Dawn was approaching, the sky neither fully bright nor dark, precisely when people were most drowsy and lax. At this moment, a group of bandits dressed in civilian clothing silently attacked Fenglong Temple.
They appeared ordinary, yet the weapons they wielded were identical to the Chengde army’s excellent equipment. In close combat, they coordinated seamlessly—from launching the surprise attack to complete annihilation took only the time for a cup of tea. Many died in their sleep, never reaching the underworld.
The leader was nearly thirty, a fierce and burly general. With blade raised and fallen, he searched the jailers’ still-warm corpses for keys and opened the cell door.
When he saw the person he had come to rescue, he couldn’t help but freeze. She sat with her back to the cell door, her once magnificent and dazzling hair roughly cut short. Like a stone statue, she sat motionless on the ground, cradling a bloodied young man in her arms—the two bound together by congealed, dried blood.
“Princess,” the general called softly.
Bao Zhu turned her head back woodenly for a glance. Yuan Shaobe’s heart trembled violently at the sight. The girl’s once youthful and full face was now haggard and broken, her hair unevenly severed, her once raven-black temples now turned grey-white. Her eyes were red and swollen with blood, containing a sinister look he had never seen before.
Due to excessive weeping, Bao Zhu’s vision was somewhat blurred. She studied the newcomer intently for a moment before speaking his courtesy name: “Zhongfu.”
Yuan Shaobe respectfully replied: “Yes, Shaobe has arrived late.”
As Prince Shao’s study companion, Yuan Shaobe had watched the princess grow up. Having left Chang’an nearly two years ago, his memory of the princess was still of her bright, charming, and carefree appearance in the palace. Seeing her now as if possessed by evil spirits, he could hardly imagine what torment she had endured in one night to turn her hair white overnight.
The young man in her arms was covered in wounds, his injuries blackened, his clothes soaked through with blood until their original color was unrecognizable. Yuan Shaobe, veteran of many battlefields, could tell at a glance that this person had endured torture, with broken tendons and bones—all life extinguished. But seeing the princess cherish him so preciously in her arms, Yuan Shaobe still knelt on one knee and carefully checked the young man’s neck pulse.
“This young brother has already passed away.” Yuan Shaobe extended both hands, saying gently: “Let this subordinate carry him away together.”
“I can carry him myself!” Bao Zhu growled in a low voice.
She had held him all night without moving a step—by now her limbs were numb and stiff. Bao Zhu struggled to stand slowly, her legs trembling uncontrollably, yet her arms steadily cradled him against her chest.
Yuan Shaobe understood in his heart that dead bodies weigh much more than living ones. The princess’s arm strength had been developed since childhood through archery practice. But her abnormal behavior was enough to show that this deceased person was extraordinary to her.
Carrying Wei Xun’s cold corpse, Bao Zhu walked out of Fenglong Temple under Yuan Shaobe’s escort. Outside the temple sat a plainly-appointed carriage, with a noblewoman near fifty anxiously waiting beside it.
Seeing that Bao Zhu still lived, though the noblewoman’s emotions surged, she forced herself to remain composed, respectfully curtsying and calling softly: “Princess!”
“Madam Yu has also come.”
Bao Zhu placed Wei Xun on the carriage cushions. Yu Ninghua saw her tattered clothes and quickly removed her own woolen shawl to offer it. Bao Zhu took it and gently covered him with it.
Looking closely at her appearance, Yu Ninghua’s eyes immediately reddened. As Prince Shao’s wet nurse, she had been constantly with the siblings before Li Yuanying left the palace. To Bao Zhu, Yu was like a wet nurse as well. Now this heavenly pride had mottled skin, disheveled short hair, and frost-touched temples.
Madam Yu hesitated to speak, her voice choking with heartache: “Your hair…”
Bao Zhu was startled, only now realizing her long hair was gone, murmuring to herself: “No wonder my head and neck feel so much lighter.”
