Chapter 129: Gaining Both Fame and Fortune, Stirring the Capital

Though a merchant by trade, Liu Jiaodong wore fine silk robes and carried a feather fan, his demeanor refined and his speech elegant, revealing uncommon insight. After a probing conversation, Du Shiyi quickly understood that this wealthy merchant—capable of uniting the affluent traders of Chang’an’s East and West Markets every three years to organize a treasure contest—was no ordinary opportunist seeking favor. Sensing the moment was ripe, he straightforwardly asked, “Lord Liu, do you know why I invited you here today?”

Liu Jiaodong, accustomed to mingling with high officials and nobles—especially the temperamental young scions of prominent families—almost instinctively tightened his grip on his fan’s handle, his eyes narrowing slightly before breaking into a genial smile. “Young Master Du, surely you have a great business to entrust to me.”

“Indeed.”

“Not the Luo Sandalwood pipa valued as priceless by Elder Deng, which has been examined by countless connoisseurs, but rather the Duanxi inkstone and Wangwu pine soot ink you mentioned at the Thousand Treasures Pavilion—is that correct?”

“Lord Liu is correct again.”

Seeing Du Shiyi sitting composed and steady, Liu Jiaodong pondered briefly before decisively stating, “If Young Master Du trusts me, I am willing to purchase your stock at fifty thousand coins per inkstone and ten thousand coins per inkstick.”

“It seems, Lord Liu, you have misunderstood my meaning,” Du Shiyi said with sharp eyes and a faint smile. “I am not short of money.”

Despite having investigated Du Shiyi’s background, Liu Jiaodong’s initial proposal aligned better with his mercantile principles. Yet, upon receiving this refusal, he was not disheartened; instead, his eyes gleamed with interest. As business grew larger and reputation soared, he naturally had the backing of wealthy families, but toward those high officials who were stingy with their treasures, he kept a cautious distance. Over the years, he had cautiously invested in some scholars heading to the capital for examinations, but after many years, the returns had been meager; most failed to achieve much, and even those who passed the imperial exams were often assigned as minor county magistrates in remote regions, eventually disappearing from the scene.

Therefore, he was intrigued by Du Shiyi, whose family fortunes had evidently declined but who maintained close ties with the illustrious Cui family, and who knew well how to cultivate influence. He promptly asked bluntly, “Then, Young Master Du, what is your meaning?”

“Lord Liu, do you know that during my ten days at the Dou residence, I made several trips to the Cui residence in Pingkang Lane, seeking to acquire Duanxi inkstones and Wangwu pine soot ink?” Du Shiyi paused slightly, then continued calmly, “More than a dozen groups, all well-informed people aware that I was staying at the Cui residence. As for those unaware but curious, there must be even more. Among the capital’s lovers of calligraphy and refined arts, many would be interested in the inkstone and ink for which Eastern Capital’s Zhang the Military Counselor exchanged a priceless Luo Sandalwood pipa. Lord Liu, do you not agree?”

Having already come in person, Liu Jiaodong was ready to lose the initiative. Du Shiyi’s composed words indicated he had a plan. After some internal calculation, Liu decisively said, “Ah, so Young Master Du has thought it through so thoroughly. In that case, do you plan to use the Thousand Treasures Pavilion to display these treasures?”

“Indeed, and there is also a calligraphy piece by Zhang Xu of the Eastern Capital.”

Du Shiyi then took up a scroll he had brought upon entry and casually handed it to Liu Jiaodong. Watching Liu carefully unroll it and his eyes gleam with fascination, Du smiled slightly. Zhang Xu’s cursive script was unparalleled, though he was known for his eccentricity and love of wine. Obtaining a piece was not entirely difficult, but this particular work had been created in a burst of poetic inspiration, with every stroke infused with vitality and seamless flow—truly a masterpiece. When Liu softly read aloud the eight characters “Duanxi Inkstone, Wangwu Pine Soot,” Du Shiyi smiled and said, “Naturally, I intend to ride the momentum of this treasure contest. If Lord Liu is willing, twenty percent of the final proceeds from selling these inkstones and ink will be yours. How does that sound?”

When Yang Zongwan consigned those rustic Duanxi inkstones at Luoyang’s South Market Elegant Pavilion, the commission was a staggering fifty percent. So, under ordinary circumstances, Liu Jiaodong would have scoffed at a twenty percent cut. But this time, he was dealing not with a fallen aristocrat selling ancestral treasures, but with a promising scion from a distinguished family. An opportunity to gain favor without great sacrifice was too good to pass up. Within moments, he nodded and smiled, “There’s no need for such formalities, Young Master Du. Since you entrust this to the Thousand Treasures Pavilion, I am naturally delighted! Though the richest man in Chang’an is Wang Yuanbao of the Glassworks, no one can surpass the Thousand Treasures Pavilion in consignments!”

