Qu Ziyu knew nothing of internal energy cultivation, but hearing the giant’s laughter so suddenly, he could tell that this man was more than likely a formidable warrior, and that Qin Yao was probably no match for him — not by a long measure.
He was intensely anxious, and was just trying to think of some way to draw the giant away, when Feng Boyu spoke before he could: “What kind of man hides behind a woman’s protection? Younger Sister Qu — you go first. Wenyuan and I would rather die fighting than yield.”
He looked coldly at the young woman in foreign attire: “Those who use power and status to bully others will be looked down upon by others in return. Even if you lock us in prison, there is still a place where reason can be argued.”
The young woman had not paid close attention to Feng Boyu’s appearance earlier. At these words, she looked up in fury — and found herself looking directly into Feng Boyu’s contemptuous gaze.
He had already been exceptionally handsome to begin with, and in the height of his anger, the lines of his face were as coldly sharp as if cut by a blade. His eyes appeared even darker, his complexion even more like fine jade. He stood upright in the center of the hall, carrying himself with the natural dignity of a mountain about to topple — towering and unshakeable.
The young woman’s face abruptly felt rather hot. She gaped and was at a loss for words for a moment, then shouted at the giant: “What — what are you still standing there for? Seize all of them!”
The giant took several steps toward Qin Yao, who was nearest to him, and raised one of his vast, fan-like palms — he was going to lift her up like a scrawny chicken.
Qin Yao neither retreated nor dodged. She quietly formed a hand seal, just on the verge of delivering the giant a punishing blow, when someone cried out: “Stop!”
The giant saw who it was and checked his movement. The young woman cried out in delighted surprise: “Sixth Brother! Seventh Brother! Eleventh Brother!” And ran toward someone behind Qin Yao.
Lin Xiao strode up to stand beside Qin Yao. The giant quickly withdrew his hand and bowed in salutation: “Young Lord—”
Lin Xiao said in a low, sharp voice: “Get lost.” The giant stiffened, then retreated sheepishly.
“Eleventh Brother!” The young woman stamped her foot in displeasure. “She knows dark arts! She was bullying me just now — she even injured several of my maidservants!”
Lin Xiao acted as though he hadn’t heard a word of it. He lowered his head to carefully look over Qin Yao’s expression, then asked in a quiet voice: “Are you hurt?”
Qin Yao looked toward the figures behind Lin Xiao — and saw that the several young gentlemen from the fine private room, along with their companion-attendants, had emerged at some point she hadn’t noticed and were now all standing there, watching this way with various expressions.
Among them was also the red-clothed young woman who had been urging Lin Xiao to drink earlier. Her face bore the flush of three parts wine, and her beautiful eyes seemed to shimmer with rippling spring water.
Qin Yao drew her gaze back and shook her head: “I am not injured.”
Lin Xiao was about to speak further when Qu Ziyu walked over and first pulled Qin Yao behind him, then turned to Lin Xiao and gave a composed, polite bow: “I am Qu Ziyu. May I have the honor of knowing how to address you?”
Lin Xiao had already guessed he was Qin Yao’s elder brother, so he returned the courtesy with equal politeness: “My humble surname is Lin, given name Xiao.”
So this was the Young Lord of Prince Lan. Qu Ziyu had heard Qin Yao mention him several times and was not unfamiliar with the name. Recalling Lin Xiao’s protective conduct toward Qin Yao just moments ago, a quiet unease rose within Qu Ziyu, and his manner became somewhat cool: “I greet the Young Lord.”
Lin Xiao sensed the polite distance in Qu Ziyu’s tone and was momentarily taken aback.
On the other side, the young woman, seeing that Lin Xiao was ignoring her, began to pout and wheedle at a man dressed in a sapphire blue robe embroidered with a qilin pattern: “Seventh Brother! That young woman just now took the private room I had already reserved, and then injured my attendants.”
“Pingkang!” The man’s expression darkened, and he gave a sharp, low rebuke: “You must have limits, even in your mischief!”
The young woman was abruptly startled to a halt, and then looked toward another man dressed in a pale moon-white brocade robe. “Sixth Brother—” That man cast her an indifferent glance and showed absolutely no intention of weighing in.
It was obvious that none of her brothers had any intention of taking her side. The young woman finally realized that continuing to make a scene would be futile, so she bit her lip and fell silent — though her eyes continued to glare at Qin Yao with undisguised resentment.
Lin Xiao said to Qu Ziyu: “What happened tonight was entirely caused by my clan cousin’s willfulness and overbearing behavior. I offer an apology on her behalf to all of you. You have all had quite a fright tonight, and the hour is late besides. Allow me to see you home.” That last sentence, however, he directed his gaze at Qin Yao while saying it.
