A year ago in Chang’an, Yao Ying sought medical help for her mother and met Munda Deva at the Great Ci’en Temple. At that time, she was a noble princess, and thousands of apricot trees in the Ci’en Temple were in full bloom, lush and brilliant, a tapestry of flowers.

A year later in the Western Regions, Yao Ying sought refuge and reunited with Munda Deva in the Holy City’s royal palace. Now, she was stranded in foreign lands, struggling to survive 8,800 li from her homeland, not knowing when she could return home to reunite with Li Zhongqian.

The past dozen or so months felt like another lifetime.

All the anxiety and torment gradually ebbed away like the tide. Yao Ying smiled, suppressing the sudden surge of melancholy that had welled up upon recognizing Munda Deva. Standing at the foot of the steps, she remained as noble as the Li family’s Seventh Princess whom Munda Deva had first met.

“Congratulations on fulfilling your wish, Master.”

Her eyes bright, she said with a smile.

Munda Deva’s light brown eyes gazed at Yao Ying for a long while, his face showing signs of emotion.

In these troubled times, his footsteps had crossed the Central Plains and Western Regions, seeing too many nobles in distress. He had expected this delicate princess who had endured such hardships to burst into tears and throw herself at his feet begging for help.

But she didn’t.

She stood there, smiling, her eyes bright as stars, sincerely congratulating him on achieving his goal.

Past sufferings seemed merely a tempering process for her – beneath that delicate and beautiful exterior lay the most resilient of souls.

Munda Deva spoke slowly: “All things arise from causes and conditions, gathering and dispersing like clouds and mist; separation and death are the natural way of heaven. Princess meeting this poor monk in Chang’an and reuniting in this royal court – perhaps it is heaven’s will.”

Yao Ying didn’t understand his Buddhist verse, but she caught his consoling meaning:

This is all fate, Princess need not grieve.

Yao Ying smiled: “Perhaps so.”

She believed in fate – weren’t Li Xuanzhen and Zhu Lvyun still alive and kicking, refusing to die! Moreover, whenever she tried to change her mother’s and brother’s destinies, she was punished.

But so what?

Believing was one thing, submitting to fate was another!

She would grit her teeth and endure.

A bit of noble spirit, a thousand li of favorable wind – riding the wind was good, soaring through vast skies straight to the azure clouds.

If she couldn’t be the giant Peng bird soaring straight up, she should still strive to fly high with all her might.

If truly at a dead end, she might as well follow Jin Dynasty’s Liu Ling’s example – just bury me when I die!

So the Master’s words couldn’t comfort her.

After sighing with emotion for a while, Munda Deva looked at the vigilant round-faced guard standing to the side: “Prajñā, the Seventh Princess is the Buddhist Prince’s guest. You must take good care of her, show her proper respect.”

Prajñā shouted in the Hu language: “Master, you don’t know what this Han woman did to the King!”

Remembering Yao Ying could speak the Hu language, he switched to Sanskrit and continued yelling, describing how Yao Ying had publicly proposed marriage that day.

“This Han woman dared to publicly desecrate the King! She even said she wanted to be the King’s Mātaṅgī! She… she…”

Prajñā stuttered “she” for a while, then stamped his foot: “She’s wanton! She’s shameless! If the Regent had been there, he would have cut off her head!”

Munda Deva’s face showed surprise.

Though Yao Ying couldn’t understand Sanskrit, seeing the guard’s hateful expression of gnashing teeth, she knew he was reporting her misconduct. Looking slightly embarrassed, she smiled at Munda Deva: “In that moment of crisis, I had no choice but to offend the Buddhist Prince. Fortunately, his compassionate heart still offered aid. I wish to meet him and explain the circumstances clearly. I hope Master can help arrange this.”

Munda Deva seemed not yet recovered from his shock, his brown eyes blinking in the night as he said gently: “Princess need not worry. If the Buddhist Prince hadn’t just mentioned you to this poor monk, I wouldn’t have known you had come to the royal court.”

Before Yao Ying could react, Prajñā’s eyes widened in disbelief: “What? The King sent Master to find this Han woman?”

How could the King remember a Han woman?

Could it be the King was moved by this shameless Han woman?

Munda Deva nodded: “Indeed, the Buddhist Prince said that the entire royal court must not neglect the Wei Dynasty Princess.”

