Chief Grand Secretary Ji Zhong suddenly passed away from a grave illness, causing an uproar throughout the capital.
Yet, it all felt as though it had been inevitable for a long time. The Crown Prince’s faction had suffered one setback after another in the past few months, and now, with Ji Zhong’s death, it seemed to confirm the rumors that the Crown Prince’s influence was waning.
Oblivious to all of this, Ji Zhen knelt before the memorial hall, kowtowing to the coffin.
On the day of his father’s burial, he followed the funeral procession up the mountain and watched with his own eyes as shovelfuls of dirt covered the coffin.
On the way back, the road was covered with joss paper, and the carriage was stuck in a bustling street, unable to move.
Ji Zhen leaned listlessly against the carriage wall, vaguely hearing the content of the conversations among the gathered common folk.
“The Crown Prince was born in the Eastern Palace, he’s the legitimate dragon’s bloodline, the undisputed heir to the throne of the Great Heng Empire.”
“This brother is right, isn’t it the same in every dynasty? Establishing the legitimate eldest son is the right way.”
“Shh, don’t you want to live? His Majesty’s birth mother…”
“Can’t say, can’t say.”
To discuss the emperor was a great crime punishable by a thousand cuts. How could these people be so bold?
Ji Zhen was confused. Although he also felt that the Crown Prince’s position in the Eastern Palace was unshakable, he felt a certain inexplicable trepidation upon hearing these words.
Perhaps he was overthinking it.
After settling his father’s funeral affairs, Ji Jue sent Ji Zhen back to the Shen Mansion.
The two brothers bid farewell in front of the mansion.
Ji Zhen was still grieving over his father’s death and was also a little reluctant to part with his elder brother, turning back to look at him three times.
Ji Jue stood before the carriage, handsome and poised, waving to him. “Go on.”
For twenty-one years, Ji Jue had often watched Ji Zhen’s back.
It was he who let go of the hand of the toddling child, encouraging him to walk bravely forward; it was he who feigned anger and scolded the young boy who was unwilling to go to the academy, watching him enter the sacred hall with a tear-stained face; it was also he who personally entrusted the newlywed bride draped in red clouds to others, watching from afar the figure who bowed to others…
Life is long, but meeting is fleeting.
Zhen Zhen, you must walk the path ahead alone.
For the next two days, the wind was calm and the waves were still.
Ji Zhen kept dreaming of his father, who died with his eyes open, and his heart was filled with an inexplicable panic.
Ji An told Ji Zhen all the rumors he had heard from the streets and alleys. The most debated topic was who would succeed to the throne, the Crown Prince or the Third Prince. Most of the people held the “legitimacy” argument, believing that the one who would inherit the great tradition would surely be the Eastern Palace’s dragon’s bloodline.
The more supporters the Crown Prince had, the better it should have been, but Ji Zhen couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss.
He never discussed court affairs but couldn’t help but ask Shen Yanqing when they were in bed, “Are there a lot of issues at court recently?”
Ji Zhen tightly wrapped his arms around Shen Yanqing, seeking comfort.
Shen Yanqing said calmly, “Lord Ji passed away suddenly, and you were worried and panicked.”
Ji Zhen mumbled, “I keep dreaming of my father. It seems like he has something to say to me, but I can’t hear it clearly.”
Shen Yanqing suddenly flipped over and pinned him down, his dark eyes solemn with a hint of gloom.
Ji Zhen bit his lip, not understanding.
“Tomorrow, my mother will go to Hanshan Temple for a blessing. You should go with her and stay there for a while.”
Hanshan Temple was located in the distant suburbs, nestled deep in the mountains and forests. Far from the worldly troubles, it was a great place to find peace of mind.
Shen Yanqing brushed the hair from Ji Zhen’s forehead. Before Ji Zhen could speak, he said, “Master Fakong and my mother have known each other for many years. I asked him to chant and pray for Lord Ji, which is also… ” He paused slightly. “…my way if fulfilling my duty as a son-in-law of the Ji family.”
Ji Zhen could hardly believe what he was hearing. He stared in astonishment and murmured, “What did you say you were?”
Shen Yanqing was silent.
Ji Zhen was relentless, wrapping himself around him. “I didn’t hear you clearly, say it again.”
Shen Yanqing covered his lips with his palm. “Don’t be so pushy.”
Ji Zhen made muffled noises and slowly quieted down. Shen Yanqing felt a slight warmth on his knuckles. He looked down and saw that Ji Zhen’s wet, tear-filled eyes were full of adoration.
