Mi Moyan did not return all night.

When Bao Zhu appeared in the practice room, the dancing girls scattered like startled birds, all avoiding her gaze. Only then did Bao Zhu realize that whenever someone disappeared from Nishang Academy, everyone tacitly agreed never to mention them again, pretending that person had never existed. There was an invisible wound here, rotting and bleeding, never healing. Whenever someone actively lifted the gauze covering it, blood scabs and pus would stick to it, making the pain even more unbearable. Everyone could only turn a blind eye.

Near noon, Bao Zhu was summoned to serve in Auspicious Cloud Hall.

The stone courtyard floor was wet, with over ten servants kneeling on the ground scrubbing carefully with pig-bristle brushes, while the elevated stage for musical performances had been fitted with brand new carpets.

Were they cleaning away the traces Mi Moyan had left behind? “Heavy with hanging ornaments and flowers at the waist, golden bells turning as the snow-white face spins back.” Bao Zhu stared blankly at the stage, where the youth’s graceful, nimble figure seemed still to be spinning endlessly, the sound of golden bells still echoing in her ears.

In the covered corridor, the coiled dragon lamp stands were lit with candles as usual. Li Yu sat on his throne, his eyes vacant from exhaustion after a night of wild revelry.

This year’s Ultimate Pleasure Banquet hadn’t gone particularly well. When his carefully rehearsed “Music of Emperor Qin Breaking the Formation” and lion dance were performed, the guests’ expressions were complex, their flattering words not as eager and enthusiastic as usual. Two bastards had even claimed stomach pains and left early.

Only after this year’s sacrifice appeared on stage did the remaining guests gradually relax under the influence of Five Stone Powder and begin the feast. Unfortunately, he lacked the stamina to participate fully as in previous years. Aging was precipitous—the glory days in Chang’an seemed just yesterday, yet in the blink of an eye, he had reached his fiftieth year.

Heavenly mandate… this phrase made Li Yu’s nearly extinguished heart fire flicker once more.

“Cinnabar Bird, say something interesting,” Prince Qi commanded.

But the girl only knelt expressionlessly, saying nothing.

“Gone mute?!”

Li Yu noticed that today the girl hadn’t styled her hair in hanging loops as he’d required. Annoyed, he grabbed her hair and forced her to face him. But when he met those eyes, cold as winter stars, his heart suddenly lurched. In those black depths, he couldn’t see his own reflection.

Why wasn’t she speaking? Those profound prophecies, heavenly dreams, the endless stream of mysterious omens that stirred his emotions—where had they all gone?

“If you don’t speak, I’ll have someone cut out your tongue,” Li Yu threatened. Even applying force that nearly tore her long hair from her scalp, she remained silent, as if numb to pain.

Yesterday’s boy had been the same, never crying out in anguish even unto death, instead showing a dignified, compassionate demeanor that made the banquet less frenzied than previous years, ending rather dismally. Coming with high spirits but leaving disappointed, no longer worthy of the name “Ultimate Pleasure.”

The auspicious bird’s sudden silence was deeply unsettling. The emptiness brought by aging swept over him again. Li Yu was about to teach her a proper lesson when an inner attendant hurried over, quietly reporting that his wife was on her way to Auspicious Cloud Hall.

Li Yu frowned, wondering what fault that nagging old woman would find now. This time Princess Qi brought no crowd of servant girls, only two trusted matrons at her side. The severe, serious expression on his wife’s face made Li Yu even more irritated and anxious, as if he could already smell gunpowder.

After dismissing the servants, husband and wife once again engaged in pointed argument.

“I heard that at this year’s banquet, Your Majesty used a eunuch slave,” Princess Qi’s voice was like winter icicles, cold and piercing.

Li Yu retorted sarcastically: “Gossiping women spreading rumors, neglecting wifely duties. What business are my playthings of yours?”

Princess Qi angrily replied: “That was a man! Favoring actors, abusing commoners—such depraved acts were evidence for the Crown Prince’s downfall! Does Your Majesty not consider gossip and your own safety?”

