Time passes unnoticed in the mountains—in the blink of an eye, over two months had passed since Qiu Xinran returned to the mountain.
It was nearly the end of summer, and the mountain was cooler than the world below. The Divination Sect was located in a place called Mirror Lake Moon. The sect’s buildings were constructed along the lake, and Baoyu Daoren’s residence was in a bamboo grove on the eastern side of Mirror Lake. Whenever the wind blew, bamboo leaves would often fall on the corridor.
Qiu Xinran sat cross-legged inside the room, pouring tea for the female Daoist across from her. Master and disciple remained silent. Only after finishing a cup of tea did the female Daoist holding a fly-whisk slowly speak: “You’ve been staying in the capital for over a year now. Have you grown accustomed to it?”
Qiu Xinran replied respectfully, “This past year I’ve learned many things from Teacher, and Yuan Zhou has also taken good care of me.”
Baoyu Daoren nodded. “Though your temperament is lively, you handle worldly matters quite well. Compared to secluded cultivation in the mountains, perhaps walking among the mundane world is more suitable for your practice. Did you gain any insights from this trip down the mountain?”
Qiu Xinran tilted her head and gazed outside the room, thinking for a moment. “This disciple met a young man at the foot of the mountain who asked me why I study divination.”
“How did you answer?”
Qiu Xinran pressed her lips together, and after a moment said, “Because Master said I have a talent for divination.”
The room fell silent for a moment. Baoyu set down her teacup and suddenly asked, “Do you know why I arranged for you to go to the palace?”
“This disciple is dull-witted and doesn’t understand Master’s intentions.”
“What kind of place do you think the imperial court is?”
Qiu Xinran thought carefully before answering, “This disciple believes the imperial court is the place in this world where human hearts are most subtle and complex.”
“Indeed. The path of divination may seem to probe heavenly secrets, but in the end, it merely probes human hearts.” Baoyu Daoren looked at her with gentle eyes. “Don’t be afraid to probe human hearts. One day, when you’ve witnessed the utmost good and evil in this world, perhaps you’ll also see clearly the path in your own heart.”
When Qiu Xinran left Baoyu Daoren’s room, her mind still echoed with her parting words: “You’re still young, and the road ahead is very long. There’s no need to rush.” She let out a long breath and decided to put these thoughts aside for now.
She walked along the lakeside path toward her own residence. Tomorrow she planned to descend the mountain, and she still had many things to pack. As she was thinking this, she saw from a distance someone standing outside her residence—wearing a bluish-green robe, it was Lezheng’s senior sister.
The woman held a small box in her hands. Seeing Qiu Xinran approach, she deliberately chided, “Your airs grow greater by the day. You’re the one who asked me for something, yet you make others eagerly deliver it to you and wait here all this time.”
Qiu Xinran quickly reached out to take it, begging forgiveness: “It’s my fault. I originally planned to look for you this afternoon, but I didn’t expect Senior Sister Yan to care for me so much and personally deliver it.” She opened the door to invite the other inside, but Yan Lan shook her head. “I won’t go in—I still need to hurry back to the sect to help. But do tell Senior Sister, which young lady are you giving this rouge to?”
“The Ninth Princess in the palace,” Qiu Xinran said, holding the small wooden box with a smile. “She’s young and finds these things novel. When I came, I promised to bring her a box when I returned.”
After she finished speaking, Yan Lan froze. “Are you talking about Princess Qinghe, Li Hanyuan?”
Qiu Xinran was also startled. “What Princess Qinghe?”
Yan Lan hadn’t expected her not to know yet. Her expression stiffened involuntarily, and her eyes flickered. An ominous premonition flashed through Qiu Xinran’s mind, and she quickly asked, “Senior Sister, what have you heard?”
“Don’t be too upset when I tell you.” Yan Lan looked at her with concern. “A few days ago, news came from the foot of the mountain that the Ninth Princess unexpectedly passed away. Emperor Xuande was grief-stricken and posthumously granted her the title Qinghe. Her coffin was placed in the imperial mausoleum.” After she finished, she saw the other woman holding the wooden box, blinking, and after a moment forcing a smile. “Senior Sister, are you joking with me?”
Yan Lan felt quite guilty and gently placed her hand on her shoulder. “Xinran, I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”
Qiu Xinran found it utterly absurd. When she first learned of it, the shock in her heart far outweighed everything else. How could this be? She had only been away from the palace for just over two months—how could the Ninth Princess possibly be dead?
The image of the girl sitting under a tree wearing a flower crown with shining eyes before she left was still before her eyes. How could it suddenly become “the princess has passed away, her coffin placed in the imperial mausoleum”?
This sense of absurdity persisted until she entered the capital and saw white banners throughout the city—only then did it finally feel real. Sitting on her horse, she looked around. Chang’an was still the lively and bustling Chang’an, but every household had tied white silk outside. The Emperor had lost his most beloved young daughter and ordered the entire city to wear mourning garb for half a month, with no weddings or betrothals permitted.
After Qiu Xinran returned to the palace, she went to the Bureau of Astronomy to report back from her leave. Bai Jingming, seeing her return, rarely showed pleasure and asked a few questions about matters in the mountains. Emperor Xuande was fond of seeking immortality and asking about the Dao. This time the nine sects had presented several pills. After leaving the Bureau of Astronomy, she hurried to the palace to have an audience with the Emperor in a side hall.
Emperor Xuande seemed to have aged greatly overnight. Even holding the bottle of pills that had been presented to him, he showed not the slightest trace of joy.