“There is no need.” Qu Ziyu smiled evenly. “Our home is not far from here. We can return on our own.”
Lin Xiao seemed to have anticipated that Qu Ziyu would say exactly this. He considered, and then said: “But the curfew hour has passed—”
Qu Ziyu and the others startled, and looked out the window. Indeed it had — without realizing it, the night had turned as dark as ink. Before long, the night watchmen would be making their rounds in the streets. And they, unlike the nobility and aristocracy, had no night-passage tokens that would allow them to walk freely about after curfew — how could they simply saunter home?
Seeing embarrassment appear on Qu Ziyu’s face, Lin Xiao smiled faintly, turned to the two distinguished gentlemen standing by the door of the private room, and said: “Sixth Brother, Seventh Brother — your younger brother will escort these friends home and take his leave a step early.”
The two gentlemen gave Qin Yao a long, measuring look, smiled, and said: “The few of us rarely gather like this — and who would have thought that Pingkang would spoil the mood for us. Well, go ahead and see to your business.”
Qin Yao noticed that the bearing and movements of those two men carried the subtle air of old, entrenched privilege, and moreover that they addressed Lin Xiao as “brother” on familiar terms — they were most likely members of the imperial family. No wonder that young woman had been so unrestrained in her arrogance.
Seeing that the young woman was still watching her with unfriendly eyes, Qin Yao felt a rising wave of distaste. She turned to her brother and Feng Boyu: “Let’s go.”
The young woman saw Feng Boyu turn to leave, and was momentarily taken aback. She looked as though she was about to say something — then caught a glance from the corner of her eye of both her brothers looking at her with unmistakably warning expressions. She could only watch helplessly as Feng Boyu’s figure disappeared around the bend in the staircase.
Chang Rong was standing with his arms folded against the carriage, casually chatting with Wei Bo and the others. Seeing Lin Xiao and his party come downstairs, a look of surprise crossed his face, and he stepped forward: “Young Lord.”
Tonight the Young Lord had been brought by the Crown Prince and Prince Wu to drink at the Donglai Establishment — by the customary rules, they would likely drink until well past midnight. Why was the banquet breaking up at this hour? And that young Daoist woman — how was it that they kept running into her by such coincidence?
Lin Xiao directed Chang Rong: “See Master Qu and Miss Qu back to their residence.” Then he turned back and looked at Feng Boyu: “I have not had the pleasure of knowing your honored name.”
Feng Boyu gave a composed bow in return: “My name is Feng Boyu. I am a classmate of Master Qu’s.”
Lin Xiao took a measured, unreadable look at Feng Boyu, then looked back at Qin Yao, and gave a cool nod before directing Wei Bo to see Feng Boyu home.
Qu Ziyu and Qin Yao said their farewells to Feng Boyu, boarded the carriage, and headed back to the Qu residence. Lin Xiao rode alongside on horseback.
It was the curfew hour, and the streets of Chang’an were empty and desolate — not a single silhouette in sight. The quiet was so pervasive it was overwhelming. The brother and sister sat in the carriage without speaking a word, each absorbed in their own thoughts.
Qu Ziyu watched his younger sister’s profile in quiet contemplation. Over this past year, his sister had grown remarkably quickly — she was taller now, and her face had gradually shed its childishness, growing more lovely with every passing day. What was just as rare was that her character was so clever and open. It was not at all strange that she would attract the admiration of young men. But the last person he could have expected was someone like the Young Lord of Prince Lan — a man of such vastly different standing.
From the outset at the Donglai Establishment, when Lin Xiao had spoken up to protect Qin Yao, to now personally escorting them home — every one of the Young Lord’s actions went beyond the ordinary. He could not convince himself that the other man had no feelings for his sister.
Thinking back over everything that had just transpired, he sighed inwardly. Power and status are truly formidable things. The Young Lord appeared measured and considerate in all his actions, yet everywhere about him was the imperious force of one who cannot be refused. They had no power to resist him — they could only submit to his arrangements.
His sister was shrewd in everything — only in matters between men and women was she still in a haze of naivety, and she probably would not think to carefully consider the deeper meaning behind the Young Lord’s behavior. Yet the other man was clearly not the type to do anything without purpose. Having developed feelings for her, how could he possibly remain inactive?
And with the social standing of the two families so vastly mismatched, the possibility of a proper marriage with formal betrothal was slim to the point of vanishing. Surely his sister was not going to become someone’s concubine?
His sister’s voice reached his ear, breaking through his thoughts: “Elder brother, we’re home.”
