The next morning, Xie Qing reported to Li Yaoying: “My lady, the ward officers from Yining Ward say that Princess Fukang has been frequenting Yining Ward lately, visiting three times in the past half month.”

Yaoying had just finished her morning toilette. Looking in the mirror, she pressed the green-gold foil flower ornament at her brow and asked, “What does she do in Yining Ward?”

Xie Qing stood outside the twelve-panel standing screen, his back ramrod straight, and replied, “It’s said she goes to watch the Zoroastrian ceremonies at their temple.”

Most Hu merchants followed Zoroastrianism, and Yining Ward had a Zoroastrian temple where the Hu people often held their rituals.

Yaoying set down her sunflower-patterned mother-of-pearl copper mirror, her doubts growing heavier.

Zhu Lvyun was singlemindedly focused on revenge—she wouldn’t specifically make trips to the temple just to watch Zoroastrian devotees breathe fire and brandish large knives.

The Zoroastrian ceremonies were just a smokescreen.

Why would she suddenly lower herself to associate with the Hu people?

Could she be trying to hire Hu assassins to kill Li De?

In the book, Zhu Lvyun had attempted assassination multiple times, failing narrowly each time.

At first, Zhu Lvyun thought Li Xuanzhen was secretly thwarting her revenge plans, but later she realized Li De had known about her assassination attempts all along.

Li De pretended ignorance and kept her close specifically to round up all the remaining loyalists of the previous dynasty in one sweep.

Yaoying instructed Xie Qing to continue having people follow Zhu Lvyun.

She wasn’t worried about Li De’s safety, only afraid that Consort Xie and Li Zhongqian might be implicated.

Xie Qing took his leave.

The maid Chunru entered, smiling as she presented a navy-blue bird-and-flower embroidered tie-dyed silk shawl.

Li Yaoying draped it over her arm. The shawl was decorated with silver-painted stars; in the sunlight, the birds and flowers seemed to float among the starry river, lifelike and brilliantly radiant.

Chunru smiled, “At next month’s Spring Banquet, my lady will surely be the most beautiful in the capital.”

The Spring Banquet traditionally featured peony competitions, though everyone knew the real competition was about the people.

The Seventh Princess was incomparably beautiful and with novel and distinctive bright brocade garments to match, plus the peony champion that the Second Prince had purchased from Luoyang for thousands in gold—when the time came, with beauty, fine clothes, and lovely flowers altogether, who could compare to the Princess?

Yaoying adjusted her shawl. “Don’t bother with all this—I’m not going to the Spring Banquet this year.”

She and Li Zhongqian had agreed to go horseback riding at Qujiang instead.

Chunru froze, her face full of regret: “The Prime Minister’s wife’s maids tell everyone you’ll attend this year’s Spring Banquet. The young men of the Capital Prefecture are jumping for joy. I heard they’re all busy having new clothes made—they nearly bought out all the brocade in the East and West Markets. The prices for facial powder and jewels for inlaid jade belts have gone up too. The Hu merchants made quite a profit.”

The Seventh Princess was as beautiful as a celestial maiden and of noble status. The sons of the capital’s great families had admired her for a long time but lacked opportunities to get close to her.

When they heard she would attend the Prime Minister’s Spring Banquet, people seeking invitations nearly wore down the threshold of the Prime Minister’s mansion.

The young men were beside themselves with excitement and had started preparing half a month in advance—bathing in perfume, applying powder and rouge, vowing to outshine their competitors at the Spring Banquet.

If the Seventh Princess didn’t attend, half the banquet guests would surely be disappointed.

Hearing Chunru’s vivid description of how the capital’s noble sons were applying powder and rouge, Li Yaoying couldn’t help but laugh: she really couldn’t appreciate how men of this era considered wearing powder beautiful.

“It’s such a shame my lady won’t go…”

Chunru remembered something and her eyes lit up.

“I heard the Zheng family’s third son will also attend the Spring Banquet, and he’ll be competing in poetry composition with the sons of the Wang, Cui, and Lu families!”

Yaoying raised an eyebrow.

…

Zheng Jing, the third son of the Zheng family, was the predetermined choice for Imperial Son-in-law.

Everyone knew Zheng Jing was the eldest son of the Zheng family’s main branch, but his talents fell far short of his half-brother, the eldest Zheng son.

Li De had praised the eldest Zheng son in public multiple times.

Rumors in the capital said the eldest Zheng son would succeed his father’s official position, while the mediocre Zheng Jing would remain to manage family affairs.

Only Li Yaoying knew that Zheng Jing’s talents were hidden—though unremarkable now, he would later rise meteorically to become Prime Minister.

After Li Xuanzhen became confused and irritable in middle age, several military expeditions nearly bankrupted Great Wei. After his death, the court went through several upheavals, and it was thanks to Zheng Jing’s steady maturity that the situation stabilized.

Zheng Jing served three generations of emperors throughout his life, wielding immense power at court, and even being able to influence imperial succession at one point.

