Volume One: Flames on the Frontier Chapter Fourteen: Lantern Festival Night

Holding his injured left hand, He Yu urged his horse forward. Strangely enough, as soon as the warhorse stepped out, the crowd spontaneously parted to either side, clearing a path for him to proceed first—an honor akin to a celebrity striding down the red carpet.

He Yu radiated a powerful, irresistible aura, majestic and dignified. Sitting tall in the saddle, he greeted the elders and villagers with cupped hands, signaling humility and respect.

He was the first to exit the parade ground, where he found Deng’er anxiously waiting at the gate, her face filled with worry and concern. Only candidates and those of status were allowed into the parade ground, so Deng’er had waited outside all day, braving the biting chill of early spring.

News of what had transpired inside had already spread, so Deng’er knew all about He Yu’s ordeal that day. At the sight of him, she waved and ran over. He Yu dismounted, joyfully meeting her. Deng’er had prepared a clean white cloth and carefully wrapped his injured left hand.

He Yu insisted it was just a minor scrape, nothing more than skin and flesh, and would heal in a few days without needing a bandage, but Deng’er was not reassured and insisted on tending to it.

He Yu took the reins and walked home side by side with Deng’er. Some familiar villagers joked, “Little Deng’er, you are truly lucky—how did you manage to find such a fine husband?”

Another chimed in, “Your two daughters aren’t young anymore. They should take a page from Deng’er’s book and find themselves a worthy husband.”

The first replied, “I’d like to, but where am I supposed to find one? You’ll have to tell me… Haha…”

Their playful banter drew laughter, making Deng’er shy. She glanced at He Yu, who was as handsome as jade, unmatched in the world. Her heart fluttered, filled with tender admiration and adoration—much like the way a certain young lady might gaze at her beloved.

The crowd escorted He Yu and Deng’er all the way to their courtyard, reluctant to depart. The two enjoyed the kind of attention usually reserved for future stars, and even after returning home, Deng’er hadn’t recovered from the excitement.

Tonight was the Lantern Festival, the fifteenth day of the first month, known in later times as the Festival of Lights. (Earliest records of the festival trace it to the Han dynasty, purportedly originating from Western Han court rituals. By the Eastern Han, there were accounts of lanterns blazing on this night, though the festival atmosphere in the Wei and Jin periods was less lively than in later eras.)

As night fell, the village was ablaze with lights. On this festive occasion, many families lit lanterns and candles they usually spared, making the settlement glow like a field of stars and fireflies. The inner village shone even brighter, reflecting a tranquil life. In this era of uncertainty and turmoil, for people to enjoy a brief moment of peace was a blessing.

While Deng’er busied herself preparing supper, He Yu searched out every candle in the house, arranged porcelain oil lamps, added wicks and oil, and lit them all. Deng’er scolded playfully, “Yu, candles and oil are precious. We should economize.”

He Yu smiled and paid her no heed, watching the flickering lights illuminate Deng’er’s busy silhouette, his heart warmed and filled with joy. That evening, the two shared a meal in the radiant glow, their gestures harmonious and respectful.

The lamplight outlined Deng’er’s delicate figure, casting soft shadows on the wall. Though she wore simple dress and hairpin, she was as beautiful as a dream. With his beloved at his side, He Yu mused, “Love can fill the stomach; tonight’s beauty beneath the lamps is not far from a candlelit dinner shared by lovers in later times.”

He Yu’s triumphant entry into the ranks of the retainers made him famous throughout the village, and the Lin family’s status was sure to rise. Deng’er felt the joy of sharing her husband’s esteem.

In high spirits, Deng’er suddenly remembered something and smiled, “Yu, now that you’re a retainer, should we pick a day to invite the neighbors for a celebration?”

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“Oh, is that necessary?” He Yu was surprised, but then thought, “Deng’er is prudent; hosting a banquet is costly, and she wouldn’t suggest it unless it was important.”

When He Yu got into university years ago, family discord and chaos prevented even a graduation celebration. Who would have thought that after crossing into ancient times, becoming a humble retainer would warrant a feast, as if fate had granted him compensation.

He Yu didn’t care much for such trivial matters and was content to let Deng’er handle them. He only insisted, “The food must be good, and the wine plentiful.”

Deng’er tilted her head and smiled, “Silly Yu, I know.” Her girlish charm was irresistible. If it weren’t for mourning attire, He Yu would have embraced her right then and kissed her.

Lost in daydreams, He Yu watched as Deng’er counted on her fingers and planned. The eighteenth day of the first month was auspicious for entertaining guests, and they’d need to invite about twenty people. People mostly sat on mats then, so preparing tableware was easy—just borrow a few rush mats and tables from the neighbors.

