Hanyuan Hall

The Emperor read through his memorials while saying to Lin Xiao: “Early this morning, the Daoist sent word to me that the formation is already fully prepared and will be activated in a few days. Unfortunately, it will take forty-nine days to complete the formation, and after that, there are still over a hundred ritual ceremonies of supplication — at the very quickest, it will take two full months before everything is done. Ah, if only it could be done a little faster — I truly fear that I—”

He abruptly cut himself off, let out a regretful sigh, and said no more.

The atmosphere in the hall instantly became somewhat heavy.

Lin Xiao glanced at the Emperor’s face, which carried a tinge of ashen gray, and recalled Qin Yao’s mention that the corpse poison in the Emperor’s leg had been treated too late and had infiltrated the heart meridians — he likely did not have long to live.

Although no one dared say this outright to the Emperor, the Emperor had been bringing A’Han to court to observe governance day after day and ordering the court’s affairs without rest or sleep. When alone, he would occasionally reveal a look of quiet anxiety. It was clear that from the wound on his leg, the Emperor had already sensed some signs of the truth.

Although the Emperor had consumed countless detoxifying medicines, the wound continued to fester and showed no sign of healing. The matter was kept under the strictest secrecy, known only to a handful of people. But the Emperor had evidently already had a premonition and guessed that his remaining time was short, and was pressing himself to put his affairs in order.

And the reason the Emperor was so uncaring of his own life was likely still rooted in guilt and remorse over Consort Hui’s death — this was his way of punishing himself, and of doing everything possible to make restitution to Consort Hui and her son.

Yet judging by the attitude Consort Hui had shown toward the Emperor just before she was suppressed, the Emperor’s painstaking arrangements might not necessarily be something Consort Hui would be willing to accept.

The Emperor stared at the pile of memorials in a daze for some time, then asked Lin Xiao: “Is Kangping still insisting on entering a convent?”

Lin Xiao replied: “Yes.”

At first, Princess Kangping had cried and made a fuss without end, attempting time and again to see the Emperor and beg him to pardon her mother. But watching as Consort Yi’s entire clan was uprooted, her mother given poisoned wine and “put to death,” and her two elder brothers sent into exile, she had finally come to understand that none of it could be undone, and had gradually fallen silent.

The Emperor was quiet for a moment, then said at length, in a mild voice: “In a previous dynasty, there was a Lady Dowager Consort who was deeply devoted to the Buddha. After her son ascended the throne, he built a small convent for her called the Dustless Convent, right within the Northern Garden of the palace. If Kangping insists on entering the religious life, then have her installed in the Dustless Convent.”

Lin Xiao glanced at the Emperor with a trace of mild surprise. Although the Dustless Convent was a Buddhist convent, it was in practice supplied and kept clean by palace servants year-round, unlike outside convents — it was, in its own way, a world unto itself. Kangping would be able to take up the religious life there in peace, without suffering hardship. The arrangement seemed casual, but was in fact a careful act of consideration, and showed that the Emperor still harbored compassion for Kangping.

He was still turning this over in his mind when he heard the Emperor ask: “Has Feng Boyu regained consciousness?”

Lin Xiao’s expression became slightly more composed. He replied: “He regained consciousness not long ago. A physician has examined him and says there is no great cause for concern for now.”

“Tell me in detail what happened that day,” the Emperor narrowed his eyes.

