Under escort by two guards, Lianhua Ye walked in silently. Catching sight of Xuanzang and Nasun seated there, she showed a flicker of delight but said nothing, moving gracefully to bow before Boni: “Greetings, Prime Minister.”

Nasun rushed over excitedly, taking her hands. “Lianhua Ye, I have finally found you! He did not give you trouble, did he?”

“No.” Lianhua Ye shook her head. “It was far better than being in the Gandhara royal palace.”

That single remark nearly brought tears to Nasun’s eyes. He knew all too well what terrible torments Lianhua Ye had endured within the Gandhara royal palace, and he immediately shot Boni a furious glare.

Wang Xuance, however, was curious. “Lianhua Ye, how did you disappear that day? They say white smoke filled the Gandhara royal palace, and then you were simply gone.”

Lianhua Ye shook her head, bewildered. “I do not know either. At the time, smoke began rising from within my body, and then I lost consciousness. When I came to, I was in the Prime Minister’s residence.”

“Hmph.” Nasun cast a sidelong glance at Boni. “It must have something to do with him all the same!”

“Lord Boni, how did you spirit Lianhua Ye away from the Gandhara royal palace that day?” Xuanzang asked.

Boni shook his head with a bitter expression. “I did not abduct her. That day, I was resting in my room. Lianhua Ye appeared before me within white smoke, lying on the ground, unconscious.”

“Nonsense.” Nasun was incensed.

Wang Xuance also gave a cold laugh. “Who could be fooled by such a tale?”

Xuanzang pondered for a long while before slowly nodding. “Such a thing is indeed beyond all reason, and yet this humble monk does not wish to pursue the details of how it happened. Lord Boni, may we speak candidly?”

Boni offered a bitter smile. “Given the Master’s standing in India, you entered my residence in full public view — I could hardly kill you and silence the matter, but at the very least I could have taken it to my grave with me.”

“Why must you be this way?” Xuanzang sighed. “Even if you say nothing, this matter can no longer be concealed.”

“Oh?” Boni scoffed. “Everyone says the Master has cultivated the Heavenly Eye, that no matter how deeply hidden a matter may be, it cannot escape your penetrating gaze — yet I, for one, do not believe it.”

“The claim that this humble monk possesses the Heavenly Eye is nothing but hearsay, and you are right not to believe it,” Xuanzang said. “However, having devoted myself to Buddhism for decades, I have come to see through all the phenomena of this world, and none of them escape the grip of a single force: desire. Starting from that point, no veil of mist can obscure the truth.”

“Hmph!” Boni replied with proud disdain. “Is that so? Then the Master may as well speak this truth aloud.”

“The truth concerns the people and events surrounding the death of Princess Yanluona,” Xuanzang said. “On that day in the Gandhara royal palace, the Persian hemp merchant had Lianhua Ye speak aloud her identity from her previous life. Once we knew that she had been Princess Yanluona in her past life, a paradox emerged.”

“What paradox?” Boni asked coldly.

“The paradox of Lianhua Ye’s cycle of rebirth,” Xuanzang said. “Lianhua Ye’s reincarnation forms a closed ring — a prison of fate. In the beginning she was doted upon by all, then she fell into life as a courtesan, then she became a queen, and finally someone would shatter her skull against the palace wall, ending her life. Her fate repeats itself in each lifetime. If Yanluona died because a palace wall collapsed on its own, then this cycle of rebirth is a fabrication. If the cycle is real, then Yanluona was murdered by a deliberate human act from outside the wall.”

Boni was silent for a long while. “Then the Master believes Princess Yanluona was murdered?”

Xuanzang sighed. “Twenty-four years have passed, and after so much time, many truths are difficult to dredge up. Since Lianhua Ye is here with us, let us ask her to tell us what happened all those years ago.”

Lianhua Ye gazed at Boni, a shadow of fear in her expression, and kept her lips pressed tightly shut.

Xuanzang looked at her with gentle warmth and said, “Lianhua Ye, this humble monk seeks the truth not out of curiosity, but in the name of justice for this world.”

