After he had taken his time, seeing the growing anticipation in the eyes of his audience, he began in his nonchalant tone. “There used to be a daughter of Lord Wei, something Hua, some kind of flower was in her name. Quite like lady white lotus. Beautiful. Skilled in four arts. I heard she was more beautiful than the purest of the snow, had hands that could paint worlds so mesmerizing the world wondered at its sublimity. That is a tall claim – but the Duke of Weizhou seems to have collected some of her works before – but again, no word about such an accomplished woman elsewhere.”

Song Muchen stood up from his position.

“Tales, I say, some made up story resounding in the market among commoners. It has that crass element in it." Another voice barged in. “How could such a famous person remain unknown? It's almost like a fairytale. Like, think about it. How come, we have never heard of this person? And she wasn’t that far away from our generation either.”

“Yes, it's too far-fetched. She must have a name in the “Three thousand blossoms” at least? Did she, brother Song?” Luo Chen addressed the standing figure.

“No, she definitely doesn’t. I sent my servant to look into that. He said, there was no title in that generation from Jinghai or Dajin. She was anything but an obscure character. This amnesia regarding this daughter of Weijia seems rather a characteristic of the nobles and affluent people. The commoners talk a lot. And this makes it still stranger that a maid who had accompanied the lady for so long would be silenced just for talking about a dead woman, about whom many other mouths can speak. As if they are bent on keeping the secret hidden from all noble eye, and ears.”

Song Muchen walked up to his friend and sat beside him. His friend asked - “You seem sure that is the reason she was killed for?”

“Kind of. Some insider’s let this slip and I agree. And all that maid’s relations are dead – except that mad woman. Then the direct link is still with the backyard of Eldest miss Wei.”

“But like you said, brother Song, it doesn't make sense. Killing someone just to keep an open secret?” Someone in the crowd restated.

“It might be a common secret that everyone agreed to not talk about – a taboo. Something ignominious would have happened for that to occur, but it's not like our old men don’t put restrictions on people, all the time.” Unknowingly it was Sui Mo who came a little closer to the truth. “Just don’t let men and women in noble houses talk about it. Then it eventually becomes a dark spot, with no common memory. What does it matter that common people know of this or not - in a generation or two, they too will forget all about it. Who would have let us know of her existence to begin with? It's definitely taboo.” 

Saying this he rose up and went away.

“But apart from the mysterious death of a servant, that woman’s disappearance, doesn’t that make you wonder? About what kind of disaster she might have caused to become a taboo? Taboo…a very precise description…I wonder.” Song Muchen, sitting beside the shadowed youth, drawled as he twirled the porcelain cup in his hands while leaning half-heartedly against the pavilion wall. He had left behind the tea, and taken several gulps of wine. It hit his throat and his nose. His head was swimming by now. “I cannot help but wonder.”

There was something in that strange pronunciation that made everyone suddenly stop talking altogether.

“The downpour is becoming heavier…” Luo Chen turned away his head and observed silently.  

All of them had been sitting down on the carpet spread against the marbled floor of the pavilion.

"Where must she be? Where must she..." Song Muchen sighed in a sing-song manner, as if he hadn’t heard a sound coming from elsewhere – he pretty much was too engrossed in his heady recollections. 'Lie dead,' he completed the sentence in his heart while thinking, 'as she deserved.' Perhaps amongst the weeds, unknown, forever haunting a mound of forgetfulness. Just like in people’s memories, forever sealed – until someone brought it out to enrich a stale conversation over dinner tables. 

"Ceased to exist. Poof! Disappeared." Song Muchen animatedly swung the empty cup, his eyes crinkled with amusement. He was pretty much drunk out of his senses. His friend snatched away another cup he was reaching out to. But he still kept saying, "As if the world had never known a person like her. Don’t you find it interesting? Just like the son of the Rong’s called Rong Chen? You might have never heard that Minister of Royal Affairs, old Master Rong, had such a son, have you? Someone who died a shameful death under his horse’s hoof –! Puch! Isn’t that hilarious! A good horseman who had spent fifteen years on the battlefield, dying under his beloved horse’s steps, his head smashed to pieces, his hands pulled off – is there a better insult than this?! A promising warrior fell off the horse and fell so steeply that there was left none of his ashes, nor a memory to recall in people’s mind! Just like we never heard of a Cuihua from Weijia, we might never hear of a third young Master Rong. Nor many other innocent, innocent faces…Can you believe it? The eldest Master Rong - Rong Shiwei swore that he would have Wei Houyu's head to appease the soul of his dead brother. Such empty words had never been spoken in the history of the world! What do you say, my friend? Indeed, it's a taboo - like many forgotten people, they too have been forgotten. Or how else could these hypocrites tear into the profit, without minding the shame! The Rong’s will eternally be brothers of Wei and Song will join in this party too – with no sense of shame or honor!"