Lin Xiao paused for a moment, knowing full well that every word he said next would be closely tied to Feng Boyu’s life or death. He chose carefully and said: “When Consort Yi launched her coup, Princess Kangping did not know what was happening and made several attempts to find the Emperor and Consort Yi. Consort Yi’s attendants, partly fearing that Kangping would ruin their plans and partly fearing she would be placed in danger, confined both her and the Prince Consort to a secluded residence under house arrest. The Prince Consort, having surmised that Consort Yi intended to usurp the throne, refused to go along with it, and at one point attempted to escape in the middle of the proceedings — but was unsuccessful. In grief and fury, he declared that he would rather die by the blade than be a treasonous subject, and seized a moment when Consort Yi’s attendants were not paying close attention to dash his head against a pillar in a suicide attempt. He was so desperate to die that, though Consort Yi’s attendants managed to catch him and partially break the impact, he still struck his head hard enough to bleed severely. When my subordinates found Kangping and Feng Boyu, Feng Boyu’s bleeding could not be stopped and he had already fallen unconscious, while Princess Kangping was in a frantic state, urgently trying to send someone to fetch a physician. Afterward, I had Yu Ruoshui examine Feng Boyu’s injuries — they were quite serious, and it is clear that he had genuinely intended to die. In my nephew’s estimation, the Prince Consort very likely had no knowledge whatsoever of Consort Yi’s treasonous designs and was merely an innocent party caught up in it all.”

Every single word was reported truthfully, without the slightest exaggeration or disparagement.

The Emperor rose from behind his desk and paced back and forth indecisively for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he nodded. “Yu Ruoshui has reported to me these past few days about Feng Boyu’s condition, and I already have some sense of the matter in my heart. This young man came from humble origins and passed the examinations through his own efforts — that is no small thing. Before, in the height of my anger, I thought him blinded by ambition and in league with Consort Yi, and nearly held him jointly culpable. Looking at it now, it seems I wronged him.”

He turned, hands clasped behind his back. “At the time of the palace examination, I already thought this young man’s essays were well-written. After he entered the Court of Judicial Review, he proved truly diligent and earnest. Even after he married Kangping, he remained conscientious and unwavering in his duties, never showing the slightest sign of slackening. Though he was dragged in without cause by Consort Yi’s affairs and left with no way out, he was willing to die in order to declare his innocence — that shows the integrity and backbone of a man of letters. If he were to fade into obscurity because of the Consort Yi affair, it would truly be a waste—”

The Emperor trailed off, lost in thought.

Lin Xiao, hearing these words, understood that the Emperor already had a plan in mind for how to handle Feng Boyu’s situation, and said nothing more, standing quietly to one side.

After a while, the Emperor emerged from his contemplation. His expression could not conceal his exhaustion, but he managed a faint smile as he said to Lin Xiao: “You’ve been busy all day as well — why not return to the manor earlier? Your wife is with child now and needs someone to look after her. As for Feng Boyu, We will draw up the edict tomorrow.”

Lin Xiao took his leave and withdrew. Reaching the doorway of the hall, he had just descended the steps when he felt his face brush against something cool — he looked up, and in the deepening dusk, great feathery snowflakes were drifting down.

Now that the twelfth month had come in, the snow fell one storm after another, and the New Year drew steadily closer.

The palace lanterns hung everywhere shifted and glimmered in the snow, casting the snowy ground in the dusk with a warm, amber glow — like the small, steady lamp waiting for him in Siru Pavilion. He stood in place for a brief moment, and thought of that tender one who always waited for him by the lamp. His heart softened entirely, and without wishing to linger another moment in the palace, he set his feet moving toward the palace gates.

The following day, the Emperor duly issued an edict granting Princess Kangping permission to take up the religious life as penance, bestowing upon her the religious name Pingning Jushi, and installing her at the Dustless Convent.

After Princess Kangping received the edict, she stated only that she wished to devote herself wholeheartedly to the Buddha, and petitioned to formally separate from Feng Boyu.

The Emperor received Kangping’s petition and approved it immediately, then drew up a separate edict absolving Feng Boyu of all charges, restoring him to official service, and posting him outside Chang’an to serve as the county magistrate of Yongzhou.

Before his departure, Feng Boyu was summoned to the palace for one final audience with Kangping at the Dustless Convent.