“I do not want justice.” Lianhua Ye wept. “I truly cannot bear this kind of life any longer. I beg the Master’s compassion — let me go.”

Xuanzang heaved a sigh. “If the truth is not uncovered, you will not walk three steps before someone silences you again. For behind Yanluona’s death lies a far greater tragedy.”

“You mean—” Lianhua Ye recoiled in horror.

“Yes.” Xuanzang spoke gravely. “I mean Wang Zeng.”

The moment those words fell, everyone in the room was shaken. Even Boni began to tremble. He roared at all the guards, driving them out of the room, then fixed Xuanzang with bloodshot eyes. Xuanzang sat still, eyes cast downward, fingers moving along his prayer beads.

“Very well, I will speak.” Lianhua Ye drew a deep breath, her thoughts sinking back into the turbulent years more than two decades past.

“When I think of Wang Zeng now, that tender love still feels as vivid as yesterday,” she murmured. “I had no wish to be the queen of the Su Pi Kingdom, nor did I want to be the queen of any realm. I only wished to find one devoted and faithful love — someone who would be at my side like the passage of time, breathing with me, never forsaking me until death. When I met Wang Zeng, I believed I had found that person. I endured the contempt of the entire Tanyisha nation to remain at his side. Even if I could not be his queen, merely being a handmaiden would have been enough. But he was too devoted — in this life, he wished to love only me. He wanted me as his lawful wife, that I might share in his honor, his glory, and everything this world allowed him to give me. Yet after only a year of happiness, he went on campaign against Malava and was lured to his death by King Shashanka.”

Everyone listened quietly, no one interrupting. Lianhua Ye recalled it in silence, her gaze adrift, tears flowing down her cheeks. “When news of his death arrived, I knew my life was over. I built a pyre in front of the hall, intending to set myself ablaze and follow him. Yet somehow, in my heart, I heard Wang Zeng calling out — he did not want me to die. He wanted me to live and see his killers pay their blood debt. So I sought out the newly enthroned Xizeng and told him I wished to bring the news of King Shashanka’s guilt to his brother. Xizeng agreed. After ascending the throne, he immediately dispatched forces to Kanyakubja, defeated King Shashanka, and successfully rescued Rajyashri. Afterward, Xizeng and Rajyashri jointly governed the Maukhari Kingdom, and after several more years, Xizeng merged Tanyisha and the Maukhari Kingdom, establishing the Harsha Empire. Yet I kept waiting for him to launch another campaign against Shashanka. I had shaved my head and waited in cold and deserted palace halls, waiting and waiting…

“Many years later, Xizeng completed the unification of the three kingdoms internally and forged an alliance with King Kumara externally, and only then moved against Shashanka. They engaged in battle at the city of Benna, ultimately defeating King Shashanka. Yet Xizeng spared Shashanka’s life, merely imprisoning him in the city before withdrawing his army to return home. I was furious. I went to the royal palace to confront him and told him that I had dreamed of Wang Zeng — that Wang Zeng said Xizeng had done him wrong.” Lianhua Ye spoke in a distant voice. “At the time, Xizeng explained many things to me — that he needed Shashanka to maintain the stability of the Gauda Kingdom. But I did not forgive him, and I left the palace. At the time, the palace walls had been soaked by the rainy season and were under repair. As I walked beneath one such wall, it suddenly collapsed and came down upon me, crushing me to a pulp. When I came to once more, I found myself among the royal family of the Su Pi Kingdom, reborn as a three-year-old girl, with all memories of the past like a dream dissolved.”

Everyone listened to Lianhua Ye’s account in somber silence.

Boni suddenly burst into laughter. “Master, you now have your answer about the truth of Princess Yanluona’s death, do you not? This has nothing to do with me!”