Lin Xiao had already dismounted and was waiting at the carriage curtain. Seeing the two of them step down, he looked at Qin Yao and said: “The last time at the Lu Commandery Duke’s estate, I owe Miss Qu many thanks for her help. However, there is still one matter I am unclear on regarding that incident — it concerns the private affairs of the Lu Commandery Duke’s estate. Might I trouble Miss Qu to step aside for a brief word?”
Qu Ziyu looked at Lin Xiao with a long, heavy gaze — neither agreeing nor refusing. Qin Yao, however, looked up in surprise, gave a small nod, and said: “The Young Lord may speak freely.” She followed Lin Xiao several steps away, and the two of them stood facing each other.
Lin Xiao looked down at Qin Yao. In the moonlight, the young woman’s face was uncommonly beautiful — every feature bathed in a layer of soft, gentle moonlight, like a solitary orchid blooming in the dark of night, opening all the way into the depths of his heart.
Qin Yao, seeing that Lin Xiao was gazing at her without speaking for some time, grew puzzled: “Young Lord?”
Lin Xiao steadied himself and, carefully choosing his words, said: “The last time at the Lu Commandery Duke’s estate, I have you to thank for your help. Unfortunately, you left in such a hurry on that occasion that there was no opportunity to properly express my gratitude.”
“Think nothing of it — it was all part of what we should have done,” Qin Yao said with an easy laugh. She thought of how the Lady of the Lu Commandery Duke’s estate had sent someone two days prior to deliver a thousand taels of silver to Qingyu Temple — which had made her Master so happy he couldn’t find his own eyes — declaring that it had been far too long since he had seen a patron so generously open-handed, and hoping desperately that a few more demons would show up in the Lu Commandery Duke’s estate.
Lin Xiao, seeing Qin Yao smiling in that strange way, found himself momentarily at a loss. But thinking it over, it seemed she had not taken the matter at the Donglai Establishment to heart — and the weight that had been sitting on him finally settled down.
After a moment’s thought, he unclasped the jade token from his waist. Looking at Qin Yao, he said: “I do not know why you became a Daoist, but since you frequently go out to subdue demons and spirits, not having a passage token is considerably inconvenient. Take this token — after this, you may move about freely at night without obstruction.”
Qin Yao looked down in surprise and saw resting in his fair, slender palm an oval-shaped piece of fine jade — its body a lustrous, translucent green, giving off a faint, glimmering radiance in the moonlight. One glance told her it was no ordinary object.
“This—” Qin Yao moved to decline it at once.
Lin Xiao said with a serious expression: “From the time we encountered a demon on Mangshan Mountain to the later incident involving Zhu Qi’er in my residence, you have helped me on multiple occasions, and I have long harbored the wish to express my gratitude. Unfortunately, the opportunity never presented itself. This jade token is no more than a small token of thanks — please do not decline.”
A nighttime passage token was truly a rare and precious thing for Qin Yao, not easily come by under ordinary circumstances. She wavered. Guiltily, she glanced over at Qu Ziyu, and saw that her elder brother had his hands clasped behind his back and his back turned to them — evidently not paying attention to this side. She hesitated for a moment, and finally accepted the jade pendant, inwardly reassuring herself: it is only a passage token — that should not be stepping out of bounds.
“Then — many thanks to the Young Lord.” Qin Yao examined the jade pendant carefully. She saw that one face was carved with a four-clawed dragon, and the other bore the character “Lin” — the carving was elaborate and exquisite, and a single glance identified it as an object of the imperial household.
Watching the young woman’s manner, which bordered on reverent and cautious, Lin Xiao felt something stir in his heart, and his voice grew a few degrees softer: “I am currently on duty in the palace and do not often return to the estate. Should you have anything in the future that requires my assistance, you may present this jade pendant to the palace gate guards — they will convey the matter to me.” As he said this, he became aware that his face was growing somewhat flushed with warmth. Fortunately, the darkness of the night concealed it, so it would not be noticed by Qin Yao.
Hearing these words, Qin Yao felt something stir in her heart, as though she had begun to understand something — yet that suspicion was like a small stone cast into a vast ocean, and before it could even raise a ripple, Qu Ziyu walked over to interrupt them: “A’Yao, if we don’t go back home soon, Father and Mother will start worrying. Young Lord, many thanks for your assistance tonight. The hour is late — we shall part ways here.” He gave Lin Xiao a bow and then moved to take his sister back inside.
Qin Yao could only exchange a hasty farewell with Lin Xiao and follow her brother toward the entrance of the residence.
They had walked quite some distance away when Qin Yao happened to turn her head back — and was startled to find that Lin Xiao was still standing beside his horse, quietly watching her retreating figure. The moonlight had stretched his already tall and slender silhouette even longer, and there was about him, for no particular reason, an air of solitary desolation.
