Outside the city of Kanauj, Brahmadita Village.

The Brahmadita Village of today had become the kingdom of Tirabhukti. On the hillside at the edge of the village, palace walls eighteen feet high had risen up, completely encircling what had once been a royal traveling palace. No bird could cross them, no monkey could climb them. At the four corners of the high walls stood watchtowers, and the kingdom of Tirabhukti each year called up in rotation thirty guards from the villages to stand watch at the towers and the gates. These guards were also the sole military force of Tirabhukti.

It was said that the King of Tirabhukti had issued decree after decree that the watch must be maintained day and night without interruption, that no one must be allowed to approach the walls, and that at night patrols must circle the walls without ceasing. Every evening after dinner, the King of Tirabhukti personally set out with his sword to inspect the perimeter, walking a full circuit of the walls before returning to the palace to keep his queen company; and even during the day, the King of Tirabhukti would personally stand watch at the gate. The villagers of Brahmadita found this very puzzling — Tirabhukti had been personally enfeoffed by King Harsha and stood right outside Kanauj; who would be so blind as to come and provoke trouble? Why was the King of Tirabhukti so cautious and careful? Everyone speculated, but no one knew the truth.

On this day, coinciding with the collection of rents and taxes, the villagers of Brahmadita witnessed it for themselves: the King of Tirabhukti was indeed at the gate, personally interrogating every person who entered to pay their taxes.

Three years had passed, and Na Shun was now twenty years old — more mature, more steady, and even his bearing and movements had acquired an air of authority. Though the kingdom of Tirabhukti had only four or five hundred households, he was after all a full-fledged Samanta, having entered the rank of kings surrounding King Harsha.

Na Shun, dressed in royal robes, his crown upon his head, a longsword at his waist, accompanied by a few palace guards, sat personally at the gate to verify those who came to pay their taxes.

“Your Majesty the King,” an old woman said, holding a basket of eggs and pleading, “this year the garden did not yield well and could not be exchanged for silver coins. Could the taxes I owe you be offset by this basket of eggs?”

“Hmm.” Na Shun took an egg from the basket and turned it over, examining it. “These eggs are large and full. The Queen has been feeling weak lately — just the thing to nourish her. Granted.”

The old woman was overjoyed.

A fisherman shouldered two loads of fish: “Your Majesty, would it do if I paid my taxes with these two loads of fish?”

“Are they fresh fish?” Na Shun asked.

“Fresh fish,” the fisherman said. “This very morning, just caught from the Ganges. If you make fish broth for the Queen Consort to drink, it is guaranteed she will never fall ill, stay healthy and strong, and live a hundred years.”

“Well said, well said!” Na Shun smiled with delight. “Granted. Bring them in quickly!”

The palace guards at his side all grinned broadly, while the villagers were privately pleased. After more than three years together, they had discovered that their lord was actually a simpleton — very easy to handle. His devotion to the Queen Consort, in particular, knew absolutely no bounds. Put simply, the internal and external policy of this kingdom rested on a single principle: whether or not the Queen Consort was happy.

Once these crafty villagers had discovered this, they possessed what amounted to a surefire weapon against the king. When paying taxes, for instance, they needed only to bring a few eggs, haul in a net of fish, or even go up the mountain to catch a wild pheasant, and as long as they said with a honeyed tongue that these things would greatly nourish the Queen Consort’s health, or that the Queen Consort would be very pleased to see them, His Majesty the King would graciously accept whatever they offered. With tax-paying made so easy, the villagers of Brahmadita had lived these past years like immortals enjoying a carefree paradise.

“Your Majesty…” An even craftier fellow had simply yanked a handful of wildflowers from the hillside. “I spent an entire year finding these flowers. If you plant them in the palace, the Queen Consort will sleep more peacefully when she smells them, and her mind will be at peace!”

“Really?” Na Shun eagerly took the flowers and turned them back and forth. The surrounding villagers were silently cursing — this fellow was truly shameless; we at least brought eggs and fresh fish, and he went and plucked weeds from the roadside!

Just then, a stout woman came running out from within the palace, her face full of alarm: “Your Majesty the King — the Queen Consort has fainted! The Queen Consort has fainted —”

Na Shun was greatly startled. He dropped the wildflowers in his hand and broke into a run toward the palace, crying out: “Close the palace gates! Put the whole kingdom on alert!”

