Liubiju!
This was the restaurant where Yan Shifan had invited Vice Minister Wang for drinks, one of the three most bustling establishments in the capital, and a frequent venue for Yan Shifan’s gatherings. It could be considered a semi-open base for the Yan faction.
Liubiju was most famous for its pickled vegetables, unrivalled in the capital, drawing countless nobles and officials like moths to a flame. Its reputation was so great that even the imperial chefs from the Western Garden’s kitchen came to Liubiju to learn the art of pickling.
But just over thirty years ago, Liubiju had been nothing more than an obscure little dive, barely known beyond its alley, with only its pickled vegetables earning a modest local reputation.
Around that time, when Yan Song had come to the capital to take the imperial exams, before he’d entered officialdom, he lived in that very alley.
Yan Song loved pickled vegetables, and after discovering this little dive with its exceptional pickles, he became a regular, ordering a plate of pickles, a small stir-fry, and a pot of wine, enjoying a quiet drink as a small pleasure amidst his studies.
One day, Yan Song got a bit tipsy, one pot wasn’t enough, so he grabbed his little wine jug and went to the waiter for a refill.
Back then, the restaurant’s wine jars had wooden lids, and since they weren’t cleaned often, a layer of dust had settled on them.
While the waiter poured the wine, Yan Song chatted idly with him, asking about the restaurant’s history, upon learning it was newly founded by six brothers, Yan Song, in a burst of wine-fuelled inspiration, scribbled “Liubiju” (Six Musts Residence) on the dusty lid.
After writing it, Yan Song took his jug and went back to drinking, when the waiter noticed the words and was about to clean them off, the owner stopped him. The owner saw strength in Yan Song’s calligraphy, and noting his impressive bearing—clearly no ordinary man, destined for great things—he had the three characters made into a sign and hung it above the door.
Sure enough, Yan Song passed the exams, entered officialdom, and after years of ups and downs, became a favourite of Emperor Jiajing, rising swiftly through the ranks.
Liubiju, the restaurant Yan Song had named, rose to fame alongside him, its business booming.
Since it was a place he’d frequented before his rise, Yan Song held some affection for it, occasionally returning to relive old times with a pot of wine, a plate of pickles, and a stir-fry.
This only made Liubiju even more popular.
A steady stream of admirers flocked to the restaurant, ordering the “Yan Song Set” to taste what the Grand Secretary enjoyed.
Within a few years, Liubiju became one of the capital’s three most thriving restaurants.
Yes, Liubiju back then wasn’t like the modern version, it wasn’t just a purveyor of pickled condiments—it was a full-fledged restaurant, with pickles as one of its signature dishes.
Liubiju’s success was inseparable from Yan Song, so the owners sent generous tributes to the Yan residence every year.
Thanks to these constant offerings, it caught Yan Shifan’s eye, and Liubiju became his go-to spot for wining and dining.
Today was no exception.
To properly host Yan Shifan, Liubiju closed its doors to the public, serving only Yan Shifan’s party.
When Vice Minister Wang arrived at Liubiju’s entrance, a steward from the Yan residence was there, he verified Wang’s invitation—indeed issued by Yan Shifan—before ushering him inside.
Once inside, Wang handed over the lavish gift he’d carefully prepared for Yan Shifan to the steward, who recorded it.
Upstairs, the room was already packed with over a dozen guests sipping tea and chatting, aside from Yan Shifan’s loyal lapdog Luo Longwen, there were many familiar faces—officials from all six ministries, the Office of Transmission, and a few military officers.
Wang Shilang had long been part of the Yan faction, but having been transferred to the capital from the provinces, he hadn’t fully integrated into the faction’s inner circle.
Though he’d attended a few Yan residence banquets, this was his first time receiving an invite to Yan Shifan’s intimate team-building gathering.
It meant he was stepping into the Yan faction’s core circle, and Wang Shilang was inwardly thrilled.
“Hahaha, Vice Minister Wang is here, come, take a seat!”
“The Ministry of Personnel is the heavenly office, and Vice Minister Wang is the deputy heavenly officer, with the capital inspection approaching, you’ll have to look out for us!”
The seated officials greeted him with laughter.
“Of course, of course, I’ll do my utmost, no effort spared,” Wang Shilang responded eagerly, accepting their goodwill and returning it in kind.
Soon, he blended right in.
A little later, Yan Shifan descended from upstairs, arm around a young girl whose gait betrayed a slight discomfort.
“Hahaha, everyone’s here, excellent, let’s start the feast,” Yan Shifan glanced around, laughing heartily.
With that, he tossed a two-foot-square white handkerchief embroidered with flowers to a maid waiting below, instructing, “Give it to Liniang to count and keep.”
“Yes,” the maid deftly caught the handkerchief, tucking it carefully into her bosom.
These handkerchiefs were Yan Shifan’s tokens of conquest after bedding women, used for both commemoration and tallying, kept by his favoured concubine Liniang.
At year’s end, Yan Shifan would take stock, counting how many women he’d had.
“Hahaha, Young Master Yan’s vigour outshines the past, today’s romp with a beauty lasted so long, truly a model for us all!” one official teased.
“Heh, speaking of which, Brother Donglou’s a bit too rough, poor Xiaolian’s first time, the pain of her deflowering dragged on so long, you ought to make it up to her properly,” Luo Longwen, on familiar terms, joined in the ribbing.
“Haha, I got carried away with the thrill of the hunt, worked up a bit too much, Xiaolian’s soft and slender, I like her a lot, I’ll take her into my household as a concubine for now, maybe promote her to a formal concubine later,” Yan Shifan said with a smile.
“Then congratulations to Lord Liu, Xiaolian was your gift, after all,” Luo Longwen congratulated an official surnamed Liu.
“Heh, Xiaolian’s my distant niece, entering the Yan household is her good fortune and our Liu family’s honour,” the Liu official said excitedly, beaming with pride.
Once Yan Shifan took his seat, the banquet officially began, a dazzling array of dishes and drinks flowing endlessly to the table.
After three rounds of wine, Yan Shifan clapped his hands, “Bring the white jade cups.”
Immediately, a dozen scantily clad, alluring concubines sashayed in, each holding a mouthful of warm wine, they paired off with the guests, sitting on their laps and feeding the wine mouth-to-mouth, their tongues lingering teasingly.
Wang Shilang had only heard of this, never seen it, a beauty on his lap, her cherry lips pressed to his, passing the wine, her tongue swirling—it was so intoxicatingly erotic that he momentarily lost his composure.
This drew roaring laughter from Yan Shifan and the other guests.
“Vice Minister Wang did an excellent job spearheading the sea sacrifice victory rewards, for someone like Zhu Ping’an, who’s hostile to us, we need to suppress him hard, keep him from rising, I’ve told the old man multiple times to use ruthless measures, no holds barred, to crush Zhu Ping’an completely, but the old man values talent and let him off, dragging it out and giving that brat a lifeline, who’d have thought he’d show signs of bouncing back, this kid bears a grudge against us, repeatedly impeaching our people, if he rises, he’ll be a massive threat to us,” Yan Shifan said during the feast, his face darkening with murderous intent at the mention of Zhu Ping’an.
“It’s just my duty, hardly worthy of Young Master Yan’s praise,” Wang Shilang replied modestly.
“Don’t worry, Donglou, we know what’s at stake, anyone hostile to us should be crushed to death, no feeding a tiger to trouble us later, we’ll pool our efforts and strike together—there’s no way this kid slips through,” the other officials chimed in.
“Good.”
Yan Shifan nodded with satisfaction.
