The evening glow in the western sky unfurled like flames. From beneath the tallest flying eaves, the sound of drums and music drifted faintly through the air.
Wei Shubin stood in the corridor, watching several foreign maidservants in the courtyard bow and pray toward the Zoroastrian altar. Leading them was the yellow-haired woman “Miwei,” who was the only one among the servants assigned to serve—or rather, monitor—Chai Yingluo and her companion who could speak Chinese fluently.
That day in the room, she claimed to be carrying Yang Xinzhi’s child, because “after serving Young Lord Yang, what should have come didn’t come.” Before Wei Shubin could recover from her shock, she saw Chai Yingluo grab the beautiful foreign maid’s right wrist and check her pulse with closed eyes.
Indeed, if Miwei was making up lies, she had just met an expert who could tell.
After checking the foreign maid’s right wrist, the Daoist priestess switched to the left wrist. She frowned in thought for quite a while, until Wei Shubin couldn’t help but ask, “Sister Ying, how is it?” Only then did she release Miwei and shake her head:
“It’s too early to tell, but her slippery pulse is genuine. The absence of monthly flow is no small matter. We’ll have to wait another month or two to see—if she’s not with child, then it must be a serious illness.”
“It is pregnancy, this servant knows,” the yellow-haired foreign maid said with a tragic yet certain expression. “This servant has been pregnant three times before… when the body is like this, one understands.”
“You’ve had three children?” Wei Shubin couldn’t help but ask. Looking at Miwei’s appearance, she didn’t seem like a mother who was raising three children.
The foreign maid shook her head and explained in her awkward accent: After her first two pregnancies became visible, the household’s old women had given her medicine and used rolling pins to terminate them. A few years ago, she had another pregnancy that was unusually sturdy—it wouldn’t be terminated despite all attempts and finally came to full term. That was the first time she saw her child, a plump and lovely baby boy, waving his chubby little hands and feet, his crying face flushed deep red. But she only got one look—the master wouldn’t allow her to be distracted by raising a child. After the midwife cut the umbilical cord, the infant was taken away, and no one ever knew what became of that child.
For those first three pregnancies, Miwei herself couldn’t be certain who the fathers were. But this recent one, because she had served Young Lord Yang exclusively during that period, with Kang Sabo away and nothing untoward happening, this child was undoubtedly Young Lord Yang’s offspring. Miwei hadn’t hoped for much, but suddenly there had been a divine omen…
“I saw the Goddess Nana,” the foreign maid gazed devoutly at Chai Yingluo, “The great omnipotent goddess, walking with her lion in my vision. Then she transformed into a beauty with a hunting leopard—Goddess Nana has a thousand faces, each one for the battle between light and darkness…”
Wei Shubin glanced at the fat leopard lying beside Chai Yingluo—Atun was listlessly swaying his big tail. She had never seen a real lion, but… surely they didn’t look like this?
“Is your Goddess Nana one who can bless women with safe childbirth and help children be acknowledged by their fathers?” Chai Yingluo asked the foreign maid with a faint smile. The latter shook her head, mumbled a long string of what seemed to be prayers in her foreign tongue, and then said that Goddess Nana would make the mortal world prosperous and fertile. She knew that Chinese families liked having many children and grandchildren; perhaps Young Lord Yang would be willing to accept her and the child and would plead with Kang Sabo for her if he knew Miwei was carrying his child.
“It might be another son,” the foreign maid caressed her belly, her green eyes sparkling with hope, “Even if it’s a daughter, she will… will… be beautiful, Young Lord Yang will like her.”
Wei Shubin sighed inwardly. Even if everything she said was true, Yang Xinzhi would not acknowledge this child.
His status in his clan and parents’ home was already extremely awkward. He rarely returned to the Fifth Princess’s mansion, and having just started his official career, he spent most of his time living in Prince Wu’s palace in Da’an Palace. He hadn’t even established his household yet—where would it be appropriate to settle this foreign maid and her child?
In current official families, when young men had children with serving maids before taking their proper wives, though it wasn’t a major scandal, it wasn’t something worth celebrating either. If the grandparents were eager for grandchildren and willing to take in the illegitimate grandson to raise themselves, that would be fine—just like how the current Emperor and Empress had taken in Prince Yue Li Tai’s eldest illegitimate son to raise in the palace. As for Yang Xinzhi’s parents… it would be strange if they showed any kindness to this mysteriously appearing illegitimate grandson of such lowly birth.