The guards at the gate immediately drove away the villagers who had come to pay taxes and shut the palace gates fast. Though putting the entire kingdom on alert was quite impossible — the entire national army was only thirty men, barely enough to hold down a few road junctions.

The current palace had been remodeled from King Harsha’s traveling palace; though grand in scale, it was somewhat run-down. Na Shun had spent all his money building the perimeter walls and had none left for renovations, so he had tidied things up simply, leaving the basic layout as it was. He ran frantically into the Queen Consort’s bedchamber to find, amid the busy ministrations of two or three serving women, Lianhua Ye lying on the couch, already awake, her face somewhat pale — but her spirits still good.

“Lianhua Ye!” Na Shun was almost in tears. He threw himself to her side, flustering and fussing over her face, calling out: “What happened? Don’t frighten me!”

Lianhua Ye smiled tenderly, stroking his head, but caught her hand on his crown; Na Shun hurriedly pulled off the crown and tossed it to one side.

“Silly — I’m fine,” Lianhua Ye said. Her face was aglow with happiness. “I’m pregnant!”

“Ah?” Na Shun was dazed. “Preg… pregnant?”

“Yes! We’re going to have our own child!” Lianhua Ye said.

The serving women all offered congratulations in unison. Na Shun stood there blankly, as if not quite grasping the situation: “I’m going to have a child? Lianhua Ye and I are going to have a child… Ha… ha…” He made some gurgling sounds in his throat, then threw his arms around Lianhua Ye and burst out laughing, laughing until he toppled over onto the couch.

The serving women exchanged glances — they had never seen His Majesty the King so overjoyed.

After laughing for a moment, Na Shun buried his face against Lianhua Ye’s and began to sob softly: “Lianhua Ye — we’re going to have a child!”

Lianhua Ye’s eyes also brimmed with tears. She wrapped her arms around him in return, let out a quiet sigh, and closed her eyes.

“How many months along is it?” Na Shun asked, gently stroking Lianhua Ye’s belly.

“They say three months,” Lianhua Ye said.

“Three months?” Na Shun stared wide-eyed. “Three months gone and only just found out now?”

“I’ve never been pregnant before,” Lianhua Ye said, sounding a little wronged. “The vomiting, the fatigue — I thought I was just unwell.”

Na Shun suddenly froze: “Right — you’ve never been pregnant before. In thirty-three lifetimes, you were never once pregnant. And yet you are pregnant in this lifetime. Do you know what that means? It means we have broken the cycle of reincarnation! Lianhua Ye — we have broken the cycle of reincarnation!”

Lianhua Ye looked at him with worry, a sudden chill running through her body. She knew that Na Shun had still not woken up — he was still immersed in a false fate. This filled her with a kind of sadness. But then she thought again — what did it matter? To live in clarity yet spend one’s days in misery, or to live in illusion yet cherish these days of happiness? What was truly the difference?

“Yes, Na Shun,” Lianhua Ye said tenderly. “We have broken the cycle of reincarnation!”

The four serving women exchanged glances, tiptoed out, unwilling to disturb the happiness of their king and queen.

One of the serving women, after leaving the palace, went straight to the gate and said: “Open the gate — I need to go to the village to fetch medicine for the Queen Consort.”

The guards knew the Queen Consort had fainted, and dared not be negligent. They quickly opened the gate, and the serving woman hurried out.

The city of Kanauj. The royal palace.

That winter, King Harsha had grown fond of the sun. He could barely walk anymore and was often supported by attendants, or sat in a camp couch wrapped in a fox-fur greatcoat, gazing at the setting sun in the west from within the palace grounds. Sometimes he would look back on his life — that King Harsha who had taken the throne at sixteen, who had not let his armies rest or his war-elephants unsaddle — and the memory still felt so vivid.

He wanted to live on. This feeling grew ever stronger as he aged. He had no son; his elder brother had no son either. With his decline, the empire had begun to show signs of instability. If he died, would the empire shatter? Could the empire that the Vardhana family had fought for over generations come to an end in his hands? He dared not think of it.

