She had already grown up and was no longer a child. Having grown quite tall, he still found lifting her very easy—as effortless as when he used to carry her horizontally as a child. He was tall and strong, yet the arms that embraced her were very gentle. For an instant they were very close, and she saw her own reflection in those beautiful phoenix eyes, so that mysterious feeling captivated her again.

Qi Ying felt the same way.

Her slender waist was right between his palms, her faint fragrance swirling around him, the soft curves of the young woman momentarily pressed against him.

He truly had no intention of taking liberties with her, and indeed didn’t want to harbor any improper thoughts, but the momentary turmoil in his heart couldn’t deceive anyone—not even himself.

His panic was on par with hers.

It was just that Lord Qi had been tempered by years in the imperial court, naturally making him much more composed than a little girl. Moreover, he understood a principle deeply: the more unsettled one’s emotions, the calmer one must appear on the surface. He had practiced this principle many times, and it had been very effective each time. So now he pretended to maintain a flawless composure, gently releasing the arms that held her, and said to her indifferently: “Let’s go.”

After speaking, he turned and walked away first.

Shen Xiling had originally been drowning in that rare embrace, but now seeing his calm and even somewhat cold demeanor, she felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over her head. The subtle ripples in her heart immediately faded, and she couldn’t help feeling hurt as she thought: Did he still regard her as a child? Or worse—perhaps he didn’t have such feelings for her at all…

For a moment her heart was in turmoil. Not knowing what to say or do, she couldn’t even follow him and stood there in a daze.

Shuipei, who had been tying up the horses with Bai Song, turned around to see her young miss standing alone looking lost and even somewhat melancholy. She quickly came forward to ask what was wrong.

Just then Qi Ying also noticed she hadn’t followed and turned back to look at her. Shen Xiling’s heart jumped, afraid her thoughts would be seen through, so she quickly composed the chaos in her heart.

Although Shen Xiling was young, having worked in commerce, she had actually learned some ability to keep her emotions from showing on her face. Though much more naive than Qi Ying, it was sufficient for putting up appearances. At this moment she held her breath and concentrated, hiding away all her earlier disappointment and melancholy. She even smiled at Shuipei, saying very naturally and graciously: “Nothing’s wrong. Let’s go.”

Qixia Mountain truly lived up to its reputation—it was indeed beautiful and elegant.

From afar, the red maples covering the mountain only appeared magnificent, but examining them closely after entering revealed their spiritual beauty. With mist swirling through the mountains, it appeared especially profound, as if transcending the mundane world.

Shen Xiling secretly glanced at Qi Ying walking beside her. Others might not notice anything, but she knew he was in a very good mood at this moment.

It was hard to say how she could tell—clearly this person showed little difference on the surface whether happy or angry. But she just knew; she could sense it.

He was truly someone who never had leisure, always entangled in official duties. Strolling leisurely through autumn scenery like today was probably something he hadn’t experienced for a very long time.

She still remembered the annotation he had written in Baopu Gong’s collected works back then. She wondered if, in this situation and setting, he was experiencing the subtle pleasures described in that text.

As she was drifting in thought, she suddenly heard Buddhist chanting faintly transmitted through the mountain mist from the western slope.

Shen Xiling was startled, then remembered there was a Qixia Temple on the western slope.

Buddhism and Taoism flourished in Jiangzuo, with numerous Buddhist temples and monasteries. In the Jiankang area alone there were no fewer than hundreds of large and small monasteries, with incense burning year-round. The imperial family also had a tradition of Buddhist devotion—the current emperor was quite devout, holding grand Buddhist ceremonies every year on the Buddha’s Birthday on the eighth day of the fourth month.

But Shen Xiling knew that Qi Ying didn’t believe.

In Wangshi there were countless classics of history, philosophy, and literature, but notably no Buddhist scriptures. Unless he absolutely couldn’t avoid it, he generally didn’t attend annual Buddhist festivals and ceremonies.

Shen Xiling had once asked him why he didn’t believe. At the time he was reading by lamplight, never setting his book aside. Hearing her question, he looked up at her but didn’t answer.

She didn’t understand his meaning, and it was later that Qing Zhu explained it to her.

He said: “Our young master has a resilient character and believes in himself more than in gods and Buddhas. Since he can make everything go smoothly through his own strength, why would he need to pray to gods and worship Buddhas?”

He spoke with conviction, but Shen Xiling wasn’t sure whether to believe it.

She actually always felt that although he didn’t believe in Buddha, he himself was someone with Buddha nature. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have saved her initially, nor continued to care for her afterward. He was magnanimous and compassionate, with wisdom in his heart as well. Perhaps someone like him, whose heart was already clear and transparent, wouldn’t be constrained by concepts of believing or not believing.

But Shen Xiling was different—she believed, and in a worldly way. Whenever she encountered Buddhist temples or monasteries, she always had to go in to worship and pray, or she wouldn’t feel at ease.

Qi Ying knew this habit of hers. Hearing the chanting now and remembering there was a Buddhist temple on the western slope, seeing the little girl looking at him expectantly, he immediately understood her meaning.

The red maples covering the mountain were already extremely beautiful, and the swirling mist and moisture made the young woman’s features appear particularly lovely, like a beautiful flower spirit.

His eyes held affection and gentle pleasure as he asked: “Shall I accompany you there?”

Shen Xiling saw him smile, then nodded brightly: “Yes!”

The mist was even thicker on the western slope, and the Buddhist temple seemed to exist within the clouds.

In the sixteenth year of Qinghua, Emperor Liang had not yet allocated funds to expand the dharma buildings, so Qixia Temple was not yet as magnificent as Jiming Temple and Dingshan Temple, nor could it be called the finest in the southeast. What was worthy of praise was the Amitabha Buddha and two bodhisattva statues carved into the stone wall of the western peak, each over thirty feet tall, drawing Buddhist disciples to worship and contemplate.