She could understand this point, and Chai Yingluo, who was deeply versed in worldly affairs, understood even better. However, the Daoist priestess didn’t point this out directly. Instead, she changed the subject and began asking Miwei about various people and matters within Kang Sabo’s mansion and the Zoroastrian temple. Her attitude was easy to understand: I can help deliver your message to Young Lord Yang and persuade him to take you away from Sabo’s mansion to be together, but in return, you must listen to me and work for me.
The beautiful foreign maid had indeed hesitated and shrunk back. After all, according to her account, she had been a slave in the Kang household since she could remember, and after so many years she had become completely submissive without any thought of resistance. Moreover, the Sogdian merchants dealt with rebellious and runaway slaves brutally, making them wish they were dead. But for the sake of the child in her womb…
“When women miscarry or suffer postpartum complications, it leads to weakness in the five organs”—many medical cases Wei Shubin had read recently said this—”excess yin energy, kidney deficiency and uterine cold can lead to concerns about permanent infertility…” Miwei had been forced to terminate two pregnancies, and after her last delivery, proper recuperation would have been impossible. It was already difficult for her to conceive again. If she couldn’t keep this pregnancy, she might never have another chance to become a mother.
According to Miwei, the group of Tuyuhun people led by Sangsai had arrived at Kang Sabo’s mansion in Chang’an at the end of last year. Initially, there were only Sangsai and one attendant, bringing many gold, silver, and jewels. Kang Sumi took them in but didn’t do much. Later, several more groups of Tuyuhun people arrived successively and began extensive recruiting in the mansion. People like An Yanna were drawn in not just for the money—it was said they planned to establish a trade monopoly based in the Tuyuhun king’s city in Qinghai… anyway, they had grand ambitions.
When Kang Sumi was in Chang’an, these people’s activities were still relatively careful and discreet. Once old Kang left and Bald An-San took charge, An Yanna and others acted without restraint. A few days ago, Miwei heard they were both forging fish tokens and wooden tallies and visiting every horse dealer in the Western Market to select fine steeds, spending lavishly. After that, Sangsai, An Yanna, and their group all disappeared, and no one in the mansion had seen them since—An-San wasn’t lying about this.
These past two days, An-San was mostly absent from the mansion, having arranged for many people to go out searching. Several groups of people came to the Sabo mansion to see Chai Yingluo—An—San’s agreement with them was that they couldn’t leave this small courtyard, but they could freely receive visitors and messages.
The visitors were all servants from the Zixu Temple and Master Chai’s mansion, who were ordered to take away the fat hunting leopard and brought much news from the palace and mansion. Wei Shubin’s head spun listening to it all.
The two matters she cared about most were: First, the authorities still didn’t know the whereabouts of Li Yuangui and his sister; the imperial guards were searching for Prince Wu but hadn’t accused him of any crimes like treason. Second, palace servants were also looking for Chai Yingluo and their two companions, having visited Princess Pingyang’s mansion and Minister Wei’s residence several times, and naturally searched Zixu Temple too. The servants who came out from Chai’s household kept their mouths tightly shut—so far, no one had dared reveal their whereabouts.
That evening, people from the Chai mansion delivered several letters with accompanying tokens, saying one family letter was from Madam Wei, entrusted to Master Chai to pass on to the True Master who would then forward it to her eldest daughter. Lady Pei had visited the Chai mansion several times, but everyone there insisted they didn’t know where the two young ladies Chai and Wei were. Lady Pei had no choice but to leave a letter.
Thinking of her mother trudging around with her heavy body, Wei Shubin felt a pang of guilt. Taking the wooden box containing the letter, she returned to her chamber. She first sat by the window to collect herself, taking several deep breaths, before slowly opening the wooden box sealed with a paper strip marked “Letter for Miss Bin” and silently reading the paper scroll, preparing herself for her mother’s anger.
“To Miss Bin:
The spring cold has returned—are you well, my daughter? Separated for ten days, I am deeply worried. Yesterday I heard discussions of your request for a marriage alliance—the barbarian lands are remote and desolate, and the thought breaks my heart. Your father was initially angry and distressed, but your younger siblings knelt and pleaded until he finally relented. What your parents hope for now is only your return home, to remain as family. As for matters of marriage, they can all be discussed another time—do not worry about this. If it’s not convenient to return immediately, there will be a dharma assembly at Xingsheng Temple on the twenty-first—you can come under the pretense of visiting, and we can meet. A mother’s thoughts cannot be fully expressed in writing, but I hope for an early reply to ease my anxiety. As this letter goes by messenger, I won’t write more details.
