Eight hundred li of Dongting — the vast and boundless Yunmeng marshlands. Within the lake there had been, since ancient times, a mountain called Junshan. In rainy weather it was wrapped in clouds and mist; in clear weather it blazed with radiant light.
The local people, every last one of them, revered the divine presence on Junshan.
After the Mu clan’s ancestors were enfeoffed in Changsha, they built a spirit hall on Junshan to enshrine the Great Emperor, and on the eastern shore of Dongting, facing Junshan from afar, they built a city called Yue City and established it as the royal capital.
Over two hundred years, through generations of successive Princes of Changsha who expanded and renovated it, the Yue City of today stretched a thousand zhang on each of its four walls, with a population of over a hundred thousand within — far less flourishing than the wealthy territories of the Central Plains, and utterly incomparable to the imperial capital of the Son of Heaven, yet the city walls were solid and towering, impregnable. Most notably, compared with the people outside who had for so many years suffered from the unceasing rebellions of various princes, the people of the Kingdom of Changsha in the remote south could be said to live peacefully, free from worry, settled and content in their lives.
On this particular morning, it was an ordinary day for the people of Changsha living within the city. Deep autumn had arrived; outside the city walls, the maple leaves burned like fire. After the city gates opened, as the sun climbed higher, the streets within gradually grew bustling with carriages and pedestrians, full of life.
When passersby approached the Mu clan royal household — the place they called the “royal palace” — located in the northern part of the city, they invariably slowed their pace, expressions reverent.
They did not know that, on this particular day, within the walls of the royal household — outwardly still dignified and calm — everything had in fact already been thrown into chaos.
Several of the Kingdom of Changsha’s important officials were gathered inside the royal household at this moment, every one of them deeply anxious.
Two days earlier, Prince of Changsha Mu Xuanqing had gone out hunting with a company of guards. The young Prince, galloping across the mountain plains, had in a moment of excitement urged his horse to break away from his attendants and ride alone. When night fell, his horse came back on its own — but Mu Xuanqing was nowhere to be found.
When the news reached the royal household, Princess Consort Lu was deeply worried and immediately summoned Yuan Handing, the adopted son of the late Chancellor, to inform him of the Prince’s disappearance during the hunt and send him with a search party to find him.
The search had not let up for a moment. From the night before last, continuing through this morning, it had already lasted a full day and two nights.
Yet there was still no trace of Mu Xuanqing.
The area where he had been hunting was a region of towering mountains, dense forests, and complex terrain. Everyone speculated that it was most likely that he had met with an accident somewhere along the way and was now lying somewhere unknown.
So much time had already elapsed.
Everyone’s face was ashen — as though mourning the death of a parent.
For them, this news was nothing short of a bolt from the clear sky, a catastrophe of enormous proportions.
The young Prince of Changsha had not yet left behind an heir who could succeed to the princely title. Should something truly happen to him, the Kingdom of Changsha might face the fate of having its title abolished entirely.
If the imperial court chose to extend its grace, the Mu clan family might continue to reside in this place going forward and retain their enfeoffment and titles, though they would lose the princely rank.
But they — the officials of the Kingdom of Changsha — their own prospects and futures would, in all likelihood, become bleak and uncertain.
A burst of urgent footsteps suddenly reached them from outside the hall.
Everyone turned their heads quickly.
A guard came rushing in.
“What news? Has General Yuan received word of the Prince?”
Chancellor Lu Lin, a paternal uncle of Princess Consort Lu by her family name, had learned of the news at the very first moment and had people temporarily seal the information to prevent it from spreading and causing unrest. He himself had kept vigil here for two nights and was anxious as an ant on a hot pan. Before the guard even entered, he strode to the doorway of the main hall and called out his urgent question.
The guard shook his head, dropped to his knees, raised both hands, presented a message tube, and announced loudly: “A messenger has arrived! He says he was dispatched by the young mistress, and carries an urgent letter to be delivered to the Princess Consort!”
Lu Lin heard that it was merely a letter arriving from the royal daughter who had been married off to Kuizhou at the beginning of the year — deeply disappointed, he had the letter brought in and sent someone to go inquire of Yuan Handing for news.
Lu Shi and Mu Xuanqing had been childhood sweethearts, and were a devoted couple who had raised one daughter together. Struck suddenly by the news of her husband’s accident, she had been consumed with anxiety day and night. The previous night, the rain had started up again, and upon learning that Yuan Handing’s search had still turned up nothing — which seemed to suggest the worst — she had been unable to hold herself up any longer and fainted. Now, eyes swollen and red, she was forcing herself to rise and go out, when a maidservant hurried in and presented a letter, saying it had been sent by the young mistress.
