At that very moment, another sound arose — Tao Zan, his face a mask of disbelief, stared wide-eyed at the blood-soaked figure of Tao Shi, then flung himself forward and broke into heartbroken, wailing sobs.

This sudden turn of events left Yang Yi stunned, eyes wide with shock. He could not spare attention for the second son weeping so bitterly, and only stared at the Third Prince, saying in disbelief: “You… how did you not stay in the imperial temple?”

Liu Yi looked at Yang Yi struggling to rise, and said in a firm, steady voice: “You are asking why I was not killed by the sky-burst bombs you hid inside the belly of the Buddha statue?”

Yang Yi had not expected him to know so many details. He fell back with a defeated slump: “You… how did you know? Could it be…”

As he spoke, his eyes shifted again to Tao Zan, still hugging Tao Shi and wailing — that utterly useless failure who was more hindrance than help. It was likely Tao Zan who had let something slip.

Situ Sheng, who had been silent up to this point, now spoke: “When you stirred up trouble in the northwest, if you had not used this method before — perhaps you might have succeeded…”

When Yang Yi had fomented unrest in the northwest, he had used a version of the sulfur sky-burst bomb that had not yet been refined.

At that time, he had only just found a craftsman skilled in such matters. Uncertain of the quality of what the craftsman produced, he had sought an opportunity to test it — so that the craftsman could continue to improve the design.

Thereafter he had verified it repeatedly many more times, until the sky-reaching blaze at the imperial temple that evening came to pass.

Yet hearing Situ Sheng’s question, Yang Yi came to a sudden, stunned understanding, and stared at Situ Sheng: “It was you…”

Situ Sheng did not answer, because while he had indeed been following the trail, investigating the full extent of Yang Yi’s schemes, the person who had first detected something amiss was in fact his wife, Chu Linlang.

The last time there had been an explosion in the northwest, Linlang had been made so nauseous by the smell that she had vomited uncontrollably. She had later thought it was simply morning sickness, as she had discovered she was pregnant shortly afterward.

But when she had walked up to the golden Buddha during her inspection of the imperial temple that day, she had once again been hit by the almost imperceptible smell — and though her nausea had abated long since, she immediately reacted and rushed outside to vomit.

At the time, Linlang had not yet put the pieces together, thinking only that the newly crafted Buddha still had not fully aired out.

It was only after she encountered Tao Zan, and caught faint hints of something unusual within his words, that the picture began to take shape.

From that point, Linlang assumed the full bearing of an elder sister-in-law, offering Tao Zan a few words of reassurance. Tao Zan, like a chick that had lost its mother hen, had been at a loss for a long time. When he heard Linlang say, “Regardless of everything else, you and Situ share the same lineage as the loyal and upright General Yang Xun. As long as you hold fast to a righteous heart, no one can ever take that from you,” the anxiety and unease he had suppressed could no longer be contained. He blurted out, haltingly, that his treasonous father had secretly come to find him.

Linlang’s heart lurched, though her expression betrayed nothing. She brought fully to bear the interrogation skills she had learned from Situ Sheng — who had once served as junior chief justice of the Court of Judicial Review — employing them with masterful precision.

Once Tao Zan had broken his silence, he held nothing back. He said that Yang Yi had found him and, using the rescue of Tao Shi as a threat, had obtained from him the layout of the imperial temple’s grounds and its defensive arrangements. Moreover, on several evenings when the golden Buddha had been divided into large sections and not yet fully assembled, Yang Yi had found ways through him to divert the temple guards and allow his own men to infiltrate the imperial temple.

What they had done inside the main hall — Tao Zan had kept well away and did not know, only vaguely guessing that they had done something that defied all law and decency.

As for Yang Yi’s instruction to him to leave before nightfall, Tao Zan had also passed this information on — unable to bear the thought of seeing the woman who had once figured in his dreams coming to harm.

Linlang listened with an outward smile, while cold sweat broke out in streams down her back.