He must go on living. He must live forever, immortal, holding this empire forever. He would continue to fulfill his unfulfilled ambitions — conquer southern India, cross the Indus River, and revive the most glorious era of the Maurya Empire!

Gazing at the thinning sunset, King Harsha made up his mind: “Go — summon the Chancellor and Posomi.”

The Chancellor’s residence was close to the palace. Before long, Vani arrived first, and not long after, Posomi rode in on a white elephant. Over these years, King Harsha’s trust in Posomi had grown ever greater; he had granted Posomi the privilege of riding an elephant into the palace — a privilege even the Chancellor Vani did not possess.

The two of them paid their respects to King Harsha together.

King Harsha said: “We have just received intelligence from Brahmadita. Lianhua Ye is pregnant.”

Posomi clasped his hands together: “Congratulations, Your Majesty. Felicitations, Your Majesty.”

Vani’s expression, however, showed something of unease. He let out a quiet sigh and said nothing.

“I hear she has been pregnant for three months already — which means my Great Medicine of the Human World is complete?” King Harsha said with no small sorrow. “Now that the Great Medicine is finished, I myself am nearing death. But I do not know whether this medicine of immortality will truly allow me to live on.”

“Your Majesty need not be troubled,” Posomi said. “This Great Medicine of the Human World has been cultivated in the human world for thirty years, and has now come to flower and fruit. Your Majesty should be glad.”

Vani at last could no longer contain himself and reproached Posomi: “If this medicine of immortality of yours turns out to have no effect, what then? Would we not have ruined Your Majesty’s life for nothing?”

“My Great Medicine cannot possibly fail,” Posomi said coldly. “What is immortality? He who shatters the cycle of reincarnation attains immortality. Lianhua Ye and Na Shun have passed through thirty-three lives of reincarnation — within their bodies, that which does not die has long since been nurtured. As they can clearly recall each of their thirty-three past lives, they have shattered the cycle of reincarnation. Your Majesty, in seizing their essence, will naturally obtain the medicine of undying!”

“Vani — do not blame the Venerable One,” King Harsha urged his cousin. “In any case, I have not long to live. It is nothing more than a case of trying whatever remedy remains for a dying man. If there is truly even the slightest chance of immortality — would that not be a gain?”

Vani had no choice but to hold his tongue.

“What is immortality? First die — then live!” Posomi said. “Your Majesty, set your mind at rest. I have calculated everything carefully in advance; there will be no error.”

“Someone come,” King Harsha hesitated no longer, and gave the order: “Issue a decree. Send ten palace physicians, ten midwives, thirty handmaidens, gold, jewels, and all necessary items, as gifts to the King of Tirabhukti.”

When Na Shun received King Harsha’s gifts, he was greatly surprised. He was a muddled king at the best of times; as a petty Samanta, he was expected to pay taxes and tribute to his great Samanta overlord, yet he himself could not even figure out how to collect his own taxes — much less pay tribute to King Harsha. The result was that over three years, he had not remitted a single coin of tribute to King Harsha. Though King Harsha had not made an issue of it, Na Shun was also not foolish enough to think that King Harsha needed to send him gifts.

Na Shun asked his tax officer and then understood that he owed King Harsha tribute. He thought for a moment, then sent back eggs and fish and the like as return gifts to King Harsha — the wildflowers he certainly did not part with, planting them in Lianhua Ye’s bedroom instead.

After these physicians, midwives, and handmaidens arrived, the palace began to feel crowded. And with more people present, Na Shun grew even more anxious, pacing back and forth at the gate with his sword day after day. Time passed quickly; in the blink of an eye, Lianhua Ye was seven months along, with only a little more than two months to go before the birth. King Harsha at last could not sit still, and set out with Vani to pay a visit.

King Harsha’s health had grown even more feeble. The king who had once been like a lion could now barely manage a single step up a stair, needing to be carried up in a litter. Na Shun personally went outside the city to meet him. Four years had passed since their last meeting, and Na Shun could see that King Harsha’s hair had gone entirely gray and white, his face haggard and worn, like an old man on the verge of death.

“Na Shun — how have you been living here these years?” King Harsha said gently.

“Quite well,” Na Shun said with a smile. “The villagers often bring me eggs and fresh fish. Sometimes there is fresh game as well — rubbed with honey and roasted for Lianhua Ye to eat; she always loves it.”