Lu Shi had always been on close terms with her young sister-in-law, and not knowing what she had suddenly written about, she did her best to suppress the grief and despair in her heart and opened the letter to read.
Her sister-in-law’s letter was very brief — only a few sparse lines.
The moment Lu Shi’s gaze landed on the letter, her eyes went still.
Then suddenly, her eyes blazed with light. She shot to her feet, and under the astonished gazes of the surrounding maidservants, strode quickly out — running all the way to the front hall in a single breath, and called out to Lu Lin, who was pacing in anxious circles: “Uncle! Send word to General Yuan at once! Have him go immediately to the bottom of Eagle Beak Gorge on the Western Plains to look! Xuanqing may well be there!”
Lu Lin and the several officials were momentarily stunned, looking at one another blankly, not yet able to react.
“The bottom of Eagle Beak Gorge! Why haven’t you gone yet!”
With her husband’s life at stake, the normally gentle Lu Shi was in this moment like a completely different person, and she raised her voice sharply at Lu Lin.
Lu Lin came back to himself, turned, and rushed out together with the officials.
Lu Shi’s hands trembled faintly as she clutched her sister-in-law’s letter tightly and read it through once more. Though she found it difficult to believe, the last small flame of hope that had been gradually dying within the depths of her heart was at last rekindled.
“Mother, has Father not come home yet?”
A girl’s tearful voice sounded from behind her.
Lu Shi turned her head and saw her four-year-old daughter A’Ru, crying as she ran toward her.
Behind her, several maidservants who had failed to keep watch over A’Ru came chasing after in a hurry, dropping to their knees one after another: “Your Highness, please forgive us!”
Lu Shi gathered her daughter in her arms, wiping away her tears and soothing her softly: “Don’t cry. Your father will be back very soon!”
After she had coaxed her daughter and had the maidservants take her back to her room, she herself could not possibly sit still — she called for a carriage and rushed out of the royal household, also heading toward the Western Plains.
Fu Lan arrived in Yue City several days later.
In her past life, her elder brother — the young Prince of Changsha, Mu Xuanqing — had met with this accident and lost his life during this very time, at the age of no more than twenty-two.
When he was found, he had already been lying at the bottom of that ravine, hidden by thick overgrowth, for seven or eight days. It was estimated he had slipped and fallen in, and had died from excessive blood loss.
The Kingdom of Changsha thus lost its last Prince of Changsha. Her sister-in-law and her four-year-old niece A’Ru lost forever their husband and father.
Though the Mu clan family was later shown grace by the imperial court and permitted to continue residing in Yue City, retaining the royal household and the tax revenues from Yue City, the Kingdom of Changsha was abolished from that point on. Her sister-in-law, devastated beyond recovery, passed away a few years later, following her elder brother, consumed by grief.
Fu Lan did not know whether in this present life things would unfold the same as she knew them to — nor did she know whether the messenger had arrived in time, whether her elder brother could escape the calamity.
She was consumed with anxiety, and had traveled day and night without rest, pushing the journey relentlessly. On this day she had at last entered the Kingdom of Changsha and was no more than a hundred li from Yue City.
The passersby along the road were dressed as they normally would be, and no expressions of grief showed on their faces — none of the signs of a kingdom in public mourning for their prince.
Only then did Fu Lan feel slightly at ease, and she ordered her escort to continue onward at full speed to enter the city as quickly as possible.
Around noon, still several tens of li from the city, a company of riders appeared coming toward them on the main road in the opposite direction. They gradually drew closer, and at last met up with Fu Lan’s convoy of carriages and horses.
“General Yuan!”
Fu Lan was sitting inside the carriage when she suddenly heard the household manager traveling with them call out loudly from ahead. She lifted the curtain, leaned out, and saw a party of riders approaching from the other direction — the foremost among them a young man just reaching adulthood, tall and broad-shouldered, with dark skin and a handsome, well-proportioned face and clear, bright eyes: none other than Yuan Handing, the adopted son of the late Chancellor Yuan. She quickly called out to the driver to stop the carriage, and called loudly: “Elder Brother!”