Your mother’s letter to Miss Bin
On the thirteenth day of the second month”
In the box was also a simple silver hairpin with carved flowers, its luster somewhat faded—it was one her mother commonly wore, sent along as a token of authenticity. Wei Shubin turned it over in her hand and unconsciously began to cry.
Her mother’s tone was much gentler than she had expected, showing intense anxiety and concern beneath the admonishments. Thinking about how she had run away from home to escape marriage, become inexplicably involved in the death case of the County Lady of Linfen, then requested at court to become a diplomatic bride, and participated in the night raid plot at Da’an Palace… as news reached her parents’ ears one after another, her father had experienced much and could remain calm, but her mother must have been beside herself with worry, unable to sleep at night.
After several failed attempts to find her daughter, her mother hadn’t given up, writing a letter asking her to come home, promising to let bygones be bygones if she returned—”only return home and remain as family.” Even the matter of marrying her to Cheng Yaojin in exchange for fifty thousand bolts of silk could be reconsidered. Probably guessing this still wouldn’t bring her daughter back, her mother proposed an even more compromising solution: on the twenty-first of this month, they could meet and talk in detail at the dharma assembly at Xingsheng Temple.
Xingsheng Temple was in Tongyi Ward south of the Imperial City. It had originally been the Tangguo Duke’s mansion, the current royal family’s old residence during the Sui dynasty. After the Supreme Emperor founded the dynasty and ascended the throne, he established it as a temporary palace, and in the early Zhenguan years converted it into a nunnery enshrining a statue of Empress Dou—it was considered a token of the current emperor’s filial remembrance of his deceased mother. Every year on the twenty-first day of the second month, the birthday of Samantabhadra Bodhisattva, which was said to be close to Empress Dou’s birthday, the inner palace would donate many items to the temple for offerings. The nuns would hold grand ceremonies, and many noble women from imperial and aristocratic families would go to burn incense and pray for blessings.
If Wei Shubin didn’t want to return home, meeting her mother at Xingsheng Nunnery would be convenient. On the twenty-first, the temple would be crowded with noble ladies—they wouldn’t stand out, and there would be no worry about her parents setting a trap to have family members forcibly take her home… ahem, where did that thought come from?
She took her mother’s letter and went to the outer room, wanting to discuss it with Chai Yingluo, but saw the Daoist priestess sitting between the screen and the writing desk, also staring blankly at an open letter on the desk.
She had seen this kind of situation often these past few days and didn’t think much of it. She walked over directly, called out “Sister Ying” and sat cross-legged beside the writing desk. Her eyes swept over but didn’t catch what was written on the paper, though she noticed the dark yellow paper was supple and thick, and the ink color was glossy and rich. The letterbox placed beside it was a black lacquered case with a smooth surface and no decorative carvings. All three items didn’t appear luxurious, but those who knew would recognize that the materials and craftsmanship were exquisite and valuable.
The envelope of the letterbox was inscribed “Aunt’s letter to niece Chai,” in graceful, unrestrained handwriting. Wei Shubin thought for a moment before suddenly realizing with surprise:
“Sister Ying is this…”
“Yes.” Chai Yingluo nodded, “A family letter from my second aunt.”
Second… wasn’t that an imperial edict from Empress Zhangsun?
So it turned out that Empress Zhangsun, like her mother, understood that they couldn’t find them by force, but could deliver letters through the Chai family… Her mother hoped to meet her in person, and the Empress? Did she also hope Chai Yingluo would return to the palace to explain in person the truth about the incident at Da’an Palace?
“My aunt didn’t write this letter in her official capacity,” the Daoist priestess sighed, slowly rolling up the paper on the desk. “She was very clear. My grandfather is gravely ill, and now she and my second uncle are placing their hopes in my master, the True Person Sun. She hopes I’ll prioritize filial duty and quickly find a way to locate True Person Sun and bring him to Da’an Palace. As for other matters, they can all wait. If I trust her, my aunt will protect my entire family’s safety.”
Wei Shubin exhaled deeply. At least this seemed to be an opportunity for Chai Yingluo to clear her name. Then another thought made her anxious: “Sister Ying, do you know where True Person Sun is?”