“Good, good,” King Harsha said. “A few days ago, the mission We sent to Great Tang returned. They brought news of the Venerable Xuanzang — would you like to hear it?”

“Is that true?” Na Shun was overjoyed. “How is my dharma-brother faring?”

“When Our mission arrived in Chang’an, he had not yet returned to the country. Afterward, We had people make inquiries and learned that he had stopped in Khotan. By the time the mission returned to our country, the Emperor of Great Tang had already sent people to Khotan to receive him — I imagine by now he has reached Chang’an,” King Harsha said.

“When will I be able to go to Chang’an and see my dharma-brother!” Na Shun felt a longing for Xuanzang come over him.

King Harsha looked at him with meaningful eyes: “Perhaps it will require quite a long time — seventeen or eighteen years, I would think.”

“Why?” Na Shun asked, puzzled.

“You will need to wait for your son to grow up, will you not?” King Harsha said with a note of bitterness.

“That’s true. Before our son grows up, Lianhua Ye and I will go nowhere — we will stay here and be with him,” Na Shun said happily.

King Harsha stared at him with a blank expression. He didn’t know what feeling was in his heart. After a long while, he shook his head: “We came here to see your Queen Consort. Won’t you invite Us in?”

Na Shun then came to his senses. Even if he was anxious about Lianhua Ye, there was no reason to refuse an emperor who had come to visit. He led the way and invited King Harsha and Vani into the bedchamber of the palace.

Supported by midwives and handmaidens, Lianhua Ye was slowly walking about inside the bedchamber. Seeing King Harsha enter, she hurriedly paid her respects. Fearful that she might be disturbed in her pregnancy, King Harsha quickly had the handmaidens help her up; his manner, if anything, was even more flustered than Na Shun’s — stirring no small suspicion in Na Shun.

“How is it? Has the child been stirring?” King Harsha, leaning on his supports, drew close to Lianhua Ye and asked.

“Sometimes a kick,” Lianhua Ye said. She had grown fuller and more rounded; her already peerless beauty shone now with even more luminous radiance. “From the looks of it, when he grows up, he will be a little rascal.”

“Ah —” King Harsha did not know quite how to respond, and gave a strained laugh: “Your son, in the future, will certainly be a saint sent from heaven — he will accomplish a great and unprecedented enterprise. So you must take very good care of him.”

“Yes, Your Majesty —” Na Shun, dim-witted as ever, had barely spoken when Lianhua Ye’s expression changed and she struck him.

“Your Majesty, my husband and I have no ambition to covet the empire,” Lianhua Ye said, apologizing to King Harsha with a look of alarm. “All those years ago, Na Shun wanted to be a king only for my sake.”

Na Shun then caught on as well, and was also frightened: “Right, right — Your Majesty, what ability would my son have? In the future, I will take him back to Sogdia, find him a wife and see him have children — that would satisfy me completely. He will absolutely not come back to India.”

“He must not go back to Sogdia!” King Harsha grew anxious. “You must not take him to Sogdia! I will make the decision — let him live in Kanauj from childhood, in the palace of Kanauj, and nowhere else!”

Na Shun and Lianhua Ye exchanged a baffled look.

The conversation having reached this point could barely continue. Vani whispered a few words in King Harsha’s ear; King Harsha nodded: “Na Shun — why don’t you and I step outside and have a talk?”

Na Shun nodded and followed King Harsha and Vani out. Behind the palace rose a hillside slope with a view of the Ganges — though now that Na Shun had built the walls so high, the Ganges was no longer visible. But several grass pavilions still stood, and the three sat inside one. King Harsha had the attendants withdraw.

“Na Shun — there is a matter I wish to discuss with you,” King Harsha said.

“Please speak, Your Majesty,” Na Shun said.

King Harsha asked gently: “Na Shun — how long do you think I have left to live?”

Na Shun was startled and hurried to say: “Your Majesty will certainly live a hundred, no, a thousand — ten thousand years.”

“Ha ha.” King Harsha gave a bitter smile. “Don’t talk nonsense. Let me tell you — I have at most three months left.”

Na Shun was taken aback: “How do you know?”