The temple had a relic pagoda, with a great Buddha pavilion to the east, also called the Three Saints Hall, housing Amitabha Buddha with Avalokiteshvara and Mahasthamaprapta bodhisattvas standing in attendance on either side—very magnificent.

When Shen Xiling’s party stepped into the monastery, the chanting had ceased, with only the sound of bells reaching their ears. Within the spacious Buddhist temple there were no pilgrims coming and going, only occasional monks passing by.

Shen Xiling was quite surprised.

Although Qixia Temple’s incense offerings weren’t as prosperous as Jiming and Dingshan temples, she hadn’t expected it to be so empty today. But this was also good—if there were too many people worshipping, the Buddha and bodhisattvas wouldn’t be able to listen to your wishes. With no one around, you could properly pray and worship. Perhaps the deities would grow impatient with your chatter and, wanting to dismiss you quickly, might casually grant your request?

Shen Xiling was in good spirits and turned to ask Qi Ying: “Would Young Master like to come with me into the hall to worship?”

Qi Ying stood with hands behind his back, only saying: “I’ll wait for you here.”

Since he didn’t believe, worshipping would actually be disrespectful. Shen Xiling understood and didn’t press him. She merely nodded obediently: “Alright, then Shuipei and I will go.”

Qi Ying nodded, glanced around, and instructed: “No need to hurry—we have plenty of time today.”

Shen Xiling blinked. Hearing him say this and seeing him standing there waiting for her, she felt that secret joy of being favored by him again. She pursed her lips and nodded, then walked with Shuipei across the stone pavement, wet with mist, into the Great Buddha Pavilion.

Qi Ying watched her retreating figure until she entered the Buddha pavilion, then withdrew his gaze. He turned to look at Bai Song standing behind him, glanced at his hand resting on his sword hilt, smiled, and raised his voice slightly with apparent meaning: “How can one bear weapons before His Highness? No need for such precautions.”

As soon as he finished speaking, he heard a man’s hearty laughter coming through the thin mist. Qi Ying turned and looked up to see a man approaching from the relic pagoda, wearing dark purple brocade robes with a teardrop mole below his right eye.

Third Prince, Xiao Zihuan.

Qi Ying silently sighed, then stepped forward to greet the Third Prince. Xiao Zihuan helped him up ceremonially, saying: “This is a pure Buddhist sanctuary—why be constrained by worldly etiquette? Jingchen, please don’t do this.”

Qi Ying smiled but still maintained proper ritual, then said: “Worldly dharma is also dharma and should be followed.”

Hearing this, Xiao Zihuan shook his head with a smile. Seeing he couldn’t dissuade him, he accepted the greeting, then smiled at Bai Song: “This king has long heard that this retainer of yours has exceptional hearing. I didn’t expect it to be so miraculous.”

He turned to Bai Song and asked: “When did you detect this king’s presence?”

The Third Prince originally referred to himself as “I,” but now changed to “this king” because he had been enfeoffed as a prince two years ago for his merit in eliminating the remnants of the Shen family. He was titled Prince Duan, becoming the only prince among all the imperial sons—quite glorious at the time.

The court situation had always been delicate.

When the Third Prince was enfeoffed as Prince Duan two years ago, everyone thought the position of Crown Prince was secured by him. But just days after the enfeoffment decree, Emperor Liang personally arranged a marriage between the Fourth Prince and the legitimate daughter of the Fu family, with great fanfare. This made the emperor’s intentions seem mysterious and hard to fathom.

However, one thing was very clear: the Third Prince was enfeoffed for suppressing aristocratic families, while the Fourth Prince gained favor through marriage with an aristocratic family. Their positions at court were diametrically opposed. This could only mean one thing: the final determination of succession would depend not only on how the two imperial sons competed, but also on how the three great families maneuvered within this situation.

This was a choice both the imperial family and the great families had to make.

Such circumstances naturally made the relationship between the Third Prince and Qi Ying quite delicate. After all, no matter how one looked at it, Lord Qi was the most outstanding figure of this generation among the three great families. Even if the Left Minister later passed the family headship to his eldest son Qi Yun, Qi Ying would still be pivotal in the court and would ultimately become the leader of Jiangzuo’s great families in the future.

How could the prince most hostile to great families be on good terms with Qi Ying? He would more likely hope daily for Qi Ying to suffer from excessive intelligence and die young. Bai Song understood these stakes, so when Xiao Zihuan questioned him, he tensed up invisibly, his expression very cautious.

Qi Ying was quite relaxed, turning to tell Bai Song: “His Highness has asked a question—answer truthfully.”

Hearing this, Bai Song bowed and saluted Xiao Zihuan, then answered with lowered head: “Your Highness, I knew upon entering the gate.”

This was no lie.

He originally had exceptional hearing, and having followed Qi Ying for many years, had been trained to be very alert, able to detect even the slightest sounds. Today, upon entering the temple gates, he had heard movement near the relic pagoda—the sounds made while walking were quite different from those of monks’ footwear.

He had wanted to investigate immediately but was secretly stopped by his master, presumably because the young master didn’t want to involve Shen Xiling, so he waited until she entered the Buddha pavilion before meeting with the Third Prince.

Hearing this, Xiao Zihuan laughed heartily and praised repeatedly, then turned to ask Qi Ying: “He knew this king’s location through hearing, but how did you know? You addressed me as ‘Your Highness’ before we even met—could you have known early on that the person by the relic pagoda was this king?”

Author’s Note: Emperor Liang, the king of balance, who wouldn’t praise such perfect equilibrium?