Seeing Qin Yao glance back, Lin Xiao composed himself with studied calm and looked away. He mounted his horse, shook the reins, and with one rider on one horse, galloped off through the moonlight-covered ground.
When Qu Ziyu arrived at the Zhaozhao Academy, the hall was already lively and bustling. Today was the day the results were posted, and the room was full of classmates engaged in spirited, excited conversation. All around him landed the sound of impassioned and animated debate, and every young face was written over with triumphant satisfaction.
Qu Ziyu moved through the crowd, made directly for a classmate named Wang Yikun, pulled him to a quiet corner of the Zhaozhao Academy under the pretext of sharing tea, and proceeded to ask him sidelong questions about Lin Xiao.
After going around the subject at length, Qu Ziyu finally arrived at the point.
“The Young Lord of Prince Lan?” Wang Yikun’s square, broad face brightened immediately. “The one currently serving as Commander of the Imperial Forest Army?”
“The very same.”
“That is quite a story.”
Wang Yikun’s family had served as close attendants of the Emperor for three generations, and he could speak of the imperial household’s secrets with great fluency and detail. His lips were ordinarily sealed tight — he had only ever let something slip in front of close friends like Qu Ziyu who possessed the character of a gentleman. Today, with Qu Ziyu taking the initiative to ask him about Lin Xiao, he found it strange — but out of trust in Qu Ziyu’s character, he chose to speak freely and hold nothing back.
“Prince Lan has married two Consorts in succession. The first Consort was the legitimate daughter of the Zheng clan — a prominent aristocratic family of Xingyang. The Zheng women have always been renowned for their talent and learning; the generation of the Prince Lan Consort had only two sisters. The elder sister married into the Lu Commandery Duke’s estate and is now the Lady there. The younger became the Consort of Prince Lan.
“The Consort’s constitution was delicate and frail. In all her years in the estate, she gave birth to only one son — the Young Lord — and thereafter remained bedridden continuously, with no further children. It is said that Prince Lan held this devoted wife of his in considerable respect and never once took in any concubines. Until a few years ago, when the Consort finally succumbed to an illness that no medicine could cure, and Prince Lan then took as his second wife the younger sister of Cui Yuanguang of Youzhou. Later this new Consort gave birth to a young prince, who is now just one year old — his given name is a single character, Min.”
So Lin Xiao also had a younger half-brother by a different mother.
Wang Yikun set down his teacup and continued: “Though the Consort was frail during her lifetime, she was very strict with her only son. It is said that the Young Lord began studying literature and learning martial arts from a very young age, and immersed himself in the hundred schools of thought — he was particularly outstanding among the young men of the imperial clan, and was especially beloved by the late Emperor. Before the late Emperor passed away, he even presented his beloved grandson with the Chixiao Sword that had never left his person throughout his lifetime.”
“Since the Young Lord is so accomplished and outstanding, there must be no shortage of families willing to form a betrothal with him — so why has he not been betrothed even now?” Qu Ziyu asked.
“A betrothal?” Wang Yikun narrowed his eyes and thought for a moment, then shook his head: “Some time earlier I heard that when the Consort was still alive, she had intended to betroth the Young Lord to the eldest daughter of the Marquis of Jinghai. But before the birth characters could even be exchanged, that young lady died of malaria. After that, the Consort herself passed away, and the Young Lord then observed three years of mourning for his mother — so the matter of his marriage was set aside. However, given how greatly the Emperor values the Young Lord, his Majesty will certainly be very careful and deliberate regarding the Young Lord’s marriage, and it will likely be the daughter of some prince or high-ranking official.”
Qu Ziyu nodded, fell quiet for a moment, and then looked down at the pale green tea leaves floating in his cup and said in a level tone: “I have heard that the third son of the Lu Commandery Duke — Jiang Sanlang — is on very close terms with the Young Lord of Prince Lan. Jiang Sanlang has a well-known fondness for romantic diversions. As the saying goes, one who is near vermilion becomes red — so the Young Lord’s quarters must also be home to no small number of concubine-companions, I imagine?”
Wang Yikun’s puzzlement grew deeper. He studied Qu Ziyu with a suspicious look, but Qu Ziyu was entirely open and candid, and bore his scrutiny with composure.
After a long while, Wang Yikun conceded defeat and said thoughtfully: “In the earlier years, the Young Lord was still quite young, and the Consort kept strict watch over him — there was never any word of anyone in his inner quarters. In recent years the Young Lord has been observing mourning for his mother, so on principle and by convention it would be inappropriate for him to take anyone into his quarters. But even if he privately kept a common concubine, what would that amount to for a young gentleman of his standing? So whether or not he has actually taken a concubine, I am not entirely certain — though the Young Lord’s character is decent, and although he is close with Jiang Sanlang, he rarely frequents brothels and pleasure houses.”