King Harsha sighed and did not answer: “Na Shun — as you know, I have no children. The Vardhana family has no heir, so after my death, what will become of this kingdom of Harsha — that is truly hard to say. I have a proposal I would like to discuss with you.”

“Yes, Your Majesty, please speak,” Na Shun said.

“After I die, you shall become the Emperor of the Harsha Empire — what do you say?” King Harsha said plainly and directly.

Na Shun was utterly thunderstruck and did not know how to reply.

“I know this is shocking beyond belief,” King Harsha said with a smile. “But I have given it deep and careful thought — you becoming Emperor is the most fitting choice!”

Na Shun’s mind was in complete chaos. Become the Emperor of the Harsha Empire? Was that not absurd beyond all reason?

“Do not be afraid,” King Harsha did his best to persuade him. “Being an emperor is actually quite simple. My plan is: after I pass away, I will leave behind an imperial edict designating you as my successor. You need not worry about resistance from the empire’s subjects and ministers — I will arrange everything in advance. Vani will continue as Chancellor; he will put all affairs in order, and you will not need to manage anything at all. You need only sit upon the imperial throne within the palace. How does that sound?”

Na Shun murmured: “My mind is very muddled.”

King Harsha, seeing this reaction, actually felt reassured. This Na Shun was clearly an utter romantic, utterly ignorant of political affairs, and with no ambitions whatsoever. This is very good, King Harsha told himself.

“Think it over carefully,” King Harsha urged, afraid he would refuse. “At that time, you and Lianhua Ye will be living in my palace — would that not be a thousand times, ten thousand times better than here?”

Na Shun suddenly thought of something, and his expression grew serious: “No! Your Majesty, I cannot agree!”

“Why?” King Harsha grew anxious.

“Because in Lianhua Ye’s destined fate, she is to die at the foot of a palace wall,” Na Shun said seriously. “With just a few people here and the palace small, even if I stand guard at the gate all day, I can protect her. But in your palace, there are three thousand guards alone — plus eunuchs and palace maids beyond count. How could I possibly watch over all of it? No! No! I absolutely cannot let her live in a palace!”

King Harsha and Vani exchanged a baffled glance, both of them dumbfounded.

This time even Vani, who had consistently opposed the plan, could not help himself: “Na Shun — do you know what you have just refused?”

“What?” Na Shun asked blankly.

“An imperial throne!”

Na Shun scratched his head: “The position of Emperor… what would I do with it?”

Vani was stunned: “An Emperor — this is the Emperor of one of the five most powerful countries in the world! It rules over thirty-some kingdoms and holds sway over a hundred more. The smallest of these kingdoms is a hundred times larger than your Tirabhukti!”

“But the bigger it is, the more worried I become!” Na Shun gestured around him. “I can barely keep watch over a place this small — circling it each morning takes a full hour, circling it again at night takes another hour, and that already cuts two hours from the time I can spend with Lianhua Ye. If it were a hundred times bigger —”

Vani could no longer contain himself: “A hundred times bigger than a country that is already a hundred times bigger than yours!”

“That’s even more so then,” Na Shun said. “That big — how long would one circuit take? I might not see Lianhua Ye once in a year. No! Absolutely not!”

“You —” Vani was practically driven to fury. “You would possess the Harsha Empire — would you still need to personally guard Lianhua Ye? You would have hundreds of millions of subjects, hundreds of thousands of troops. If you wished rivers to change course, the earth to crack, mountains to yield, you need only speak a word and millions upon millions of people would serve you.”

“That does sound wonderful!” Na Shun thought for a moment, then shook his head again. “No — it won’t do. Leaving Lianhua Ye’s protection to others doesn’t sit right with me. Even if tens of thousands of people guard her, as long as I am not there myself, I will be worried — and she will be thinking of me.”

Vani and King Harsha were both bewildered. Was there truly anyone in the world who could be unmoved by an imperial throne?

King Harsha returned to the palace in low spirits, summoned Posomi, and related to him the matter of Na Shun’s refusal. Posomi was also taken aback — but he was not worried. He smiled: “Your Majesty, as for Na Shun, you can set your mind at rest. Leave this matter to me — I guarantee everything will proceed smoothly.”

King Harsha then put aside his worries. From Kanauj to Brahmadita, scouts came and went without cease, six times a day, relaying continuous updates on Lianhua Ye’s condition. In this waiting, three months passed in the blink of an eye; King Harsha knew that he was failing.