Zheng’s father had once arranged a marriage for Zheng Jing.

Several years ago, that family had unfortunately perished in the chaos of war.

According to the book, Zheng Jing had built a tomb for his betrothed and never took a primary wife afterward, though he did take many concubines. Children came one after another until he had to expand the rear courtyard—otherwise, there wouldn’t have been enough room.

…

Li Yaoying had met Zheng Jing several times but had no particular impression of him.

Now hearing Chunru mention him, she still couldn’t recall his features, only vaguely remembering he was tall and slim, refined and cultured, no different from other sons of noble families.

These past years Yaoying had been constantly on guard against Li Xuanzhen, and being young, hadn’t thought about marriage.

This Zheng family marriage was arranged by Li Zhongqian behind her back—he had made an oral agreement with Zheng’s father before heading off to war.

This matter wasn’t kept from Li De; the news had leaked from Li De’s close attendants.

Thinking of this, Yaoying couldn’t help but snort lightly.

Her second brother arranged a husband for her without saying a word!

When he returns, she’ll have to punch him first!

Chunru secretly sighed.

She had deliberately brought up the Zheng family’s third son, but the Princess remained unmoved. It seemed this year’s Spring Banquet would indeed benefit others.

…

The weather grew more beautiful day by day. In the auxiliary courtyard, cherries ripened to bursting as spring deepened. In the palace gardens, green willows cast shade and apricot blossoms fell like snow.

Xie Qing reported Zhu Lvyun’s movements to Li Yaoying daily.

Zhu Lvyun seemed to have lost interest in the Zoroastrian ceremonies and hadn’t left her residence since that day.

However, her servants went back and forth between the Princess’s mansion and Yining Ward daily delivering messages, their movements mysterious.

Yaoying thought to herself: Zhu Lvyun might be preparing an assassination plan.

While Xie Qing continued monitoring Zhu Lvyun, she worried anxiously, hoping Li Zhongqian would return safely soon.

Battle reports from the front indicated Li De was leading the imperial army back in triumph but had encountered some delays on the road—their return date was uncertain.

Yaoying waited expectantly, constantly sending people to gather information.

Originally they said they’d return by month’s end, but by mid-April, Li Zhongqian still hadn’t returned.

This morning, after having a bowl of sugarcane cream with cherries, Yaoying lounged on a felt mat in the corridor, leaning against a cushion, reviewing account books from various places.

A gentle breeze blew, and fallen petals danced before the corridor.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps came from deep in the corridor.

A maid from Consort Xie’s palace rushed over.

“My lady, the Mistress has fallen ill again!”

Yaoying immediately put down the account books, stepped into her wooden clogs, and hurried to the main hall’s sleeping chambers.

Just as she passed through the connecting corridor, amid the chaos ahead, a middle-aged woman with disheveled hair and a haggard face stumbled toward her, swaying unsteadily.

Seven or eight palace maids surrounded her, wanting to support her but afraid of startling her.

Yaoying quickly stepped forward, brows slightly furrowed, and said softly, “Mother, it’s me.”

Her voice was gentle as the spring wind, so tender it could drip flower dew.

Consort Xie messily wiped her scattered hair, her gaze confused, expression bewildered: “Mingyue… where’s Second Son? He said he’d come to see me today…”

Yaoying gently held her arm, her voice soft: “Mother, Brother wrote saying he was delayed on the road and will return in a few days.”

Consort Xie froze, asking carefully: “Really?”

Yaoying supported her mother as they walked back, patiently coaxing: “Really, Brother will return in a few days.”

Consort Xie’s gaze drifted aimlessly as she repeated over and over: “Second Son… come back.”

Yaoying reassured her tirelessly: “Second Brother will return.”

Between coaxing and gentle deception, she escorted Consort Xie back to her chambers.

The maids brought freshly prepared medicine.

Yaoying washed her hands, took up a comb to arrange Consort Xie’s long hair, helped her clean up, and personally fed her the medicine.

Sour plum had been added to the medicine, making it slightly sweet.

Consort Xie obediently drank the medicine, then suddenly reached out to touch Yaoying’s cold wrist.

As the weather warmed, Yaoying disliked heat. Today she wore a pomegranate-red scattered-flower exposed-collar skirt with gossamer-light wide sleeves and a brocade-edged half-sleeved outer garment. When she raised her arm, her sleeve fell back, revealing a frost-white wrist.

Consort Xie asked tenderly: “Mingyue, are you cold?”

As she spoke, she grabbed a shawl from beside the couch and wrapped it around her daughter’s shoulders.

She kept repeating: “Don’t catch a cold… Mingyue can’t catch a cold… must take medicine every day…”

Gentle and loving, just as always.

Yaoying’s heart ached slightly, and she shook her head: “Mother, I’m not cold.” She continued feeding Consort Xie the medicine.

Even in her confused and deranged state, Mother still remembered to care for her.

…

That year when Consort Xie and Lady Tang competed, Lady Tang died, and Li De blamed her. She lost all hope and fell ill.

