.

“Next time, next time!” Qin Huaiyu replied with an awkward laugh.

Ever since the Scholar’s Restaurant opened, Uncle Yu had practically made the place his home, and the quality of the Mo family’s meals had plummeted. Worse yet, there was the risk of encountering the girl in purple’s notorious culinary disasters. The three friends simply didn’t have the courage to try their luck. Before leaving, they instructed Mo Dun not to miss the grand gathering of the most illustrious young scions of the Great Tang at Chang Le Lane in three days’ time.

Mo Dun considered it; if he was to remain in Chang’an, it would be inevitable to interact with these privileged youths. He nodded and agreed.

“Young master, it’s time for your soup. This is the nourishing broth specially ordered by Elder Hua,” the girl in purple approached, carrying a large bowl of her own concoction, her eyes full of expectation.

Mo Dun forced a bitter smile. The trio had escaped, but he could not. Gazing at the thick layer of oil floating atop the bowl, he resigned himself, closed his eyes, and gulped it down in large mouthfuls.

Three days later.

Mo Dun, under the lingering gaze of the girl in purple, fled the Mo residence as if escaping from captivity. He felt that under her attentive care, he had gained at least two pounds in the past few days; if he didn’t get out soon, he’d turn into a pig.

After three days of recovery, the youth’s vitality had returned, and with the excessive nourishment, Mo Dun was soon back to his energetic self.

“To Chang Le Lane!”

Mo Dun, accompanied by Tie An, boarded the carriage arranged by Qin Huaiyu.

The carriage sped along, weaving through the bustling avenues of Chang’an. After five days of turmoil, the chaos brought by the hot air balloon had long since subsided, and the busy people of Chang’an continued their pursuit of daily life.

The only lasting effect was a sharp decline in the mutton business. As Mo Dun passed by Sun Yang’s Main Hall, the largest restaurant specializing in mutton, he found the entrance deserted and business bleak—smaller establishments fared even worse.

“Young master, you may not know, but since the rumors of the ‘Sheep Immortal’ emerged, Sun Yang’s business has plummeted, while Scholar Yu’s Restaurant is booming—packed to the rafters every day. It’s now the hottest spot in Chang’an, and Uncle Yu has already opened a branch,” Tie An remarked with a low chuckle.

Mo Dun was dumbfounded; he hadn’t expected such an unintended act to bring prosperity to Scholar Yu’s Restaurant.

Previously, the largest meat market in Chang’an was mutton. Now, with the commotion about the Sheep Immortal, mutton prices had dropped sharply.

Not only did Scholar Yu’s Restaurant flourish, but prices for chicken, duck, and goose had also started to rise, driving a surge in sales of chicks and ducklings from Mo Village.

“I swear it was really an accident, do you believe me?” Mo Dun said with a bitter smile to Tie An. He felt helpless—his actions had been unintentional, yet all the benefits went to Mo Village. If anyone should bear the blame, Mo Village was hardly innocent!

“I believe everything you say, young master,” Tie An replied, barely suppressing his laughter.

Clearly, he didn’t believe a word! Mo Dun looked at Tie An’s exaggerated performance with disdain.

The carriage came to a halt.

“Mo, this way!” Mo Dun had just stepped down when he saw Cheng Chumo waving from nearby.

“Where are Qin Huaiyu and Yuchi Baolin?” Mo Dun asked.

“They’ve already gone inside. I was worried you’d get lost, so I stayed behind to wait for you,” Cheng Chumo explained.

“Jiaosi Lane?”

Mo Dun then realized the exquisite building before him was the renowned Jiaosi Lane—wasn’t this, well, a brothel?

“Cheng Chumo, isn’t it inappropriate for us to come to such a place?” Mo Dun had heard its reputation, but influenced by later generations, he felt a strong aversion to such establishments.

Cheng Chumo looked at Mo Dun with a wry smile. “You’ve got it all wrong. You think this is a place of rouge and powder? If it were, none of us would survive a day in any of them.”

With Cheng Chumo’s explanation, Mo Dun was enlightened. It was a place where only performances were sold, not bodies.

“So that’s how it is,” Mo Dun’s resistance finally faded.

Once inside, Mo Dun found the place completely unlike those depicted in dramas—more akin to a venue for performances.

Surrounded by private booths, with a stage in the center, several ladies in palace attire played graceful melodies reminiscent of light music from later times, creating a unique ambiance.

“Tian Suite Number One, this is it,” Cheng Chumo stopped at the door.

The soundproofing was poor; standing at the entrance, they could hear Qin Huaiyu boastfully recounting his achievements.

“Do you know about printing? That’s the tool for enlightening the masses. Chang’an is abuzz with tales of the Sheep Immortal—it’s all my doing! What a pity, if only I’d been bolder, I’d have been the first to ascend to the heavens!”

Mo Dun and Cheng Chumo pushed the door open and entered. Qin Huaiyu was still basking in his own glory.

Seeing Mo Dun enter, he rose and announced, “Of course, none of this would be possible without my good friend Mo Dun. Let me formally introduce him to you all—this is Mo Dun of the Mo Family, who, at barely twenty, leads his own school, and whose innovations have shaken Chang’an!”

The other young men present could not conceal the gleam in their eyes, gazing at the delicate youth before them, hardly believing he was the famed Mo family scion making waves in Chang’an.

To them, the name Mo Dun represented a dark age; ever since he outshone the Imperial Academy and his poetry spread through Chang’an, Mo Dun had become the “child of other families” their fathers used to highlight their own lack of diligence.

“Mo Dun of Mo Village, greetings to you all,” Mo Dun said with a wry smile, cupping his hands in salute. This time Qin Huaiyu had truly made him famous.

“This is Li Zhen, eldest son of the Duke of England,” Qin Huaiyu pointed to a tall, heroic-looking youth.

“This is Liu Renshi, eldest son of the Duke of Kui.”

“These are Fang Jun and Fang Yiai, sons of Chancellor Fang’s family.”

“I know that one!” Mo Dun said through gritted teeth. In his memory, Fang Yiai was the culprit behind his own crossing into this world.

Though born to a civil official, Fang Yiai favored martial arts—he was a traitor to his class, fond of befriending sons of military men, and thus became one of Mo Dun’s fox-like friends.

After receiving his stipend, Mo Dun, together with Fang Yiai and a band of such friends, had indulged in a drunken spree, which ultimately led to Mo Dun’s crossing.

“Mo, don’t blame me. After that drunken night, my father sent me back to our hometown. I only returned yesterday, and was amazed to find you’ve stirred up such a storm in Chang’an!” Fang Yiai, burly in stature, possessed an easygoing, carefree demeanor.

“No matter how you paint it, you still owe me that meal!” Mo Dun replied with mock anger, hugging him fiercely before letting go.

There were several others, sons of military officials, to whom Mo Dun paid his respects before they each took their seats.

Mo Dun glanced around and realized this was truly a gathering of the most illustrious of the privileged youths—a veritable assembly of second-generation elites, with almost every military scion present, save for those too young.