Shen Yanqing loosened his hand. Ji Zhen rubbed his damp cheek against the other party, his tears turning to laughter. He said with a little smugness, “Actually, I heard you.”
He clung to Shen Yanqing’s neck and offered himself up like a sacrifice while burying himself in the other party’s arms.
Ji Zhen had waited for this acknowledgment for too long. Although he didn’t know if Shen Yanqing said this out of sympathy for his father’s death or something else, he figured there must be some genuine feeling there.
He believed this to be true.
“Tomorrow, I’ll go to Hanshan Temple with Mother,” Ji Zhen said, raising his bright, clear eyes. He added with a dependent tone, “From now on, I’ll go wherever you tell me to.”
Shen Yanqing covered Ji Zhen’s eyes and gave a low hum.
The autumn night was as cool as water, with an evil wind rising. The watchman’s drum beat until daybreak.
The next day, Ji Zhen and Mother Shen went to Hanshan Temple, bringing only some simple belongings. Ji An accompanied them.
After the carriage set off, Ji Zhen poked his head out from behind the curtain and waved at Shen Yanqing in front of the mansion. When he received a nod from the other party, he put down the bamboo curtain with a beaming face.
Seeing Mother Shen’s serious expression, he quickly put away his smile and sat up properly.
“When we get to the temple, you are not to be so unruly.”
Ji Zhen nodded frantically. “I’ll listen to Mother.”
The carriage drove out of the city, raising a cloud of dust, and left the chaos and noise behind.
—
The theory of “legitimacy” was gaining immense momentum, so much so that it was even bringing up the emperor’s past. The common people buzzed with talk, passing the news from one to another, ten to a hundred, a hundred to a thousand. Whispers could be heard in every street and alley.
In front, soldiers were arresting a storyteller for fabricating stories about the royal family. The onlookers, both fearful and curious, had packed the street so tightly that the carriage wheels couldn’t move an inch.
Suddenly, a scream was heard. The arrested storyteller was beheaded, blood splashing three feet high. The crowd screamed in panic, fearing they would be caught up in it, and scattered like headless flies.
The imperial censor on patrol sheathed his sword, recognized the carriage ahead, and hurried forward to salute. “This minister did not know that Your Highness the Third Prince was here. This minister will clear the path for Your Highness now.”
A low voice came from inside the carriage. “Thanks for the trouble, Imperial Censor.”
Li Muhui, who was in his dark blue python robe, slightly lifted the bamboo curtain. Through the gap, he looked at the dying young storyteller on the street. The thin sunlight turned his pupils into a translucent amber, with an icy coldness.
He withdrew his gaze, his face completely devoid of its usual smile. Having shed his deceptive mask, what lay beneath was a surge of ambition and sharpness.
The bamboo curtain fell, and the carriage continued its journey.
Li Muhui took a scroll handed to him by Yu Ying beside him. He skimmed through it and looked up. “Today, during the great court assembly, His Majesty expressed some dissatisfaction with the Crown Prince. Let’s add some more fuel to the fire.”
Sunlight trickled down, slowly climbing up the hem of the dark blue court robe, creating a play of light and shadow. Shen Yanqing placed a heavy book on a low table and said calmly, “In this humble minister’s opinion, when things reach their peak, they begin to decline. It’s better to observe quietly for now.”
Li Muhui was silent for a few moments. “Alright, let them struggle for a while longer.” He then asked, “Is there any progress on the matter of the land tax?”
This referred to the matter of the son of the Minister of Revenue who, relying on his father’s power, privately increased taxes. The people were full of grievances and were living in misery.
Shen Yanqing took a piece of rice paper from his sleeve and handed it to Li Muhui—it’s an accusation letter written by Shen Yanqing. It turned the people’s sorrow into sharp ink swords, with every tearful incident brought to life on the page. The slightly yellowed paper was covered with bloodied fingerprints, a shocking sight.
Li Muhui sneered coldly. “Minister He and his son have been plundering the people’s wealth. Once everything is settled, this highness will have both of them executed by a thousand cuts, their heads displayed on the city walls for three days and three nights as a warning.”
The Third Prince, Li Muhui, had always been criticized for being ruthless and having overly brutal methods, yet he continued to act as he pleased all these years. He would kill, chop, and behead, never showing mercy to his enemies and corrupt officials at all.
Whether he appeared as a smiling fox or a tiger, leopard, or jackal, whether he feigned politeness or faked his actions, what did it matter as long as he achieved his goal?
“This highness heard you sent Ji Zhen to Hanshan Temple?”
Shen Yanqing’s expression was unchanged. “Yes.”