After finishing his confession, Tao Zan regretted it at once, and looked at Chu Linlang with a frightened and uncertain gaze. Linlang rose to her feet and said in a cool voice: “If you truly wanted to save your mother, why did you not speak sooner? Did you think that once Yang Yi had accomplished his goal, he would keep your mother alive?”

With that, she raised her voice to have someone keep watch over Tao Zan, then turned and walked out of the imperial temple — and it was at that very moment she ran directly into Situ Sheng, who had come accompanying the Third Prince.

Having heard all of this, Yang Yi still could not work it out: “Since you had already discovered the secret of the golden Buddha, why did you not remove the sky-burst bombs? Was it — cough, cough — simply to toy with me, to let me feel great elation before once again having my hopes dashed?”

The Third Prince let out a long sigh and turned to look at the blaze still burning in the imperial temple among the mountains not far away.

Situ Sheng had long since turned his back, not looking at Yang Yi, and was also gazing in the direction of the temple. He said in a low voice: “Throughout the second half of your life, there was almost nothing you did that was right. Yet this time, I rather hope your actions can consolidate the fighting spirit of the court and add further resolve to the campaign in the north…”

At his eldest son’s words, Yang Yi was taken aback and could not quite make sense of what was meant.

But Liu Yi understood perfectly what was in Situ Sheng’s heart.

Even with the victory in the northern campaign, the sentiment against war at court remained strong. The stubborn old ministers kept harping on the defeat at Fushui, insisting that warfare is unpredictable — had not even the War God Yang Xun met with setbacks? Now that the Kingdom of Jing’s advances had been repelled, the nation’s strength had been demonstrated. Let both sides hold to their established borders — why exhaust the people and drain the treasury further to retake Fushui?

So the explosion at the imperial temple this evening was Situ Sheng’s counsel to Liu Yi — the people could be moved farther away for safety, but the explosion itself was an absolute necessity.

Therefore the ones keeping watch at the imperial temple that night were not only the princes Yang Yi believed to be present. Several of the court’s most vociferous anti-war ministers, along with the sons serving as officials from their households, had all been temporarily summoned to the imperial temple by the Crown Prince.

Only as night fell, the Crown Prince had used the pretext of hunger to call everyone praying in the great hall out to a courtyard far from the main hall, where they ate an outdoor meal by open air — and forced these men to witness with their own eyes what it meant to have no safe ground beneath one’s feet, and that national peril, if one lacked a spirit of vigilance, could arrive without a moment’s warning.

With that one explosion, shattered debris flew in all directions across the sky, so utterly terrifying the assembled company that their souls nearly left their bodies. They could not stop trembling at the thought — had the Crown Prince not felt hungry at just that moment, every last one of them would have been sent to the afterlife.

The Crown Prince then had men seize the spies who had infiltrated the imperial temple as identified by Tao Zan’s account, and “officially revealed” their identities — they were the personal bodyguards of the Jing Kingdom’s prince consort from the north. Their mission this time had been to assassinate the princes of the Great Jin and shake the morale of the Great Jin’s military.

That explosion shattered the great gilded Buddha, commissioned at such enormous cost, and shattered along with it every dissenting voice against the war throughout the entire court.

If these stubborn old ministers still intended to disregard the lives of the border region’s people and think only of enjoying their own peace and prosperity — let them think about the fact that they and their sons had nearly been killed by the Jing Kingdom’s sky-burst bombs.

Yang Yi was also taken aback, and then gradually came to the dawning realization that his own eldest son had actually employed the very same approach he himself had once used — luring female students away in the wilderness to incite conflict — a deliberate provocation to ignite unrest.

Only this time, the Great Jin possessed strong soldiers and horses, its finest generals all already in position — truly, all was ready, wanting only for the east wind to blow.

And that explosion had swept away all opposing voices. It was easy to foresee that before long, the Great Jin’s forces would shift from defense to offense, marching northward in attack…

Thinking on this, he let out a defeated, hollow laugh: “After all this scheming and calculating, in the end it only served to complete that wretched emperor’s ten-thousand-li empire! Yang Jiexing! Are you worthy of being called a descendant of the Yang Family!”