King Harsha’s skin had grown loose, his bones showing; the once piercing gaze was now clouded and dull, his body giving off the aura of someone near death. Half a month before, he had been confined to his bed, unable to move, able only to turn his head slightly to look at the scenery around him.

Vani stood at his side every day, keeping him company, and would sometimes recite a scroll of Buddhist scripture for him. One day Vani began reciting the words the Buddha had spoken when he knew his nirvana was at hand, leaving the Vulture Peak to return to his homeland: “I am old and decrepit. My journey draws to a close. My days are numbered, my years are full — eighty years of age am I. Ananda — even as an old cart is held together with straps and kept moving with great effort, so too does my body continue.”

King Harsha listened, and suddenly tears welled in his eyes. He murmured: “Vani — have all the arrangements been made?”

“They have been made,” Vani also wept. “The key ministers at court all respect your command; the several military commanders have also sworn to follow your arrangements. Your Majesty — the Harsha Empire will not be lost. We will hold your kingdom fast. When the medicine of immortality takes effect, you will die and be reborn.”

King Harsha nodded with satisfaction and said in a hoarse voice: “Go — summon Na Shun.”

Vani immediately arranged for people to go and find Na Shun.

Lianhua Ye was about to give birth, and Na Shun was reluctant to come. But hearing that King Harsha was near death, being a kind-hearted person who was mindful of King Harsha’s kindness to him, he agreed. Before leaving, Na Shun again asked the Kshatriya guards for the pass token for entering and leaving the city gate, and gave it to Lianhua Ye, urging her again and again: “You are nearly due — the moment you feel any discomfort, send someone immediately to the palace to find me.”

Lianhua Ye agreed, and Na Shun departed reluctantly. Brahmadita Village was only twenty or thirty li from Kanauj; the journey took less than half an hour.

After Na Shun entered and paid his respects, he took one look and could not help but sigh — he knew King Harsha did not have much time left. The senior ministers and generals of the empire had also gathered, all of them standing before King Harsha’s bed with sorrowful expressions. When they saw Na Shun enter, everyone bowed in greeting. Though most of them did not know why King Harsha was transmitting the throne to this man, all of them knew that the young man before them would, from this day forward, become the most powerful person in the Harsha Empire.

“Na Shun — today I am about to depart,” King Harsha said, opening his clouded eyes and murmuring.

His voice was so low as to be barely audible; Na Shun had to lean close to his lips to hear him clearly.

“I have already written the imperial edict and entrusted it to the generals and ministers. This empire — from now on I leave it to you. One hundred and fifty years ago, after the Gupta Empire collapsed, my ancestors rose from a small city-state. Five generations fought and struggled before it passed into my hands,” King Harsha recalled the glory of former days. “I took the throne at sixteen and spent another sixteen years bringing India to unification again. In those sixteen years, I did not let my war-elephants rest or my armies unsaddle, campaigning against a hundred states, not daring to slacken for a moment — because I was always afraid that when I went below, my father and elder brother would blame me. Today, I am about to go below and answer to them. The gift I bring is this unified India, this glorious empire. I hope to tell them that I committed sins beyond pardon, but I did my utmost to make amends — I let the glory of the Vardhana family shine upon this vast and boundless land. But — I have no heir! When my father and brother ask, what am I to say?”

King Harsha, exerting every last ounce of strength, struggled to raise his arm — but could not lift it. Vani hurriedly stepped forward and supported his arm; King Harsha’s hand pressed firmly onto Na Shun’s hand.

“Na Shun — help me. Keep this empire alive!” King Harsha looked at Na Shun with eyes full of expectation, staring fixedly at him as if he would never blink again unless Na Shun agreed.

Na Shun hesitated. Vani wept: “Na Shun — agree to His Majesty’s request! This is the dying wish of an old man. Do you want him to die with eyes unclosed?”

Na Shun was finally moved. He suddenly thought of how his own parents had died beneath the blades of the Turks — the chance to even leave behind such a last wish had been a luxury.

Na Shun sighed and at last nodded: “I agree.”

