Chapter Seventy-Three: Viewing the Lanterns

Cai Garden, also known as the Cai Family Garden, was the private estate of a high-ranking official surnamed Cai. Situated in the northwest corner of Kaifeng Prefecture, it spanned several dozen acres, filled with pavilions, towers, small bridges, and flowing streams. Snow hung delicately from the branches, and the garden was arranged in the style of southern landscapes, evoking a sense of tranquility and pleasure.

The layout of Cai Garden was particularly elegant, with lush flowers and trees, verdant rock formations, and winding paths leading to secluded corners. It was truly a haven for scholars and gentlemen to stroll and appreciate the blossoms. Though it was mid-winter and lacked the profusion of spring, the garden still boasted plum blossoms, ink orchids, noble lilies, and narcissus—winter blooms competing with frost and snow in vivid color. During the New Year festivities, the plum blossoms burst forth, and on quiet nights when the moon was full, one could drink wine and admire the plum trees, their fragrance wafting through the air, invigorating the spirit and offering a special delight. Thus, the garden was still frequented by officials, wealthy merchants, and literary figures.

Though Cai Garden was a private estate, it was presently open to the public, allowing scholars, literati, and students preparing for the imperial exams to enter and admire the grounds, thereby showcasing the owner’s refined and noble character.

Besides plum, orchid, and chrysanthemum, the garden was adorned with numerous lanterns, inviting visitors to appreciate the lights and the moon as they celebrated the festival, even offering lantern riddles with generous rewards.

Within Cai Garden, Li Sanjian and his companions saw scholars composing poetry, wielding brushes, drinking and admiring plum blossoms, debating politics under the influence of wine, or gathering to solve lantern riddles, competing in wit and learning.

The Song dynasty promoted officials through the imperial examination, so high office was no longer monopolized by aristocratic clans. Scholars, especially those from prosperous families, had a path to advancement; through the exams, they could attain noble rank, but unlike royal or aristocratic families, their status was not hereditary. Thus, the rise and fall of officials, their promotion and demotion, became commonplace.

As a result, these men developed a shared philosophy: if one is poor, cultivate oneself; if successful, benefit the world. While in office, they strove to accomplish great deeds, yet also prepared for retirement, managing gardens and estates for the day they would withdraw from public life, thus earning a reputation for being reclusive and transcendent.

Therefore, gardens were not only places for the retired to find peace but also places that current officials yearned for. In Song times, retirement from office was frequent, so nearly all officials built gardens, leading to a proliferation of private gardens throughout the land, varying only in size.

After the reigns of the founding emperor and his successor, the Song dynasty suffered repeated defeats in foreign wars. The Treaty of Tanyuan brought annual payments to the Liao, and the sixteen northern prefectures were lost forever. The wars with Western Xia were mixed in outcome, but for the Song, they ended in failure, despite the kingdom’s strength being many times greater than Western Xia in population, economy, and military. Yet, they could not subdue the small rival, whose emperor carved out a chunk of territory, severing the Silk Road.

Such events profoundly affected the hearts of Song literati. From the heroic spirit of the flourishing Tang, they turned to anxious concern for the instability of the realm, dissatisfied and disappointed with the court. Many scholars resolved to retreat to the mountains, returning to rural life and ignoring state affairs, like ostriches seeking inner peace.

Still, many believed they were living in a time of unprecedented peace, and nights were filled with music and celebration.

“Hurry, hurry, the young lady of the Cai family is presenting her lantern! Let’s go see!”

“Which Cai lady is this?”

“You must be ill-informed. The young lady of the Cai family is renowned throughout Kaifeng as a gifted woman. Every year she offers lantern riddles, yet every year no one solves them.”

“You’re truly knowledgeable! I’ve heard she’s also a rare beauty, but no one has ever glimpsed her face.”

“Indeed. It’s rumored that whoever solves her lantern riddle will become the Cai family’s esteemed son-in-law.”

“Well, shouldn’t we hurry? If someone else gets there first, we’ll miss our chance!”

“Bah! With your short stature and rough face, you dream of winning the beauty’s favor?”

“Heh, who knows? Maybe the young lady has unique tastes and prefers someone just like me.”

“...”

“Hey, you’re already of an age to be someone’s grandfather. Why join the crowd? Move aside, don’t block the way.”

“I may be old, but my learning surpasses you young fellows.”

“Trying to imitate Zhang of Anlu, are you?”

