Chapter Fifty-Five: Contentment Brings Happiness; Blessed Is the One Who Lets Things Go

“Mm! Sister Changle, Brother Yi really makes good wine. How about we ask him for some when we head back?”
“Hmm? Didn’t Young Master Yi say this wine was a gift from his master?”
Changle let out a cold laugh and shot Li Yi a glance. “Yuzhang, you really don’t know him well. If this wine were truly from his master, him bringing it out would be a miracle. I’m sure he brewed it himself, tinkering as usual!”
“Mm! Brother Yi loves to fib, but he’s never lied to me!”
“Xueyan, how can you be so sure?”
Li Xueyan narrowed her eyes, looking for all the world like a clever little fox. “Heh, I just know. Brother Yi would never deceive me. I may not excel at much else, but I’m a good judge of character. Otherwise, how could I have found Brother Yi in the vast sea of people? He may seem unreliable at times, but when it comes to serious matters, he’s steadfast. Just like you told me the other day, Sister Changle, he will never let those close to him be hurt.”
Changle was startled. “You little rascal, so you know everything! And you still pretend not to!”
Li Xueyan curled her lips in a smile. “Because he likes me this way, and I enjoy this carefree life!”
“You little rascal, what else do you know?”
Li Xueyan frowned, then relaxed, speaking with the air of a tiny strategist, full of meaning, “Heh, I also know someone’s secret. From the moment I first touched Brother Yi, I knew he could never belong to just me—he’s simply too outstanding. But I never imagined he’d be this exceptional. As a princess, you should know that men like Brother Yi will inevitably marry a princess. At first, I worried he might abandon me, but later I realized: if he could forsake me for a princess, he wouldn’t be Li Wen Yong. So I believe he’ll find a way for everyone to be happy. Now, it’s not me who should be concerned, but… heh, there are plenty of princesses in Great Tang!”
Changle listened, astonished, gazing at Li Xueyan as if seeing her true self for the first time. Changle understood—the person Li Xueyan spoke of was herself. And Li Xueyan was right; Changle had always known about this dilemma, though she’d avoided confronting it, unsure what to do. She glanced again at Li Yi, who, oblivious, was playing drinking games with Li Ke. Changle’s frustration rose.
Li Xueyan watched Changle stew, then looked at Li Yi in the distance, smiling meaningfully. Yet behind her smile lingered a hint of bitterness; not a single woman in this world willingly shares her man. But remembering the poems Li Yi had written for her, she smiled again. As long as he holds her in his heart, that’s enough. Living in such a world, one cannot hope for too much—contentment is the key to happiness.
Though Li Yi was playing games with Li Ke, he kept an eye on the three women. He admitted to himself that he was quite the philanderer—how could he not be, having traveled to this era of multiple wives and concubines? Ah, when in Rome! He saw Changle’s gaze, but pretended not to notice. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to admit his feelings, but Li Er, the big boss, was too formidable. He needed more time; his foundation was still too weak.
“Brother Yi, isn’t it time for your poem and song?”
“A poem?” Li Yi glanced at Li Xueyan and Changle, his cheeks flushed from wine, and slapped the table. “Alright, a poem it is. Listen carefully!”
Standing, Li Yi raised his cup and surveyed the room.
“Delicate clouds weave skillfully,
Shooting stars bear longing,
The Silver River quietly spans the night.
When golden breeze meets jade dew,
That meeting outshines countless mortal moments.
Tenderness flows like water,
A beautiful rendezvous like a dream,
How can one bear to look back on the path by the magpie bridge?
If love lasts long,
Why care for dawn and dusk together?”

When the poem ended, everyone wore different expressions—Li Xueyan was radiant with happiness, Yuzhang was full of envy, and Changle’s eyes shone with the joy of hope, as if glimpsing dawn after dark. As for the other young men…
“I say, Brother Yi, enough! Is all your literary talent spent on women? Every poem is about love!”
“Exactly! There are still heaps of bachelors here.”
“The key thing is, if word gets out today, and we don’t have good poems in the future, how will we ever find wives?”
“Seriously, Brother Yi, you’ve done us a disservice!”
“Hmph! A real man never fears being without a wife!”
“Cheng the rascal, stop with the sarcasm! You aren’t worried only because you can’t even compose a poem, so the girls who fancy you aren’t expecting you to!”
...
Li Yi chuckled. “Look at you lot! Chasing girls doesn’t require poetry. Let me tell you—” He was about to boast, but caught sight of Li Xueyan and Changle’s murderous stares. The wine haze cleared instantly. “Ahem, perhaps we’ll save this story for another time. To liven things up, how about I perform the Song of the Wine God?”
Everyone was eager to listen, but they too saw the deadly glares from the two women and wisely dropped the subject. There would be plenty of time for it later. “Alright, let’s hear Brother Yi’s Song of the Wine God!”
“Listen well!” Li Yi lifted a bowl of wine, drained it in one gulp, shook his head, and burst forth:
“On the ninth day of the ninth month, we brew new wine,
The finest brew is made by our own hands, the best wine.”
His powerful voice startled everyone, but their blood was beginning to stir.
“Drink our wine,
And your breath flows free, your throat never coughs.
Drink our wine,
It nourishes yin and boosts yang, your mouth stays fresh.”

“Drink our wine,
A lone man dares face the Green Death Gate.
Drink our wine,
Before the immortals, you need never bow your head.
One, four, seven, three, six, nine,
Nine nines become one, come with me.
Good wine! Good wine! Good wine!”
Cheng Chumo slapped the table. “Good wine! Wahaha!”
Li Ke said, “Mm! Not bad, Brother Yi. This song is bold, weathered, full of swagger and substance—refreshing!”
“On the ninth day of the ninth month, we brew new wine, the finest brew is made by our own hands, the best wine.” Cheng Chumo mused on the lyrics, then began to sing himself. His wolfish howl roused the interest of all the men present. Solo became chorus, and, fueled by their tipsiness, the old rogues entered their drunken revelry.
Li Yi stood and called for Bingyu, asking her to escort the five women to his study to rest, so he could deal with the rowdy bunch. If he left as well, who knew if the place would be torn apart—he’d heard that Cheng Yaojin, when drunk at home, would wield his axe, and Li Yi reckoned Cheng Chumo was not far behind.
Singing, playing games, boasting, complaining—some cried, some laughed, some slept drunkenly, and others, like Li Zhen, posed with empty wine cups. Another half hour passed before Li Yi finally managed to send the rascals on their way.
Looking up, he saw the sky—it was already three in the afternoon. Another day was slipping away. Shaking his heavy head, Li Yi strode toward his study.