In his slumber, Buddhist chants echoed.
In his dream, he was at Mount Qingcheng. Qingcheng, the most secluded mountain under heaven. Its peaks rose like city walls, mysterious and green. Strangely, both Buddhist and Taoist temples coexisted on the mountain.
The Buddhist White Cloud Temple sat at the summit, with sunlight streaming through the hollow mountain core. Taking advantage of a young novice monk’s inattention, he climbed the rocks and squeezed his way out. Standing on the steep peak, he could see all the mountains below. In the vast openness, he couldn’t help but cup his hands around his mouth and shout.
“Who dares disturb the temple’s tranquility?!”
The monks of White Cloud Temple were startled and rushed up to catch him. He laughed as he dodged them, feeling triumphant until someone kicked him from behind. He lost his balance and fell from the mountain peak.
His heart felt like it would leap from his throat. Yang Jingyuan flailed his arms, trying to grab onto something. Finally, he crashed to the ground and awoke with a shout.
“Young Master is awake!”
Opening his eyes, Yang Jingyuan saw Xiangyou’s face full of joy. As his memories gradually returned, a sudden pain struck his heart, and he furrowed his brows deeply. “How long have I been asleep?”
He didn’t ask how he had returned to Mingyue Residence. Sheng Fengze must have handed him over to Uncle Shi. Yesterday, he had lost his rationality in anger. Charging into the post house to kill Sheng Fengze—how foolish he had been.
Yang Jingyuan looked down at his hands. These hands had been in fights but had never killed even a chicken. He slowly clenched them into fists, his eyes showing a hint of sorrow. How could someone like him possibly match Sheng Fengze’s cunning ruthlessness?
“Young Master, you returned last night and slept until now. It’s almost noon. Please change into your mourning clothes and attend the vigil.” Xiangyou presented a plain white fine hemp robe to Yang Jingyuan.
Everything he had seen in the east wing last night hit him like a tidal wave. Father, and Concubine… he wished it had all been a dream. Yang Jingyuan reached out, his fingers trembling uncontrollably. He suddenly grabbed the clothes, quickly put them on, and strode out.
Xiangyou stood stunned for a moment before hurrying after him.
The Buddhist chants grew clearer. Yang Jingyuan stopped at the entrance of Bailu Hall. He looked up at the white funeral banners floating in the wind, white as far as the eye could see. His vision blurred momentarily, but he blinked back the tears. He would not cry. He would not shed useless tears.
“Third Brother!” Yang Jingshan’s choked voice rang out.
Yang Jingyuan looked over. His elder brother walked toward him with red eyes.
Yang Jingshan gripped his shoulder, caught between a smile and tears: “It’s good that you’re awake, good that you’re alright. When Uncle brought you back, he said you’d be fine after some sleep. Mother instructed us to let you rest well.”
Sheng Fengze!
Just thinking of that name filled Yang Jingyuan with hatred. He couldn’t forget Sheng Fengze’s expression before he lost consciousness. One night, one dream, like a previous life. He would never make the same mistake again, and never give Sheng Fengze another chance.
Yang Jingyuan entered the courtyard silently and offered incense before his father’s spirit tablet. The curtains billowed, revealing the black lacquered coffin behind them. He earnestly kowtowed to his father, then retreated to kneel beside his two elder brothers.
Yang Jingshan and Yang Jingyan glanced at him. Their pampered half-brother seemed to have suddenly matured, his expression composed. No, that wasn’t right—how could he be so composed?
“Third Brother, Father passed away unexpectedly, and last night you ran off without explanation. What exactly happened?” Yang Jingshan asked in a low voice.
“First Brother, Second Brother, I’ve thought it through. There must have been something wrong with the wine Father drank last night. When I reached the east wing, the room still reeked of alcohol. Father must have drunk a lot at the evening banquet. He once told me about a particular wine… Father said I could only drink it at my wedding, and he gave me a jar. That wine was a gift from my Second Uncle. On the night of my betrothal to Second Miss Ji, I vaguely heard Second Uncle mentioning this wine to Father. Father must have been drinking it ever since then.”
Yang Jingshan nodded: “That matches our thoughts. Last night’s wine was brought by Second Uncle’s people.”
“If there’s any wine left, I’ll take it to Master to examine. We’ll see what’s going on.” Yang Jingyuan lowered his gaze. “The White King of Nanzhao is no good person; he has long coveted Yizhou’s brocade industry. I was too impulsive last night, suspecting him of harming Father. In the future, I won’t be so rash.”
