Chapter Four: Deep Draughts and Gentle Sips

He Zhizhang and Zhang Xu arrived right on schedule.

This was Pei Min’s first time hosting guests at his estate, and he had made exceptionally grand preparations. Having not seen them for over half a month, he found both men unchanged: He Zhizhang remained steady and prudent, while Zhang Xu was as wild and uninhibited as ever. Looking at these two men of such contrasting temperaments, who were nonetheless the closest of friends, Pei Min could not help but marvel at the power of wine.

Pei Min entertained his guests in the February Pavilion, an elegant side-building within his estate. The pavilion featured three walls and one side entirely open as a large window; beyond the rolled-up vermilion curtains lay a breathtaking garden view. The pavilion took its name from the ancient folklore of the twelve monthly flowers, with the apricot blossom representing the second month. The name "February Pavilion" was thus a poetic allusion to these blossoms.

It was currently the height of the apricot blossom season. The garden was a riot of color, with the flowers in full, vibrant bloom—a dazzling sea of crimson that seemed to capture the very essence of spring. Sitting in the pavilion, drinking wine while admiring the scenery, was a delight for both the senses and the spirit.

Seeing the garden, both He Zhizhang and Zhang Xu were visibly invigorated. He Zhizhang, having been preoccupied with official duties and unable to enjoy the spring scenery, was so moved by the vista that he composed an impromptu seven-character quatrain. Pei Min listened with envy; this was the mark of a true man of letters—poetry flowing effortlessly from the lips, refined and masterfully crafted, radiating the poise of a grand master.

Zhang Xu, a free spirit who frequented every tavern in the city, found none that could compare to the beauty of the February Pavilion. In high spirits, he asked Pei Min for paper and ink. With a flourish, he captured He Zhizhang’s new poem in his signature wild cursive script. Zhang Xu’s mastery of the brush, inspired by the spirit of Pei Min’s swordsmanship, was currently unrivaled in the world. Even He Zhizhang, himself a renowned master of cursive script, was deeply impressed. Seeing the fluid, ethereal, and powerful strokes of the piece—perfectly capturing the elegant mood of the poem—He Zhizhang immediately asked to keep it. Pei Min, though envious, already possessed some of Zhang Xu’s best works, so he let the request slide.

Pei Min invited them to be seated. "I have prepared some excellent aged Dukang wine for you two brothers," he said. "It has been cellared for fifty years; I rarely have the heart to drink it even when I am alone!"

"Quickly, quickly!" Zhang Xu exclaimed like a child, dropping his brush and shouting with impatience.

He Zhizhang maintained a shred of decorum, but he was already seated on the mat, waiting for the wine to be served.

Pei Min had the servants bring out the wine and food. While ancient brewing and purification techniques lacked the refinement of later eras, the wine retained a distinct, original character. Apricot wine tasted of apricots, and fruit wine tasted of the fruit itself—a quality that the highly distilled spirits of later ages often lacked. Dukang, a rich, fragrant wine, filled the room with its aroma as it was warmed.

Zhang Xu drank three cups in quick succession, cheering at the quality of the brew. He loved wine above all else, yet he had the lowest tolerance and was the first to feel its effects. After three cups, his spirits soared, and, shedding all formality, he sat cross-legged and ate and drank with wild abandon, the very picture of a bohemian eccentric.

Pei Min and He Zhizhang, long accustomed to this, merely chatted about trivial matters. Pei Min, not wanting them to misunderstand his character, brought up the rumors regarding his alleged affair with Princess Taiping.

He Zhizhang smiled lightly. "If people said the Princess admired your talent, strategy, and bearing, and thus sought your company, I might believe it. But that you would stoop to curry favor or act as a mere plaything for the Princess? I don't believe a word of it. With your character, such a thing is impossible."

Zhang Xu, who spent much of his time among the common folk and heard every sort of rumor, added with a laugh, "The world is ignorant and loves nothing more than these so-called romantic scandals. The pure stay pure, and the muddy stay muddy; let the world say what it will. One should simply be happy..." When it came to a free and easy spirit, few could compare to Zhang Xu.

Pei Min, seeing He Zhizhang’s trust and Zhang Xu’s detached perspective, realized his own attempt at explanation had been unnecessary. He laughed, "Indeed. Let us drink today’s wine while we have it, and worry about tomorrow’s sorrows when they arrive. Why concern ourselves with so much? The most important thing today is for us to drink to our hearts' content."

He Zhizhang and Zhang Xu’s eyes lit up. In unison, they declared, "What a line! ‘Drink today’s wine while we have it’—that deserves a grand toast!"

They drank in large gulps, and soon they were flushed with wine. Zhang Xu loosened his collar and took off his cap. "I must introduce you to an eccentric fellow I met in a tavern recently, named Jiao Sui. He rarely speaks, but he is a true brother of the cup. When it comes to capacity, even Brother He might be outmatched."

He Zhizhang asked with curiosity, "What is the point of drinking in silence?" For them, drinking was a way to commune with friends. To enter their circle required not just a love for wine, but a certain level of talent. Pei Min had been accepted partly due to Zhang Xu’s introduction and partly because his own occasional insights—born of his later-era knowledge—offered a fresh perspective that even these great men admired.

Pei Min remained silent, but in his memory, Jiao Sui was one of the "Eight Immortals of the Wine Cup."

Zhang Xu continued, "Brother He, you don’t understand. Jiao Sui seems like a mute at first, but once he’s had a few dozen cups, he becomes a different person—brilliant, witty, and sharp. He commands the entire tavern with his words."

He Zhizhang said happily, "Such a fascinating person; I must meet him."

Pei Min added, "Brother Zhang, please arrange it. Unless something major arises, I shall be there." He now considered himself part of this circle. For the sake of the sixth Immortal, Li Bai, it was worth drinking a thousand cups. It was a pity that Li Bai was still young, and he couldn't witness the grace of the Poet Immortal just yet. But in the company of these drunkards, meeting him was only a matter of time.

While Pei Min, He Zhizhang, and Zhang Xu drank deep, Xue Ne and Guo Yuanzhen had also gathered elsewhere. Their way of drinking was different. Xue Ne was sixty-four, and Guo Yuanzhen was fifty-seven. Both were well into their later years; Guo, in particular, was in poor health and plagued by ailments. Having passed the age of heavy drinking, they sipped from small cups, reminiscing about the bonds they had forged in their youth.

Wild drinking shows great passion, but light sipping carries true sentiment. As the last two veteran generals in the imperial court, stationed far apart for over a decade, they sighed as they spoke of the past.

Guo Yuanzhen sighed, "Only within the bureaucracy do you realize how dark it truly is. It was a grave injustice that you were dismissed, Brother Xue. If not for the machinations of the Taiping faction, you would likely be the Great Protector of Andong by now. With you guarding the Northeast, it would be perfectly secure."

Xue Ne looked at Guo Yuanzhen, puzzled, wondering how his own demotion had become entangled with the faction of Princess Taiping.