“How would I know?” Chai Yingluo smiled bitterly. “The old master wanders the world treating patients everywhere… but it’s not impossible. Now that spring has arrived, epidemics spread easily. Last year several counties in Guanzhong had malaria outbreaks that killed many people. I heard True Person Sun was active in that area. If we send people to check the local Daoist temples, we might get news.”
Wei Shubin nodded and showed her mother’s letter to her. Chai Yingluo only said, “If you want to meet your mother, I’ll have our household send some maids to accompany you in case anything happens,” without trying to stop her. Wei Shubin herself was hesitant and uneasy. She felt that after her time away from home, she could now grit her teeth and resist her father’s thunderous anger and authority, but she wasn’t as confident about facing her mother’s loving tears.
Fortunately, there were still several days until the twenty-first, so she didn’t need to decide immediately. Who knew what might happen before then…
Near noon that day, Bald An-San suddenly hurried to their small courtyard, spoke with Chai Yingluo for a while, and they quickly took separate actions, rapidly preparing people and supplies, and assembling a hunting party of about ten men and women to head out.
The two ladies Chai and Wei wore long veiled hats and rode in the middle of the group, with foreign slaves handling hawks and dogs, while the servants leading the way carried the Princess’s wooden tokens, claiming they were “Fifth Princess going hunting.” The group had such an imposing aristocratic air that the guards at Chang’an’s Jinguang Gate didn’t dare ask whether it was Imperial Sister Princess Guiyang or Imperial Daughter Princess Changle—seeing the gate tokens, they ducked their heads and let them pass.
After leaving the city and getting beyond the watchtowers’ surveillance range, just as the riders were about to gallop off, suddenly there came shouts from behind. A eunuch from Zixu Temple rode up quickly on a fast horse and whispered something to Chai Yingluo. She turned to An-San and said she had urgent business and must go to Nanshan now, “so I can’t accompany you to find your son in Xianyang.”
Hearing this, An-San’s face darkened: “True Master, we had an agreement that you would ensure my son and I depart safely.”
“I only said I’d see you out of Chang’an city,” Chai Yingluo tossed her head backward, indicating they were now outside the city and she had fulfilled her promise.
“Xianyang’s defenses are also very strict—” the bald Sogdian started to say but stopped, changing tack, “What about the young lady with my son—don’t you want her back?”
A direct hit.
It was impossible to expect the An father and son to return the Seventeenth Princess to the palace; someone had to take over protecting the poor young lady. Chai Yingluo looked north and then south, clearly hesitating.
“Sister Ying, I’ll go!” Wei Shubin volunteered eagerly. “I’ll go to Xianyang with An-San, don’t worry!”
“You…” The corners of her lips seemed to curl up behind the black gauze, and Wei Shubin could almost hear Chai Yingluo’s unspoken words “What use would you be?”
Well, if it came to fighting, she, a weak woman who couldn’t even tie up a chicken, would indeed be useless. But what if it didn’t come to fighting?
If An-San could control his son and peacefully hand over the Seventeenth Princess to her, she could pretend to be from the Princess’s household, lead the Sogdian father and son out of the city, and then deliver the Seventeenth Princess to… the guard troops at the city gate, explaining their identities. The guards would probably report up through the ranks, and now that the Yin siblings in Da’an Palace were dead and the great threat was gone, no matter whose hands they ultimately ended up in, at least the Seventeenth Princess would be safe. As for Wei Shubin herself… she would leave it to fate.
She didn’t know what Chai Yingluo suddenly needed to do in Nanshan but guessed it was related to finding Medicine King Sun Simiao. That was also important business, related to how the Emperor and Empress would handle the aftermath of this Da’an Palace upheaval—after resolving the Seventeenth Princess’s situation, they couldn’t hide forever; sooner or later they would have to face the consequences of their actions.
The two women gazed at each other through their double veils for a moment, then Chai Yingluo nodded and turned to order: “Aliu comes with me, the rest follow Miss Wei—protect her well, understand?” Her servants all responded in unison.
The Zixu Temple master then said to An-San: “The Minister Wei’s precious daughter will accompany you to Xianyang. Whatever happens, you can discuss it with Miss Wei. I don’t need to say more about her status—if anything goes wrong, you can figure out the consequences yourself.”