Kangping had washed away all her adornments and stood in plain dark clothing and unadorned face — which made her look, if anything, more quietly beautiful than before. She stood in the covered walkway and studied Feng Boyu for a long moment. Seeing that his forehead was still wrapped in the bandages used to protect his wound, and that his face, though considerably thinner, remained as strikingly handsome as ever, she felt a faint twinge in her heart. Yet her mouth curved into a smile as she said: “From the day we married, even though you were clothed in fine silks and well-fed, I never once saw a smile on your face. Now you have been posted out of Chang’an to nothing more than a small county magistrate position, and yet you look far more spirited and cheerful than before.”

Feng Boyu had braced himself for countless possible reactions from Kangping on his way here. He had expected her to resent heaven and blame the world, or to have been utterly broken by adversity. He had never imagined that after enduring one sudden upheaval after another, she would instead come across as more open and clear-eyed than before. Every response he had carefully prepared went unused, and he stood there, at something of a loss.

“Which goes to show just how wrong I was back then,” Kangping said, looking at him steadily.

Feng Boyu did not know how to respond, and could only continue his silence.

Kangping glanced back at the hushed and still convent quarters, then said quietly: “Father Emperor showed me mercy and did not subject me to a life of wandering hardship. I do not dare wish for anything more. But whenever I think of you, I always feel I owe you something. If I had not insisted on making you my Prince Consort back then, how would you have come to suffer like this? Fortunately, Father Emperor has at last seen reason and has not condemned you for it — I don’t know whether, in all of this, there is someone else’s effort to thank as well.”

She fell quiet for a moment, then reverted to her old ways, becoming casual and unguarded again. “Perhaps it is for the best, too — this way we won’t spend every day resenting each other and end up as a couple full of bitterness and estrangement. I invited you into the palace today for no other reason — it’s just that we were husband and wife, after all, and now that you’re leaving, I don’t know when or whether we’ll ever have a chance to meet again. I just wanted to look at you once more.”

Her tone was light, but it clearly carried a reluctance to part.

Feng Boyu felt an unsettled sorrow in his heart. With a wistful sigh, he said sincerely: “Take care.”

Kangping was momentarily thrown off. She forced a smile and said: “This is the first time I’ve ever seen you have the patience to listen to me talk like this. In the past, you would have rather faced your case files than spare me a single glance.”

As she said this, her heart gave a sudden pang, and the smile could no longer quite hold. She turned her head away abruptly, and after a long, long moment, said in a begrudging, awkward tone: “Go on now. I’m finally willing to let go. You’re free from this moment forward — you’re probably feeling nothing but joy inside right now.”

Her moods shifted unpredictably; though she tried to keep up her composure, her old imperious nature showed through in the end. Feng Boyu found himself at ease with it. He gave a solemn bow to Kangping and, choosing his words carefully, said: “Thank you. I—”

Kangping grew impatient, urging him insistently: “Why aren’t you leaving yet? I’ve said everything I had to say — just go!”

As she spoke, her eyes fixed stubbornly on the side.

Feng Boyu gave a faint sigh and said: “Then, farewell. Take care.”

He turned and descended the steps with slow but steady strides. He had barely reached the middle of the courtyard when he suddenly heard Kangping call out loudly: “Feng Boyu—”

Feng Boyu halted in his tracks and turned to look at Kangping. He saw that her eyes held the glimmer of tears as she looked at him with reluctance, murmuring: “You take care as well.”

An inexplicable, lingering feeling settled in his heart. After a long moment, he broke into a warm and genuine smile. “Take care, both of us,” he said.

Kangping seemed to be seeing Feng Boyu smile so openly and freely for the first time. She was startled, and then suddenly understood. She returned a wide, brilliant smile. “Yes — take care, both of us.”

Qu Ziyu and Wang Yikun received the news that Feng Boyu had been pardoned and posted to a new assignment, and came together to see him off.

Feng Boyu was dressed in light, simple traveling clothes and wore a calm expression. He helped his mother board the boat, then stood on the dock to bid farewell to his two classmates.