In reply, the shadowed youth, his friend, chuckled and raised his hands to get a cup of wine for himself. He had very pretty eyes, which were now glinting in the mist. “Calm down Muchen - it’s not like it's the first time such things have happened. History is littered with such instances – So many people…have been buried like this, it's difficult to keep count.” 

There was nothing but silence in the gathering. Everyone was too embarrassed to continue in this all too personal talk.

“Interesting…observations. Fate, history and Taboo- these words do strike a chord.” An Jin hardly felt shame in joining with his thoughts.

Many exasperated eyes winked at him, but all that went over his head as he kept prattling out his own observation. “I cannot help but recall our history. You were quite right when you talked of this specific…attitude. Who cares what happens later when the victim was but a servant? But for us – who dwell on the decorum, the righteousness of our motives, a small servant losing her life is no news – how strange is that? What is news instead is that she had been attached to someone, who did eventually with her class and rank, make a mere servant memorable for everyone. I don’t condone murder, as I don’t condone the hierarchy that we so deliberately emphasize in Dajin. Our ancients didn’t live like this – If the murder happened in a certain backyard, or it happens to have long implications for our society, then shouldn’t it be brought forth to light? Like any case of a commoner attempting murder would have been. But we hide it under wraps of courtesy and common decorum. Our forefathers didn’t envision the justice to be served only to a few, but does everyone here even know of this? That the great ‘Moral code of Dajin people’ doesn’t stem from nobility, but was given by a great farmer sage – who would have never condoned the hierarchy we support today. Did any of you know that?”

“I don’t agree with this observation. You are seeing this one-sidedly. There is injustice everywhere in the world. Many things get convoluted as time passes. As for hierarchy – how could our forefathers be unaware of order and structure? Hierarchy is a natural order - our inclination. Any society will be in chaos if they do not have the precept and order to follow.” Yu Mingyang argued.

“Senior brother Yu is correct – order and structure are important for a peaceful country. But imagine, a land where everyone could gain respect after contributing something to the country. The land was for those who tilled and gave others food, farmers were honoured. There was nothing like merchants being shameful, money loving usurers and traders. In our times, it’s only the Nobel men who have the right and privilege to enter the halls of honour and be eternally praised. The sword which once used to belong to the blacksmith – till he parted with it on his own terms, is now a commodity with a value attached to its head! As a swordsman, we cannot imagine not owning it. But our forefathers never owned a sword, they borrowed. From their masters and creators. That is why ‘The Sandstorm’ will always be Lu Ming’s, not the actual swordsman, Huang You who was a Brave hero and respected the sword and sword-maker!”  

“That kind of society can only be endless war and strife.” A person tutted and said, “With no one aware of his boundaries or his duty to fate and destiny. True, our ancients never had the classes like we do now– but they had distinctions in the family –didn’t they? When Nuwa set out to make humans, though the soul was noble for all, some of the humans were truly born of humble soil while others of a finer kind! And they were given different roles. Heaven is for us all– commoners and nobles alike, but the roles we, nobles are born to play are different from that of a commoner.”

“But Nuwa was no goddess of our ancestors! It might have been for those in Daxia, but Dajin always believed in a Mother goddess!” An Jin replied heatedly. “The seven-day churning of the ocean in mother goddess’s womb that became the amniotic fluid, out of which sprang out Tianxin, and other continents or the forging of souls in the water of Star filled River, or adorning our soul with flesh of Soulless Soil – where do you see our ancestors differentiating amongst themselves? We were all born from the same river, our bodies from the same soil!”

“Stop quoting something that our scholars no longer believe in! What are you even reading, An Jin. Are you sure it's not some heathenish account of Nuwa’s creation?” The same person rolled his eyes.