The three words “deposed Crown Prince” deeply wounded Li Yu. He too was an eldest son and heir apparent cast out for cause. Princess Qi’s remonstrance was equivalent to brutally revealing his shameful past.

Prince Qi was enraged, glaring with bloodshot old eyes as he roared: “Guanyin is neither male nor female by nature—I’ll use whatever I please!”

Princess Qi fell silent for a moment, coldly studying this man in his declining years as if examining a strange monster. The older he became, the more desperately he sought to create disturbances, as if depraved, blasphemous revelry could extend his life. Pitiful and pathetic.

After decades of waiting, she was completely disappointed and decided to break with this pathetic man.

The princess abandoned the respectful address for her princely husband, saying flatly: “Whether male or female, living or dead, none can recreate the Guanyin in your heart, can they? She was a woman you had no right to touch, which is why you’ve obsessed over her for years, making statues of her, painting her, kidnapping Goddess of Mercy slaves, imagining yourself deeply devoted. Only the most powerful men in the world have the right to monopolize the most beautiful women. What haunts your dreams isn’t that beautiful, singing, dancing fox spirit, but the supreme power she represents.”

“Shut up! You’re not worthy to mention her!” Li Yu gripped the edge of his couch, veins bulging on his hands as he trembled violently with rage.

Princess Qi smiled coldly: “There’s nothing wrong with that—men always love power most. But what have you done these years to reclaim power? Have you established military colonies? Raised death-sworn warriors? Formed alliances with generals? The personal guards in your mansion don’t even outnumber your household entertainers.

You never respect the worthy or value scholars, spending all day consorting with fair-weather friends. Making guards and subordinates perform music and dance at banquets like entertainers—no one considers you a lord worthy of loyal service unto death. Changing dynasties, usurping power—you dare not act, only daydream all day, seeking auspicious signs, fantasizing that someday a military eunuch will suddenly arrive at your door with an imperial edict announcing your ascension to the throne.”

Princess Qi’s tongue was sharp as a sword, mercilessly tearing away the luxurious brocade concealing truth, riddling her husband’s dignity with holes.

“Vile woman!”

Li Yu’s eyes blazed with fury as he leaped up and struck his wife hard across the face. The force was so great it sent her staggering backward to collapse on the ground. Though Princess Qi was of noble birth, he had always only used violence against concubines and slaves, never striking his legitimate wife. Now, having his true nature exposed, he flew into a rage and completely lost his reason.

Listening nearby, Bao Zhu understood clearly—their discussing such treasonous topics in front of her meant they had no intention of letting her live.

Blood seeped from Princess Qi’s nose and mouth. She lay on the ground for quite a while before covering her face and struggling to sit up. Facing her brutal husband, she showed neither grief nor the slightest fear, only complete disdain, as if watching a ridiculous dwarf perform.

“Just as Uncle said, your inner demons are about to burst forth,” she wiped the blood from her lips, then slowly stood. “No matter—I still have sons and grandsons. Prince Qi’s mansion has heirs to inherit the title. The foundation won’t shake.”

Before leaving, the princess glanced at the girl kneeling beside the coiled dragon lamps in service, saying flatly: “These words weren’t for her to hear. Don’t forget to silence her.” With that, the princess turned and left decisively.

Li Yu collapsed like a pile of mud on his soft couch, that furious slap having exhausted all his strength. As the person who knew him best, Lady Wang’s words cut deeper. Ambitious but lacking talent, achieving nothing significant—this aging sun of his could no longer reverse heaven’s will.

Yet no matter how he struggled, his obsession with the Imperial Consort and the throne haunted him like specters, day and night, following him like shadows, trapping him in the mire of suffering. The clamor of music and dance, the temptation of beauty, sweet words of flattery and adulation—none could fill the bottomless chasm of his desires.

This must be the demon of greed, anger, and delusion that Tan Lin had spoken of. He had once hoped a realistic set of Nine Aspects paintings could save him, breaking free from the shackles of his obsession with the Imperial Consort. But now both Tan Lin and his disciple had departed this world.

