The people of Song had always been fond of festivals.
Especially after the imperial decree issued in the third year of Qiande, which allowed night markets in the capital to remain open until the third watch, lifting Bianliang's long-standing curfew. From that day on, the city seemed never to sleep.
Food stalls, noodle shops, bakeries, tea houses, taverns, and eateries sprang up one after another. Scholars and merchants from Jiangnan and Shu passed through the city in endless streams. Even the disturbances that had taken place before the New Year — the Forbidden Army entering the city and the Prince of Jin's sudden madness — were no more than fresh topics of gossip for the citizens of Bianliang.
More so after another imperial edict was issued, declaring that although the Prince of Jin had lost his sanity, he was still a blood brother of the Emperor. A separate residence was built in the southeastern quarter of the inner palace so the brothers could see one another daily. Once word spread, the tone inside the city's taverns softened noticeably, and praise for the Emperor grew ever louder.
After all, since the fall of the Later Tang, Liang, Jin, Han, and Zhou had all made Kaifeng their capital.
In a mere few decades, the palace at the heart of Bianliang had seen its masters change like lanterns on a festival night. Fathers killing sons, brothers slaughtering brothers, uncles and nephews turning blades on one another — such things were all too common.
To the old residents of Bianliang, the peace and prosperity of the past ten-odd years, as well as the harmony within the imperial household, were rare blessings worth speaking of.
Thus, even with the ongoing war against Southern Tang, the people's enthusiasm for the holiday season was undiminished — including that of the Emperor himself.
After enduring the grand New Year court assembly and the banquet for foreign envoys on the following day, Zhao Kuangyin finally decided to leave the palace for some fresh air.
He specifically summoned Zhao Pu to accompany him. At dusk, the two men took five or six guards, changed into plain clothes, and quietly exited the palace through Xihua Gate.
Beyond the western gate, the first thing that came into view was the Prince of Jin's residence to the northwest of the palace. Once bustling with carriages and retainers, the grand estate now lay eerily quiet. With Zhao Guangyi restrained, the collapse of his faction had come faster than anyone had expected.
Most of the household slaves had already been dismissed. The residence now served only as lodging for Zhao Guangyi's wives, concubines, and children.
Zhao Kuangyin cast a distant glance at the compound. Without a word, he and Zhao Pu turned south, walking along the palace walls. After only a few hundred paces, the lights of Junyi Bridge Street came into view.
"Zhang Family Tavern? Wanglou's Plum Blossom Buns? Or perhaps Cao Po's meat pies?"
Zhao Pu rattled off names with ease. "There's also Li Si's Tea House."
This was hardly his first time going out incognito, and he knew Bianliang's streets well. All the places he named were famous eateries near Junyi Bridge.
Once immersed in the lively streets, Zhao Kuangyin felt his spirits lift. Laughing, he shook his head.
"Lord Zhao, look at this crowd. Zhang Family Tavern must be full already."
"Then we'll go door to door," Zhao Pu replied casually. "Wherever there's a seat, we sit."
Zhao Kuangyin nodded. The moment they reached Junyi Bridge Street, the truth of his words became clear.
Cooked rice soaked in broth, stewed meats, dried delicacies — the street was a riot of sights and smells. In front of shops, wild game like badgers, foxes, rabbits, and deer hung alongside domesticated geese, ducks, chickens, and sheep, their cries overlapping in a chaotic chorus.
Vendors selling steamed buns lined the road as well — chicken skin, kidneys, giblets, tripe and lung fillings — clouds of steam rising as shop hands shouted, "Fifteen coins apiece!"
Further in, where the street widened, there were stalls selling pan-fried lamb, white sausages, and pork offal soup. Zhao Kuangyin even saw one vendor shouting at the top of his lungs:
"Dragon Whisker Bridge brains! Nineteen coins a jin!"
The name alone sparked Zhao Kuangyin's interest, but Zhao Pu tugged him back.
"These odds and ends are still sold late into the night. If we're not full after dinner, we can come back for some."