Situ Sheng did not even wish to look at his father again. He said, cold and measured, simply: “Grandfather’s departed spirit is still at Fushui. I intend to bring grandfather and his comrades and fellow generals home — with dignity and honor…”

With that, he turned and walked down the mountain.

Yang Yi’s wounds were grievous and he would likely not hold on much longer. Situ Sheng had no desire to witness the scene of him breathing his last.

This birth father who had cast a shadow over more than half his life — now gasping toward the end while still stubbornly roaring, clinging to his narrow obsession with revenge. Situ Sheng could not have said what he felt inside. He only felt, cold and mechanical, an urgent need to leave as quickly as possible.

When he had walked a dozen or so paces, Yang Yi’s voice called out from behind: “…In the capital, in the deepest part of Gourd Lane, I bought a house. Beneath the ground of the main room, there is something buried… it is for you and your mother. If you have the time, go and have a look… Ha ha… I spent the whole of this life, and in the end it was all for nothing… You were right — father’s spirit has not yet been brought home, and I have no longer any face left to see him.”

Liu Yi had not yet departed. Seeing this situation, he said in a steady voice: “General Yang, stop speaking. The more you talk, the more blood you lose…”

He had already called forward the imperial physician traveling with their party, to see whether Yang Yi could be treated.

Yang Yi was, after all, Situ Sheng’s father. Out of regard for an old friend, he might spare Yang Yi the death penalty — but lifelong imprisonment would be unavoidable.

Yang Yi seemed to understand his meaning as well, yet only gave a crooked smile: “What for? Sparing my life out of regard for that unfilial son of mine? There is no need. Having a father like me, he will never be able to hold his head up in this world for his entire life… He has always resented me for not caring for him… So let me attend to him just this once, and free him of the worry of being criticized by the world…”

As he spoke these words, Yang Yi withdrew the gaze that had been fixed on his son’s retreating figure — then suddenly rose to his feet and leapt, right before Crown Prince Liu Yi and Tao Zan still sobbing over his mother, over the edge of the cliff.

His whole life had been like this — once standing at the summit of everything, then plummeting, sudden and without warning, as though falling from a cliff…

Situ Sheng had not gone far, and with the sound of the commotion, could see clearly what had happened.

Tao Zan was still holding his mother and weeping. He had not even had the chance to open his mouth and demand of his father why he had harmed his mother — and then before his eyes, Yang Yi, without so much as a glance in his direction, had called out only to Situ Sheng and then thrown himself into the abyss.

It was as though, apart from Situ Sheng, he was not a child of the Yang Family at all…

At this thought, Tao Zan could bear it no longer. He leapt up, still weeping, and rushed toward the cliff edge himself, intending to jump.

He had assisted Yang Yi in destroying the imperial temple — he would surely face death by slow dismemberment. Better to die now, cleanly, and be done with it.

But Liu Yi moved with swift and sure hands, grabbing hold of the wailing and howling Tao Zan and pulling him back.

There was nothing else he could do — Situ Sheng’s wife had once made a request, saying that this boy’s judgment was not always sound, but his character was not bad at heart, and she hoped the Crown Prince, taking into account the credit of his final moment of remorse, would protect and preserve him.

That night, Situ Sheng did not return to the residence until dawn, reeking of wine.

Linlang, who had been unable to stop worrying, had sent someone to the Crown Prince’s residence to inquire at daybreak, and had learned of Yang Yi’s leap from the cliff.

Looking at Situ Sheng, who reeked of wine all over, Linlang helped him lie down, her heart full of tender concern, and used a warm damp cloth to wipe his face.

She understood why Situ Sheng was suffering.

A man of such deep feeling and righteous heart — how could he feel nothing at all for his own father?

Only what Yang Yi had given the small boy Yang Jiexing was detachment and coldness. What he gave to the grown man Situ Sheng was cold-blooded exploitation.

The pain and torment of this, Linlang suspected no one else could truly understand except Situ Sheng himself.

Thinking this, Linlang could only hold this man with all the tenderness she felt, letting him ramble and vent into her embrace however he needed.

