Among the Tang court’s mortal enemies in the three Hebei military districts, Youzhou and Chengde had already submitted, leaving only the stubborn Weibo, which saw the situation turning unfavorable and also showed intentions of allegiance.
Weibo Military Commissioner Tian Yanzhang memorialized the court, expressing his willingness to personally travel to Chang’an to pay respects to the Two Saints, with his son Tian Yunzhi serving as acting commissioner of Weibo during his absence. This appeared submissive but concealed ulterior motives—he wanted to preserve the Tian family’s hereditary rule over Weibo and continue being the local emperor of that territory.
Li Yuanying decisively refused. Without controlling the appointment and dismissal of personnel and fiscal authority over the military districts, so-called loyalty was merely empty words on paper, completely meaningless.
Seeing this scheme fail, the Tian family soon submitted another memorial seeking marriage for their son, requesting the court send down a princess to Weibo to maintain their family status. This was again rejected by the siblings.
Li Baozhu demanded that Tian Yanzhang follow the Chengde precedent, sending his son Tian Yunzhi to Chang’an as a hostage, and requesting that the unmarried princesses personally examine whether this Weibo young master could catch their eye.
Both sides pulled back and forth without reaching agreement. But anyone with eyes could see that Hebei unification was the general trend—the Tian family was at the end of their rope.
Court administration grew increasingly clear, the new emperor worked diligently for good governance and practiced frugality, leaving the censorate officials with nothing to remonstrate about, making them quite lonely. Not until deep autumn did they finally catch a flaw—Princess Imperial ordered the Ministry of Works to repair the Lishan Palace and dredge the hot spring pools.
Huaqing Palace had become a symbol of extravagant misgovernment due to Emperor Xuanzong and Yang Guifei’s romantic affairs. For decades past, successive rulers had deliberately neglected this place to demonstrate “abandoning Tianbao’s old abuses.” Now that the princess ordered Huaqing Palace’s restoration, that meant a return to luxury and debauchery. The news caused an uproar—ministers rubbed their hands together, composing immortal remonstrances.
However, after seeing the meager budget provided by the Ministry of Works, they disappointedly abandoned their efforts. The princess had stingily only renovated three or four rooms and one stable—this scale couldn’t even compare to their private residences for keeping mistresses.
“Spring cold, bathing granted at Huaqing Pool”—rumors said the princess’s action was to rendezvous with a lover. But this palm-sized place couldn’t even accommodate ceremonial carriages and troops—one wondered if she was keeping a lover or a cat.
In the blink of an eye, another winter passed with orioles flying and grass growing, plums white and peaches red. The Cold Food Festival overlapped with Qingming Festival, so the court customarily granted seven days’ holiday when ministers and ruler could temporarily set aside official business to sweep tombs, worship ancestors, or enjoy spring outings in the bright sunshine.
On the last day of spring vacation, Bao Zhu rode her donkey, quietly strolling out of Lishan Palace, naturally accompanied by the Blue Robe Guest Wei Xun leading her donkey. Throughout this winter, whenever there were ten-day breaks or holidays, Bao Zhu would always travel incognito to rendezvous with him at Huaqing Pool to soak in hot springs together.
After several days of avoiding visitors and setting aside annoying government affairs, though her mind felt relaxed, her waist and legs were so sore and soft she could barely walk. Bao Zhu secretly thought that next time she had such a long holiday, she should go hunting instead.
“Return directly to the palace? Or browse the East and West Markets?” Wei Xun asked.
Bao Zhu cursed: “Where would I get the strength to go shopping? Are you doing this on purpose?”
Wei Xun’s gaze wandered as he pretended to be deaf and dumb, not responding.
“Return to Chang’an. But there’s a place worth seeing on the way.” Bao Zhu paused: “I think I’ve solved the mystery of the ‘Phoenix Embryo.'”
Hearing this term, Wei Xun turned back to grasp her wrist, treasuring and caressing that scar as he asked: “What doubt remains about this?”
“Of course there is!” Bao Zhu said solemnly: “This entire case has a huge loophole. If the Li imperial family possesses true dragon blood and is favored by Heaven’s Mandate, then they couldn’t possibly be harmed by Chen Shigu’s conspiracy to ‘capture and kill the big rats,’ leading to dynastic overthrow. But if the Li family are merely ordinary mortals, then refining human pills shouldn’t have the special medicinal effect of saving lives. These two things are inherently contradictory.
“Though I feel I have some good fortune, I’m flesh and blood, no different from common people. Why did your illness recover after drinking my blood? Moreover, Zhou Qingyang emphasized using ‘Chang’an Li imperial family’ as medicine—so wouldn’t the Li Yu family living in Luoyang be Phoenix Embryos with medicinal effects?”
