Would hiding out really be enough? Hua Chun looked at her questioningly.
Qing Niao nodded. She didn’t know just how skilled Monk Zhili really was at rituals, but avoiding trouble was better than courting it — surely he couldn’t reach her from that far away.
“Alright then,” Hua Chun said, nodding. “Let Master Zhili come back, and I’ll go with you to Zichen Hall.”
“Yes.”
Rui’er ran out to pass the word along, and Hua Chun changed her clothes and slowly walked with Qing Niao along the palace path. With her belly so large now, riding a palanquin wasn’t safe, so a slow walk was actually good for her health.
Master Zhili had just about reached the Cold Palace when he was pulled back — the people accompanying him all looked a bit awkward, since no one had expected Consort De to change her mind again.
“Our mistress has done nothing to feel guilty about,” Rui’er said. “It was just a hassle before, but since the Master made it sound so serious, we might as well go ahead with the ritual.”
Zhili pressed his palms together and chanted a Buddhist verse, then had the attendants behind him lay everything out in the courtyard, scattering talisman papers all around.
“Her Highness is no longer in this hall?” After looking around for a while, he suddenly asked this.
Rui’er nodded. “Her Highness doesn’t care for these things, and has already gone to Zichen Hall.”
Zhili paused, turning to look toward Zichen Hall, his eyes taking on a deep, unreadable look.
The Emperor was in the front hall of Zichen Hall discussing state affairs when he heard that Consort De had agreed to let the ritual be performed at the Hall of Mental Cultivation, and felt a wave of relief. He was just about to go check on her once the meeting concluded, when Eunuch Qin entered, his expression grave. “Your Majesty, Master Zhili requests an audience.”
Standing nearby were Tang Yue and Lü Sanbian, both trusted officials, so the Emperor didn’t have them withdraw and simply had Zhili brought in.
“Your Majesty,” Zhili said, his expression solemn, bowing before speaking. “This humble monk has found the root of the calamity.”
“Oh?” Yuwen Jie pressed his lips together. “What is it?”
“This humble monk’s late master once taught me a few things about the principles of yin and yang. If a person is reincarnated but has not had their memories erased, and still carries entanglements from a past life, then the yin energy about their person will be extremely heavy, and over time it will bring misfortune upon those around them.” Zhili said. “Though I cannot say for certain whether this theory is correct, this humble monk can deduce that the yin energy in the Hall of Mental Cultivation has nothing to do with the palace hall itself — it is connected to Consort De.”
The Emperor’s heart sank, and he frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
“While Her Highness was in the Hall of Mental Cultivation, this humble monk could clearly sense the yin energy there was extremely heavy. Once Her Highness left, this humble monk went to look again, and the Hall of Mental Cultivation seemed more or less normal.” Zhili said. “Given this, it can only be connected to Her Highness.”
Everyone present sucked in a sharp breath. Yuwen Jie’s face darkened. “If there is no solid proof, Master, such a claim could be considered an accusation against Consort De.”
“This humble monk has no proof,” he said. “But Your Majesty might consider recent events together — why have the charitable works done in Consort De’s name repeatedly run into trouble? Why has Great Liang always enjoyed favorable weather, and yet just as Consort De is about to give birth, disasters have suddenly broken out everywhere?”
Either something was wrong with Consort De, or something was wrong with the child in her belly.
Tang Yue and Lü Sanbian exchanged a glance, both frowning slightly. The Emperor fell silent for a moment, then asked, “What did you mean earlier about past-life memories?”
“That is what this humble monk’s master taught. Some people, upon reincarnating, refuse to drink the Meng Po soup and keep their memories from their previous life. Those with such attachment usually have someone they loved, and come to this life seeking that person, willing to endure the suffering of purgatory for it.”
That sounded utterly ridiculous, and Lü Sanbian couldn’t help but cut in. “If that were true, then surely everyone would want to keep their past-life memories — even without anyone to search for, you could be a child prodigy from birth.”
“Not so,” Zhili said, shaking his head. “Everything comes at a price. It is written in the Buddhist scriptures that those who refuse the Meng Po soup must spend half a month in purgatory, enduring the agony of being burned by fire every single day — something no ordinary person could bear. Without a truly bone-deep attachment, no one would choose to keep their memories.”
“This is getting more and more far-fetched,” Tang Yue said, frowning. “We laypeople don’t understand much of the Master’s Buddhist teachings, but if we’re to use this as grounds to blame all the disasters on Consort De, then Her Highness has been wronged indeed.”
Zhili lowered his head. In truth, he wasn’t entirely confident himself — it was only that he was being praised more and more, so he felt he had to sound more mystical, digging up everything he’d ever learned to make his case.
The Emperor lowered his eyes. “What Chancellor Tang says makes sense. Consort De is with child and dislikes rituals besides. Since there’s no concrete proof, there’s no need to trouble her over it. Let the matter of the ritual rest for now. Master, you may withdraw.”
“Amitabha.” Zhili bowed and gave a light sigh, then turned and followed the palace attendants out.
The hall fell quiet. Lü Sanbian and Tang Yue were both mulling over the matter, while the Emperor sat with his brow deeply furrowed. After a long while, he finally spoke. “Do you two believe what Zhili said?”
Tang Yue and Lü Sanbian both shook their heads in unison. “Your servants do not believe in such things.”
“But what if it’s true?” Yuwen Jie said, his tone heavy. “What if she truly has kept the memories of her past life…”
Lü Sanbian shook his head, and was just about to speak up in Consort De’s defense when he heard the Emperor’s next words: “Then who did she love in her past life? To be so attached to him?”
Lü Sanbian: “…”
Was that really the point? Wasn’t the point supposed to be that, if Zhili’s words were true, keeping Consort De in the palace would bring endless disaster upon Great Liang!
Torn between laughter and exasperation, Tang Yue said, “It seems Your Majesty really is quite fond of Her Highness.”
The Emperor’s face went stern. “She’s just a woman. What is there to be fond of or not?” You two go about your business. See that the disaster relief is properly handled.”
“Yes.” The two men complied and withdrew together.
In ancient times, science hadn’t yet developed, and superstition about ghosts and spirits ran far higher than in the modern era — so although everyone claimed not to believe such things, deep down, most of them harbored some doubt.
Back in the rear hall, Yuwen Jie stared at Hua Chun, looking her carefully up and down from head to toe.
“What is it?” Hua Chun raised an eyebrow.
“Have you… ever regretted entering the palace?” he asked.
Where had that come from all of a sudden? Hua Chun was surprised, but thought about it seriously. “Nothing to regret.”
His heart eased, and Yuwen Jie, uncharacteristically, curved his lips into a smile, looking rather pleased.
Even if she carried some extraordinary bond from a past life, judging by the choices she’d made in this life, it clearly had something to do with him — that was enough to set his mind at ease.
“Did Master Zhili tell you something?” Hua Chun asked, frowning.
The Emperor shook his head. “He said everything in the palace is normal, and that once the ritual is done, no more strange occurrences will happen.”
“I see, that’s good then.” Hua Chun nodded. “This concubine will head back to the Hall of Mental Cultivation, then.”
“Stay here tonight,” the Emperor said. “Walking back and forth like that — aren’t you afraid of tiring yourself out?”