She thought for a moment, then untied the blood-soaked coarse cloth headband from Wei Xun’s neck and wrapped it around her severed hair like a head covering.
At this time, Deputy General Lu Qiao, responsible for the raid, walked over quickly to report the battle results to Yuan Shaobe: “Twenty enemies killed, eighteen captured. There are another hundred and twenty death row prisoners in the cells. How should they be handled? Please give orders, Commander.”
Before Yuan Shaobe could speak, Bao Zhu concisely ordered: “Leave no survivors. Ask the prisoners whether they want to die immediately or come with us.”
Lu Qiao glanced at his direct superior’s expression. Yuan Shaobe nodded slightly, and he immediately turned to carry out the order.
Recalling the surprise warriors she had just seen disguised as civilians, all were familiar guards from Li Yuanying’s side. Bao Zhu looked at Madam Yu and Yuan Shaobe, asking puzzledly: “You are brother’s most capable confidants—why would you abandon him to come to Chengde?”
Yu and Yuan exchanged glances, and Yuan Shaobe spoke: “The people the Prince dispatched to meet the Princess could never find your whereabouts. Chief Secretary Yang’s plea for help arrived at Youzhou first, saying you had been abducted by bandits in Luoyang with whereabouts unknown. The Prince was frantic with worry and dispatched us to rush to Luoyang for rescue.”
Bao Zhu was stunned for a moment before understanding—with checkpoints everywhere along this route, unless carried by official post horses, sending a letter often took months and might not be much faster than their own travel.
“You passed through Chengde heading south—how did you learn I was imprisoned at Fenglong Temple?”
Yuan Shaobe explained: “When we left Youzhou, Huo Qi Lang remained beside the Prince as guard. Before departing, she reminded us that if we saw silver fireworks on the road, we must go investigate—that was her sect’s signal to gather people, perhaps the Blue-Robed Guest seeking help.”
So it was her.
This place was thousands of li from Luoyang with the Taihang Mountains lying between—those people from Remnant Sun Academy could never have seen it. The previous summoning signal had been missing only the Silk Gentleman. This time, she had arrived in another way.
“So Shisan Lang… that little monk survived.”
Madam Yu grasped her hand, saying warmly: “Another person also survived.”
Prince Shao had sent his most capable officers to rescue his sister. Since they had to cross enemy territory en route, fifty elite troops disguised as a medicinal herb merchant caravan, carrying several carts of astragalus, bupleurum, and Korean ginseng.
By coincidence, both parties converged in Chengde.
After destroying Fenglong Temple prison, they looted all supplies and provisions, staging the scene to look like mountain bandits robbing the jail. Then, taking willing prisoners with them, they quickly shifted position to camp in an abandoned Daoist temple in the Shiyi countryside.
On an old couch, Bao Zhu saw the unconscious Yang Xingjian and Shisan Lang attending to him nearby.
Madam Yu explained: “Zhijing fears cold and values face—for warmth, he wrapped thick layers of white silk inside his cap. When the blade struck, it couldn’t deliver a fatal blow in one hit, leaving him with a breath of life. When we saw the fireworks and rushed to the scene, we found the little monk guarding him, which indirectly revealed your whereabouts. We tracked you all the way to Fenglong Mountain.”
Bao Zhu looked at Shisan Lang. He had removed his monk’s robes and was wrapped in bandages, but appeared otherwise unharmed.
“I was trampled by horses a few times—only broke a rib.”
When Shisan Lang was trampled by the horse herd, how could the cavalry imagine that such a small child could withstand iron hooves? After searching him, they casually dumped his body in the fields. Shisan Lang held his breath and played dead, witnessing his senior brother being pierced by the ballista bolt and assuming he had perished. Even now, seeing the corpse, grief was still hard to suppress.
Bao Zhu carried Wei Xun to the room Madam Yu had arranged for her, placing him on her own bed.
Shisan Lang returned the jade comb he had found to her—the ornament had fallen in the dust and lost a corner. He asked: “Did we get all our luggage back?”