Prajñā was dumbfounded.

Yao Ying also looked astonished – she had thought that the holy and aloof Buddhist Prince wouldn’t even remember someone like her, yet he had issued such an order immediately upon returning to the royal court.

Prajñā trembled, pointing at Yao Ying in great anger: “Witch!”

Even in slave’s clothing, she could bewitch souls. On the way to the royal court, from officers and soldiers to slaves, none dared look at her twice. If she were to dress in fine clothes, wouldn’t she turn everything upside down?

Yao Ying blinked innocently, her eyes gleaming – in the night, just that pair of eyes held several parts charm and allure.

Prajñā’s heartfelt scratched by cat claws, his round face turning red, then blue-purple, then snow-white. He suddenly spun around and ran toward the palace.

This Han woman was a demon who came to ruin the Buddhist Prince’s cultivation! He had to stop the Buddhist Prince!

Munda Deva shook his head, gesturing for Yao Ying to follow: “Tonight the Buddhist Prince returned to the palace in haste and has no time to see the Princess. This poor monk will first take you to your lodgings.”

Yao Ying followed behind him to a spacious courtyard. Trees seemed to be planted in the yard, though she couldn’t make out what kind in the darkness, only catching a faint fresh fragrance.

The guards brought over Xie Qing and the others. Yao Ying was deeply grateful. Munda Deva comforted her with a few words before taking his leave.

Having survived the disaster and met an old acquaintance, the guards quietly rejoiced. Days of exhaustion suddenly welled up, and they started snoring shortly after lying down.

Yao Ying got some medicine from the guards to apply to Xie Qing’s wounds. Seeing her sleep more peacefully than in previous days, she sighed in relief.

A chorus of snores rose from below the window.

Yao Ying rubbed her sore shoulders, leaning by the window with a smile. For the first time in many days, she felt relaxed.

Dharmārāga truly was a compassionate person.

Yao Ying closed her eyes to sleep.

Suddenly, the liquid-still night was broken by a series of shouts and chaotic footsteps.

Yao Ying broke out in cold sweat, jerking upright and gripping the dagger hidden on her person. Listening carefully, she realized the sounds weren’t coming toward her and slowly exhaled.

Though Haidu Aling was usually busy with military affairs, whenever he had free time he would deliberately torment her, taking pleasure in forcing her to show fear.

Every night before sleep she had to guard against Haidu Aling’s visits, startling awake at the slightest sound.

Shouts came from next door: “Master! Master!”

So they were looking for Munda Deva.

Yao Ying went back to sleep, but shortly after, footsteps suddenly approached from outside the courtyard, and this time it was her courtyard gate being knocked.

“Seventh Princess! The Master requests your presence!”

Yao Ying rose to answer the door. Munda Deva’s disciple led her directly to the main hall. The main doors were tightly shut, so they went through a side door and a small path around to the main hall’s rear garden. In the darkness, fragrant flowers wafted through the air – the garden seemed planted with many flowers and trees.

The royal palace was built high, with halls atop elevated platforms. Yao Ying followed the disciple up tall stone steps.

A flickering lamp lit the steps. Munda Deva waited in the corridor, looking anxious: “This poor monk has something to ask the Princess. Please tell me truthfully.”

Yao Ying nodded.

Munda Deva was covered in sweat: “When this poor monk departed Chang’an, the Princess gifted several bottles of medicine pills, including one called An Xi Wan. The Princess’s attendant said it could reduce swelling and pain… Does the Princess know the prescription for An Xi Wan?”

Yao Ying was startled, her thoughts turning several times before she fell silent briefly. Her gaze passed through the dark corridor toward the tightly shut main hall doors as she asked softly: “Is the Buddhist Prince ill?”

Munda Deva’s expression froze for an instant before he sighed: “Since the Princess has guessed, this poor monk will tell you truthfully. When I first came to the royal court, the Buddhist Prince was gravely ill. I tried many prescriptions, then by chance had the Buddhist Prince take several An Xi Wan pills.”

At that time, Northern Rong cavalry had come in full force, allying with other tribes to attack the Holy City. Dharmārāga’s days were numbered. Knowing that if news of his serious illness spread, the royal court would surely fall, they simply tried everything, taking any medicine available.

Remarkably, after taking An Xi Wan, he improved miraculously.