Xuanzang looked at him with compassion. “The truth of Yanluona’s death is something this humble monk cannot investigate, for who in this world would bother to keep a record of someone so wretched as her? But the death of Wang Zeng is clearly documented.” Xuanzang had Nasun bring out the Biography of King Harsha and six bronze plaques. “Twenty-one years ago, shortly after King Harsha defeated King Shashanka, the court poet Bana was commissioned to write the Biography of King Harsha. In it, he wrote: ‘Wang Zeng, though he had with ease defeated the Malava army, fell into Shashanka’s trap. Fully trusting, he laid down his arms and met with misfortune alone in his own quarters.'”

Xuanzang recited the passage in Sanskrit. Bana was a celebrated poet of the Harsha Empire, whose writing was beautiful and melodious, and Xuanzang read it with rising and falling cadence. “This humble monk has long been puzzled. Wang Zeng had just achieved victory and was living in a camp guarded by tens of thousands of cavalry — how could he have fallen into Shashanka’s trap and died in his own quarters? Eleven years later, King Harsha cast six bronze plaques bearing inscriptions that recorded: ‘Wang Zeng vanquished his enemies, winning the love of the earth and its people. By reason of his noble vow, in the enemy’s camp, he surrendered his life.’ Lord Boni, you accompanied Wang Zeng on that campaign. This humble monk must ask — where exactly did Wang Zeng die?”

Boni’s face had gone deathly pale. He said nothing, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

“When this humble monk arrived in India, King Harsha had already unified the subcontinent, his achievements radiant and splendid. The process of his early reign this humble monk did not witness firsthand, and could only follow through the songs of wandering bards and the documents issued by the empire, marveling at that glory from afar. And yet, both being favored ministers — why did Bana hold you in such extreme contempt? You accompanied Wang Zeng in the campaign against Malava, and yet Bana in the Biography of King Harsha launches into a torrent of condemnation against you, writing that you seemed, by abandoning your master and living on in shame, to conceal your guilt and disgrace behind a veil of tears. Bana accompanied you all on that campaign, and after Wang Zeng’s death, Bana recorded: ‘Boni’s four limbs had gone weak and powerless, and he cowered in shame — like a criminal, like a murderer, like a traitor.’ This humble monk must ask: you are a Prime Minister of great standing — why were you unable to prevent a work so contemptuous of you as the Biography of King Harsha from being promulgated and circulated? What is the true reason?”

“Master, the truth has been buried for thirty-six years. Why must you bring it back into the light of day?” Boni suddenly gave a wretched laugh. “Is this truly for the better?”

Before the words had finished falling, Boni abruptly drew his sword and slashed it across his own throat. Blood sprayed outward, and Boni’s body collapsed to the floor.

King Harsha, upon receiving the terrible news, felt as if his heart and liver would shatter with the shock. Boni was his cousin and also an adopted son taken in by his father; the two had shared a close bond from childhood, knowing each other for over forty years. He had never imagined that in a single day Boni would be suddenly dead. Xuanzang sent someone to convey this news, and Harsha, not yet knowing the specifics, hurried at once to Boni’s residence.

Boni’s residence was already filled with the sound of weeping from every corner. King Harsha walked into the hall with an ashen face. Boni’s body lay on the carpet, covered with a white cloth. Only Xuanzang was in the hall, seated silently on a traveler’s couch, chanting sutras in a low murmur.

King Harsha trembled as he lifted the white cloth, revealing the flow of blood from Boni’s throat.

“He took his own life,” Xuanzang said quietly.

“Why has it come to this!” King Harsha cried out, his eyes red.

“Because this humble monk uncovered an affair from thirty-six years ago,” Xuanzang said somberly, and proceeded to recount the confrontation with Boni and his own deductions.

King Harsha was stunned. “You are saying Boni killed Our royal brother?”

Xuanzang shook his head. “This humble monk did not say Wang Zeng was killed by Boni.”

“Then why did he die?” King Harsha demanded.

“Because he wished to conceal someone else’s crime,” Xuanzang said.

King Harsha stood frozen, his complexion growing ever paler, cold sweat on his brow, his eyes holding both fury and sorrow and fear.

“Whose crime was he concealing?” King Harsha asked, his voice hoarse.

Xuanzang glanced at him. “In this world, the only person for whom Boni would give his own life as protection — does Your Majesty truly not know who that is?”