Soon after, the Xie family died heroically defending an empty city to help civilians cross the river—the entire family perished gloriously.

Consort Xie lost her blood relatives and only support. Li De’s attitude toward her grew colder, and from then on she became confused and senseless.

She had never intended to harm Lady Tang, yet met such a fate. Li Xuanzhen still felt unsatisfied.

Even when she committed suicide by swallowing gold, he told those around him: “The poisonous woman deserved worse!”

…

Li Yaoying watched Consort Xie fall asleep, then left the chambers, her brows slightly furrowed.

These past years Consort Xie’s condition fluctuated. She had sought famous doctors from across the land to treat Consort Xie, and though there was some improvement, Consort Xie’s illness was ultimately one of the heart.

Many years ago, relying on her brother Lord Xie’s doting love, Consort Xie had insisted on marrying Li De.

Lord Xie had no choice but to send her off to marriage, dedicating the entire clan’s strength to supporting her husband.

In the end, it cost them the entire Xie family.

What they received in return was Li De’s cold regard.

Sometimes Yaoying thought that Consort Xie’s confused state might not be entirely bad.

Li Zhongqian felt the same way.

The siblings never mentioned Lord Xie, who had died defending the city, in front of Consort Xie. She believed the Xie family members were still alive but simply unwilling to associate with her.

The Imperial Physician hurried over to take Consort Xie’s pulse and wrote a new prescription.

While palace maids fanned the stove to brew tea, Yaoying invited the Imperial Physician to sit and drink tea in the corridor.

As fragrant tea smoke curled up, the Imperial Physician gazed at the snow-white tea foam in the crystal cup, considered for a moment, then said to Yaoying: “My lady, my skills and learning are shallow—I have failed to meet your trust.”

Yaoying smiled, sat up straight, and formally bowed to the Imperial Physician: “Your words are too heavy, sir. My mother’s illness is truly one of the heart. These years we have relied greatly on your kindness in caring for my mother. My brother and I have not yet properly thanked you.”

The Imperial Physician was overwhelmed by the honor and dared not accept Yaoying’s bow. He prostrated himself and wouldn’t rise until Yaoying finished her bow, only then daring to return to his seat.

After discussing Consort Xie’s condition briefly, the Imperial Physician remembered something: “My lady, the famous doctor from Tianzhu you asked me to inquire about has arrived in the capital and is currently staying at the Great Ci’en Temple in Jinchang Ward.”

Yaoying’s face showed delight.

During the chaos at the end of the previous dynasty, to escape the fires of war, Buddhist monks from the Central Plains fled to the relatively peaceful Shu region.

After Li De ascended the throne, he sent troops to Shu to persuade high monks to return to the capital.

Among them was a high monk from Tianzhu who was said to be not only well-versed in Buddhist doctrine but also a supremely skilled physician. He had traveled by sea from Tianzhu to Guangzhou, journeyed through half the Central Plains, made his way to Shu, and would now return to Chang’an with other Central Plains high monks.

Yaoying had long heard of this high monk’s reputation and hoped for his early arrival in the capital.

The Imperial Physician continued: “If my lady wishes to have him examine the Consort’s pulse, it would be better to do so soon. I heard he is eager to go to the Western Regions and only came to Chang’an to view the Buddha’s relics enshrined in Ci’en Temple.”

Yaoying considered for a moment, then after seeing off the Imperial Physician, ordered servants to prepare carriages and horses, deciding to leave the palace immediately.

The Great Ci’en Temple was built on the orders of Tang Emperor Gaozong Li Zhi to commemorate his mother Empress Changsun. The high monk Xuanzang had once managed temple affairs here, organizing sutra translations and promoting Buddhism. Xuanzang and his disciples established the Consciousness-Only school of Chinese Buddhism, making the Great Ci’en Temple regarded as the ancestral temple of the Consciousness-Only school.

To welcome the returning high monks, the Great Ci’en Temple had been newly renovated. The temple buildings were magnificent, the treasure halls majestic, and the rebuilt Giant Wild Goose Pagoda stood towering by the Qu River, solemn and dignified.

The first group of monks from Shu had arrived, and the temple was bustling with activity.

The temple supervisor hadn’t slept all night, busy running about, and when he saw the guest receptionist monk enter the room, his brows furrowed slightly.

The receptionist monk handed over a card, and after the supervisor glanced at it a few times, he immediately set aside his work and strode out of the hall.

Just as he stepped over the threshold, there came the soft rustle of footsteps from the corridor.

Several guards in narrow-sleeved robes escorted a radiant young lady as she walked past.

The lady had bright eyes and white teeth, with celestial beauty and a jade-like complexion. Her gauze garments floated ethereally, her clothes fluttering in the wind as if one of the beautiful female deities from the temple wall paintings had come to life.

Where she passed, young novice monks couldn’t help but look up and stare, until they were glared at several times by the elder monks beside them, and hurriedly lowered their heads to recite sutras.