“What about Anlu? I’m eighty, she’s eighteen—red cheeks meet white hair. We’re truly of the same age, only separated by a cycle of sixty years... Such a tale is legendary!”

“Ugh, what nonsense! An eighteen bride and an eighty groom, white hair beside rosy cheeks. Paired beneath embroidered covers, a pear tree pressing upon a begonia... Legendary? Can you really press upon a begonia?”

“Hahahaha!”

Amid laughter and banter, the crowd surged toward the archway, men and women, young and old. Li Sanjian followed the flow, and in the crowd, he unexpectedly caught sight of Ye Mengde.

Li Sanjian’s group had dwindled to just himself and Zeng Gongming; Yao Yu and Ran Yunbiao had no interest in the festival’s literary gatherings and left early. Night had fallen, and Shan Kui had escorted Little Soybean home. Shan Kui, before leaving, had gone with Zhen Nan Jiao to his residence, confirming the truth of his words—his mother was indeed ill.

Zhen Nan Jiao’s surname was Xu, given name Biao, a native of Daming Prefecture and of humble origins, thus lacking a courtesy name. Xu Biao lost his father to illness at a young age and lived with his mother, much like Li Sanjian.

Xu Biao’s father had been a wrestler, earning a living with his skills, and Xu Biao inherited the art, growing strong and dark-skinned, making his way among the common folk. Later, he was noticed by the Tokyo Wrestling Troupe and brought to Kaifeng to perform for money and support his family.

Seeing his hardship, Li Sanjian returned the five gold ingots to Xu Biao.

It seemed fate had denied him wealth; as Li Sanjian and Zeng Gongming walked toward the archway, he touched the two strings of copper coins left in his purse, secretly mocking himself.

The gold he had just obtained was gone in the blink of an eye.

Soon, they reached the colorful wooden archway draped in silk. The arch towered nearly thirty feet high, adorned with carved railings and many small wooden doors. On the arch were several young ladies from official families, dressed in vibrant attire, whispering and laughing as they looked down at the crowd.

Such arches were typically built by officials or wealthy merchants to display their status—the higher and grander the arch, the more noble the family.

Around the arch were countless bright and colorful lanterns.

The New Year lantern festival, known as the Lantern Market, began each evening when the lanterns were lit. Citizens, organizations, and performers paraded through the streets, dancing, singing, puppet shows, bamboo horse rituals, and more—sometimes hundreds or thousands of teams, stretching over miles.

Some families also hosted elegant performances and fireworks, their gardens and riversides aglow with lanterns, and guests would toast wine at the door before departing.

On this night, the Cai family garden was hosting the Lantern Market.

The garden was filled with thousands of ingenious lanterns of every shape and novelty, covering the entire grounds.

With the Lantern Market came lantern riddles.

When the crowd gathered under the arch, the small wooden doors opened, and several maidservants emerged. These girls, all around fifteen or sixteen, were slender and beautiful, each remarkably similar in height and appearance, clearly selected with care.

Each maid carried a lantern, its design illuminated by candlelight, looking especially elegant.

The crowd’s eyes shone green with hunger, their gazes devouring the beauty in the glow.

If the maidservants were so lovely, their mistress must be a celestial beauty. Some even thought, if they could marry her and keep the maids as concubines, what a fortune that would be!

“Clouds part and the fair lady descends, a pavilion rises where water meets the trees. Beauty’s charm outlasts spring, and Lord Li awaits the twin phoenixes to gather orchids...” One maid recited a verse, smiling at the “hungry wolves” below the arch.

Many in the crowd did not grasp the meaning of the poem, but Li Sanjian understood: only those with talent could ascend the arch.

Soon after, another maid explained the rules: the arch had three levels, each with riddles. Solve the riddle at the lowest level to advance to the next, and finally reach the top, where one might meet the talented Cai lady and behold her beauty.

There were rewards for each level, increasing in value. If one reached the third floor, the prize was a gold ingot, five bolts of silk, six bolts of Shu brocade, fine wine, and venison.

Li Sanjian’s heart raced. He had no interest in the noble lady herself—not because he lacked desire, but because he came from poverty and knew such a wealthy family would never choose him.

What drew him was the generous reward. Nearly destitute, such riches would solve his immediate needs, letting him focus on preparing for the Ministry of Rites examination without worrying about daily expenses.

Thus, Li Sanjian silently reviewed the “Song Lyric Cipher” in his mind, and recalled the memories that had recently returned to him.