The house in Gourd Lane that Yang Yi had spoken of — Situ Sheng never once went there.

Whatever was buried there was nothing more than what Yang Yi had seen as compensation for the debt he owed to mother and son. The younger Situ Sheng might once have needed it, but now — whether himself or Wen Shi — neither of them needed it anymore.

After sobering up that day, Situ Sheng never mentioned Yang Yi’s death again. He was calm, as he had always been, and threw himself wholly back into his official duties.

That explosion at the imperial temple had blasted away all opposing voices in the court entirely.

The shattered fragments of gold were gathered up and put toward military funding.

Only the old emperor had, in the end, been struck with fright that day. A false report had somehow reached him saying that the Third Prince and the other princes had perished in the fire at the imperial temple.

On hearing this, the old emperor had immediately choked on a surge of rising phlegm, his eyes rolled back, and he lost consciousness.

Though word later arrived that it was a false report, the old eunuch who had originally delivered the false news was nowhere to be found, and as for who had planted him there — that too remained unknown.

And from that fainting episode, His Majesty never woke again. Three days later, the nation entered a period of great mourning. Thereafter, Liu Yi officially ascended the throne, with the reign title Guangwu.

Afterward, the north launched a major counteroffensive. Situ Sheng, appointed Supervisor of the Campaign on behalf of the emperor, went personally to the front lines to bolster morale.

That posting kept him away for more than six months.

Linlang, now heavily pregnant and unable to keep still by nature, nonetheless understood the importance of resting and protecting the pregnancy at this stage of her term. With Situ Sheng absent from her side, she had all the more reason to take care of herself and not add to his worries at the front.

Even so, her residence received a constant stream of visitors.

Word was spreading everywhere that on the day of Situ Sheng’s return from the front, he would simultaneously be appointed as chief minister of the realm. The former chief minister had retired to his home village two months prior, but his position had remained vacant ever since, managed on an interim basis by the left minister — His Majesty had made no announcement of a new chief minister.

It was plain for all to see: the position was being held for someone not presently in the capital. After all, the new emperor’s regard for Situ Sheng surpassed even that of the late emperor.

Only this time, no one dared question His Majesty’s favor.

Victory after victory in the north — and in recent days, word had come from the front lines that Fushui, fallen into enemy hands for more than a decade, had at last been recovered.

Such an earth-shaking achievement — beyond the blood-soaked efforts of the fighting soldiers, much of the credit lay with Situ Sheng. With the merit of recovering lost territory, who would dare question even a single word of his elevation to chief minister or ennoblement as a duke?

With matters thus, visitors thronged the gates of the Situ residence. Linlang, heavily pregnant, had little patience for any of it, and used the excuse of needing to rest through her pregnancy to decline all guests — left to enjoy her own peace and quiet.

In recent days, following Situ Sheng’s instructions, she had arranged for Tao Zan to enlist in the military.

Situ Sheng had said that whether to reclaim the Yang surname was for Tao Zan to decide himself. But whether he deserved to be called a true son of the Yang Family was for him to prove through his own striving.

Tao Zan, hearing the message relayed by Linlang, fell silent for a long while, then nodded and accepted his elder brother’s goodwill.

She turned away all other guests, but there was one distinguished visitor whom Chu Linlang could not refuse, and for whom she changed her clothing and went to receive in person.

“It is I who have no sense of occasion, coming here so eagerly to impose on you. You won’t hold it against me for disturbing your peace, will you?” Empress Tao Yashu, dressed in plain civilian clothes, said teasingly as she fiddled with the small garments she had brought for Linlang.

Linlang smiled as she cracked open the tribute walnuts from the western regions for the Empress: “How could I dare? If I showed any reluctance toward you, I’d be throwing my own life away. Besides, I’ve been sitting here so long I’ve practically turned rancid with idleness — you coming to see me, I’m more grateful than I can say!”

Some friendships are the bonds of a lifetime.

The intimate friendship between Chu Linlang and Tao Yashu was precisely that kind.

Everyone knew the Empress held Chu Linlang in extraordinary esteem — so much so that the emperor’s regard for Situ Sheng, great as it was, fell somewhat short by comparison.