“Yongzhou has simple and honest folk and abundant local produce. Only someone with true talent and practical skill could be posted to Yongzhou — which shows that the Emperor, for one, admires you, and for another, intends to cultivate you,” Wang Yikun said. “With your abilities, Jizhu, within three years you will surely distinguish yourself.”

Feng Boyu smiled faintly and said: “For my part, all of that is secondary. To have come out of this with my life intact and be able to care for my mother in her old age — that is already an extraordinary blessing. I ask for nothing more.”

Qu Ziyu thought of how Feng Boyu’s younger sister was near her time of delivery, yet Feng Boyu refused to mention his sister by so much as a word, and put all his heart and mind into his mother alone. He did not press the matter, and only said: “You’ve just come through a great upheaval, and it’s natural to feel a little dispirited. Wait until three years have passed before speaking these words again. In any case, one thing I can say is: Ziqi and I will be waiting for you in Chang’an.”

Wang Yikun laughed and said: “We three were the top three graduates of Zhaozhao Academy together, and entered public service at the same time. When you return from your posting, we absolutely must get together and have a proper drink to our heart’s content.”

Feng Boyu laughed and clapped the two men on the shoulders, saying with bold spirit: “Good — and on that occasion, we won’t stop until we’re drunk.”

With farewells said, he boarded the boat. By chance, his gaze swept to the distant, imposing palace walls. He thought of the slender, graceful young woman who had once filled his dreams and longed-for thoughts, and let out a nearly inaudible sigh. He gave a cupped-hand salute to Qu Ziyu and Wang Yikun, and said with a smile: “You’ve sent me far enough — all journeys must end with a parting. Please, return.”

Qu Ziyu and Wang Yikun suppressed the faint, quiet melancholy that filled their chests and smiled in unison: “Until we meet again.”

A few days later, Qing Xuzi activated the formation, and the Emperor had Consort Yi brought out of Dayin Temple and cast into the formation.

Qin Yao, upon hearing the news, wished very much to go and help her Master lay the formation — but her Master sent word back and stopped her, saying that this formation was, in the end, something that deviated from the proper way, and a pregnant woman had no business getting involved.

She had no choice but to idle at home in boredom, waiting for news. During this time, Wang Yingning and Pei Min came to visit her together, and mentioned a strange occurrence along the road of Prince Wu’s exile.

“The soldiers escorting Prince Wu out of the city happened to be under my elder brother’s command,” Pei Min said, her eyes brightening as she always did when talking about strange and curious tales. “He came back and said that one of Prince Wu’s side consorts disappeared overnight. The night before she vanished, she looked at the astronomical signs and then laughed and wept at the same time, saying all kinds of strange and incomprehensible things — something about having waited ten years and finally being able to go back, and saying that while the Tang dynasty had been fun, she had truly had enough of it. She was holding a small bundle in her hands, and no one knew what was inside. The next morning, when they took a headcount, they discovered one person was missing — and upon investigation, it turned out to be that Consort Kang of his.”

“They say Prince Wu completely lost his wits when he heard, and when the search for that side consort turned up nothing, he started berating Xia Yuan, saying she had used demonic arts to harm Consort Kang, and nearly strangled her with his bare hands.”

“He’s probably lumping Xia Yuan together with her mother,” Pei Min finished, and said with contempt. “As if everyone uses demonic arts against others. In my opinion, that Consort Kang might well have been a demon herself. Only now, with things like this, Prince Wu has lost his favored consort, and will really put all the blame on Xia Yuan. Once they reach their place of exile, he’ll likely treat Xia Yuan even worse than before.”

Wang Yingning, however, had little taste for talk of such uncanny and ghostly matters, and changed the subject, asking Qin Yao only: “A’Yu is to be married next month — I heard the Crown Prince himself made the choice. When exactly did your Shixiong take a liking to A’Yu? We haven’t heard A’Yu mention a single word of this.”

Qin Yao smiled and said: “That — you’d better go and ask A’Yu yourself. In any case, it has something to do with food, no doubt.”

One month later, A’Han and Liu Bingyu were wed.