A look of delighted surprise appeared on King Harsha’s withered face. He exhaled a long breath — it was the breath of his very life leaving him. In the final radiance before death, King Harsha gazed upward into the void above: “I will return —”

A generation of great rulers passed from the world.

Brahmadita Village. The Palace.

Almost at the very moment King Harsha passed away, accompanied by Lianhua Ye’s piercing cry, an infant was born.

The large contingent of midwives and handmaidens King Harsha had sent were all in attendance in the bedchamber, every one of them frantically busy. When the infant arrived, everyone heaved a sigh of relief. Lianhua Ye feebly opened her eyes; her face and body were almost entirely soaked with sweat, her hair so damp it could be wrung out.

“Where is my child?” Lianhua Ye asked, breathless.

A midwife quickly took the infant and placed it in Lianhua Ye’s arms.

Lianhua Ye was tense with anxiety. Looking at the infant’s small wrinkled face, she did not even dare reach out to touch it: “A boy or a girl?”

“Congratulations, Queen Consort — a boy. Sturdy as a small elephant,” the midwife said.

“A boy…” Lianhua Ye pressed her face against the infant’s face, filled with happiness.

But the midwife’s expression shifted to something strange. She extended her hand, forming it into the shape of a lotus, and passed it gently across Lianhua Ye’s eyes. Lianhua Ye’s eyelids immediately closed, and she sank into a deep sleep. At that moment, the curtain was lifted, and Posomi entered with calm composure. The midwife quickly bowed: “Greetings, Venerable One.”

Posomi received the infant from her, examined it carefully, and extended a finger to gently press on the infant’s earlobe. When his finger released, a red mole had unmistakably appeared on the infant’s earlobe.

“Venerable One — why make a red mole?” the midwife asked.

“There is no need to ask too much,” Posomi said impassively. “Just now, news came from Kanauj — King Harsha has passed away. Na Shun has agreed to ascend the throne and become Emperor!”

“Congratulations, Venerable One!” the midwife said with great joy. “You have schemed for thirty years and at last fulfilled your wish!”

“Enough,” Posomi said. “King Harsha is dead. I will take the child to Kanauj at once.”

Full of satisfaction, Posomi turned with a smile to take the infant — only to find he could not pick it up. He was taken aback, and only then noticed that one arm was clasped tightly around the child. It was Lianhua Ye. She had already woken!

In one motion, Lianhua Ye pulled the child to her breast, fixing Posomi with a gaze of deep hatred: “So it was all along — making me enact these thirty-three lives of reincarnation — to seize the Harsha Empire!”

Posomi and the midwife were both stunned. The midwife exclaimed: “How could you have woken?”

“Nothing strange about it,” Posomi let out a sigh. “Over these thirty years, the soul-dispersal art has been used on you too many times. Lianhua Ye — although I controlled you for thirty years, what I gave in return surpasses what you lost. You now have the partner you will love for the rest of your life; you have an adorable son; and soon you will also be the Queen of the Harsha Empire. In this entire world, there is no one more fortunate than you.”

“Ha ha ha —” Lianhua Ye let out a bleak, shrill laugh. “Am I fortunate? Do you consider it fortunate to have controlled my life, trading me from one wretched fate to another? Do you consider it fortunate to have made me taste the suffering of thirty-three lifetimes all in one life? Posomi — you are a demon!”

“Whether this old monk is a divine Buddha or a demon, I am the one who controls your destiny,” Posomi said impassively. “You are destined in this life to be incapable of escaping this old monk’s grasp. Lianhua Ye — resist no longer. You have resisted for thirty years. But in all that time, has there been a single moment when you escaped the fate I set for you?”

“That is because I lacked courage!” Lianhua Ye said furiously. “If my life contained only myself, I lacked the courage to resist you. Even with Na Shun, I still lacked the courage. But now we have a child. I absolutely refuse to let even our child become your puppet, controlled by you for a lifetime!”

“Becoming a mother this very moment, and already possessing such radiant maternal instinct — truly worthy of admiration,” Posomi said with a smile. “But how do you intend to resist me? I have long since planted a curse within your heart — the moment I speak the incantation, in my presence, you are nothing more than a walking corpse.”