Yuan Handing was normally reserved and taciturn, but seeing Fu Lan lean out of the carriage to greet him, a smile of surprised delight spread across his face. He swiftly dismounted, strode quickly to the side of her carriage, stopped, and then with great reverence addressed her as “Young Mistress.”
“The Princess Consort said you would be coming back soon. These past few days I have been free, so I came out to look around — and to think I would truly meet you here. Was the road all right for you?”
Fu Lan nodded, then could not restrain herself and asked urgently: “And my royal brother — how has he been lately?”
She watched Yuan Handing with anxious eyes, waiting for his reply.
On that day, when Yuan Handing had led his men down into that ravine and found Mu Xuanqing, he had already been unconscious for a long time and was barely clinging to the last thread of life — fearing that telling her everything at once might frighten her, he hesitated briefly and carefully said: “Your royal brother had a bit of an accident while hunting a few days ago. But he was found in time and suffered no serious harm — these past few days he has been resting and recovering from his injuries.”
The most dreaded, most terrible thing had at last been fortunately avoided.
Events were moving in a better direction.
The weight that had hung over Fu Lan for so many days dropped all at once, her whole body loosened with relief, and she could hold back no longer — her eyes reddened, and she nearly wept.
Yuan Handing had grown up beside her and knew her feelings with great sensitivity. Seeing that she seemed about to cry, he panicked at once and hastily said: “Please don’t be afraid. Your royal brother’s injuries are truly not serious — it was only that he had lost too much blood before. Just a few more days of rest and he will be fully recovered.”
Fu Lan turned her face inward for a moment, and once her emotions had steadied somewhat, she turned back and smiled at him, nodding: “I understand. As long as nothing serious has happened, all is well. Thank you for coming to meet me, Elder Brother. Let us enter the city.”
Her face was in itself exceptionally beautiful, and at this moment with the glimmer of tears at the corners of her eyes not yet quite gone, her smile was all the more captivating.
Yuan Handing did not dare look too long, and nodded: “Very well.” He quickly turned, mounted his horse, and led the convoy ahead toward the city.
The company set off and passed through the city gates.
Most passersby recognized Yuan Handing, and seeing him leading a convoy of carriages and horses in the direction of the royal household, curious about the female passenger seemingly sitting within the carriage, many stopped to look on.
Yuan Handing had already sent word ahead to Lu Shi. Lu Shi, bringing A’Ru with her, personally came to the main gate to receive them. When the two women — aunt and sister-in-law — met, their joy was boundless, and A’Ru was even more gleeful, lifting her small face and calling out “Auntie” to Fu Lan again and again without stopping.
This return home was to Fu Lan a journey across worlds reborn. Never mind seeing Yuan Handing, her sister-in-law, and her little niece — even just now, seeing the two silent and imposing stone lions standing on either side of the royal household’s gate, she could not control the surge of emotion rising within her.
She steadied her heart, took the small hand of her little niece, and in a trance seemed to see her younger self and her aunt.
She gripped A’Ru’s small hand more tightly, followed her sister-in-law, and stepped inside.
Lu Shi had already had people prepare her quarters several days earlier — the same bedroom she had occupied before she married and left home.
Lu Shi accompanied her into the room. Fu Lan asked after her royal brother; Lu Shi said he had taken his medicine and was now sleeping, then added: “Lan’er, that day — thank heaven we received your letter in time and were able to find your elder brother. Otherwise…”
Thinking back to the events of that day, though it was already past, she still felt a lingering fear. She sent the maidservants to take her daughter out first, then gripped her young sister-in-law’s hands tightly.
“Your sister-in-law doesn’t know how to thank you adequately. Lan’er, whatever you need in the future, you need only speak. Whatever is within your elder brother’s and my power to help with, we will certainly help you.”
She was deeply moved and profoundly grateful, and as she spoke, a shimmer of tears flickered in her eyes.
Fu Lan smiled and said: “As long as my royal brother is safe, that is the greatest blessing I could ask for. I’ll go see my royal brother shortly.”
She knew her sister-in-law would certainly ask how she had come to know of this, and without waiting for her to raise the question, she took the initiative: “That I was fortunately able to be of help is also the heavenly protection of my royal brother. That day, while dreaming, I dreamed that the Great Emperor of Junshan admonished me and told me certain things, which I remembered clearly when I woke. As a precaution, I sent a letter back. Sister-in-law, if you wish to give thanks, you should thank the Great Emperor of Junshan.”