After dinner, Deng’er brought out several bamboo strips to write invitations. (Paper was already common, but bamboo and wooden slips hadn’t been phased out yet.)

As head of the household, He Yu naturally took on the task of writing. He regretted not having studied more, but fortunately, he had always loved books and had read quite a few over the years. He racked his brains and, imitating the ancient style, composed a formal invitation.

As a seasoned special forces officer, He Yu was meticulous. He had been paying close attention to the use of Xianbei language and the writing of Chinese characters. When in Rome, he thought, one ought to live as the ancients did to avoid making a fool of oneself.

Deng’er, having studied under Chen Qingyun, was literate and praised him, “Yu, you’re truly capable—not only are your martial skills superb, but your invitation is better than any steward’s in the village.”

He Yu was slightly embarrassed and laughed, “Just average, third best in the dynasty.”

Deng’er knew he was joking and couldn’t help but laugh until her sides ached.

The invitations were delivered early the next morning. The elders and neighbors who received them were delighted, showering praise. The Chen family settlement, with nearly ten thousand residents, had only about five hundred retainers of status—so being invited to He Yu’s banquet was considered an honor.

With two days left before the eighteenth, Deng’er set to work. Preparing the dishes was simple: fruits, vegetables, fish, meat, and wine. The Chen settlement was like a miniature society, with most things available, though not as varied as the county town, and prices were higher. In peaceful times, the Lin family shopped in the county; after the incident with Grandfather Lin Su, He Yu rarely ventured there.

Lately, rumors circulated that two cavalry soldiers had vanished from the garrison, and Murong Kai, Prince of Taiyuan, was furious, ordering a city-wide search.

He Yu knew full well, “Let them search all they want. I’ve rid the people of a menace; they can’t bring the dead back to life.”

He and Deng’er decided it would be safer to procure meat and wine within the settlement. Fortunately, they had sixty taels of silver on hand.

After lunch, He Yu and Deng’er bought twenty large carp from the fish market and planned to buy twenty pounds of mutton from the butcher.

To their surprise, the butcher had sold out. He was a stout, round middle-aged man who complained, “Usually, I can’t sell a single sheep. But with all these new retainers hosting banquets, meat’s in demand. I slaughtered three fat sheep last night, and by midday, it was all gone.”

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No meat, no banquet—what to do? He Yu asked, “Uncle, we’ve set our banquet for the eighteenth, and the invitations are out. Can you help us? Price is negotiable!”

The butcher spread his hands in apology, “Honestly, young master, all the mutton in my shop is gone. Rumor has it war is coming, and the market’s bleak. Southern mutton isn’t coming in. Not just my shop—none of the other butchers have meat left overnight.”

He added, “Yesterday, I heard two soldiers went missing in town, and the city’s being searched. The army’s taking advantage, chaos everywhere, and business is risky.”

He Yu knew the butcher spoke the truth. It was a real problem: nothing in the settlement, and getting meat from the county was out of the question.

As he pondered, a black pig trotted out, snorting.

He Yu’s mind raced. “Uncle, is this your pig? If there’s no mutton, I’ll buy pork instead.”

The butcher hesitated, “It’s possible, but pork is much pricier than mutton. A banquet won’t use up a whole pig, will it?”

(In northern China at the time, pork was more expensive than mutton, roughly a third higher in price, the opposite of today. Dog meat was common and cheapest.)

He Yu considered, then waved his hand generously, “In that case, I’ll take it all.” Deng’er leaned nearby, her brows furrowed in concern, but saw no better option.

The butcher was elated; to make such a sale in the afternoon was a stroke of luck. The New Year had just passed, villagers still had some reserves, but business lately had been mediocre.

Pigs required coarse feed and were costly to raise. The butcher had often thought of slaughtering the pig, but feared poor sales. Now, with He Yu as a big customer, fortune had smiled on him.

He hurried to sharpen his knives, kill the pig, and prepare boiling water.

The butcher’s skill was good; in less than an hour, he had slaughtered and butchered the pig, handing the pork to He Yu to carry home.

Ancient pigs were smaller; this black pig yielded less than a hundred pounds of meat, costing over three thousand coins, more than three taels of silver. He Yu paid, then he and Deng’er carried the pork home, buying fruit and vegetables along the way.

The next day, Deng’er spent all her time in the kitchen, preparing dishes, her face radiant with joy and pride.

He Yu borrowed mats and tables from neighbors, arranged them, and squatted by the hearth to help tend the fire.

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