The bald Sogdian was still reluctant, but seeing Chai Yingluo’s firm attitude and not wanting to waste more time, he had to agree. The group split up here, with Chai Yingluo taking only the eunuch and galloping south along the western official road, while Wei Shubin followed An-San’s group northward, heading straight for the south bank of the Wei River.
An-San, familiar with the area, found a hidden private ferry dock, called for a boat to be prepared, and beckoned everyone aboard. The boatman pushed off with his long pole, carrying them toward Xianyang territory on the north bank. Looking upstream from the rocking boat, Wei Shubin saw the setting sun slowly sinking between the mountain peaks. It seemed she would have to spend tonight outside Chang’an city.
After landing north of the Wei River, the group hurried into Xianyangdu Street Town before the city gates closed, finding a Sogdian merchant shop dealing in mules and horses. The shop owner was discussing some fodder business with two Han men dressed as servants when An-San forcibly pulled him away, looking quite annoyed. The two spoke in their foreign tongue for a while, then the owner had someone lead them behind the town, entering a vast expanse of dark buildings.
This complex of buildings was very irregular, with rows of connected earthen houses that were tall but crude, almost without decoration, their window openings both small and high—probably little light could enter. As Wei Shubin walked along looking around, she saw several strong men carrying thick sacks out from one of the houses and realized these buildings must all be warehouses. The area was large, the buildings very similar in appearance and densely packed—if someone wanted to hide here, it would be an excellent place.
Even the Sogdian assigned to guide them couldn’t walk directly to their destination, leading them around in two circles and shouting several times, only proceeding to enter the half-closed door of an earthen house after hearing echoes in response.
By now it was completely dark outside. Inside the door, a small bronze lamp burned in a niche in the earthen wall, its dim light revealing a bald corpse lying face-up on a grass mat on the ground.
An-San cried out and collapsed trembling onto the body.
Wei Shubin hurried forward to look. Although she had only seen this dead man once, she recognized him easily—it was An Yanna, An-San’s only surviving blood relative and son, who had been responsible for guarding the Seventeenth Princess.
Amid his father’s wails of grief, the young bald Sogdian’s eyes were wide open, unable to close in death, his face still bearing a somewhat surprised expression. Most of his body was blocked by his father, so the wounds and cause of death weren’t visible, but his clothes and hair were still neat, not suggesting any violent struggle.
The person they had been searching for so many days was dead here, and Wei Shubin only wanted to say “he deserved it.” But more importantly—where was the Seventeenth Princess he had been guarding?
The wall niche had an oil lamp, its dim light revealing scattered piles of firewood, wooden boxes, and other items like mats, pottery bowls, and bedding in the warehouse, suggesting several people had been living here for some days. But besides An Yanna’s corpse and a Sogdian watching over it, there was no sign of the young lady or other guards.
The man watching the corpse could speak Chinese, and seeing Wei Shubin’s fine clothes and veiled hat suggesting noble status, he responded politely. He said An Yanna had been here with another foreign youth and an “eleven or twelve-year-old Han servant girl,” the three of them having received permission from their shop owner to hide here secretly for many days. This morning when people from the shop came to move fodder, they found An Yanna stabbed to death on the ground, with the other two nowhere to be found.
This afternoon, a group of officials had already come to examine the murder scene, led by two tall young men, one fat and one thin, with a foreign maid as interpreter, also focusing their questions on the whereabouts of the Han servant girl. But the shop people didn’t know—these past days they had only managed to deliver some food and water, and the three in the warehouse had been very quiet, not making any big disturbance, who knew a murder would suddenly occur…
Just as he was saying this, An-San, who had been prostrate grieving over his son’s corpse, suddenly straightened up and drew his waist knife at Wei Shubin, his eyes flashing murderously.
Note: The “Goddess Nana” mentioned by Miwei was originally one of the oldest deities of the ancient Mesopotamian region, namely the fertility goddess Anahita of the pantheon, who was later incorporated and venerated by various religions. In Sogdian Zoroastrianism she was called “Nanya” or “Nana,” and her image has been discovered repeatedly in Silk Road archaeology. In ancient Central Asian art, Goddess Nana’s most distinctive feature is that she is usually accompanied by lions, sometimes depicted with four arms holding the sun and moon. On a stone bed in a Northern Qi tomb in Anyang, there is an image, with two lion heads specifically carved below the goddess (Figure 1, source shown in watermark). For detailed research, refer to Jiang Boqin’s “Research on the History of Chinese Zoroastrian Art.”