“That Ji Jue raised such a younger brother, it’s truly beyond one’s expectation,” Li Muhui chuckled. “His arrogance has truly made you suffer these past four years.”
Shen Yanqing was noncommittal.
“When he returns from Hanshan Temple, you may deal with him as you wish. You can keep him if you like.” Li Muhui gave a silent laugh, his tone of voice sounding as though he were discussing about a cat or a dog. “If you’re tired of him and want to get rid of him, just send him to this highness’s mansion…”
Shen Yanqing calmly cut off Li Muhui’s words. “Your Highness, he and I have already exchanged betrothal papers and bowed to Heaven and Earth.” He lifted his gaze, his voice resolute. “Sharing one night as husband and wife binds a hundred days of affection.”
Li Muhui’s smile slightly faded. “This highness never knew Lord Shen was so sentimental.”
Shen Yanqing’s expression was composed, his tone gentle. “It is said that beneath the throne lie loyalty and unwavering resolve, and in the human world, filial piety and brotherly devotion. Toward my sovereign and toward my wife, my devotion will not waver.”
With a few words, he defused the tense situation.
Li Muhui laughed heartily. “A good saying, ‘my devotion will not waver’! Shen Yanqing, to have both a subordinate and a friend like you is truly this highness’s fortune.”
The morning bell tolled, its deep sound reverberating endlessly through the valley.
With the first light of dawn, Hanshan Temple, nestled in the deep woods, was covered in a rosy glow, and the whole temple shone with golden brilliance.
The clang of the copper bell kept Ji Zhen awake. He buried himself under his quilt, and when that proved insufficient, he pressed his hands over his ears.
“Young Master, if you still don’t wake up, the Old Madam will have the young novice come and hurry you again.”
Ji An had prepared hot water and was waiting nearby. At his words, Ji Zhen finally and reluctantly emerged to wash up.
The morning sun appeared on the horizon. It was late autumn, and the ground outside was covered in yellow leaves. A young novice in a gray robe was sweeping with a wooden broom, piling the leaves into a small hill.
“Benefactor Ji.”
Ji Zhen and the young novice both drew out their voices in unison, “Amitabha—”
The young novice scratched his head with a simple smile on his honest face.
Ji Zhen had been at Hanshan Temple for half a month already. He ate vegetarian meals, chanted Buddhist scriptures, and burned incense daily, and his restless heart had indeed found some peace. Though his heart was calm, but his stomach was not happy. He complained nonstop about the many meals without oil or meat. If not for the letters from Shen Yanqing that comforted him every two days, he would have found an excuse to go down the mountain already.
After finishing his vegetarian meal, Ji Zhen went to the quiet room to find Mother Shen, who was praying and chanting.
He secretly had Ji An add an extra soft cushion to his prayer mat before he knelt down. He was muttering to himself, but instead of scriptures, he was reciting the names of dishes from Ziyun Lou. “Sweet and sour pork ribs, soy sauce tofu, osmanthus fish, clay oven chicken…”
They were all meat dishes, an offense to the Buddha’s ears. He was halfway through his list when a young novice came to say that a visitor was looking for Ji Zhen outside the temple.
Could it be that Shen Yanqing had written another letter to him? Even though it was always the same four words—“I’m well, don’t worry”, they could brighten his entire day.
Ji Zhen secretly glanced at the solemn Mother Shen and called softly, “Mother…”
Mother Shen opened her eyes and looked helplessly at her daughter-in-law, whose mind had wandered to the clouds. “Go quickly and come back soon.”
Ji Zhen’s face broke into a smile. He ran out like a little bird, with Ji An unable to keep up.
With his heart thumping, he went through the temple corridor, past the ground full of yellow leaves, and over the temple threshold. He asked loudly, “Did Shen Yanqing send you…”
The temple incense smoke curled up. The boy in the coarse cloth robe standing behind the white mist turned around. It was Xiao Moli.
Ji Zhen was stunned. His joyous voice came to an abrupt halt, and his steps slowed. He saw Xiao Moli’s tightly furrowed brow, and a cold breeze made him shiver inexplicably.
A young novice carrying water accidentally dropped his wooden bucket. The loud clang broke the temple’s tranquility and startled the resting mountain birds.
Amid the flapping of the birds’ wings, autumn gave way to winter.
The author has something to say:
The Former Lord Shen: You forced me into this marriage. I hate you. It’s just a letter of divorce.
The Current Lord Shen: I’m loyal to my wife. Nobody can break us up!
T/N: Angst coming, angst coming—
yess it’s finaly picking up
Thanks for the chapter <33333