King Harsha looked sorrowfully at Boni’s body and murmured, “Is the Master accusing Us of fratricide?”

“The one accusing you of fratricide is not this humble monk, but Bana. He buried the secret in the Biography of King Harsha — a work that you yourself reviewed and promulgated throughout the realm,” Xuanzang said.

King Harsha was taken aback. “Impossible! We have read the Biography of King Harsha many times — there is nothing of the sort.” He protested, “Bana and Boni were long at odds with each other. Those few lines mean that Boni failed in his duty to protect Wang Zeng — that he let Wang Zeng go alone to Shashanka’s camp, where he met his end. As for the camp where Wang Zeng died, that was Bana’s error. After all, though Bana accompanied Wang Zeng on the campaign, he did not personally witness the scene of Wang Zeng’s killing.”

“If Bana made an error, did you make an error as well?” Xuanzang said coldly. “You reviewed the Biography of King Harsha at the time — how did you not notice this mistake? And if you did not notice it then, why did you, eleven years later, cast new bronze plaques that changed the location of Wang Zeng’s death?”

King Harsha was silenced. “And yet none of this can prove that Bana was accusing me of killing my brother!”

“There is one more passage in the Biography of King Harsha that mentions you,” Xuanzang recited. “‘Xizeng sought to wipe away the sin of killing the brahmin, just as Lord Indra sought to wipe away the sin of killing the brahmin.'”

“That passage exists,” King Harsha said glumly. “But what does it prove? We have killed many brahmins.”

Xuanzang looked at him with compassion. “Your Majesty, in Bana’s homeland, the word ‘brahmin’ carries a double meaning. Its other meaning is: elder brother. And in the mythology of Brahma, Indra also killed his elder brother Vishvarupa.”

King Harsha stared at Xuanzang, dumbstruck, unable to utter a single word.

“You… have you ever spoken these words to anyone?” King Harsha asked, his spirit shattered.

“This humble monk has not spoken of it to anyone. Only I know,” Xuanzang said. “If Your Majesty wishes to have this humble monk killed, a single command will make this secret vanish from the world forever.”

King Harsha gave a wretched smile. “Even if the Master’s mouth can be silenced, can the mouths of all the gods and buddhas of heaven be silenced? That Bana — We nourished him his entire life, and yet he treats Us this way!”

“Whatever deeds a person commits, whether good or evil, are inscribed upon the fabric of heaven and earth,” Xuanzang said. “No matter how one papers over misdeeds and adorns them with fine words, it is like an insect raising its arms to stop a rolling wheel.”

“Fifteen years ago, the Emperor of Our Great Tang also committed a grave evil deed. At the time, his elder brother was the Crown Prince, but in establishing the Tang dynasty, it was he who had contributed the most — and so he gradually came into conflict with the Crown Prince. To seize the throne, both sides locked in direct opposition, a mortal struggle. The Great Tang Emperor struck first, leading troops to ambush his elder brother and younger brother at Xuanwu Gate, personally shooting his elder brother dead, then forcing his father to abdicate and yield the throne to him. He subsequently had the relatives of his elder brother and younger brother killed down to the last one. Our kingdom’s court historians recorded this event faithfully with their brushes. The Emperor plotted for a long time to alter the Veritable Records and falsify history, yet the loyal ministers serving him firmly refused. For in this world, beyond wealth and glory, there is also moral conscience. Your Majesty, Bana was loyal to you — but he was even more loyal to moral conscience.”

King Harsha sank into deep thought. “I have heard that your Great Tang Emperor took up arms against tyranny at eighteen. I took to the battlefield at sixteen. The Great Tang Emperor launched a coup and killed his elder and younger brothers to become Emperor — I need say nothing of what I did. After ascending the throne, the Great Tang Emperor swept through the realm; I fought for six years, subjugating dozens of kingdoms and founding the Harsha Empire. And yet now, we are both tormented by the sins of our past. Why are the two of us so alike? Master, is this perhaps the original sin of being a sovereign?”