Lu Shi was filled with delighted surprise and immediately nodded: “Very well! Very well! Tomorrow I will prepare the full sacrificial offerings and go to Junshan to thank the gods!”
Fu Lan said: “I will go too.”
Lu Shi agreed, and after exchanging a few more words with her sister-in-law, asked her how Xie’s mother was to live with, and how she had been getting on.
Fu Lan gave a few vague answers.
Seeing that she seemed not particularly willing to speak of Xie household matters, Lu Shi gently urged her: “Brother-in-law setting off on the very night of your wedding to go suppress the Prince Jiangdu rebellion was indeed a hardship for you. But these years, with rebellions of princes breaking out all across the land, warfare without end, and the borders unsettled too — an urgent imperial summons was beyond his control, and he could not have refused even if he had wanted to. Please don’t hold it against him. These past few days, I have heard that Prince Jiangdu is being pressed back on all fronts — surely he will be able to bring matters to a conclusion very soon, and then you two can finally meet.”
While Lu Shi was carefully offering these gentle reassurances, a maidservant came to report that the Prince had woken up and, upon learning that his royal sister had returned, was very pleased and wished to come and see her.
Fu Lan quickly rose, and together with Lu Shi went to see her royal brother.
The members of the Mu clan all had exceptionally fine features. Mu Xuanqing in particular carried the distinctive noble bearing peculiar to those of royal blood. That day he had been chasing prey in the hunt when he had accidentally lost his footing and met with disaster; after being rescued, he had been recuperating for several days and his injuries had largely improved, though his legs were still somewhat inconvenient. When the siblings met at this moment they were overjoyed. Being reproached by his younger sister for his recklessness, he too felt somewhat frightened in retrospect and inwardly regretted his carelessness. Upon hearing her say she intended to stay on for the time being, he agreed without even a second thought.
“My sister — however long you wish to stay, you may stay! My Kingdom of Changsha will always be your home!”
……
That year, winter seemed to arrive particularly fast.
Half a month after the Mu clan woman had left, it was only the end of the tenth month, yet the weather had grown colder with each passing day — overcast and drizzly, the chill air creeping relentlessly through every gap in one’s collar. In the afternoon, Xie’s mother had eaten her meal and was feeling drowsy, and was helped off to her room to sleep. Qiuju was hiding in the outer room, cracking melon seeds, when the rough-use maidservant in the household, a girl named A’Mao, came running in with a pitter-patter of heavy footsteps.
A sound from the inner room suggested that Xie’s mother had been disturbed and had turned over in her bed.
Qiuju dropped her melon seeds and quickly got to her feet, stepping over the threshold, reaching out and grabbing A’Mao’s ear, giving it a fierce twist, then pressing her voice down low to scold her: “Do you have no ears? How many times have I told you — walk more lightly! The Old Madam is sleeping!”
“No, no!”
A’Mao had come running so hard she was gasping for breath. Even as she covered her ear with one hand, she explained: “The master of the household is back! He’s already at the gate!”
Qiuju’s grip slackened. She released her hold, then quickly ran out. She took a few steps, then hurried back, lifted the lid of the mirror box, checked her face, and used her little finger to hurriedly dab some rouge onto her lips. Then, seeing her hair was disheveled, she began frantically smoothing it down with pine resin oil.
She was tilting her head in front of the mirror when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching from outside — as though treading through water — and quickly snapped the mirror box shut, turned around, and ran out to welcome him.
In the courtyard, a figure in a rain cape was approaching.
A man — wearing a black bamboo hat and an old rain cape — as though a figure stepped out of a painting of smoke and rain, he had passed through Badong’s unbroken autumn drizzle. His feet splashing through the puddles of rainwater collected in the depressions of the courtyard, he was striding this way in large steps.
The man was tall and slender, and beneath his bamboo hat, his face was handsome with refined brows and bright, star-like eyes — if only there had been a book-boy following behind him, he would at first glance have looked just like a young scholar who had gone out to take the examinations and was only now returning home.
He stepped up onto the porch and stopped under the eaves.
Rain water dripped steadily from the edges of the bamboo hat and rain cape, falling at his feet, quickly soaking the surrounding ground.
This man was Xie Changgeng, twenty-two years old — the youngest Military Governor in the current dynasty, guarding Hexi.
He removed his bamboo hat and hung it casually on a nail in the wall, let his gaze sweep lightly over the face of Qiuju — who had just come rushing out of the room, her cheeks now flushed with color — and asked: “Where is my mother?”