Li Yu stared blankly at Cinnabar Bird, muttering: “All appearances are illusory…”

Perhaps those beautiful, moving words and omens were all traps set by Mara’s daughters, making him develop greed, hatred, and troubling attachments, trapped in purgatory unable to escape. Since he must silence her anyway, let her serve her final purpose.

Bao Zhu looked at Li Yu’s vacant expression, feeling an extremely ominous premonition. She heard him continue muttering to himself: “Tan Lin wouldn’t paint the Nine Aspects for me, but can’t I create my own living Nine Aspects meditation? If Wang Sui could achieve Buddhahood through contemplative visualization, so can this prince!”

“Someone come! Tear down the stage,” Prince Qi commanded.

Family Steward Dong Shiguang received the servants’ report and was shocked and dismayed. Prince Qi’s tastes had grown increasingly bizarre and absurd over the years. To satisfy his master’s various strange demands, he already felt exhausted. Who could have expected Prince Qi’s fantasies had reached incomprehensible heights—he wanted to chain a living girl in Auspicious Cloud Hall’s courtyard, watching her die of hunger and thirst, then letting the corpse slowly rot in the yard.

“Master says… says this is cultivation, calling it something like Nine Aspects meditation…” the servant repeated tremblingly.

Dong Shiguang was anxious as fire, hastily asking: “Did you tell the princess?”

The servant bowed his head: “The princess said let him do as he pleases—she doesn’t want to manage anything anymore.”

Dong Shiguang felt dizzy. When he hurried to Auspicious Cloud Hall, the central courtyard stage had already been dismantled and removed. Li Yu was directing several inner attendants to pin Cinnabar Bird to the ground and chain her to the stakes that had previously secured the stage.

Li Yu paced back and forth, muttering instructions: “Strip off her clothes, cover with brocade, and put on jade arm rings—it must be exactly like the Fresh Death phase mural at Toad Light Temple!”

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty, please reconsider! Whoever angered you, just drag them out and beat them to death. Why torture yourself? The stench of rotting corpses is unbearable!” Dong Shiguang tried desperately to dissuade him.

Li Yu seemed not to hear, muttering to himself: “No more banquets, no more music and dance. I must save myself—I must contemplate the Nine Aspects!”

Seeing the obsession and madness in his eyes, Dong Shiguang silently groaned. Now even Princess Qi was unwilling to counsel him—who in this world could stop this man’s descent into madness?

Li Yu watched the attendants forcibly position the struggling girl to match the mural, suddenly crying out: “Wait! Something’s still missing.”

She must be exactly the same. Exactly the same. Beauty becoming bones, dependent origination and emptiness, all returning to impermanence. Only by personally watching his beloved die and gradually decay, transforming from beautiful woman to terrifying skeleton, could he completely sever his delusions.

“Dye her fingernails with balsam flowers!”

Struggle was once again ruthlessly suppressed. Bao Zhu lay face-up on the cold stone bricks, unable to open her eyes against the blazing sunlight.

Li Yu had completely lost his mind. What was terrifying was that when someone of his status went mad, no one could stop him—they could only wait for his self-destruction. But before his destruction, countless innocent lives would be sacrificed as his companions in death.

The sunlight was too harsh. Bao Zhu turned her head away and inadvertently discovered something glinting faintly in the cracks between stone bricks—a golden bell no larger than a fingernail, still stained with dark red blood.

This had been where the stage stood. Had Mi Moyan also died nearby? Bao Zhu stretched out her forcibly reddened fingertip, trying to grasp this last connection he had left behind. But the chains fixed around her neck prevented movement. No matter how desperately she struggled, she remained just a tiny bit short—her fingernails were too short.

After a while, servants responsible for washing the floor came to inspect the cleaning work again. Discovering garbage left from last night’s banquet, they quickly swept it away.

Author’s Note: “Nine Aspects Meditation” and “Goddess of Mercy Slave” are actually connected stories. “Heavy with hanging ornaments and flowers at the waist, golden bells turning as the snow-white face spins back”—Bai Juyi’s “Zhezhi Dancer”