Qiu Xinran knelt in the hall and heard the man on the dragon throne let out a melancholy sigh. Gathering her courage, she requested permission to pay respects to Princess Qinghe. The room fell silent for a moment. Kong Tai, the head eunuch beside the Emperor, broke out in a cold sweat on her behalf. During this period, Princess Qinghe was a forbidden topic before the Emperor—no one dared mention her.
Qiu Xinran bowed low, kneeling on the cold floor of the side hall, not daring to raise her head. Emperor Xuande looked at the white silk flower in her hair and, after a long silence, finally granted her request.
Princess Qinghe’s memorial tablet was enshrined in the Buddhist hall behind Qinglong Temple. Guards stood watch outside, and eternal lamps burned inside. Fresh flowers were placed before the altar, suggesting frequent visitors. Qiu Xinran stood with her hands clasped before the hall, looking at the characters “Princess Qinghe, Li Hanyuan” on the tablet, finally accepting the news that the Ninth Princess had passed away.
She took out from her robe the box of rouge she had brought from the mountain. She hadn’t yet opened it to see if the color would suit the princess’s taste, but now it no longer mattered what color it was.
She recited a sutra for rebirth before Princess Qinghe’s tablet and sat quietly on the prayer cushion for an entire afternoon. When she emerged, she discovered a figure standing beneath an ancient pine outside the hall. She didn’t know how long they had been there, but they apparently hadn’t entered to disturb her, seeing she was inside the hall.
The person turned around at the sound. Qiu Xinran saw his face clearly and couldn’t help but be startled. “Xianyi?”
The two rode their horses away from Qinglong Temple, slowly walking along the road. Zhou Xianyi leaned sideways to ask his companion, “When did Xinran return?”
“I just returned yesterday.”
Zhou Xianyi let out a sigh. “You served as the Ninth Princess’s study companion for several days, so this must be difficult for you.” Qiu Xinran remained silent. Though her relationship with Li Hanyuan couldn’t be called extremely close, from the time she arrived at the palace she had truly regarded her as a lively and lovable younger sister. It wasn’t that she hadn’t witnessed the deaths of people close to her before, but she had never thought that one day the young would suddenly go before the old—that someone who had been smiling and talking with you yesterday would be gone from your life forever today. She pressed further: “What exactly happened to the Ninth Princess?”
At this question, Zhou Xianyi’s expression also became serious. “That day the Ninth Princess was flying a kite in the imperial garden. The kite accidentally landed in a tree, and a palace maid asked a guard from the imperial garden to climb the tree to retrieve it. But when they turned around, the Ninth Princess had disappeared. The palace guards searched all afternoon and finally found her fallen shoe by the lake…”
Qiu Xinran frowned. “The Ninth Princess wasn’t a small child anymore. How could she vanish the moment they turned their heads?”
Zhou Xianyi shook his head. “Though this matter is full of suspicious points, after finding her body, the imperial physicians examined it and found no external injuries or signs of struggle. It should have been an accidental drowning.” He said this, then hesitated. “Besides, who in the palace would want to harm the Ninth Princess?”
Yes, who would harm an eleven-year-old child? Qiu Xinran gripped the reins beside her hand, remaining silent.
Zhou Xianyi sighed. “Since the Ninth Princess’s accident, the Emperor didn’t hold court for three days, and the Empress has also fallen ill. These past days she’s probably cried all her tears dry.”
Before death, everyone’s pain becomes similar and equal—even the imperial family is no exception.
The two rode silently past a herbal tea stall. The sun was high, so they dismounted and entered the stall to order bowls of herbal tea.
In the two months she’d been away, many things had happened in the palace. Seeing her low spirits, Zhou Xianyi deliberately picked out a few amusing incidents to tell her. Qiu Xinran understood his kind intentions, and when she heard the funny parts, she laughed along, which did somewhat lift her mood.
As they were talking, a man walked in from outside. The tea stall owner handed him a teapot that had already been prepared: “Your plum soup—I’ve already cooled it for you.” The teapot was exquisite, clearly not from the stall’s own tea set. Most likely someone from a wealthy household who enjoyed this stall’s herbal tea had brought their own container to take some home.
The man taking the tea received the teapot, paid his silver, and upon turning around came face to face with Qiu Xinran and Zhou Xianyi. Qiu Xinran was startled. “Guard Gao, what are you doing here?”
Gao Yang realized who they were and replied, “The young master suffers from summer weakness. Hearing this herbal tea is good, Aunt Zhang wanted to take some back to see if she could brew it at the manor.”
“Aunt Zhang certainly has that skill. I envy the manor’s good fortune.”
Zhou Xianyi laughed. “If Xinran likes it, it’s just a matter of paying for a bowl of tea here.”
Qiu Xinran shook her head. “For someone as lazy and gluttonous as me, what I envy is clearly the blessing of being able to taste delicacies from across the land without leaving home.”
As they were talking, the window of a nearby carriage was lifted, clearly because the master inside was growing impatient from waiting. Qiu Xinran turned her head and through the bustling crowds along the street her gaze met his. She saw his face still wore its usual expression of impatient coldness, but upon seeing her, he showed a look of surprise.
This was the first time Qiu Xinran had seen this expression on him. Finding it quite rare, she couldn’t help but press her lips together in a light smile. When she smiled, the young man’s face immediately darkened. Across the crowd of people, the purple-robed young Daoist stood and performed a Daoist salute to him from afar.
Xia Xiuyan, however, turned his eyes away and lowered the curtain.
Qiu Xinran shook her head and couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. This trip down the mountain felt like a lifetime ago, but fortunately, Xia Xiuyan was still the same unpredictable Xia Xiuyan.