Though he spoke thus, when Du Shiyi summoned a servant, and shortly after the Kunlun slave he had seen before struggled forward carrying a wooden box about a foot square, Liu Jiaodong’s curiosity deepened. Especially when the lid was lifted, revealing a purple-blue inkstone carved with pine and crane motifs following the natural grain of the stone, Liu’s eyes widened. The most popular inkstones on the market—whether ceramic or pottery—were mostly simply patterned, but this Duan inkstone’s craftsmanship was exquisite, and its coloration deeply alluring.

After scrutinizing it for some time, he gingerly picked up an inkstick beside it. The few brushstrokes on its surface depicted an elegant landscape. He examined it repeatedly, weighing it in his hand, increasingly convinced that Zhang Xu had indeed been so entranced as to exchange a priceless Luo Sandalwood pipa for this inkstone and ink set. He then carefully closed the box, held it respectfully, and took the calligraphy scroll again. With solemnity, he said, “Young Master Du, rest assured, I will arrange the right moment so that all of Chang’an will know their names.”

“Then I am indebted to you, Lord Liu.” Du Shiyi smiled and bowed slightly, then rose to escort him to the door of another room. Just then, a Cui family servant hurried over, holding a bundle of invitations, and respectfully saluted Du Shiyi. “Young Master Du, these are the invitations received today. Since you were reading in the library earlier and I dared not interrupt, they were delayed until now.”

Liu Jiaodong glanced back, noting many invitations adorned with gold and silver—typical of nobility and princes—and was even more convinced that this trip was worthwhile. Without further ado, he took his leave as if unaware, and after seeing him off, Du Shiyi took the bundle from the servant. Remembering that Miss Du had also mentioned a flurry of invitations yesterday, his mind began to plan.

During the Tang dynasty examinations, whether the county or prefectural preliminary tests or the provincial exams, names were not merely recorded but highly sought after, and reputation was indispensable for good ranking. However, spending all one’s time chasing fame was ultimately more harmful than beneficial. After all, access to such an extensive collection of famous essays and memorials as in the Cui family’s Pingkang Lane library would not always be guaranteed.

Placing the two invitations sent from Prince Song Wang and Prince Qi Wang at the top, Du Shiyi returned directly to the library. Sitting down, he spread out the papers and, after careful thought, began writing: “Respectful greetings to His Excellency, Prince Song…” Knowing Prince Ning’s faithfulness, he first gently explained his exhaustion from his time at the Duke Bi’s Dou residence and the need for a few days’ rest, offering apologies. He then copied a piece of Daoist music notation—a work he had modified based on Pei Ning’s melodies during his stay at Mount Song—and duplicated it for Prince Qi as well; both pieces were incomplete. As for other invitations, he declined them one by one, sending messengers to return the replies.

Only then did he rub his wrists, stand, and stroll to the bookshelves. Now he could legitimately rest for a few days and quietly copy more texts.

On the day of Consort Doulu’s birthday feast, the passing of the state elder Wang Tongjiao, who held the high military office of Yitong Sansi, became the capital’s most significant event. Although some censors openly admonished the emperor against visiting ministers’ homes incognito, the matter soon quieted. The Empress Wang and Wang Tongjiao’s eldest son, the royal son-in-law Wang Shouyi, mourned deeply and repeatedly requested a grand funeral. Emperor Li Longji, who held affection for his late father-in-law, approved almost all measures. Even the palace concubine Wu, once in rivalry with Empress Wang, temporarily postponed her elevation to Consort Hui and remained subdued during this time.

While the officials handled the funeral, the stories from Consort Doulu’s birthday banquet quickly became the capital’s hottest topic—from the sword dance of Lady Gongsun, to Dou Shilang’s unique Doushi Hu Teng dance, to Wang Maozhong’s eldest son Wang Shouzhen’s near accident involving the capital’s noble Du Shijiu. Dou Shilang, as a participant, gained considerable fame; the already renowned Wang Wei received numerous invitations from princes and nobles, and even Zhang Jian experienced a stroke of fortune, meeting Duke Bi Dou Xiguan personally. Other elite families also enjoyed smooth dealings.

Only Du Shiyi, citing poor health, did not appear again. Yet the identical musical scores he sent to Prince Song and Prince Qi greatly delighted these music lovers. Upon discovering the scores were incomplete, both princes immediately summoned musicians to rehearse. The second half of the score was only delivered about ten days later.

