In early September, the shadow of Emperor Zhenning’s grave illness fell over the nine palace gates. Throughout the capital’s various government departments, officials were arranged on duty shifts, with many bureau officials eating and sleeping within their offices. Yang Lun hadn’t returned home for half a month, and his official robes had long since become rank. When Xiao Wen brought clothes from home to his office, seeing his haggard face, she said with sympathy, “You couldn’t even spend your birthday at home. These pastries I brought today are freshly made – at least let me watch you eat some.”

Yang Lun rebuked her, “Have you no sense? Who would dare celebrate birthdays in times like these?”

After being scolded, Xiao Wen said nothing and lowered her head, tears falling.

Yang Lun felt some regret and softened his voice, “I didn’t mean anything by it – why are you crying?”

Xiao Wen said, “Mother at home only has these few days left. She keeps talking about your three siblings. Now, the Princess is imprisoned in Jiao Garden, Wan’er is in the palace, and you can’t come home. I’m the only one by Mother’s side. Although I’m extremely careful in attending to her, I’m ultimately not the one she yearns for. Seeing Mother so restless day and night, my heart…”

She raised her head and wiped away tears, “My heart just aches. I didn’t mean to show such sorrow before you.”

Hearing her words, Yang Lun felt a mixture of emotions. Constrained by being in public, he couldn’t show his feelings and could only say evenly, “Thank you for your hard work.”

Xiao Wen looked up, “How dare I speak of hard work as a daughter-in-law? You work much harder as an official outside. I can see it’s dangerous – I know I shouldn’t ask, but my lord, what exactly is happening in the capital now? Yesterday, Madam Song was taken away by the Censorate along with her husband, disheveled. Their servants were all tied up by the roadside, and treated worse than animals. I was originally going to visit her, but seeing this scene, I couldn’t help but ask, and nearly got arrested by the Censorate myself. Fortunately, their commander came at the right time and questioned it, allowing me to be released. I was terrified. My lord, I fear something might happen to you too. When you have time, please come home and stay with Mother and me for a few days.”

Though she was trying to hold back tears, her voice became increasingly choked.

Being in the office, Yang Lun couldn’t speak intimately, and could only soften his tone to comfort her, “Nothing will happen to me, I’m quite safe. If you have no urgent matters these days, don’t go out. Stay home and look after mother peacefully.”

“Yes, I won’t dare ask again.”

Xiao Wen curtsied to Yang Lun, “The Song family… was arrested for improper discussion of the crown prince succession. You…”

“I said don’t think too much. You’re a woman of the household, remember not to ask about such matters.”

“Yes…”

Xiao Wen dared not ask further. She quickly turned away to wipe her tears, gave a few more reminders about food and daily care, and then left with the household servants.

After sending Xiao Wen away, just as Yang Lun was about to walk into the ministry building, he heard someone calling his official title from behind.

“Vice Minister Yang.”

Yang Lun stopped and turned around to see Zhang Luo sitting on horseback.

Yang Lun lifted his robes and descended the steps, bowing deeply before Zhang Luo’s horse.

Zhang Luo dropped his reins and looked down, “What does the Vice Minister mean by this?”

Yang Lun straightened up, “Thank you, Deputy Commander Zhang, for releasing my wife.”

Zhang Luo dismounted, “No need, it was a mistaken arrest.”

He stepped closer to Yang Lun, “I have something to ask you today.”

“Please speak.”

Zhang Luo clasped his hands behind his back, “This matter, our Censorate does not plan to interfere, so I shouldn’t formally inquire with the Ministry of Justice.”

Hearing this, Yang Lun asked in return, “You want to ask about the Ministry’s investigation of Daoist Master Cao?”

“Yes.”

Zhang Luo continued, “Why would the Ministry of Justice choose this time to investigate people from the Qingtian Temple?”

Yang Lun was silent for a moment, “Deputy Commander Zhang, if this is an inquiry between two departments, please formally visit the Ministry of Justice.”

“This is not an inquiry.”

Zhang Luo raised his head, “This is my personal question. The last time the crown prince succession was discussed, His Majesty executed Huang Ran and imprisoned the Crown Prince. This time, though the situation made succession discussion inevitable before the cabinet could submit their memorial, the Ceremonial Office had already petitioned His Majesty to have our Censorate arrest officials privately discussing succession. For the Ministry of Justice to investigate Daoist Master Cao from Qingtian Temple at this time – as Northern Censorate Commander, I must secretly investigate whether the Ministry’s actions carry any intent to coerce the sovereign.”

Yang Lun turned and walked down the steps, “You judge according to the law, there should be no doubts. Why privately ask me?”

Zhang Luo looked into Yang Lun’s eyes and said gravely, “I fear wrongful persecution, and lie sleepless at night.”

Yang Lun started, then cupped his hands and said:

“Having heard Deputy Commander’s words, my heart is settled beyond measure. I, Yang Lun, swear on my family’s fortune that the cabinet’s actions carry no intent to coerce the sovereign. Deputy Commander may investigate secretly and report truthfully.”

Zhang Luo said, “In that case, I will order the Censorate to investigate.”

He leaped onto his horse and, restraining his mount’s hooves, said to Yang Lun, “Vice Minister Yang, having come this far in your career, have you ever had doubts?”

Yang Lun looked up, “Yes, but to this day I still do not consider retiring.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to lose to a classmate.”

Zhang Luo lowered his head, “Do you consider Deng Ying a mere career official?”

Yang Lun was silent for a moment, then asked in return, “Deputy Commander, what causes your doubts?”

