The lamplight dimmed, and moonlight shone upon the gauzy curtains.
As agreed, Wang Yang went to the Prince's Residence to report to the Prince of Badong on the progress of the brocade fabric business.
Doorways stood one behind another, with guards arrayed like a forest.
The prince's personal troops, armored and holding their swords, guarded layer upon layer, each seemingly nested within the next.
In the innermost room, the Prince of Badong wore a white gauze shirt and wide-legged open-crotch trousers, his sleeves half rolled up. As he listened to Wang Yang explain when each cloth workshop and weaving mill expected to finish, he sliced steaming braised ox head with a dagger, skin and meat together, dipped it in sauce, and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing with hearty abandon. After swallowing several large chunks, he took a swig of sorghum liquor. He was thoroughly enjoying himself.
The smell of meat made Wang Yang's throat bob slightly. The Prince of Badong laughed. "Want some?"
"Thank you, Your Highness, but I ate before coming."
Wang Yang had not eaten beef since transmigrating. How could he not want some?
But slaughtering cattle for meat was a criminal offense in this era. Unlike commoners, whose offenses were invariably prosecuted, nobles could find such matters treated as either serious or trivial. If no one investigated, naturally nothing would happen. Once someone chose to make an issue of it, however, the trouble could be considerable. There were even cases of officials being dismissed for slaughtering cattle.
Wang Yang himself could not withstand close scrutiny, nor did he have the Prince of Badong's formidable status. Better to resist the temptation of beef and avoid skirting the law. At worst, he could have Sister-in-law Song buy some mutton tomorrow to satisfy his craving. It tasted no worse