Zhao Kuangyin thought it over and agreed. They went from one large establishment to another, asking for seats.
But it was only the third day of the New Year. Famous eateries were either packed to the brim or had nothing but scattered seats, no large tables. Only at Li Si's Tea House had a group just risen, leaving behind a table that could seat all seven of them.
Li Si's Tea House was spacious, with halls and side corridors. Prices varied by location, but Zhao Kuangyin had walked long enough and was hungry enough not to care. He chose a large table in the courtyard.
As soon as they sat, a waiter approached with paper flowers, diligently wiping each pair of chopsticks before wrapping the tips and placing them in front of every guest.
"We have soups, rice, kidneys, meat, and assorted vegetables," the waiter asked. "What would the gentlemen like?"
Zhao Kuangyin blinked, curious.
"This tea house is quite large. Why so few dishes?"
Both Zhao Pu and the waiter laughed.
"First time here, sir?" the waiter said cheerfully. "When I say soup, I don't mean just one kind."
"Soft fourfold soup, stone marrow soup, mixed-color soup, stone belly soup, spicy assorted soup, all kinds of fish soup, chicken soups large and small, minced meat starch soup, vegetable and fruit soups — they're all soups. Even fish and chicken soups can be divided further by ingredients."
Only then did Zhao Kuangyin realize his misunderstanding. He waved it off and let Zhao Pu place the order.
Just as Zhao Pu leaned over to speak quietly with the waiter, a man with his robe open at the chest and a paper flower stuck behind his ear wandered over, palm outstretched.
"Sir, how about burning two sticks of incense for blessings?"
Seeing Zhao Kuangyin's puzzled look, the man grinned slyly.
"At your age, sir, your parents must have passed on. I've got connections with the monks at Daxiangguo Temple. Give me a few strings of cash, and I'll have incense lit for you there. Isn't that worth it?"
Now Zhao Kuangyin understood.
Several guards bristled and rose to their feet, ready to beat the man senseless, but Zhao Kuangyin raised a hand to stop them, studying the fellow with interest.
"You really work for Daxiangguo Temple?"
Before the man could answer, someone nearby shouted:
"Wang Qiao'er, you dog! Still scamming money to fix that useless thing between your legs?"
The flower-wearing rogue flew into a rage.
"Niu A'luo! You wretched beast! Looking to beg food from your grandpa?"
A burly man stood up from a neighboring table, cracking his knuckles.
"If you've got guts, step outside. Let me see what you're made of."
Wang Qiao'er's face turned red, then white. In the end, he covered his face and fled.
Niu A'luo sat back down and warned Zhao Kuangyin casually, "Sir, if you want blessings, go to the temple yourself. Don't trust these scum soaked in brothels."
"So he really does work for the temple?" Zhao Kuangyin asked, still curious.
Niu A'luo nodded, clearly unwilling to say more.
Zhao Kuangyin understood and changed the topic.
"Your accent doesn't sound like Bianliang's."
"I'm from Zhuozhou," Niu A'luo replied. "You know it? Zhang Fei from the Han era was from there. Same hometown as me."
Zhao Kuangyin nodded silently. More than knew it — three months ago, he had been cursed out by Zhang Fei himself.
The rest needed no explanation. Two words sufficed: troubled times.
"Then you wish to return home," Zhao Kuangyin said.
"Who doesn't?" Niu A'luo shot back.
Zhao Kuangyin fell silent.
When the food arrived, neither side spoke further. Before leaving, Zhao Kuangyin told Niu A'luo that he served in the palace, and that if trouble arose, he could go to Xihua Gate and ask the Forbidden Army for Zhao Zeping.
Zhao Pu nearly burst out laughing.
After the meal, the group went on to watch the performance platforms across from Xuande Gate — sword swallowing, fire breathing, spinning fireballs, theatrical tricks, and costumed acts — until well past midnight.
Only then did they return to the palace.
Before parting, Zhao Kuangyin gripped Zhao Pu's arm and said quietly,
"Tomorrow at dawn, come early."