Chu Linlang did not even need a palace pass; she could enter the palace to visit the Empress at any time. And the Empress, seeing that she was with child, had even granted her the rare privilege of being exempted from performing formal obeisance.

People all said that Chu Linlang was exceedingly skilled at advancing herself — born of no exceptional background, she had not only married a first-rank official of the highest standing, but had also become the Empress’s bosom friend.

The storytellers in the streets had decided that Chu Linlang’s experiences were too remarkable to pass up as a source of income, and began composing tales about her to perform in the teahouses and restaurants, each one giving a more colorful and embellished account than the last.

In her idle moments, Linlang would sometimes put on a hooded cloak and slip out to a teahouse to listen to a three-copper-coin performance.

So when the Empress arrived, Linlang eagerly recounted a story she had just heard — one that told of how she and the Empress had first become friends at the academy.

One truly had to admire the storytellers’ capacity for invention. They had concocted a tale in which the Empress, while still a student at the academy, had encountered a stretch of deep mud on the road, whereupon Chu Linlang had removed her own cloak and prostrated herself on the ground, allowing the Empress to step across on her back.

It was precisely this act, the story claimed, that had shown the Empress what a person of perceptive good judgment Chu Linlang was, causing her to like her all the more from that day forward.

Linlang told it as a joke, but the Empress was so incensed she flung down a walnut shell: “What a petty-minded lot they are! They’re treating you like some fawning, flattering attendant or eunuch — lying on the ground to let someone step on you? Have they run out of interesting plots entirely?”

Linlang, seeing she had actually grown angry, laughed and said: “I’m not even upset — calm down quickly. You only just finished your confinement. You mustn’t let yourself get worked up.”

Just two months earlier, Tao Yashu had given birth to a prince — a plump, round baby boy.

Because Yashu’s delivery had come far earlier than expected, the new emperor had deliberately delayed announcing the good news to his ministers for two months, and had the imperial physicians say it was a premature birth — managing thereby to smooth over the matter of timing, and sparing Yashu from becoming the subject of gossip.

So at this point, Empress Tao was technically supposed to still be “in postpartum confinement,” and this outing was something of a covert excursion to get some fresh air.

Yashu, on hearing Linlang’s dismissive words, was having none of it. She called for someone to bring paper and brush, and dashed off a passage at speed.

It was a version of the episode when Chu Linlang had bravely come to the rescue of her classmates at the wilderness oasis — only written not in a realistic style at all. In this version, Chu Linlang the young miss shook her divination shell and counted on her fingers, divining that an attack was imminent. Then she gazed at the heavens, fanned herself with an elegant feather fan, devised brilliant strategy with calm command, directed the guards, and with ingenious planning repelled the enemy — earning the Empress’s gratitude and admiration, and from that day forward, her wholehearted reverence for Chu Linlang.

In short, in the Empress’s brush, Chu Linlang was a miraculous woman endowed with the spirit of a goddess.

Linlang read it and found it even more absurd than the tale of her lying on the ground to serve as a footstep for the Empress.

But Tao Yashu was very satisfied with it: “In my heart, you are the female equivalent of the great strategist Zhuge Liang! How is this absurd? It is clearly a dramatized account with appropriate literary embellishment!”

With that, she instructed her eunuch to have this manuscript circulated, so that all the storytellers in the teahouses would revise their scripts accordingly. Henceforth, anyone who dared tell a story of Chu Linlang fawning, currying favor, or lying on the ground to serve as someone’s step — let them have twenty slaps on the mouth.

Linlang laughed and shook her head, not having expected that an offhand remark of hers would bring down unwarranted calamity on the storytellers.

No wonder Situ Sheng always said that those in high positions must be all the more careful and measured in their words — it was truly so.

She would not dare speak carelessly in front of Tao Yashu again in the future.

But unfortunately, the Empress’s urge to write had been thoroughly roused, and she was already planning an episode set at the academy tea gathering — one where Chu Linlang’s talent and learning astonished all present, and where her skill on a musical instrument served as the bridge through which Situ Sheng first fell for her.