The An Xi Wan came from Yao Ying, but Munda Deva didn’t know the prescription. Seeing one bottle almost finished, he could only send people to the Central Plains seeking medicine while trying other methods to stabilize Dharmārāga’s condition. But with the pressing war situation, Dharmārāga simply couldn’t stay in the Holy City to recuperate.

He endured the pain of leading troops into battle, holding on until establishing an alliance with the Northern Rong, holding on until frightening away Haidu Aling. Upon returning to the Holy City, he finally couldn’t endure any longer.

After finishing speaking, Munda Deva sighed: “Just now the Buddhist Prince had an attack, and the An Xi Wan I brought from the Central Plains is gone…”

The confusion in Yao Ying’s mind suddenly cleared.

She hadn’t imagined that her casual action from a year ago would affect the course of war 8,000 li away.

Dharmārāga had saved her not because he was moved by her, but because she had revealed her identity as a Great Wei Princess. He had improved after taking An Xi Wan, and Munda Deva must have mentioned her to him.

So this was the karmic connection Munda Deva spoke of.

Yao Ying understood many things now.

No wonder Dharmārāga had rushed back to the Holy City yet insisted on entering after dark – he was ill, gravely ill, and feared others would notice.

That’s why she hadn’t seen any major city-states or tribes along the way – Dharmārāga had deliberately chosen a route avoiding populous cities on his return to the Holy City.

His original plan was probably to bring her back to the Holy City first, then slowly inquire about the An Xi Wan prescription.

Now he had suddenly fallen ill, his life hanging by a thread, forcing Munda Deva to summon her in the deep night and risk revealing his grave condition.

Dharmārāga’s worries weren’t groundless. He was a deity in the eyes of the Western Region’s people – each day he lived, the royal court remained prosperous and stable. After his death from illness, the royal court would immediately fragment, submitting to the Northern Rong within a short month. This thousand-li Buddhist nation would forever vanish into the river of history.

If news spread, the royal court would surely fall into chaos.

Yao Ying sighed: “Master, I know the prescription for An Xi Wan, but those herbs all grow naturally in the Central Plains. Even if Master knew the prescription, you couldn’t compound the medicine right now.”

The anxiety in Munda Deva’s brown eyes slowly faded as he stood before the steps, letting out a long sigh.

“The Princess must find it amusing – this poor monk was too attached. The Buddhist Prince was wise beyond his years, naturally gifted, and well-versed in scriptures. Given time, he would surely become a great vessel of the Buddhist dharma, promoting Buddhism and saving all beings. This poor monk cannot bear to see him fall into the suffering of rebirth before completing the great path.”

Yao Ying also didn’t want Dharmārāga to die so early… She thought for a moment and said: “Master, I can write out the general prescription – perhaps there are local herbs in the Western Regions that could substitute?”

As a monk, Munda Deva viewed life and death with detachment. If not for truly admiring Dharmārāga’s talent and character, he wouldn’t have said so much to Yao Ying. Just as he was about to give up, hearing her words, his spirits lifted.

Chang’an and the Holy City were 8,000 li apart, yet the medicine the Seventh Princess had given him happened to ease Dharmārāga’s suffering. Now the Seventh Princess had appeared in the Holy City by coincidence – perhaps all this was Buddha’s arrangement.

Munda Deva led Yao Ying through long corridors and a side door into the inner chamber.

Layer upon layer of heavy golden curtains hung densely, making the inner hall appear pitch black from the outside.

As attendants lifted the curtains, a brilliant golden light suddenly poured forth.

Yao Ying raised her hand to shield her eyes, slowly adjusting to the light before her.

Hundreds of candles burned brightly in the hall, their flames making it bright as day. The floor was covered with Persian carpets embroidered with beast patterns, soft as walking on clouds. Pearl curtains inlaid with jewels swayed gently on all sides, gorgeously iridescent. The walls’ intricate gold-lacquered relief murals seemed to shimmer in the flickering golden light.

Yao Ying felt dizzy from the brilliance – having entered the Holy City in darkness, she hadn’t seen the full palace. She had thought the palace would be as austere and imposing as the earthen cliffs she’d seen at dusk, never imagining the main hall would be so luxuriously magnificent.

One could imagine how wealthy the royal court was.

No wonder two generations of Northern Rong Khans had been determined to possess the royal court.