The two chatted as they walked. After Wei Xun recovered and reconciled with Bao Zhu, he had revealed Chen Shigu’s conspiracy and the Phoenix Embryo matter completely. Only then did Bao Zhu understand why he had insisted on leaving without farewell despite having the cure formula. Sharing hardships and being honest with each other, their feelings had deepened further.
Wei Xun frowned: “I’ve pondered this matter too but never understood it. I originally thought it was because your Li family regularly consumed some special pills or delicacies, so your blood and flesh had medicinal properties. But after you returned to the palace, I haven’t seen you eat anything particularly strange.”
Bao Zhu said: “That doesn’t make sense either. Yuanyi and I love eating organ dishes like hot Luo River, but brother won’t touch them at all. Yuanyi likes eating milk pastries and cream, but I find them greasy. We three siblings were born of the same mother, but our eating habits are completely different, let alone other royal family members.
“But there’s one thing we all share—drinking water.
“After learning the Phoenix Embryo truth from you, I’ve been pondering this doubt. Any historically long-standing, densely populated major city has problems with brackish well water—Chang’an and Youzhou are no exceptions. In Youzhou, the princely mansion used water from nearby Jade Spring. Chang’an’s high officials and wealthy families with any means buy water from outside the city rather than drink city well water.
“I specifically inquired with the Palace Domestic Service. They said for a hundred years, the palace has used camels to transport water from Linyou County. Because the journey is far and labor-intensive, only imperial family members are qualified to use it. The royal residences of Ten Princes’ Mansions and Hundred Grandsons’ Courts are graciously permitted to use that water too. This custom has continued so long that even our own family members may not be clear about it.”
Wei Xun said in surprise: “So the problem lies in the water?”
Bao Zhu said: “When we reach the place, we’ll have our answer.”
The two people and one donkey strolled along, walking for nearly two hours before finally reaching Linyou County. Climbing a small mountain with scenic tranquility, halfway up, a clear spring came into view. The spring pool was only about the size of two rooms, with sweet, clear mountain spring water bubbling up from underground, happily swirling like boiling soup, the water surface rippling with fine, dense waves.
Beside the pond stood an ancient stone tablet inscribed with the two characters “Sweet Spring.” Near the spring source were barracks with soldiers standing guard with spears. This appeared to be the Li Tang imperial family’s exclusive water source.
Xu Lai saw the princess riding her donkey from afar and hurried over to pay respects. Others, having received instructions, only guarded from a distance, not daring to approach.
“Where is the thing?” Bao Zhu asked.
“Reporting to the princess, it’s placed by the pool.”
Bao Zhu dismounted and walked with Wei Xun to the poolside, seeing a small, wet stone statue placed on the grass, only about a foot and a half tall. The statue’s features had been worn smooth by water, but from the clothing, it appeared to be Earth Store Bodhisattva.
Wei Xun crouched down for a careful examination: the Bodhisattva statue wasn’t unusual, but this stone statue’s material was very strange—neither gold nor jade, he didn’t know what mineral it was refined and carved from.
Bao Zhu said: “I had this thought in winter, but the freezing weather made verification inconvenient. After spring warmed the water, I sent water-skilled soldiers to dive deep into Sweet Spring to search, and indeed found this strange object in the spring source.
“When we first met at Cuiwei Temple, I asked how you entered the city without travel documents, and you answered by diving underwater through the Yong’an Canal. Since you know how to swim, I hypothesized your master Chen Shigu could also swim. If he wanted to tamper with the imperial family’s food—which varied in taste and was distributed across different residences—the most convenient and quick method would be to target the water source.”
Wei Xun examined the Earth Store statue for a long time, reached out and pinched off a piece of stone. The stone crumbled to powder under his residual strength. Looking at it in the sunlight, there were some transparent particles flashing with faint light.
“I guess Chen Shigu continuously administered some chronic poison to you from childhood, creating the false appearance of your cold illness. As for the antidote, it’s this Earth Store statue. He avoided the sentries’ eyes and ears, swimming upstream against the current to dive deep into Sweet Spring and place the stone statue in the spring source.
“Imperial family members who drank from this spring year-round would accumulate trace amounts of antidote in their blood, flesh, muscles, and bones. When refined into human pills, they could alleviate the poison in your body. But the dosage was insufficient to cure it completely, forcing you to continuously kill and refine pills to sustain life.
“Though Zhou Qingyang was medically skilled, she practiced medicine in rural areas for years and didn’t understand imperial family lifestyle habits—how would she know our drinking water was specially supplied? When you were severely injured and lost blood at Fenglong Mountain, the toxins in your body dropped to their lowest point. You happened to consume my blood, completely detoxifying yourself.”
