Yang Xingjian changed into a scholar's robes and posed as a learned man collecting local customs. After several intermediaries, he arranged to meet the old servant from Chang'an at a small roadside tavern.
The old man was a hereditary servant of the Han Family, over sixty years old, with a blue cloth wrapped around his graying hair. Seeing Yang Xingjian's refined manner and hearing him introduce himself as a scholar from Chang'an, he treated him with great deference. Only after repeatedly declining did he take a seat.
The tavern keeper brought meat and vegetable dishes and set a pot of fresh-brewed wine on the stove to warm. The two began a polite conversation in the official dialect of the Capital.
At a table not far away, a young man and woman sat drinking in silence. The girl was pretty but wore a dark expression, while the young man occasionally cracked a joke to amuse her. Assuming they were lovers having a quarrel, the tavern keeper tactfully left them alone after serving their food and wine.
The old servant said with considerable regret, "I must have lost my senses that day. I should never have spoken of the family's affairs. That scholar made a story out of them. If my master finds out, he'll punish me severely."
Yang Xingjian reassured him, "Tales of marvels, strange happenings, and plays have always used the Han dynasty to allude to the Tang, without touching on current affairs. Besides, most of the events were inventions of a writer's pen. You needn't worry, old sir."
The old servant heaved a long sigh and contradicted him. "You have it backward, young sir. Most of those things truly happened. Our fourth young master has had a bitter lot. I wasn't spinning tales out of thin air."
Yang Xingjian