Chapter Ninety-Three: Clothing Is Identity

The frequent appearances of the foreign merchants in the brewery had sounded a warning in Zhen Qian’s heart. This was not an age in which one could keep one’s head down and make a quiet fortune; a single word from the county magistrate could turn a vast inheritance into passing smoke. In a society ruled by force, only status and strength could ensure survival.

Zhen Qian drank fine wine, devoured the several large crabs before him, then reached his chopsticks into the pot of grilled fish shared by Xiao Zhu and Xiao Mei.

A grass carp weighing more than four pounds had been cleaned, scaled, and split in half. It was marinated with spices for half an hour, then slowly roasted over charcoal, with cumin powder sprinkled on from time to time. Once the fish was done, it was transferred to a shallow pan and simmered. The pan had to contain a mixed oil, half lard and half vegetable oil, already seasoned with Sichuan pepper and Chinese prickly ash. Scallion, ginger, garlic, broad bean paste, and onion provided the flavoring; white, slender bean sprouts, golden tofu skin, and vivid green vegetables filled the brimming pot, making it impossible not to salivate.

Most spices in the Tang Dynasty were carried in from the Western Regions along the Silk Road, and their prices were astonishingly high. Only wealthy households could afford them with any ease.

It was said that Zhuge grilled fish had already become popular in the Tang Dynasty. When Emperor Xuanzong heard the tale of its origin, he praised it endlessly and personally bestowed the name Zhuge Grilled Fish.

“Mellow, savory, and even fresher than fresh!”

A maidservant could not eat at the same table as her master, but Zhen Qian had no such scruples. Not only did he insist that Xiao Zhu and Xiao Mei eat with him, he even devised a small dining table to be placed on the heated brick bed so they might eat together there.

At first the two girls were somewhat reserved, but as time went on they found that Zhen Qian paid no heed to distinctions of rank and status. Half-embarrassed, half-willing, they gradually settled into eating with him.

Eating alone is lonely and desolate. Xiao Zhu and Xiao Mei were not dazzling beauties, but after spending enough time together, feelings had grown between them, and a faint trace of flirtation had begun to drift through their conversations.

Xiao Zhu laughed. “Is the master talking about the grilled fish, or about people?”

Zhen Qian夹了一块鱼肉塞进小竹的小嘴中，“知道还说，堵不住你的嘴吗？”

Xiao Mei pouted in dissatisfaction, and at once a piece of fish was offered to her too. “How could we leave out our clever and lovely Xiao Mei?”

Xiao Zhu took a bite, then Xiao Mei; Zhen Qian was kept busy with delighted ease, and amid the laughter and teasing he somehow drew the two girls into his arms. Their full, rounded waists were somewhat plump; a narrow waist that could be encircled with one hand was hard to find in the Tang Dynasty, and it was very different from later ideals of beauty.

The Tang Dynasty prized fullness, richness, and vivid splendor as its standard of beauty. If one looked at paintings, sculptures, tomb figurines, and the many other works of art that depicted women from that era, the most striking impression they left was certainly one of lush fullness and unrestrained, radiant vitality. Fullness and richness meant plumpness, abundance, deep color, and brilliance; unrestrained vitality meant clothing worn boldly open, with confident and uninhibited expressions and poses. From the historical descriptions of Wu Zetian, one may infer that it was precisely her broad forehead, full cheeks, rounded layered neck, and ample bearing that earned her the title of alluring beauty, laying the foundation for her further approach to the center of power.

This aesthetic orientation was an all-encompassing philosophy of beauty, reflecting a cultural vision that was forceful, open, and inclusive. The people of Tang loved peonies, and the peony itself is noble and full. The spirited horses depicted by Tang artists were always full-bodied and rounded in the hindquarters. And the most influential script of the Tang, the Yan style of calligraphy, was itself plump, solemn, and profound. If one widened one’s view still further, one would find that Chang’an, the Tang capital, was the largest metropolis in the world at the time, its roads the broadest, its palaces the most towering and magnificent. China then stood at the center of the world’s longing. All this revealed the vigor and confidence of a people entering a high state of maturity and flourishing at the peak of its vitality.