Bao Zhu raised her head with a triumphant expression: “How about it? Are you convinced?”
Wei Xun rubbed the stone powder in his hands and said bluntly: “No.”
“Huh?”
Wei Xun said: “This operation is too complex. Why didn’t he just poison the spring water directly? Release chronic poison to kill all the big rats at once—he wouldn’t need me as an indirect tool at all. Making it so elaborate would make the plan more likely to fail.”
Bao Zhu pursed her lips and snorted coldly: “What a sinister, vicious bad lynx. You think I couldn’t think of that?”
She pointed toward the mountain spring’s flow direction: “Though this Sweet Spring’s source is monopolized by the imperial family with dedicated guards, downstream water is free for anyone to use. I sent people to survey—the spring water flows down and gathers into a pond at the mountain’s foot. There’s a village nearby with over two hundred households who have drawn water from that pond for over a hundred years. If he poisoned the upstream source, the downstream villagers would also face disaster. Though Chen Shigu was a wildly imaginative old madman, he apparently still had some bottom line.
“So-called true dragon bloodline is just ordinary mortal flesh. As long as one possesses supreme power and monopolizes this Sweet Spring, whether Zhang San, Li Si, or Wang Wu, even those standing guard soldiers—everyone could be a ‘Phoenix Embryo.'”
Bao Zhu’s reasoning finally convinced Wei Xun. He looked down at the face-worn Earth Store Bodhisattva with very complex feelings.
He stood on lotus flowers, right hand holding a staff, left hand holding a mani jewel, vowing “Until hell is empty, I vow not to become Buddha.” What thoughts did Chen Shigu harbor when he carved the antidote in this form?
Having finally solved the Phoenix Embryo mystery, the two returned down the mountain, beginning their homeward journey.
Along the way, apricot blossoms bloomed profusely—in the cloud-like, mist-like sea of snow-white flowers dotted with tiny crimson calyxes, appearing pitiful and lovely. Bao Zhu was momentarily inspired to quiz Wei Xun on apricot blossom poetry. After he recited two poems and began deflecting with other topics, he leaped into the roadside flower sea and picked the most beautiful branch to give her.
Bao Zhu helplessly lowered her head, letting him help pin it in her hair. Unexpectedly, while pinning the flower, he swiftly and lightly stole a kiss. Then he pretended nothing happened, taking the donkey to continue forward, his face seven parts shy and three parts unconcealed smugness.
Bao Zhu thought silently: This fellow’s martial arts are unrivaled under heaven—now even crossbow formations can’t defeat him, yet he’s bashfully shy about certain things. In recent months, Wei Xun frequently ran to Supreme Immortal Temple, his whereabouts secretive, making even her personal female officials rarely see his true appearance. Because he was so elusive, rumors actually arose that the princess’s lover was not mortal. Though it was her own treasure hall and palace, somehow it gained the taint of illicit romance.
Few travelers were on the return road, with occasional farmers and merchants passing by. He dared steal kisses in public—quite the improvement.
Bao Zhu deliberately mocked: “That’s it?”
Wei Xun looked east and west, pretending not to hear.
Bao Zhu leaned forward, reached out to grab his collar, and yanked him forcefully toward herself. Duke Lushan stopped walking, snorting boredly through his nose, waiting for them to finish kissing and fighting.
After a long while, Wei Xun suddenly pushed Bao Zhu away, shouting in a low voice: “I’m wearing thin clothes!” Then he grabbed the reins and hurriedly rushed forward with his head down.
Bao Zhu was still unsatisfied. Seeing his hunched back and stiff gait, she knew this rascal had again disobeyed orders and “raised troops” without authorization.
She said irritably: “Next time I’ll get you a skirt armor to wear—there’s no thicker clothing than that.”
“No! Too cumbersome.” The Blue Robe Guest didn’t turn back, stubbornly refusing. From behind, both ear tips burned bright red.
—The End—
Author’s Note:
Finished! Eight hundred thousand words—this is the longest novel I’ve written. Stumbling and staggering to the marathon finish line, thank you all for your companionship.
There will probably be one or two extras later, once I’ve rested.
Throughout serialization, readers kept asking how to pronounce the “辟” character in the title. To avoid spoilers, I pretended not to see. This character can be read as “bì” meaning ruler/monarch, or “pì” meaning forging ahead to open new paths. Consider it a small easter egg in the title.
My next plan is to fill the old pit “A Thousand Demons, A Hundred Charms.” New readers can bookmark it as a “pre-collection that already has 300,000 words written.”