Wang Yikun finished speaking, and seeing Qu Ziyu fall into a lengthy silence — staring blankly at the blue flagstones underfoot — waved a hand experimentally in front of his face: “Wenyuan? Wenyuan?”
Qu Ziyu snapped back to awareness, steered the conversation in a different direction: “It seems that among those born to luxury and privilege, there are still many young men of real talent and ability. The other day I heard Master Ji mention that the young son of Minister Wu is also said to be of incomparable talent in Chang’an, with writing and poetry both outstanding in every respect — yet I have never seen him at the examination. Surely Master Wu’s son doesn’t intend to forgo the imperial examinations and take the path of relying on his family’s hereditary privileges?”
And so Wang Yikun’s mouth opened up and went off in a completely different direction.
While they were deep in lively conversation, a group of young men came in laughing and chattering noisily through the courtyard gate.
“Wenyuan! Ziqi! So you two have been hiding here drinking tea all along — Master Ji has been looking everywhere for you! Congratulations on passing! The two of you, plus Feng Boyu — the three top scholars are all assembled!”
Wang Yikun’s mouth hung open wide, and the tea in his hand spilled down the front of his examination robe. He still could not believe it: “Pa—passed?!”
“Passed!” Everyone burst in from all sides, laughing and teasing: “Feng Jizhou placed first on the first list, Qu Wenyuan placed second on the first list, and you placed seventh on the second list. All of you passed! Come, come, come! First go and pay respects to Master Ji, and then everyone is invited out for drinks!”
A faint color of joy rose quietly in Qu Ziyu’s ink-jade eyes. He allowed the crowd to surround him and Wang Yikun and usher them out.
The news of the results reached the Qu residence in no time.
Qu Chen Shi wept tears of joy. Once she had finished crying, she bustled about in full force ordering the servants to prepare the food and wine that Qu Ziyu enjoyed most, wanting to give her son a proper celebration.
Qin Yao was overjoyed, and rushed about to help her mother with this and that. By late afternoon, the mother and daughter reckoned that the Qu father and son would be returning soon, and directed the servants to set out the dishes and prepare to sit down to the meal.
Before long, Qu Enzhe returned home from his office in fine and cheerful spirits — but Qu Ziyu was nowhere to be seen.
Qu Chen Shi grew a little worried. Her son was always thorough and considerate; even if he was not returning home for dinner, he would have sent someone ahead to let them know. Hearing his wife fret, Qu Enzhe immediately directed Lu Da to take the carriage to the Zhaozhao Academy to look for him. “Most likely he has been pulled away by classmates for drinks,” he reassured his wife. With his son having newly passed the examinations and riding high on the waves of success, it was only human to get a little carried away in the moment.
Qin Yao volunteered to go along with Lu Da to look for her elder brother.
They hurried all the way to the Zhaozhao Academy, but the young attendant at the gate said that all the scholars from the academy had gone out drinking earlier, and which wine shop they had gone to he did not know.
As expected — out drinking with classmates. Qin Yao’s mind was set at ease. Her brother was grown now; on this rare occasion when he was carousing freely with classmates, why should she go and dampen the mood?
She then directed Lu Da to drive back to the estate.
The carriage, as usual, passed through Pingkang Ward.
As they passed the narrow alleyway from the previous time, Qin Yao could not resist lifting the curtain to look outside — and saw several youths in the alleyway happily chasing after a ball, having a wonderful time. Now and then a woman walking by would be startled out of her composure by the ball flying at her from the side, and would break out in a volley of curses, while the youths laughed and scattered with a whoosh.
By all appearances it was the most ordinary alleyway imaginable, and the horrifying sight from before had vanished without a trace. Qin Yao let the curtain fall, propped her chin in her hand, and wondered: had that singing girl’s case come to a resolution?
Just as they emerged from Pingkang Ward, a piercing cry suddenly rang out: “Murder—!”
Qin Yao jolted sharply. Again? She lifted the carriage curtain and peered out for a moment, then in a few swift steps jumped down from the carriage.
The carriage had just arrived before a wine house. People were staggering out of it in a continuous stream, amid the chaos. A heavily adorned woman in conspicuous dress was clutching a scholar-looking man with all her might, screaming: “It’s him! He’s the one who killed my Yao Niang!”
Qin Yao was about to step forward to get a clearer look when someone called out from behind her: “A’Yao.”
She turned around: “Elder Brother—”
“What has happened?” Qu Ziyu came striding over in a few large steps. He had just come here to drink with Wang Yikun and the others, but had not yet taken his seat when, remembering a certain cream-cake pastry shop nearby that Qin Yao had always loved, he had begged leave of his classmates and gone to that shop to queue and buy some.