“This is not the original sin of being a sovereign, but the original sin of desire,” Xuanzang said. “Take the Xuanwu Gate incident — it has always been a thorn in the Great Tang Emperor’s heart. He believes that if he can pull out that thorn, the pain will be gone. I wonder what Your Majesty makes of that?”

King Harsha said nothing for a long while. Silently he walked to the doorway of the hall and gazed out at the darkened grove beyond the courtyard. All around him, the wind moved through the trees, and the natural world filled the night with the sound of insects. Above, the cosmos stretched boundlessly — and under these ancient stars along the Ganges, he suddenly felt himself so very small, so very solitary, so utterly without support. Though tens of thousands of iron cavalry were encamped within his royal city, ready at a single command to shatter mountains and rivers, to destroy cities and grind into dust every enemy that stood in the way — the moment he thought of Wang Zeng’s blood, that soul-deep dread and trembling would return and could never be fully shaken away.

“Thirty-six years. We always believed We had forgotten Wang Zeng’s blood — and yet it remains this vivid.” King Harsha slowly let tears fall. “How did the Master detect the flaw?”

“Because of Yanluona,” Xuanzang explained. “If each of Lianhua Ye’s fated cycles repeats itself, then Yanluona must have died at human hands, not by accident. And if there was a murderer — who would it be? At the time, reading the Biography of King Harsha, this humble monk did not think deeply on the matter. And the bronze plaque inscriptions you later issued — even though the location of Wang Zeng’s death was contradictory, I attributed it to confused records. But once I grew suspicious of Yanluona’s death, tracing the reasoning downward was not difficult. It is a pity — Boni, in order to protect you, first killed old Huocha, then attempted to assassinate this humble monk, wishing to take this sin onto his own shoulders. But could he truly bear it?”

King Harsha stayed silent, looking at Boni’s body, overcome with grief.

“Your Majesty, in the Battle of Benna, you plainly defeated King Shashanka — you even entered his royal city. Why did you spare him? When Yanluona came to confront you at the time, there were things you could not answer, were there not?”

King Harsha acknowledged it. “That is correct. Wang Zeng did indeed die in his own tent. I announced that he had been killed by Shashanka. Naturally, Shashanka knew he himself had not done it. That old man was shrewd — with the slightest reasoning, he could arrive at the truth of Wang Zeng’s death. On that day when I invaded the Gauda Kingdom and carried out a great slaughter, I frightened Shashanka thoroughly. He came personally to see me and said that if I would allow him to keep his throne, he would confess to being the one who killed Wang Zeng. I had already fully occupied the Gauda Kingdom — what did a paltry throne matter? But what I had not expected was that upon returning to Kanyakubja, Yanluona sought me out. She said that in the night Wang Zeng had come to her in a dream, saying I had wronged him. I feared she had learned the truth of how Wang Zeng had died. So when she was passing beneath a palace wall, I ordered men to topple the wall, crushing her to death beneath it. Afterward I used the pretext that the laborers were responsible for Yanluona’s death, and had them thrown into the Ganges.”

“Can it truly be that in the eyes of a sovereign, human lives are as worthless as grass?” Xuanzang sighed. “In truth, you need never have incurred this blood guilt — Yanluona went to her death never knowing it was you who killed her. She believed to the end that Shashanka was the one who had killed Wang Zeng. In her view, you had wronged Wang Zeng because you had let Shashanka go free.”

King Harsha stood rigid as wood, and after a long while said bitterly, “So that was it. When it came to killing a few people of no great consequence, I truly did not wish to expend much thought, and so blunder upon blunder. At the time I never even considered concealing it — if it could be hidden, I hid it; if not, so be it. I never thought it would cause anyone to suspect Wang Zeng’s death.”

Xuanzang spoke sternly. “Your Majesty, all living beings are equal. In the eyes of the Buddha above and of this humble monk, killing Wang Zeng is no different from killing the laborers.”