Yang Jingshan said with relief: “Fortunately, he wanted to do our Yang family a favor and handed you over to Uncle. It just cost our family some generous gifts and silver—don’t worry about it. Mother is elderly and has gone to rest in the inner hall. You should go pay your respects to her first.”
“Yes.” Yang Jingyuan stood up and glanced across at the women’s section, confirming once again that Concubine Liu was not there. The scene from last night floated back into his mind. Neither of his brothers had mentioned Concubine Liu. Was it because Father’s death was too shameful, and Mother was angry, confining the concubine to Lefeng Court?
The room was filled with agarwood incense. Madam Yang didn’t sleep well. Before Xueping could announce him, she opened her eyes as soon as Yang Jingyuan entered.
Except for those upright sword-like eyebrows, his face and lips faintly resembled Concubine Liu’s. Madam Yang suddenly recalled Concubine Liu’s face and hastily looked away. “Third Son.”
“Mother, I’ve caused you worry. Your son has been unfilial.” Yang Jingyuan knelt on the couch and lowered his head.
Madam Yang looked so haggard, her once full cheeks had visibly thinned, and her eyes were puffy—clearly, she hadn’t rested well. Last night, how many in the Yang family could have slept peacefully?
“Your uncle brought you back. Mother knows you were grieving and mistook the wrong person for an enemy.” Madam Yang thought of Second Master Yang who had sent the wine, feeling both hatred and anger, her breathing becoming rapid. “Whoever tried to harm your father, Mother will never let them get away with it!”
Xueping stepped forward to gently pat Madam Yang’s back and help her breathe, looking at Yang Jingyuan with pity. Since the Madam hadn’t mentioned the concubine’s matter, how could she dare speak of it?
Since they all suspected Second Uncle of harming Father, perhaps they wouldn’t entirely blame the concubine? Yang Jingyuan gently advised, “Mother, please don’t make yourself ill with anger. You are the pillar of our household, you can’t fall.”
“Mother still has three good sons to support her.” Seeing that he hadn’t mentioned Concubine Liu at all, Madam Yang’s heart softened.
The Master had passed away last night. Concubine Liu had already resolved to die. She had simply not stopped her. No, after twenty years of love between her and the Master, could she have stopped her anyway?
Madam Yang held Yang Jingyuan’s hand and steeled herself to say: “Third Son, go to Lefeng Court to bid farewell to your concubine mother. She cannot be placed with your father, so Mother has set up a spirit tablet for her in Lefeng Court…”
Suddenly, a force transmitted through her hand, and Madam Yang was caught off guard. With a cry of “Ah!” she was pushed back onto the couch.
The composure on his face shattered like porcelain, cracking piece by piece. Yang Jingyuan stared at her blankly, but in his mind appeared the beautiful figure of Concubine Liu standing in the corridor yesterday evening.
“Third Young Master, you almost hurt the Madam!” Xueping reproached Yang Jingyuan, helping Madam Yang sit up properly.
After eighteen years of careful nurturing, his heart still yearned for his birth mother! The memories of Master Yang’s coldness and favoritism, and her eighteen years of attentive care for Yang Jingyuan all rushed into Madam Yang’s heart. She pounded the couch and burst into loud sobs: “Your concubine mother was determined to accompany your father! If you want to blame me for not watching over her, for not stopping her, then blame me!”
Yang Jingyuan kowtowed heavily to her once, then got up and ran out.
“You… you ungrateful child!” Madam Yang pointed at his retreating figure and cried out, “She never even nursed you once! It was I who held your hand as you learned to walk, I who taught you to read, Third Son, how can you treat me like this…”
“Madam, Madam, don’t think too much of it, this is only natural for the Third Young Master. With the Master and Concubine passing one after another, it would be truly ungrateful if Third Young Master showed no reaction at all.” Xueping gently consoled Madam Yang. Seeing her gradually calm down and lie back on the pillow, silently weeping, she instructed a young maid to bring water and personally wrung out a cloth to clean her face.
Madam Yang suddenly grabbed her wrist and stammered: “Concubine Liu wanted to accompany the Master, and I didn’t stop her. Xueping, did I do wrong?”
“Madam, even if you could have stopped Concubine Liu for a day, could you have stopped her for a lifetime? There is no greater sorrow than a dead heart.”
Hearing Xueping’s words, Madam Yang’s hand slowly loosened as she murmured: “Twenty years ago, my heart had already turned to dead ashes.”