The grandeur, strength, and expansive beauty so revered and adored by the people of Tang conveyed to us a breath of the age itself—ardent and unrestrained, pioneering and enterprising, active and upward-striving.

Whatever aesthetic view one held, it was inseparably tied to the background of its era. Whether one loved plumpness or preferred a slender, alluring figure, it was merely a reflection of the spirit of the times, having nothing to do with Zhen Qian personally and everything to do with the Tang people.

The king of Chu loved slim waists, and many in the palace starved to death.

That line was nothing more than a memory sealed in Zhen Qian’s mind. In ancient times, King Ling of Chu had favored men with slender waists, so all his ministers ate only once a day, holding their breath to tighten their belts, steadying themselves against the wall before rising. It sounded absurdly comical.

What the ruler likes, the subjects will surely intensify.

It was the same principle. Zhen Qian liked long hair, fair skin, clear eyes, a high nose bridge, a cherry mouth, and an oval face; he liked a tall, well-proportioned figure. Everyone had their own standard of beauty—inner grace, restraint, passion, enchantment, allure, and so on. Without thinking much of it, the two girls gradually found themselves conforming to Zhen Qian’s tastes, believing that this was what a woman of his should be.

Amid laughter and teasing, the three were already embracing one another. No one knew when the candle flame had gone out, leaving only sweet murmurs and the heavy sound of breathing.

When the pale light of dawn fell through the gauze window, Zhen Qian was lying spread-eagled alone on the heated bed, a trace of lingering fragrance still on his hand, while the two girls had already vanished from his side.

There was no jarring clang of a workday alarm; only the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth and Xiao Mei’s voice calling to him: “The master is awake!”

The frenzy of the night had drained Zhen Qian of all his strength. He turned over languidly, intending to sleep a little longer.

“Master… Zhao the Estate Owner and Han the Estate Owner have already arrived. They are in the sitting room drinking tea and waiting for you!”

Zhen Qian rolled up from the bed. “Dress me.”

Tang attire was exceedingly complicated. When Zhen Qian first arrived in the Tang Dynasty, he could not even arrange his own long hair properly, let alone dress himself.

Xiao Mei helped him into a robe. The robe was a lined outer garment, padded with cotton for winter wear; the unlined version was called a shirt. Together they formed the Tang Dynasty’s most representative outer clothing. It had a round collar, narrow sleeves, a right-folding front, and fastening loops at the collar and lapels. Its length generally fell between the calf and the instep, and there were at least three layers from inside to out; on formal occasions there might even be more than ten. Without someone to assist, it was truly impossible to get into.

In ancient times, dress and adornment were tied to status. What kind of clothing one wore, and on what occasion one wore it, were all clearly regulated. Dressing incorrectly was not as simple as taking a few blows to the backside; sometimes it could cost one’s head.

After Xiao Mei’s careful arranging, the image of a handsome Tang-era youth finally appeared: a black headwrap, a light gray robe, black leather boots lined for warmth, a leather belt at the waist, with jade ornaments and a fragrance pouch all in place. Only when satisfaction shone in Xiao Mei’s eyes did she finish, and by then nearly half an hour had passed.

“Every day, dressing is such a hassle...!”

It was not as though Zhen Qian had not designed some fashions from later ages for himself. But those clothes could only be worn in the bedroom. If he wore them out to receive guests or visit friends, he would certainly be treated as a lunatic. Being beaten to death would count as a mercy.

When Zhen Qian designed the bikini, made of only three strips of cloth, the two girls shrieked for a full night. In the end, only under Zhen Qian’s overwhelming force did they reluctantly hide beneath the quilt and put it on for him to see, almost dying of shame and outrage.