King Harsha also grew agitated. “Who in this world does not incur blood guilt? Since your Buddhist teaching holds that all things are determined by the cycle of rebirth, was what passed between me and Wang Zeng not then the result of karmic bonds from a previous life? In those days, our father had only two princes — Wang Zeng devoted himself to battlefield glory, while I devoted myself to drama and poetry, and originally had no covetous desire for the throne whatsoever. But our father fell suddenly ill and died. I reached the capital first, and the ministers put me forward to serve as acting regent. Master, you are a monk — you do not understand the cravings and schemes of the human world. The moment I stepped into the position of regent, virtually all the ministers and nobles placed their bets on me. Wang Zeng had incurred the contempt of the ministers by marrying a courtesan. Moreover, since I was young at the time, the ministers all felt that a young ruler was easier to manipulate — supporting a young sovereign would yield far greater advantage than supporting a battle-hardened, dominant ruler. Everyone was tempting me and urging me to compete for the throne. Yet when Wang Zeng returned, I yielded the imperial seat to him without a second word — why? Because he was my own elder brother! We had been close from childhood — how could I bring myself to seize my brother’s position? At the time, my brother also sensed the shift in loyalties within the kingdom; he repeatedly declined and wanted to enter the forest to practice austerities, and it was only under my threat of taking my own life that he finally agreed to ascend the throne. Master, I ask you — could the Great Tang Emperor have done the same? Between those brothers, was there ever a moment’s yielding when it came to the imperial seat?”

Xuanzang held his silence. Between Li Shimin and Li Jiancheng, even the earliest warmth between brothers had never truly existed.

“And yet this is how politics operates — utterly without humanity, Master!” King Harsha wept bitterly. “After Wang Zeng ascended the throne, his contempt for those ministers grew day by day, and the ministers, fearing his retribution, brought many people to counsel me — people who were bound to me by countless strands of kinship and friendship. Boni, for instance, was my cousin and also an adopted son taken in by our father; from childhood he was to me like a father and elder brother. I was only sixteen at the time. Day after day, they whispered slanders against Wang Zeng into my ears, poisoning the bond between me and my brother, and using the allure of sovereign power to tempt me. When Wang Zeng led his forces on campaign against Malava and put me in charge of the regency once more — Master, I truly came to know that feeling of holding absolute power, of having every word spoken cause the heavens themselves to tremble and the great rivers to run dry. Countless people trembled before you; countless people spent their entire lives pondering only how to please you; countless gifted poets wracked their minds to compose verses in your praise. Master, I was truly drunk on it — drunk. I could not imagine what it would be like when Wang Zeng returned victorious and took all of this away. I truly did not want to lose it. Master — am I a thoroughly irredeemable villain? Was my fate in this life not arranged by the cycle of rebirth? If there is true evil here, then the evil one is the heavenly way that governs this cycle! It was this heavenly way that arranged this inhuman murder! It was this heavenly way that turned a youth devoted to literature, pure and guileless, into the killer of his own kin! It was this heavenly way that gradually tainted the bond between brothers, transforming gentle love into murderous intent! Why does it trample upon the beautiful feelings between people? Why must it fill this world of suffering with tragedy? Master — this heavenly way is more cold-blooded, more merciless, more cruel than we human beings could ever be!”

“This humble monk cannot pass judgment on the heavenly way and the cycle of rebirth,” Xuanzang sighed. “I can only say: though this life is predestined, it is not entirely beyond our resistance. The three afflictions of greed, hatred, and delusion exist within the rivers, mountains, grasses, air, and all living beings of this world. If you cultivate yourself, the three afflictions cannot govern your life. If you abandon yourself to an unruly mind, you will naturally be governed by the heavenly way and its cycle of rebirth, and fall into the fate that has been arranged for you.”

“Hah!” King Harsha silently wiped his eyes and shook his head. “I loved literature from childhood precisely for its unbounded freedom, for the heady exhilaration of a galloping imagination, for the tangled emotions of love and hatred in the human world. To ask me to relinquish all desire merely to escape destiny — what would be the point of coming into this world at all?”

Xuanzang could only shake his head.

