"This piece of jade belongs to me."
"This bronze cauldron belongs to me too."
"I want this Dragon-Patterned Plate."
"You may keep this pair of Ivory Chopsticks, my minister."
Zi Shou was dividing the spoils with You Hun in the palace.
The Xiqi tour group had arrived in grand style, with nearly a hundred people and dozens of carriages. Naturally, they had brought no small amount of valuables for bribery.
They followed the usual rule: a thirty-seventy split. It had to be said that Xiqi had quite a substantial nest egg.
Once they had divided the spoils, Zi Shou asked solemnly, "Minister You, what have the people from Xiqi been doing since arriving in Chaoge?"
You Hun replied, "Performing opera."
"Performing opera?"
"The Xiqi envoys brought an opera troupe with them. Bo Yikao, the eldest son of the Marquis of the West, even took to the stage himself, playing the zither and singing."
Now that was interesting. Rather than requesting an audience immediately, Bo Yikao had taken to Chinese Opera.
"Have you seen this opera?"
"I have."
"How was it?"
"The opera was not as good as those composed by Shi Yan, but Bo Yikao's zither playing was superb. It drew people in."
"What piece did he play?"
"Your servant is slow-witted and only remembers two lines."
"Let me hear them."
"'Guan, guan,' cried the ospreys, on an islet in the river. A graceful, virtuous maiden makes a gentleman's worthy mate."
You Hun clearly had no talent for singing. His thin, shrill voice had not a trace of beauty, but the lyrics startled Zi Shou.
Wasn't that the famous Guan Ju?
There had to be a reason it had endured through the ages.
Zi Shou thought for a moment, then asked, "What is the opera performed by the people of