Facing his senior brother’s mangled remains, he was actually asking about inconsequential luggage. Bao Zhu was greatly puzzled and countered: “What do you mean?”
Shisan Lang said seriously: “Setting up the bed, bathing, changing clothes—these are funeral procedures. We must quickly wash him and change him into clean clothes, or once the body stiffens, we won’t be able to dress him in burial clothes.”
Bao Zhu opened her mouth but couldn’t speak for a moment. After a long while, her voice changed, carrying a sob as she demanded: “How can you be so calm?!”
Shisan Lang said softly: “I was originally senior brother’s death monk. When his illness reached its final stage and he couldn’t move, unable to live or die—giving him a swift final journey was my responsibility.”
He paused, lowering his head to add: “All these years he kept me with him, hoping for a reliable person to give him the final blow.”
Bao Zhu stood frozen in place.
What else could be done? What other choice was there? He had even arranged his own funeral—they couldn’t let the transcendent Blue-Robed Guest be buried in such a miserable state. She was a proud and beauty-loving person, and he too wanted a dignified end. Bao Zhu ran out, gritting her teeth, ordering people to gather the scattered luggage and search through it for Wei Xun’s clothing.
Perhaps due to his sect’s traditions, Shisan Lang was very familiar with funeral procedures. He requested white cloth, spirit money, and a coffin, then skillfully cleaned Wei Xun’s blood, combed and arranged his hair, and while the corpse was still soft, changed him into clean clothes, wrapping him layer by layer in white hemp cloth. Then, with hands pressed together, he chanted sutras to transcend the departed soul.
Bao Zhu asked: “What sutra are you reciting?”
Shisan Lang replied: “The Earth Store Sutra, hoping senior brother will be reborn into a good family in his next life—wealthy household, free from illness and disaster.”
The corner of Bao Zhu’s mouth twisted into a cold smile as she mocked herself: “Could his reincarnation skills surpass mine? Born into an imperial family, supremely noble with unmatched honor—look what became of that.”
Shisan Lang had no response. He only whispered to the remains: “Senior brother, if there’s a next life, better to be a peaceful cat than a person in troubled times.”
Then he placed a gold coin in Wei Xun’s mouth as burial provisions and positioned the Fish Intestine sword beside him—the evil aura would protect the body and prevent flies and insects from damaging the corpse.
Li Yuanying’s subordinates were always thorough in their work. Soon, a coffin was delivered. However, in this rural mountain area, there were no good wood materials available, and no time for lacquering—the coffin still gave off the astringent smell of fresh wood.
When everything was arranged and Yuan Shaobe was about to order Wei Xun’s body lifted into the coffin for burial, Bao Zhu raised her hand to stop him.
“He has shallow family connections. Even without obituaries and mourning ceremonies, he should at least lie in state for seven days. Let him rest on my bed first.” Bao Zhu’s expression was grief-stricken, but her tone brooked no argument.
Madam Yu understood her sorrow and gently advised: “The Prince has missed the Princess for so long. This place isn’t peaceful—we should hurry to Youzhou as the best strategy.”
Bao Zhu said: “Chief Secretary Yang is severely injured. If we move him rashly, he’ll certainly die on the road.”
“I’ll arrange proper people to care for Zhijing and set out once his condition stabilizes.” Madam Yu paused, then added: “This young hero died for the Princess—his remains shouldn’t be moved about unnecessarily. It would be best to bury his loyal bones locally.”
“No! His burial goods are still missing the most important item.”
Bao Zhu stared with bloodshot eyes, saying without hesitation: “I want to use Wang Chengwu as his burial companion. Without that, I can never be at peace in this life!”
Yu Ninghua, Yuan Shaobe, and their party had left Youzhou with one mission only—to rescue the Princess and escort her back to Prince Shao’s side. Now that she had suffered this catastrophe in Chengde, they certainly couldn’t ignore it.
Madam Yu said: “Princess, the Prince has already established a firm foothold in Youzhou, replacing Liu Kun. As long as the Princess safely reaches Youzhou, there will be plenty of time ahead—we can always settle this score.”