King Harsha gathered himself. “Very well, Master. You have laid bare this matter before Us today — what is your intent? Surely you also understand that knowing a sovereign’s secret is a matter of uncertain fortune. You have taken a great risk to expose Our secret. What do you wish to use it to demand? Speak, and We shall satisfy you.”

“This humble monk wishes to demand nothing,” Xuanzang shook his head. “Lianhua Ye’s previous life was entangled in this affair, and if it is not thoroughly investigated, she will face danger wherever she goes. This humble monk begs Your Majesty to allow Lianhua Ye and Nasun to depart safely and live out their days in peace.”

“What?” King Harsha’s mouth fell open in astonishment. “You… you took such a great risk, exposed a world-shaking secret, affronted a sovereign — all of it… all of it was for the sake of letting two people of no great consequence live?”

“Yes.” Xuanzang nodded, then shook his head. “They are not of no great consequence. I beg Your Majesty to spare them. You said yourself that the you of former days was once a guileless youth devoted to literature and poetry — that it was one scheme upon another, one temptation after another, that drove you to the point of murdering your own kin. But is this truly where the doing of evil ends? It is not, Your Majesty. As long as desire remains, as long as schemes remain, you will sink deeper and deeper, step by step, until finally you look back upon yourself and see nothing but filth — unable to raise your eyes to the stars above, unable to lower them to the firm earth beneath your feet. I beg Your Majesty to take pity on the difficulty of all living beings in this world, and to create no more slaughter.”

“If We refuse?” King Harsha asked. “Will the Master expose Us?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” Xuanzang said. “In truth, it matters little what this humble monk does. What matters is that Your Majesty is past fifty — it is time to consider how you will face your brother when you meet him beneath the earth.”

At last King Harsha’s expression changed. The warm breeze seemed suddenly to grow cold. His body trembled. The sovereign air of one who looks down upon all heaven and earth had long since left his face. He slowly raised his own hand, and it seemed as though upon it still clung the blood of thirty-five years past, its stench impossible to dispel.

“We grant them their pardon,” King Harsha said, deep in fear. “For this affair, even Boni has died. We have already lost more than enough.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Xuanzang offered solemn gratitude. “Since Your Majesty has spared them both, this humble monk shall return Lord Boni to you.”

King Harsha froze. Xuanzang pointed at Boni’s body. “He is still alive. At the time, he had only cut through a shallow layer before my disciple stopped him. Then, in order to summon you here, he was rendered unconscious afterward.”

King Harsha was overcome with shock and joy. His bond with Boni was genuine and deep. He immediately threw back the white cloth, took Boni in his arms, and called out to him over and over. Boni slowly regained consciousness. King Harsha held him tightly, his sobs spilling freely.

Xuanzang quietly took his leave of the hall. Wang Xuance slipped out from nearby.

“Master…” Wang Xuance seemed to want to say something but held back.

“You heard everything?” Xuanzang asked.

Wang Xuance nodded in silence.

“This matter — from this day forward, the two of us shall keep our lips sealed,” Xuanzang sighed.

Wang Xuance said, “Master did not intend to use this to leverage him?”

“Why is it that he felt no fear when he killed millions, yet has feared the killing of a single Wang Zeng for thirty-five years?” Xuanzang asked.

“Because Wang Zeng was his elder brother,” Wang Xuance said.

“Why does a person feel no remorse when killing a stranger, yet carry the guilt of killing an elder brother for a lifetime?” Xuanzang asked again.

Wang Xuance was at a loss for words and did not know how to answer. Was this even a question?

“Because this is the prohibition and commandment within the heart of every living being!” Xuanzang gave a quiet sigh. “And so the one who can truly leverage him is not this humble monk — it is the commandment within his own heart.”

Five years later, Xuanzang and his disciple Bianji completed the Great Tang Records on the Western Regions. For the passage concerning Wang Zeng’s death, Xuanzang recorded: “(King Shashanka) thereupon enticed (Wang Zeng), summoned him to a meeting, and there harmed him.”

The single word “meeting” buried the truth even more deeply than Bana’s “brahmin” and “elder brother” — and left all the more room for the imagination.