Linlang found this so ridiculous she could feel it in her belly, and could not help pressing a hand to her abdomen and asking: “Situ enjoys the sound of someone fluffing cotton? I know how to play a musical instrument? Your Majesty the Empress, is this not…”

Before the words “complete fabrication” could escape her lips in what might have been considered a touch too irreverent, a sharp pain seized her abdomen again.

Linlang could not spare attention for the playful exchange, and managed in the gaps between contractions: “Something is wrong — I think… I think the baby is coming!”

The imperial physicians Situ Sheng had arranged before departing were already stationed in the residence, along with three experienced midwives. The moment the Empress called out, everyone was assembled at once, each going efficiently about their preparations to receive the birth.

Tao Yashu, having given birth not long ago herself, still felt a lingering dread at the dangers of childbirth.

Even when someone suggested she withdraw, she refused to go, determined to stay by Linlang’s side.

And it was at that very moment that the sound of galloping hooves rose from the front gate of the residence. Situ Sheng — who by rights should not have returned to the capital with the main army for another month — arrived back in the capital a full month ahead of schedule, still covered head to toe in the dust of the road.

It emerged that Situ Sheng had been carefully tracking Linlang’s due date all along. Once the situation at the front had stabilized, he had set off with his personal retinue at full gallop, riding day and night without rest, and had just managed to return to the capital in advance.

He had only not expected to arrive with such perfect timing — arriving just as Linlang was about to give birth.

Tao Yashu, who had been about to enter the birthing room, paused in her steps and let Situ Sheng go in instead — ignoring the midwives’ protestations — and stepped back temporarily, not wanting to intrude on their family’s reunion.

After more than two full hours of labor, a clear and strong cry rang out from an infant.

The midwife came out beaming to announce that the mistress had delivered a baby girl weighing seven catties, pink and white and beautiful as could be.

Tao Yashu let out a long, slow breath, leaning against the doorway of the birthing room.

Inside, the midwife had just placed the swaddled bundle into Linlang’s arms, while the man still dusty from the road held the two of them — mother and child — close, weeping with an overwhelming joy, clutching Linlang and unwilling to raise his head.

And Linlang’s eyes were filled with tears of happiness as she gently stroked the soft, tender cheeks of the infant still marked with traces of birth.

Tao Yashu watched for a moment, then quietly withdrew, smiling as she made ready to return to the palace.

Apart from the musical instrument serving as a bridge to love — when she returned to the palace, she would have to write one more episode: the joy of new life after enduring every hardship, and the arrival of a precious daughter.

That little one truly was lovely — her eyes the very image of Linlang’s, brimming with an inexhaustible spark of light. One couldn’t help wondering, as she grew, which fortunate young man would one day have the honor of winning her heart.

One only wondered whether her own son might one day be fortunate enough to marry this treasured pearl of the Situ household…

—

In the reign year of Guangwu, the Great Jin recovered the lost territory of Fushui, pursued the enemy for three thousand li, and so thoroughly crushed the Kingdom of Jing that it dared not invade again.

Situ Sheng, entrusted with a mission in a time of crisis, lived up to the imperial favor bestowed upon him, and was appointed chief minister of the realm, assisting the new emperor in affairs of state.

The historical records note that Situ Sheng was devoted to his duties with all his heart and strength, and in his lifetime served three successive generations of emperors.

His achievements across a lifetime were extraordinary. In how he chose a wife, he departed entirely from the conventions of other men. At the age of forty, he was granted the title of Duke Who Pacifies the Nation by the emperor, with that title and its hereditary privileges to be enjoyed by his descendants for generations to come.

His wife Chu Linlang, though a woman who had been previously married, was herself a remarkable woman in every sense. The wife of the chief minister enjoyed a life of smooth and blessed fortune, giving birth to two daughters and two sons — together forming the two characters meaning “good,” one pair of each.

As for the tales told about her — no one knew who had first composed them, but they continued to spring up in endless variety at the teahouses, told and retold with enduring delight by all who heard them…

—