Who could have known he would come back to a scene like this.
“Someone has apparently been killed,” Qin Yao said, taking the pastries her brother handed her and craning on tiptoe to peer inside the wine house.
Qu Ziyu, being tall, caught a clear view in no time, and exclaimed: “Ziqi?” It was none other than Wang Yikun.
“Wenyuan! Jizhou!” Wang Yikun’s broad, square face was full of furious indignation. “This woman is talking nonsense — she is falsely accusing me!”
Qu Ziyu’s expression changed. Before he could respond, a group of constables came pushing through the crowd in a forceful, menacing manner, and without a word, took both Wang Yikun and the woman away.
“Wenyuan! Jizhou! I am innocent! Send word to my residence quickly!” Wang Yikun was being shoved forward by the constables. He stumbled as he looked back and shouted.
“I will go right now!” Qu Ziyu said in urgent haste. At that precise moment, Feng Boyu squeezed through the crowd with great difficulty to reach Qu Ziyu’s side, panting: “Ziqi has been wronged. There’s no time to explain everything right now — let’s go to the Wang residence to send word first!”
Qu Ziyu nodded, then turned back to give Qin Yao quick instructions: “Don’t linger here — go back to the residence with Lu Da at once.” And then he and Feng Boyu hurried away.
Before long, the body was carried out of the wine house.
It was the same small square of white hemp cloth as before. The woman’s long red skirt and decorative sash trailed off the stretcher and dangled in the air, swaying as the stretcher moved. The longer Qin Yao looked at the white plum blossom pattern on the woman’s skirt, the more familiar it seemed.
After a moment’s thought, she suddenly remembered — was this not the very same garment she had seen worn by that strikingly beautiful young woman at the Donglai Establishment a few days ago?
She needed to confirm it. She quietly cast a wind-summoning charm.
The white cloth covering the woman’s face was lifted by the wind by chance, then fell back down again.
In that split second of lightning and flint-flash, Qin Yao caught a clear look at the woman’s face. She stared in stunned disbelief, her eyes wide open — it really was her!
Just a few days ago, she had been reclining prettily beside the Young Lord of Prince Lan, coaxing him to drink with a coquettish air, her beauty outshining everyone else in the room.
At the time, Qin Yao had only thought that this young woman was exceptionally beautiful — particularly those eyes of hers, as though they were filled with the gentle ripple of spring waters, with an ineffable, irresistible charm that seemed to hold something back.
Yet now, those beautiful eyes were gone without a trace. Where once had been the most expressive feature of her face, there were now only two hollow, dark eye sockets.
Strangely, this young woman, like the singing girl from the previous time, showed absolutely none of the overwhelming grievance that a person who dies in such an unjust manner would typically carry.
Qin Yao had a thousand questions whirling in her mind and desperately wanted to return to Qingyu Temple at once to ask her Master for an explanation. But thinking of her parents still at home waiting for her and her brother to come back for dinner — not wanting to cause them worry — she went home to the Qu residence first.
When she arrived home, the Qu parents were indeed anxious to the point of near-distraction. Qin Yao explained the whole course of events to them and set their minds at ease.
After finishing the evening meal, Qin Yao said she had urgent business requiring a trip back to Qingyu Temple, bid farewell to her parents, came outside, and once again jumped up onto Lu Da’s carriage, setting off toward Qingyu Temple.
Qingyu Temple was long past its hours for receiving incense offerings. Qin Yao knocked for quite some time before the young Daoist boy Fu Yuan, grumbling and reluctant, came to answer the gate.
“What were you doing? Taking this long to come and open up?” Qin Yao feigned irritation and gave Fu Yuan’s chubby cheek a pinch.
“I — I was just in the privy. Hey, Senior Sister Yuanzhen, lighter — lighter!” Fu Yuan leapt to one side, rubbing his cheek that had gone red from Qin Yao’s pinch, his face a picture of aggrieved resentment. He was a small attendant that Qing Xuzi had purchased from the child traders’ market two years prior. This year he was no more than eight or nine years old, and he looked after Qing Xuzi’s daily needs while also helping A’Han manage the affairs of the temple. His nature was clever and sharp-witted, with a little of the air of a small adult about him.
Looking at Fu Yuan’s indignant little round face, Qin Yao felt her palm itch with mischief. She caught up and gave him two more pinches for good measure before she was satisfied, then strode off in the direction of the inner courtyard: “Where are Master and Senior Brother?”
Fu Yuan’s lip was pouted high, and after quite a long while he responded in a muffled voice: “The Daoist Master and Senior Brother are talking in the inner courtyard.”