Within those ten days, the treasure contest at Chang’an’s West Market Thousand Treasures Pavilion officially commenced. Although high-ranking officials were barred from entering the East and West Markets, this rule did not apply to noble scions who had not yet officially entered government service. Thus, music enthusiast Dou Shilang and Dou E, treasure lover Madam Deng, Ji Guogong’s son Dou Liulang who collected rare incense and recipes—all relatives of the imperial family; along with prominent youths such as Yuan Guangcheng, nephew of Yuan Qianyao, and Jiang Du, son of Jiang Jiao—gathered in person or sent trusted attendants. Scholars and talents from families named Wei, Du, Liu, Xue, skilled in calligraphy, painting, and music, also attended.

Though called a “treasure contest,” each day’s rounds featured various similar treasures competing for admiration. That day, among more than a dozen sheep-fat jade pieces, ranging from large to small and some naturally shaped, others finely crafted by famous jade artisans, one flawless jade piece resembling the God of Longevity was crowned the “Jade King” of the day. It drew continuous praise and was eventually sold for a high price of three thousand strings to the Ji family, much to the delight of the western merchant who had brought it all the way from Central Asia.

As gold and jade treasures flowed past like a river in the contest, many found buyers—of course, with accompanying gifts pleasing the nobles and officials. This was the contest’s essence; raising prices purely to fleece these elites would only breed resentment and harm future business. Dou E, however, was still thinking about Du Shiyi’s Luo Sandalwood pipa. Having befriended him and benefited from the spotlight at Consort Doulu’s feast, he could not simply try to snatch away Du’s prized possession. Frowning slightly, he closed his eyes and casually told a servant beside him, “If any fine instruments come up, wake me.”

Dozing off, he was nearly disoriented when awakened by the servant, only then sitting upright and asking, “Are there instruments?”

“Master, Liu Jiaodong, owner of the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion, personally visited. He said there are no rare musical instruments in today’s rounds.” Seeing Dou E’s anger, the servant hastened to explain, “I heard that Princes Song and Qi have ordered their attendants to immediately send any exceptional instruments to their residences.”

“Truly… a wasted trip!” Though the Dou family was wealthy and prominent, Dou E would not compete with the two princes. He rose sullenly, preparing to leave. Just as he grasped the silk curtain to descend the corridor stairs, Liu Jiaodong, who had been personally hosting the contest, smiled and said, “The final event today is beloved by scholars and literati—the Four Treasures of the Study! Aside from the common Yue kiln porcelain inkstones and Guozhou pottery inkstones, there are also Duanxi stone inkstones from Guangdong, carved to designs by Du Shijiu of Jingzhao, and the Caotang Shizhi ink made by Du himself using ancient methods. Rarer still, the great Zhang Xu of the Eastern Capital once exchanged a priceless Luo Sandalwood pipa for one of these Duanxi inkstones and a set of Caotang Shizhi ink.”

“Oh? So Du Shijiu is also involved today? Let’s see how this unfolds,” Dou E immediately changed his mind but did not return to his seat, instead leaning on the railing to watch.

When Du Shiyi had brought the pipa to the Thousand Treasures Pavilion, he had mentioned this matter. While some were skeptical, all had seen the pipa with their own eyes. Those fond of musical instruments like Dou E could not help envying his good fortune. Now, with such treasures praised by Zhang Xu suddenly appearing, many were naturally interested. Seeing the atmosphere grow lively, Liu Jiaodong promptly commanded the banner in his hand be unfurled, revealing Zhang Xu’s masterful calligraphy of the eight characters “Duanxi Inkstone Wangwu Pine Soot,” eliciting rounds of admiration.

At that moment, a clear youthful voice rang out from the audience, “Endorsed by the great Zhang of the Eastern Capital and personally inscribed to spread their fame, I wonder if these treasures live up to their renown? I am Yan’s sixth son, and I request permission from the host to test this inkstone and ink here.”

In a guest box, Du Shiyi smiled upon hearing the sudden voice. While he remained composed, Du’s thirteenth daughter grew somewhat uneasy and whispered to Cui family attendant Liu Mo, “Who is this Yan Liulang?”

“From the Yan family of Jingzhao—renowned for their mastery of the Eight Principles script—this Yan Liulang is Yan Yaoying, grandson of Yan Yuansun and Yan Weizhen, skilled in both cursive and clerical scripts,” Liu Mo explained in detail after seeing Du Shiyi nod slightly. “The Yan brothers have twelve sons, all diligent and outstanding scholars, especially unmatched in calligraphy within Jingzhao. If Yan Liulang praises these treasures, his endorsement will rival that of Zhang Xu. Once the Yan family speaks well, the Yin family will concur, and calligraphers throughout Jingzhao will flock to them.”

They did not know the even more famous Yan Zhenqing and Yan Gaoqing’s styles, but judging from Yan Yaoying’s age, the senior Yans’ current status was unclear.

Since Liu Mo spoke thus, Du Shiyi did not hesitate. He rose and walked to the silk curtain, glancing toward Liu Jiaodong on stage. Seeing Liu look his way, Du nodded slightly. Liu then smiled and said, “Please, Yan Liulang, come to the stage and give it a try!”