Bao Zhu was slightly startled, asking in surprise: “He’s already taken control of the Lulong Army? When did this happen?”
Yuan Shaobe replied: “Just last month. This matter isn’t convenient to report openly to the court—the Prince currently still manages military and political affairs under the title of Youzhou Prefect.”
Bao Zhu pondered for a moment, then said slowly: “Newly acquired military power means an unstable position. The Wang family has entrenched itself in Chengde for three generations with deep-rooted influence. Brother won’t rashly go to war with Chengde over this matter—you know this in your hearts.”
Yu and Yuan fell silent. Li Yuanying was naturally cautious. If it were to rescue his sister, he might risk everything. But the Princess had already escaped safely—he couldn’t possibly shake his hard-won achievements for an unnamed, anonymous guard.
Yuan Shaobe knew well that the Princess had always been particular about fine appearance and ceremony since childhood. Now with her hair cut short for survival, wrapped in a blood-stained coarse cloth as a headband, her deep hatred was evident—she would never let this matter rest.
He pondered for a moment, then said resolutely: “The Princess has suffered such humiliation and cannot simply walk away. Wang Chengwu often hunts at the hunting grounds south of Zhengding, each time bringing three hundred tooth soldiers as escort. I’ll lead an ambush attack—not counting those prisoner-soldiers, trading five for one, we can assassinate this villain.”
Bao Zhu shook her head: “Chengde cavalry ride swift horses with extremely fast response times. One missed strike means total annihilation. You are the elite backbone under brother’s command, each person a potential general or minister. Without certain victory, I would never carelessly trade your lives for a head.”
Her gaze turned to Yu Ninghua: “Since you’ve already investigated Wang Chengwu’s daily movements clearly, someone must be secretly passing information. Madam has always managed intelligence affairs for brother—you should know who this person is?”
Yu Ninghua thought to herself: The Princess remains so perceptive. She spoke: “Youzhou and Chengde have planted many spies in each other’s territories. Wang Chengwu must already know that Youzhou is now in the Prince’s grasp. The person we contacted is his subordinate Deputy Commander Liang Shiji. This man has great ambition but is shrewd and cautious—he can’t yet be called one of our own.”
Worry filled her heart as she warned again: “Princess, currently the enemy is strong and we are weak. Chengde’s forces across all prefectures total fifty thousand troops, including five thousand elite cavalry capable of withstanding ten times their number in infantry. Rash action would be like throwing eggs against rocks!”
Bao Zhu looked once more at Wei Xun’s remains—Shisan Lang had arranged him clean and dignified, appearing as if he were merely sleeping peacefully. The Phoenix Embryo prescription was already in hand, and he could have been saved, yet because of something that didn’t exist at all, he was tortured and killed, dying needlessly in her arms.
“Send someone back to Youzhou to inform brother of my situation. Seven days… within seven days of lying in state, I will devise a way to subdue the tiger.”
Author’s Note: Yang Xingjian’s survival was inspired by the experience of Pei Du, a famous prime minister and outstanding politician of the mid-Tang period. In the tenth year of Yuanhe, Prime Minister Wu Yuanheng was assassinated by separatist military governors who hired assassins. At the same time Wu Yuanheng was killed, Imperial Censor Pei Du, who supported reducing the power of military governors, was also attacked by assassins and struck in the head, falling into a ditch. The assassins thought he was dead and left. But Pei Du feared cold and had stuffed felt padding inside his cap for warmth even in summer. Though injured, he wasn’t killed. Despite his weak constitution, his will was firm. After recovery, he became prime minister, continued supporting Emperor Xianzong’s campaign against the military governors, personally supervised military campaigns, and pacified the Huaixi Rebellion.
Zhongfu – Yuan Shaobe’s courtesy name
Zhijing – Yang Xingjian’s courtesy name
I don’t want to make it so complicated, but ancient people really cared about forms of address.