Qin Yao had gone two steps when she turned back toward Fu Yuan. Fu Yuan immediately tried to run — and was caught by the back of his collar and yanked back.
“What are you running for? I’m not going to eat you! Here — something nice to eat.” She pulled a warm packet of flower cakes out from inside her robe and gave it to him.
Only then did Fu Yuan’s displeasure turn to delight.
Walking to the inner courtyard, a familiar breeze carrying the fragrance of peach blossoms drifted toward her. Qin Yao took a deep breath and closed her eyes to take in the spring atmosphere of the courtyard.
She had lived here for eleven years, and was completely familiar with every plant and tree in the courtyard. When she had first come to Qingyu Temple, she had been only three years old. The dozen or so flowering peach trees in front of the courtyard had been no more than a few sparse, tender shoots. The little girl she had been could not understand why her parents had sent her to Qingyu Temple, and she had hidden beneath the trees and cried almost every single night.
Qing Xuzi was terrified of the sound of a child crying. He had endured it and tried coaxing her a few times without success, then abandoned her in the courtyard and stopped concerning himself with her.
A’Han, in his heart, was genuinely fond of this delicately pretty little junior sister. He did not know how to coax people; however long Qin Yao cried, he simply stood to one side and watched in silence for however long it lasted.
Whenever Qin Yao cried herself to exhaustion — shifting from loud, open weeping to the occasional stifled sob — he would walk over and sit down beside her, then, as though presenting a treasure, lay out what he carried in his arms on the ground, and unfurl the items one by one in front of Qin Yao’s eyes.
It was a shadow puppet theater set that their Master had bought for him. He was more than willing to share his most precious possession with this little junior sister.
“Shall we play together?” He arranged the slender arms and legs of the shadow puppet figures with patient care, and opened his mouth a little clumsily.
Qin Yao looked at it through tear-filmed eyes for a moment, shook her head, then wrapped her arms around her knees and went back to crying.
And as she cried, she put down her roots completely in Qingyu Temple.
Later still, the pale green peach branches in the courtyard had grown into a canopy of spreading, graceful boughs, and the little figure that had wept so bitterly beneath the peach trees had grown into a young woman of graceful poise.
Qin Yao, now as she was, naturally would no longer cry in secret out of longing for her parents. And yet everything within Qingyu Temple had long since become an inseparable part of her life, so that even a few days away would produce a feeling very like homesickness.
She quickened her steps across the courtyard and went to her Master’s door, gave a knock: “Master, I am back.”
“A’Yao!” From inside came A’Han’s joyful answering voice.
As the door opened, a strong, pungent smell surged out to meet her. Qin Yao nearly keeled over from it, and quickly covered her nose to look at A’Han — she saw that A’Han’s two arms were wet and glistening, and in his hands he held a steaming hot towel.
Then she looked over at Qing Xuzi — and sure enough, as she had expected, her Master was comfortably soaking his bare feet, scrubbing them with great contentment. As he talked, he seemed to be scrubbing off more than a little dead skin.
She had calculated every possible scenario, but had not calculated for her Master to choose the exact moment of her return to the temple to be soaking his feet.
Qin Yao fled, and in the blink of an eye was gone without a trace.
“You impertinent girl — how dare you look down on your Master?” Qing Xuzi had not expected Qin Yao to run off so fast, and cursed after her in agitation.
When she came back, Qin Yao first opened all the partition screens wide, then fumbled behind her Master’s bed in the curio cabinet and found a stick of Jade Stamens incense, which she lit to dispel the lingering unpleasant odor in the room.
Qing Xuzi was so vexed his jaw twitched: “You have been away for several days — and when you come back, you turn your nose up at your Master.” He puzzled sniffed the air several times, then asked A’Han: “Does it really smell that bad?”
A’Han did not dare speak the truth.
Not until Qin Yao produced a packet of fine tea leaves she had purchased two days ago from the Yushan Tea House as an offering to him did Qing Xuzi’s temper smooth itself out a little.
Qin Yao knew well her Master’s two great loves in life: silver and tea. Catering to either one of these would never go wrong.
“Speak then — you have something you want to say to your Master, haven’t you?” Qing Xuzi narrowed his eyes and took his time savoring a few sips of the tea Qin Yao had brewed for him. Seeing Qin Yao looking listless and apparently preoccupied, he asked.
Qin Yao then told her Master everything about the incident in Pingkang Ward.
“One with her throat excavated, one with her eyes excavated — and both young women of remarkable beauty. One would expect the dead to be full of overwhelming resentment, possibly even turning into fierce vengeful spirits. Why could I see not the faintest trace of grievance on either of these two women?”
“Is that so?” Qing Xuzi set down his teacup, his expression becoming grave.