Yan Yaoying immediately stepped forward. At Liu’s side, he took the inkstick without hesitation, inspecting its patterns for some time before turning his keen gaze to the inkstone on the large table, handled carefully by two attendants. The stone’s quality was unlike anything he had seen before; as a connoisseur of the Four Treasures, he examined it intently until a quiet reminder brought him back. Smiling naturally, he said, “I was momentarily lost in admiration. Its form is truly rare, but how it performs remains to be seen. I will grind the ink myself; please bring the paper.”

When Liu sent up the paper, Yan rolled up his sleeves, poured water, and began grinding. Born into a calligraphy family, he could discern ink quality from childhood. Watching the black ink spread in the ink pool, he grew more focused. Finally dipping his brush, he scrutinized the tip before writing swiftly on the paper held by the two attendants. Liu Jiaodong, standing behind him, marveled at the clerical script strokes—carved yet smooth, each stroke concealing strength. After writing ten or so characters, Yan read aloud: “According to the Shuowen Jiezi, the brush often encounters obstacles; one must remove excess and deficiency to harmonize the light and heavy strokes.”

This was the art of writing. Not only Du Shiyi pondered these words deeply, but other calligraphy enthusiasts began discussing them eagerly. At this point, Yan had the piece passed among the assembled calligraphers for judgment. The Yan family’s scholarly lineage was profound. Although Yan Yaoying was not yet fifteen and his calligraphy still developing, his evaluation of ink quality was widely respected. As the paper circulated, someone decisively said, “Please, Lord Liu, bring these inkstones to the four directions for public inspection!”

Having just tested the ink, Yan naturally inquired about the price. Liu Jiaodong was about to reply when an attendant whispered in his ear. Glancing down at the stage, he saw Liu Mo, Du’s attendant, and then smiled at Yan. “Young Master Du says that without Bian He, there would be no He Shi jade. Even the finest treasures require discerning connoisseurs. The Yan family’s legacy is especially known for calligraphy. Others might buy these treasures only to shelve them, but for the Yan family they are daily necessities. If you like them, you may purchase at half price. Moreover, this is not the inkstick just tested, but the Caotang Shizhi inkstone set personally painted by Master Lu of Mount Song, Du’s mentor.”

“Ah!”

Though young, Yan Yaoying knew value well. Though the Yan family was famed among calligraphers, his father had been demoted and disgraced, leaving the family idle in a capital full of nobles, unmatched by the powerful Wei and Du families of the southern city. Even without him, this finely textured ink producing flawless brushwork would surely attract buyers. Hesitating to decline, he was caught in a dilemma when a loud inquiry about price brought Liu Jiaodong’s answer: two hundred thousand coins per inkstick.

“The great Zhang also exchanged such a rare treasure. How could I...”

“Zhang did not know that was the Luo Sandalwood pipa, only that the western merchant presented it as a gift when requesting calligraphy, so I dared not accept it at first. But Zhang said ‘use things to their full potential, and people to their talents’—thus I accepted it boldly.”

Knowing this would be a great success, Du Shiyi came down from the library and approached the stage. Hearing Yan’s somewhat embarrassed words, he smiled and said, “First meeting, Yan Liulang, I am Du Shiyi of Jingzhao Du Ling.”

“Ah, so you are Du Shiyi!” Yan looked at him curiously for a long moment, then, shedding his youthful arrogance, smiled shyly. “I was so captivated by the ink and inkstone that I forgot myself. I did not expect such generosity from Du Shiyi. If Young Master Du has time, please visit the Yan residence in Dunhua Lane.”

“Certainly, I shall visit when I can.”

Displaying the Duanxi inkstone praised by Zhang Xu and the Wangwu pine soot ink personally designed and kiln-fired by Du Shiyi, with some pieces crafted by the hermit Lu Hong of Mount Song, and endorsed by Yan Yaoying’s trial, calligraphers from all quarters eagerly took up their brushes. In the end, all the inkstones and inksticks Du Shiyi entrusted to Liu Jiaodong sold out quickly. Watching his movements, Dou E and Dou Shilang boldly blocked his way at the Thousand Treasures Pavilion, placing their orders.

Though Du Shiyi never appeared again after Consort Doulu’s birthday feast, his fame soared like the midday sun. That afternoon, a modest reply arrived in Du’s hands. On a sheet of yellow hemp paper, a single elegant line read:

“Duanxi inkstone, Wangwu pine soot, praised by Zhang Dian—truly worthy of renown.”

Seeing the three characters “Supreme Truth” signed below, Du Shiyi smiled softly and folded the note, knowing that the princess of Yuxian Temple in Fuxing Lane had already tested the inkstone and ink he had sent.