She had seen this emblem before?
How could that be possible?
Nanny Qin was a native-born woman of Eastern Qin — there was no connection whatsoever between her and Nanzhao, not in eight lifetimes. How could she possibly have seen such a highly confidential emblem from Nanzhao?
Xuanyuan Lige looked at Nanny Qin with suspicion, and asked seriously, “What did you just say?”
“Young master, this old servant truly has seen this emblem before. Is it very important?” Nanny Qin said, growing even more serious.
Only then did Xuanyuan Lige grow urgent. “Where did you see it? What does it mean? What does it represent?”
But when pressed, Nanny Qin found she couldn’t answer. She only knew that she must have seen this emblem before, that it felt very familiar — but try as she might, she genuinely couldn’t recall where she had seen it, or what it meant. It seemed to be something from a very, very long time ago.
“Think carefully. This is extremely important!” Xuanyuan Lige urged, anxious.
Nanny Qin grew tense as well, staring at the emblem, straining to remember, but in the end she could only shake her head helplessly. “Young master, this old servant can say for certain that I’ve seen this thing before, but it must have been a very long time ago. I truly can’t recall it right now!”
“How long ago? Back when you were still serving my mother, or…”
Nanny Qin thought it over carefully, then said with certainty, “It was definitely back when I was still serving Her Majesty the Empress.”
Nanny Qin had entered the palace in her teens and had served the Empress of Eastern Qin ever since, until Xuanyuan Lige was born, after which she devoted herself wholeheartedly to caring for the young master. She had never dared voice her anger at some of the Empress’s ways, but her whole heart had always been devoted to protecting Xuanyuan Lige.
As she spoke, Nanny Qin suddenly seemed to remember something, and abruptly grabbed hold of Xuanyuan Lige’s hand.
Xuanyuan Lige didn’t dare ask, his handsome brows furrowing slightly as he waited tensely.
“Young master… this old servant remembers now! It must have been that place — this old servant is certain of it!” Nanny Qin said, growing excited. If the young master hadn’t asked about the timing, she really might never have recalled it at all!
When she was still very young, she had gone out to sea with the Empress. To the east of Eastern Qin lay a scattering of islands, large and small, strewn across the water like stars. Back before Great Qin had split in two into Western Chu and Eastern Qin, these islands had belonged to no one. After the split, the Great Qin imperial house moved east, and unable to subdue Western Chu, turned instead to expand into the eastern seas. Over the course of several decades, they had reclaimed nearly every island north of Da Zhou’s coastline.
Among them was one small island that the Empress of Eastern Qin had personally gone to subdue — not through war, but through clever negotiation. It was precisely because of this feat that the Empress earned the previous emperor’s favor, rising above the other princesses to eventually ascend the throne.
“Young master, it was Yaoshun Island!” Nanny Qin said with delight. Yaoshun Island was small, but extraordinarily difficult to conquer, because it was an island ruled entirely by a religious order.
In Nanzhao, divine authority answered to royal authority — meaning even the High Priest of the Earth King’s faith had to obey the commands of the Prince of Nanzhao. But under religious rule, it was the tribal chieftains who had to obey the commands of the priesthood.
A religious order’s hold over its people was far more terrifying than any royal authority’s rule over its subjects.
Put simply: when a king ordered his people to die, the people did not wish to die, yet had no choice, for they could not resist. But when a high priest ordered the people to die, they died willingly — some even felt it a supreme honor to die for their god.
A nation under divine rule was extraordinarily unified, and exceedingly difficult to conquer.
Back then, the Empress of Eastern Qin had wisely chosen to negotiate with the high priest of Yaoshun Island, even going so far as to abandon Eastern Qin’s own faith and convert to the god worshipped on Yaoshun Island.
Xuanyuan Lige naturally knew this piece of history. The moment he heard the words “Yaoshun Island,” he grasped the general picture. “You saw it in the temple on Yaoshun Island?”
“Precisely, young master. At the time, this old servant accompanied Her Majesty and stayed in the temple on Yaoshun Island for three days and three nights. This old servant absolutely saw it there — that temple was full of far more than just this one emblem!”
Nanny Qin was quite excited, but Xuanyuan Lige couldn’t bring himself to feel happy. “So you’re saying Mother has seen it too?”
“That… this old servant wouldn’t know. Young master, you know yourself that Her Majesty has never had much interest in matters of religion.” Nanny Qin knew the Empress of Eastern Qin well enough — that woman didn’t believe in gods or spirits, let alone karma or retribution. She believed only in the present world, only in herself. And so, from childhood to old age, no matter how much evil she had done, she had never once lost a night’s sleep over it.
Xuanyuan Lige pondered this for a moment, and before he could speak, Nanny Qin said, “Young master, let this old servant go there instead. You must return — if Her Majesty can’t find you, the consequences will be…”
Xuanyuan Lige looked at the old nanny, a flicker of warmth passing through his eyes. All the warmth he had ever known in his life had come from this old woman.
He often wondered — the day his illness finally took him, what would become of her?
He wanted to say something, but in the end said nothing at all. He simply nodded, then turned to leave.
“Young master, remember to take your medicine!” Nanny Qin called after him hastily, but Xuanyuan Lige was already far away.
The meaning of the emblem was being sought not only by the Empress of Eastern Qin and Xuanyuan Lige — even before the discovery of the ancient music cavern, Jun Beiyue had already been investigating it everywhere.
It was only that there had never been any progress.
Jun Beiyue’s group returned to the imperial capital very discreetly, without any fanfare. But no sooner had Ziqing and he stepped through the gate — before they’d even had a chance to rest — than Consort Yiqing arrived right on their heels.
Ziqing glanced at Jun Beiyue; the two of them understood each other without a word. This was even sooner than they’d expected!
“Beiyue, this must be a misunderstanding. You know your second brother’s temperament — how could he possibly have opened the city gates and let the Western Jing army through!”
Consort Yiqing pleaded earnestly from the front gate all the way to the reception hall. Jun Beiyue paid her no mind whatsoever, not even sparing her a glance, while Ziqing found her utterly contemptible — that single word “Beiyue” from Consort Yiqing’s mouth was enough to turn her stomach. She despised nothing more than people without principles, who wore one face when they hated you and an entirely different one when they needed something from you.
The husband and wife sat down together, unhurriedly wiping their hands, washing their faces, rinsing their mouths, drinking tea, nibbling on pastries — utterly at ease, treating Consort Yiqing as if she were thin air.
But Consort Yiqing didn’t take the hint, and kept right on pleading.
Hongyi personally brought in a bowl of ginseng soup. Seeing Ziqing, she was overjoyed, but with the prince right there she didn’t dare act out of turn. The moment she withdrew, she slipped out to find Guxi — naturally, to ask about Shiliang.
Their mistress had just returned from Nanzhao — surely she must have brought Shiliang back with her? And yet, Hongyi had been watching closely for quite a while now, and hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of the girl anywhere. It was very strange.
But Guxi only had three words for her: “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? Wasn’t she sent to Nanzhao to attend the mistress? Didn’t you see her?” Hongyi asked urgently.
“No.” Guxi’s tone was flat.
“No? How could that be? Don’t tell me she never went at all? Then where did she go? She’s not at Prince Yao’s estate either!” Hongyi pressed further.
“I don’t know,” Guxi said again, just as flatly. Hongyi eyed him with suspicion, feeling that something about him was different from before, yet unable to say exactly what.
…