Qin Yao nodded: “Though the circumstances were somewhat hurried at the time, I am quite certain I did not see wrong. The area around the body was completely clean — not a single trace of a wandering spirit-soul.”
Qing Xuzi rose and paced back and forth for two steps, then fell into contemplative silence for a moment. He turned back to look at Qin Yao: “What we call ‘grievance’ is, for the most part, the aggrieved and indignant energy harbored within a person before death — energy that lingers after death and does not disperse, and which congeals into a knot of resentment. Hence it is called ‘grievance.’ When someone who has died unjustly bears no grievance, there are generally two possible situations.”
Qin Yao and A’Han both sat up straight at once, listening carefully.
“The first situation is that the person who has died an unjust death has not only had their physical body killed, but their spirit-soul has also been brought under the control of an evil spirit or some intentional party, becoming wholly a puppet. Naturally, then, no grievance would be sensed.”
This was the more commonly encountered type of situation.
“The second situation—” Qing Xuzi frowned. “That would be a case in which the deceased was willing — voluntarily allowing themselves to be murdered.”
“How could that be?” Even A’Han’s expression showed bewilderment this time. “Who would willingly allow themselves to be murdered?”
“Precisely!” Qing Xuzi nodded. “So for now no definitive conclusion can be reached. We would need to find some way to examine the two bodies — perhaps something can be discerned from them. However—” Qing Xuzi’s tone shifted. “No one has come to me to file a grievance, no government office has invited me to assist with the investigation, and — most importantly — there is no payment. What possible reason would your Master have to wade into these murky waters?”
He waved his hand with an air of complete disinterest and sat back down, lifting the teapot to pour himself another cup.
“But those two young women died unjustly, and in the future there may well be more people who fall victim.” Qin Yao rolled her eyes discreetly, trying to appeal to her Master’s conscience.
“And what is that to me? There are countless people who die unjust deaths in this world — if your Master were to go running about on all their behalf without regard to payment, would I still have a life to live?” Qing Xuzi’s eye-rolling surpassed Qin Yao’s own. “And besides, as you yourself just said — there were no signs of an evil spirit at work on either of those two bodies. Most likely they were killed by a person, and apprehending a murderer is the government’s business. What does that have to do with us people of the Daoist faith?”
Qin Yao was not the least bit discouraged: “But your disciple’s cultivation is still shallow — it is entirely possible I saw it wrong for a moment. Master, if you, in your wisdom and seniority, do not take a personal look at the bodies, how could you be certain?”
Qing Xuzi spread his hands: “Hmph! Even granting what you say — that your Master takes a look at those two women’s bodies — the bodies are most likely being held in the government mortuary at this moment. Your Master is neither a government official nor someone bearing an officer’s passage token. How is he supposed to go and examine the bodies at his leisure?”
Qin Yao was momentarily stumped for words. Then, suddenly, a person came to mind — someone who could most likely take them to examine the bodies easily and without effort. But the question was…
She was a little hesitant. Should she ask this person for help?
Lin Xiao came out of his palace duty room and went directly to find Wu Xingzhi and Mo Cheng outside the Zichen Gate.
The two were chatting idly in the fading light of dusk. Seeing Lin Xiao approach, they smiled and greeted him: “Young Lord.”
Wu Xingzhi unrolled the register in his hand: “It is thanks to the excellent solution the Young Lord proposed last time — in just over ten days’ time, we have managed to sift through over a hundred officials in court and compile the list of young women to enroll in the Yunyin Academy.”
“Exactly — I had expected it to be one of those thankless tasks that offends everyone. But who could have known that once the selection criteria were announced, no one had a single word of complaint.” Mo Cheng smiled, stroking his beard.
Lin Xiao took the register from Wu Xingzhi’s hands and quickly scanned the names on the list. Seeing Qu Enzhe’s name listed prominently there, he quietly and calmly let out a breath of relief, and said: “I was merely following His Majesty’s orders and helping alleviate some of the burden for the two Deputy Directors.”
“Why does the Young Lord need to be so modest? Who is there who does not know that the Young Lord is talented and accomplished at a young age, and that his conduct of affairs is always thorough and meticulous? No wonder the Emperor holds the Young Lord in such high regard. Speaking of which — when we went to inspect the academy the other day, although it has been sealed shut all these years, its interior was actually quite well-preserved. The repairs will not require an enormous undertaking. The Ministry of Finance has already allocated the silver for it, and it should take no more than a month or so before the academy renovation is complete.”
When the conversation was finished, Lin Xiao returned to his palace duty room. The moment he stepped in the door, one of his subordinates came to report: “Young Lord — there is a young Daoist at the palace gate asking for you.”