The north gate of the Yuan residence was still the same as before, unlocked.
Mo Zi pushed the door open and walked slowly along the path through the grass. Though Zan Jin, A Hao, and A Yue followed behind her, it didn’t prevent her from remembering the days when she walked alone. That high wall separating the two residences was clearly within sight, yet in her heart she felt the two worlds were so distant.
Since Bai He had left, she hadn’t returned to visit. Xiao Yi, the only one from inside who could run out, sometimes sat in Lujiao Alley, only saying vague things like Third Miss was fine and well. Bai He had been released after informing the two princess consorts—reasonable and proper, no one gave it further thought. As for her, her identity as a rough servant maid existed in name only, and those who knew the truth—Xiao Er valued his reputation and wouldn’t speak, Xiao San favored Third Miss and wouldn’t speak—so at present it seemed she could wander around outside indefinitely. Once the people inside completely forgot someone like her existed, then Third Miss’s business would be safe and she’d have her indenture contract in hand. Perfect on both counts.
Crossing the three-step wooden bridge, ascending the five stone steps, entering the black corridor, seeing the cloud pavilion and bright tower, green lake and white stones—this was the plain charm within Tang architecture. The huge residence still had pitifully few servants, like a national nature reserve—only scenery, no human figures.
However, that was just how it appeared to have no one. When Hua Yi suddenly appeared at the other end of the long corridor, Mo Zi wasn’t surprised at all.
“Third Young Master came early.” At the Yuan residence, it was firmly established—she was Mo San. Even Hua Yi addressed her as “Third.”
“I have some business.” Mo Zi smiled, then asked, “Is Lord Yuan in?”
“His Lordship just returned and is watching flying egrets at the Dragon Pavilion. Hearing that Third Young Master arrived, he invites you to enjoy the view together.” Hua Yi led the way ahead.
“His information is quite well-informed.” Mo Zi followed Hua Yi.
“His Lordship ordered the north gate not be latched. It was my own decision to post someone there.” Hua Yi added this explanation as if not wanting Mo Zi to suspect Yuan Cheng.
Mo Zi thought she was overthinking it. “General Hua.”
Hua Yi was indeed a general. Though he acted low-key on imperial orders and appeared to be an ordinary guard in the eyes of Yuan residence’s people, he actually held the rank of Qianniu Guard Commander, the same level as Yuan Cheng, one grade higher.
So Mo Zi’s address of “General” was correct.
“Third Young Master may simply call me by name.” He’d hidden his Qianniu Guard badge long ago and served in this capacity as an internal guard—very few people recognized him.
“Hua Yi.” Mo Zi readily complied—this was one of her strengths. “I see this residence is calm and peaceful. You’ve led men guarding for so long—isn’t that a waste of talent?” Did the emperor fear someone would kill Yuan Cheng to silence him, or fear Yuan Cheng would flee? At present, it seemed more like the latter. After all, how would those wanting to make trouble for Yuan Cheng think that a convict could become an official and even get promoted, doing quite well for himself?
“Previously about a dozen groups came to scout. Fortunately, I fulfilled my duty and kept His Lordship safe.” Hua Yi spoke very concisely, as if those dozen groups had just come to see the scenery.
Mo Zi froze, stammering, “He’s lived here less than half a year. I thought being an official at court would provide cover so people couldn’t find him.”
“Those who want to find someone always can. However, because each has their own motives, they won’t publicize it externally. Secondly, the Great Zhou’s imperial authority still stands. Since they know His Majesty protects His Lordship, their actions must be cautious—they can’t openly seize him.” Not being talkative didn’t mean he couldn’t speak.
“From what you say, protecting him is more important than guarding against him.” Not knowing if anyone was eavesdropping nearby, she lowered her voice, as if talking to herself.
Hua Yi immediately glanced at Mo Zi but said nothing more.
By the time the Dragon Pavilion came into view, Mo Zi still hadn’t figured out the meaning of that penetrating look.
“The sky hasn’t even darkened yet. Brother Mo came quite early—could it be you’re hungry?” Yuan Cheng sat sideways on the long bench at the pavilion’s edge, wearing black cloud robes with orchid sleeves, tossing fruit and dates.
Reed blinds hung on three sides, with braziers in the four corners. The wind couldn’t chill them. On the railing perched two silk egrets who’d come craving the carved fish on the pavilion posts, scraping at the posts with their long beaks, finally disappointed, settling for fruit pulp instead.
“I came to tell you a story. Would you like that?” The unfinished story of Niu Gao. Mo Zi walked to sit opposite him, also sideways, so they each occupied a corner. “I know you’ve always loved hearing stories.”
“I only love hearing you tell stories.” Yuan Cheng looked toward her, passing over a round, short wine cup. “There are no outsiders in the pavilion—drink from the cup.”
Mo Zi took a sip—not only warm but also sweet and clear, just right for storytelling, neither dry nor strong. “Once upon a time there was a great land, in a place very, very far from here. There, humans and demons coexisted while despising each other. A young man born with divine strength vowed to kill all the world’s most formidable demons. One day, he arrived at the foot of a mountain. On the mountain lived a group of demons ruled by a great demon, yet even so, villages existed at the mountain’s base. Each season, people had to send pigs, ducks, fish, and meat to the great demon to求平安, barely making ends meet. The young man couldn’t stand seeing everyone oppressed, so he charged up the mountain and fought the demon for three hundred rounds, finally killing the great demon. The lesser demons scattered and fled. Thinking they posed no threat, he let them go. The villagers were immensely grateful and praised him as a hero. This young man, having tasted heroism for the first time, soon continued his demon-slaying journey. Several years later, when he passed by that mountain again, remembering past events, on a whim he went to see the villagers—” Mo Zi pointed at Yuan Cheng. “Old rule, you continue the ending.”