Lianhua Ye suddenly seized the oil lamp beside her, splashed the oil inside it all over Posomi and the midwife, and then flung the lamp at them. The lamp fell on the bed, and with a great whoosh, the bed burst into flames. Sparks leapt onto the clothing of both figures; instantly they were blazing furiously. Both of them let out cries, frantically beating at the flames on their bodies.

Lianhua Ye leapt down from the bed, clutching the child, and fled for her life.

The midwife had more oil on her, and could not beat out the flames at all; within moments she had become a human torch, rolling in the inferno, screaming in agony. In an instant, the entire palace hall was billowing with roaring flames. Lianhua Ye ran out of the hall and felt her whole body go weak; at this moment, palace guards came running to fight the fire and were startled to see her.

“Queen Consort! What has happened?” the guard asked.

“Give me a horse!” Lianhua Ye commanded, suppressing the pain racking her body.

Most of these guards were honest men whom Na Shun had recruited from the village; they immediately led out a horse for Lianhua Ye. Lianhua Ye, clutching the child, swung into the saddle and spurred the horse out through the gate. By then, Posomi had extinguished the flames on himself — his hair had been scorched away, his robe burned off, his entire body covered in blisters and black ash. He staggered out in a wretched state and bellowed: “Where is the Queen Consort?”

“The Queen Consort…” the guard said, somewhat confused, “rode a horse — and left.”

Posomi said nothing further. He grabbed a horse from beside him, threw himself into the saddle, and rode in pursuit.

By now it was deep in the night. The boundless starry sky hung over the void above India; occasionally the sound of the Ganges’ waves drifted over, lapping against the stillness of the night. The road from Brahmadita Village to Kanauj was no easy path — only a dim and winding trail through dense jungle, its course visible only through the gaps between tree shadows in the light of stars and a crescent moon.

Lianhua Ye spurred her horse through the jungle at full gallop. She had just given birth; in the jostling of the saddle, blood began to seep from below. The saddle was slick and wet, already soaked with blood. With the great loss of blood, Lianhua Ye grew ever weaker, barely able to sit upright — yet she spent every last ounce of her strength, one hand gripping the reins, one arm clutching her child, racing through the darkness like the wind.

Lianhua Ye suddenly recalled her first life — the infant girl born in Rajgir, her features as finely drawn as a painting, like a newly opened lotus petal. Her skin was luminous and translucent, like an utpala flower rising from the water; her eyes were as black as agate and starlight. Her body gave off a naturally strange fragrance, sweet and rich, like a lotus flower.

She was the incarnation of a lotus — no matter how turbid the waters she was born into, in the end she would send forth shoots and stand tall and proud, unstained by the mud, unblemished by evil. Lianhua Ye’s vision began to darken, yet she smiled in the night wind. Her name was Lianhua Ye — this lotus was destined to bloom in the deepest, darkest night.

Arriving at the city gate, Lianhua Ye was too weak even to speak. She sat on horseback and raised the token King Harsha had given her as high as she could. The duty general held up a torch to inspect it, verified it, and ordered the gate opened to let her through.

Entering Kanauj, Lianhua Ye could no longer hold herself upright. She spent the last of her strength clutching her child, her body slumped against the horse’s neck, letting the horse carry her wherever it would. She did not know how much time had passed before her dimming eyes caught sight of the brilliantly lit palace ahead. The horse’s hooves clattered on the pavement, carrying Lianhua Ye to the foot of the palace wall.

The massive loss of blood left Lianhua Ye unable to distinguish anything any longer. She approached the palace gate and struggled to raise the token, murmuring: “Open the gate… open the gate…”

Her voice was so low she could barely hear it herself. Suddenly, before her eyes, what seemed like a dark shadow flew through the air. It struck Lianhua Ye on the head with tremendous force, and sent her flying from the saddle. In the instant of falling, Lianhua Ye’s one and only reflex was to clutch her child tightly to her chest.

Lianhua Ye lay on the ground, her skull shattered, blood soaking into the blue stone pavement outside the palace wall. Her eyes were wide open, fixed upon the star-filled sky above. The child in her arms was crying, and through the haze of her fading senses she somehow knew the child was alive — and with that, a small measure of peace came to her. At that moment, a figure appeared in her line of sight. It was Posomi.

Lianhua Ye smiled a bleak smile. So I never escaped fate after all. In the end, I was to die at the foot of a palace wall.