Zhang Luo’s Adam’s apple moved as he answered Yang Lun directly, “Because of the two men Yang and Deng.”

After speaking these five words, he cupped his hands on horseback, “Farewell.”

With that, he raised his whip and galloped away, leaving only dust.

Before the Ministry of Finance, the vegetation showed touches of autumn yellow, and the stone steps were slick with moisture.

Yang Lun lifted his robes and walked toward the entrance, pondering the phrase “the two men Yang and Deng.” Looking at the clothes Xiao Wen had brought, he found it quite meaningful.

No matter how complex court politics became, clothes still needed changing, food still needed eating.

Yang Wan was mostly like Xiao Wen, keeping watch over the food and drink in Deng Ying’s humble quarters, concerned with his clothing and shoes. But the meaning behind her actions was different from Xiao Wen’s. She wasn’t simply indulging in the details of daily life; in matters of food and living arrangements, she infused a humanity that neither Deng Ying nor Yang Lun could articulate, yet could naturally sense.

She told Deng Ying that when she read books or worked, she needed to brew a cup of flavored water and eat her “daily nuts.” Before bed, she always had to soak her feet in hot water.

Just as she said, she was like someone who had lived past the end, turning to tell someone who wasn’t living so happily, “Look, this is how we live. Would you like to try it too?”

When she said these things, she didn’t consider herself superior.

On the contrary, she immersed various modern concepts and ideologies, as well as her own body, completely into Deng Ying’s humble fate, protecting his heart from within and his skin from without, struggling alongside him. Even covered in wounds, she could still say to him on his sickbed, “Deng Xiaoying, go ahead and court death – you have me.”

“The two men Yang and Deng,” when placed in historical textual research, was indeed an inseparable phrase.

Unfortunately, Zhang Luo only said it once and never put it to paper.

If Yang Wan could read the phrase “the two men Yang and Deng” in historical documents six hundred years later, she would surely be startled and hesitant.

However, there was no need to regret this.

Although Yang Wan didn’t yet realize how much her return to see Deng Ying six hundred years later had changed this cruel and bloody history, she had gradually lived out a modern person’s courage and attitude toward life in the Zhenning era.

When Deng Ying went to Qingtian Temple, she sat in Chengqian Palace peeling nuts and arranging dried fruits. After preparing them, she divided them in two – half to be sent to Deng Ying through Chen Hua, half left for Yi Lang.

To pray for his father’s health, Yi Lang had reduced his meals to once a day, attending to the illness in Yangxin Hall without changing his clothes. Each time he returned, his eyes were dark with exhaustion, unwilling to say much, only silently leaning against Yang Wan. When Yang Wan offered him nuts, he would take them and eat them.

“Is Your Highness very tired?”

Yi Lang shook his head and looked up at Yang Wan, “Aunt takes care of me every day, and also takes care of the Factory Official. Isn’t that very tiring?”

Yang Wan smiled and touched Yi Lang’s nose, “He’s not a Factory Official anymore.”

“Oh, then can he no longer protect Aunt in the future?”

Yang Wan hugged Yi Lang and raised her head, “Aunt doesn’t need anyone’s protection. Aunt will protect all of you.”

Yi Lang said, “Aunt, what will happen to me if Father passes away?”

Yang Wan looked at the young man in her arms. Though the lecturers in Wenhua Hall dared not explicitly tell him about the current situation in the inner court and government, he seemed to have some awareness.

Yang Wan lowered her head and asked softly, “Is Your Highness afraid?”

Yi Lang shook his head, “I’m not afraid of what might happen to me, but I fear I might implicate my teachers and uncle.”

“They won’t be implicated.”

“Why?”

“Because…”

Because in the end, only Deng Ying would die.

Yang Wan coughed and said gently, “There will be people protecting Your Highness and your teachers.”

Yi Lang scratched his head, “Who?”

Yang Wan remained silent, and Yi Lang continued asking, “Then who will protect him?”

Hearing Yi Lang’s words, Yang Wan felt a chill in her heart, and a surge of bitter emotion filled her nose. She nearly cried and had to tilt her head back to hold back tears.

“Aunt, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Your Highness needn’t worry. In this world, someone will surely protect him. Your Highness, Aunt will watch over you. Sleep now.”

“Alright.”

After speaking, Yi Lang happily curled up under the blanket. Yang Wan tucked him in and leaned against the couch to rest herself.

Unexpectedly, she truly fell asleep.

She had a terrifying dream where Deng Ying was stripped naked and tied to the execution frame at Wumen Gate. That body she treasured so dearly was exposed before countless eyes. Deng Ying closed his eyes in despair on the frame, unable to speak a word, surrounded by unbearable curses.

This was a passage from the final chapter of “The Biography of Deng Ying” that she had written herself, based on records from the Ming History and other corroborating historical documents. Yang Wan remembered that when she wrote this section, her heart felt only infinite desolation. But now, awakening from this nightmare, her heart felt as if it had been snowed upon – the down-covered grass beneath the snow was both fragile and warm.

She put on her clothes and stood up, pushing open the door to walk into the autumn courtyard.

Leaf shadows danced gracefully on the ground, and the cold autumn wind entered her sleeves, and then freely flowed out.

Yang Wan retrieved her notebook from her room and spread it across her knees under the light of the corridor lanterns. She raised her hand to firmly massage her temples, closed her eyes, and whispered to herself, “Yang Wan, fear is normal. Don’t sink into it. These are two completely different books. When a scholar takes up the pen, they must continue writing.”