“You won’t believe that this is a tale that all our people believe in senior Hu – all the commoners in fact. Only we nobles, take Nuwa’s creation of us as the truth! And completely forget that there is another story - older and much nearer to our forebears’ own beliefs!”

“Let’s save this discussion for later, shall we? Those in the gardens are having some amazing games. I am going out with Luo Chen. Care to join us?” While rising on his feet, Yu Mingyang interrupted the talk that was going nowhere.

“You go. I will join later along with Sui Mo.” Though An Jin looked disappointed, he didn’t hold Yu Mingyang back. 

“We will wait for you then.”

With that An Jin too stood up to join Sui Mo, who sat at a little distance away from the crowd, his feet dangling in the cold water, his pants raised up to his knees.

An Jin sat beside him, then similarly immersed his ankles into the water. They didn’t talk. But An Jin saw this friend giving furtive glances at the two chatting lads in the back. Master Song seemed to have regained his earlier bearing.

“I forgot.” It was Sui Mo who opened up this time. “I had a nanny from Jinghai. Growing up, she would talk a lot about this place. There was this major, major thing that happened here in Jinghai in the past that even my nanny had to be sent back. No one talked about it. I actually eavesdropped on my mothers and her maid’s conversation, but I forgot what it was all about. I wouldn’t have recalled it if it wasn’t brother Song acting all so weird. Song Muchen's aunt… was once engaged with the erstwhile third son of the Rong's who was crazy for beauty, Wei CuiHua, the youngest sister of Master Houyu. The strange thing is that - someone kidnapped Wei CuiHua and she is still missing, most probably dead. And it wasn’t a single kidnapping case either – it was a horrific chain of ten such cases with the perpetrator being never found. Soon the third son of Rong’s also died in an accident. Song Muchen’s aunt committed suicide…A bloody tale of love that left everyone dead... Don’t guess me wrong, I didn’t know the names of course, not many things were clear when I first heard them as a kid – but later when I turned fifteen, I secretly met with my nanny to know how she was doing or why she had left. She was good, had earned enough money to settle down – my parents, you know, are not that hard-hearted on their subordinates. She had no qualms in sharing what had caused her termination. It was there I finally chained my memories of childhood to actual, real names and events.”

“Yes…it really doesn’t sound like something our parents would readily talk of. It cannot all be far from the truth. I did actually know of a family feud between the Songs and the Rong’s of Jinghai. It’s quite common knowledge in the capital.”

A cautionary tale. But for someone who had someone close linked to that story -? They both whispered amongst themselves, seldom looking at the man who was engrossed in his wine cup, Song Muchen.

A voice suddenly broke everyone’s deliberative silence.

"The auspicious time has arrived; the ceremony is going to start. Do you want to meet with Wei Yize before he begins the ceremony? I think some of you haven't gifted him yet. Let's go, I’ll show you the way." Rong Yichen, who was a well-known figure in the Imperial Academy, stood a few steps outside the pavilion – holding an umbrella. At this moment, he bent his head to lean in while facing his friends and inviting them out, unaware of the little incident that had soured everyone’s mood.

"Yes, the auspicious time." Song Muchen spoke with sarcasm filling his eyes, but still didn't move.  Rong Yichen gave him a puzzled glance, but no one came forward to explain. 

"We should go." Somebody finally spoke and rose up taking the lead.

“Do you have an extra umbrella – I think I forgot to bring mine.”

“I’ll ask a maid to bring one. You wait here.”

Silence reigned and the sound of footsteps could be heard faraway.

Soon the twelve young men filed into the well-lit Hall. They followed the crowd and soon merged in the flow of introductions and greetings.

The congratulations rang one after another. Laughter melted into cheers and toasts of wine. The elders had left the aisle for the youngsters to have more fun. Soon the rain stopped and the garden was separated into two portions and the rhythmic files of maids and servants began from the inner chambers arranging colorful delights that tasted as heavenly as they appeared to be.

Mesmerizing dishes and charming laughter of men and maiden, mingled in the air. The banquet wasn't silent till late night, when the house once more descended in its gloomy appearance. As if the merrymaking had been but a part of the silent mourning that was still enduring on.