Prajñā and several other guards knelt before the inner hall’s couch, expressions grief-stricken, eyes red from crying. Seeing Yao Ying brought in, they immediately jumped up.

“Demon…”

Ignoring him, Yao Ying walked to a nearby writing desk and swiftly wrote out the prescription she knew.

Munda Deva picked it up and examined it closely, shaking his head in disappointment: “The key ingredient in this prescription must be this water mang grass… Among all the medicines this poor monk brought, there’s nothing that can substitute for water mang grass.”

“Water mang grass?” Yao Ying’s eyes flickered slightly.

Loud wailing came from beside the bed as Prajñā shouted: “Master!”

Munda Deva hurried to the couch, looking at Dharmārāga’s face, as yellow as gold paper, and let out a long sigh.

Yao Ying peered out from behind him, her gaze falling on Dharmārāga’s face.

In the candlelight, he lay in bedding embroidered with gold patterns on white, dark circles under his eyes, lips deathly pale, his handsome face covered in cold sweat, thick eyebrows tightly furrowed, clearly enduring extreme pain yet not making a sound.

A corner of the bedding revealed his legs, swollen almost black – had he been mounting and dismounting horses these past days, commanding thousands of troops from horseback with these legs?

If not seeing it with her own eyes, Yao Ying couldn’t believe this man hanging by a thread was the same Buddhist Prince who had frightened away Haidu Aling while leading thousands of troops just days ago.

Among those flowing lines of troops moving like mountains, he alone in his crimson Buddhist robes had been dazzling and magnificent, looking down upon the world.

His bearing was clear and majestic.

Who knew he had been enduring terrible pain at that time?

What incredible willpower must this man possess to have endured until today?

He was the Holy City’s King, a deity in the Western Region people’s hearts, so even in unbearable pain, he had to shoulder this doomed Buddhist nation alone.

Yao Ying couldn’t help but feel moved. She stepped forward and lifted the brocade covers.

Prajñā shouted: “What are you doing?!”

Without even glancing at him, Yao Ying lifted Dharmārāga’s robes and felt his swollen legs with her fingers. “Bring some hot water.”

Prajñā shouted for guards to drive her away.

Munda Deva stopped Prajñā and asked Yao Ying: “Hot water? Won’t that worsen the swelling?”

Yao Ying glanced at Dharmārāga. These past days she had never been able to approach him, only distantly following the troops and gazing up at his transcendent, proud bearing. Now up close, she found him even more dignified and handsome than she had imagined. Even in illness, his features remained as beautiful as a painting.

She said: “When I was in Chibi before, I saw a divine doctor treat someone with similar symptoms. Hot water, acupuncture… these can temporarily ease his suffering.”

Even if they couldn’t save him, at least they could reduce this compassionate monk’s pain.

Munda Deva had heard of acupuncture. “There’s a Han monk in the temple who knows acupuncture – summon him to the palace!”

Having tried everything else, with no An Xi Wan left, they could only leave it to fate.

The guards looked at each other, then out of trust in Munda Deva, accepted the order and left.

Attendants quickly brought hot water. Yao Ying directed them to fetch herbs and began bathing Dharmārāga.

Half an hour later, the Han monk finally arrived hurriedly. Yao Ying told him all the acupuncture techniques she could remember. The monk washed his hands, sterilized the needles, and began treating Dharmārāga.

The candles burned quietly. Though the swelling in Dharmārāga’s legs hadn’t subsided, his hands weren’t as cold, and his lips had regained some color.

Yao Ying assisted on the side, using a silk handkerchief to wipe away his cold sweat.

In the late night, when the hall’s candles had burned to half their length, she grew so tired her eyelids drooped, and she unconsciously fell asleep leaning against the couch.

In her hazy state, she was suddenly awakened by heavy footsteps.

Yao Ying opened her eyes and met a gaze as deep as an abyss.

A pair of deep jade-green eyes were quietly observing her.

These eyes were wise and clear, like a lucid deep spring, seeming able to penetrate all worldly matters. Though looking up at her from below, they made her feel immense pressure, nowhere to hide.

It felt as if this man could see through everything about her, inside and out, body and soul.

Yao Ying froze for a moment before regaining her composure. She calmly wiped the drool from her lips with her sleeve, rose with graceful indifference, and woke Munda Deva who was meditating nearby: “Master, the Buddhist Prince is awake.”