Yuan Cheng waved his hand, startling the egrets away. “The demons ate all the villagers, right?”
“Correct.” Mo Zi snapped her fingers crisply.
This gesture made Yuan Cheng raise and furrow his brows, finding it amusing again.
“The lesser demons selected a demon king from among themselves, but this one wasn’t like the previous one—it had no thought of mutual coexistence and treated all humans as food to fill its belly. Only then did the hero realize he’d disrupted the balance of this mountain. What he’d killed wasn’t the worst, but the best of the bad demons. He’d thought killing demons was doing good for the people, but actually he’d harmed them instead.” Mo Zi sighed deeply, looking into Yuan Cheng’s eyes. “Three days ago I learned that you were the number-one great demon in that Nande kingdom.”
Yuan Cheng smiled with narrowed eyes. “Third Brother’s storytelling skill hasn’t improved, but your cursing ability has deepened considerably.”
Mo Zi quickly waved her hands and shook her head. “Not so, not so! How is this cursing you? I’m greatly praising you.”
“Scorpion, crow, and now demon—not a single one has touched on humanity. Let me ask you, is this praise?” He sounded quite wronged, yet his eyes and brows suppressed laughter.
Mo Zi could tell and simply became sharper with her words. “First you don’t understand poetic imagery, now you don’t understand story allegories. Lord Yuan should resign from office early and go sell sweet potatoes.”
Yuan Cheng laughed heartily. “Brother Mo’s stories always make me happy. In the future, even if I sell sweet potatoes, as long as someone tells me stories, I’ll surely live happily.”
Mo Zi’s heart stirred. She pretended to scoff. “Once you’re selling sweet potatoes, would anyone still follow you? Your imagination is quite lovely.”
Yuan Cheng’s gaze fixed on her, seeing her pretended scorn was clearly affection, appreciating this rare delicate beauty. He said, “Is that so? When I fell into misfortune, someone gave me a priceless pearl. How do I know that when selling sweet potatoes, there won’t be an incomparably beautiful woman constantly by my side?”
“Wishes are beautiful, but whether they come true is decided by heaven.” Deflating him, Mo Zi didn’t apply the so-called incomparably beautiful woman to herself. No matter how she looked, her appearance couldn’t be called world-ending. Humans were constantly evolving, after all.
“I think effort is more useful. If heaven doesn’t give, can’t one take it oneself?” Yuan Cheng spread his right palm, then suddenly closed his five fingers, gripping tight. “If one can’t grasp it oneself, what use is heaven giving it?”
Mo Zi admired him once more. This ancient person made her feel inferior—the gap was vast. His evolution was stronger than hers.
“Niu Gao asked me to relay a message.” Back to the topic. “He still has sixty-six kowtows to make and hopes you’ll allow him.”
“He came to the Great Zhou alone—his wife and daughter remained in Nande?” Yuan Cheng asked.
“So you remember quite clearly after all.” Mo Zi was surprised. “Just one tael of silver—why did you help him?”
“Because that was the last bribe I accepted in Nande. Though one tael was little, it was everything he had on him. I said before that with gift-giving, the thought is what counts. Those words were no lie.” Since Mo Zi already knew the whole story, Yuan Cheng didn’t hold back half his words. “Before I could hear the report back, I entered the heavenly prison and didn’t know what happened after.”
“He arrived too late. His wife had already been violated. Taking advantage of her guards’ slight lapse in vigilance, she took her daughter and threw herself down a well.” A very sad, very bitter, very angry, very helpless story.
Yuan Cheng shifted his gaze to the lake surface, his expression extremely light, so light that Mo Zi thought it was sorrow. “I guessed as much. His deep love for his wife touched my heart. Since he came out alone, I imagine his wife and daughter had already met with misfortune. Then I can’t claim to have shown him kindness—why must he still kowtow?”
“Because of your help, he was able to recover his wife and daughter’s bodies, bury them in the ancestral grave, and give them peace after death. For this, he’s still tearfully grateful to you.” Niu Gao’s story ended here.
“No. I’ve always taken bribes and accomplished the task. He asked me to save his wife and daughter. Now they’re dead—what kindness have I shown him? Please tell him that the dead cannot return to life. Though I failed in what was entrusted, I cannot accept his silver for nothing. Tell him to save those kowtows for later.” Yuan Cheng’s gaze was ice-cold.
Mo Zi listened in confusion.
Several months later, in front of the memorial tablets for Niu Gao’s wife and daughter in his room, a wooden box appeared. When Niu Gao opened it, he wailed for a full hour. It turned out to be the head of his enemy. Niu Gao rushed to the Yuan residence gates. Yuan Cheng was entertaining guests and couldn’t see him, only sending out a letter. Right at the gate, he kowtowed sixty-six times until his skin broke and blood flowed. Fellow workers like Ding Xiu and others couldn’t understand and earnestly tried to pull him up, but only Mo Zi, knowing the truth, didn’t try to dissuade him. After returning to Hongyu, Niu Gao set up a longevity tablet for Yuan Cheng. That year he married a virtuous woman and resumed living his life.
This matter is mentioned here and won’t be discussed further hereafter.
Ming Nian hurried up to the pavilion to report. “The guests’ carriages have arrived at the main east gate. According to the gatekeeper, Lord Jiu saw something and is helping to persuade.”
“Saw what? Persuading what?” Mo Zi asked curiously.
Ming Nian was blocked by the reed blind. Coming in with his head lowered, he hadn’t expected Mo Zi to be there. Startled, he gasped and stuttered, “No… no… nothing. Mo… Third… Third Young Master, you came so early?”
Today, everyone thought she’d come too early.