The night was deep, and the front corridor of the cave temple was pitch black. Occasional dim yellow light shone from one or two caves, its glow making the murals on the corridor pillars appear sharp and distinct.
Suddenly, a series of hurried footsteps broke the silence.
Prajna, a Royal Court central guard, hastily climbed to the highest level of cave temples. A dark shadow flashed diagonally, and a hidden guard from the corner suddenly pounced forward, pressing a cold blade against his throat.
“The King is in seclusion. Those who force their way in will be executed without mercy.”
Prajna quickly presented a bronze token, “I am Guard Prajna. This bronze token was bestowed by the King. I have urgent matters to report.”
The hidden guard took the token and examined it carefully, raised a lantern to illuminate his face, and then withdrew the blade, his figure quickly disappearing into the darkness.
Prajna crossed the empty front corridor, arrived at the innermost cave, stopped his steps, and gently knocked on the stone wall, saying softly, “Guard Prajna requests an audience with the Buddha’s Son.”
There was no response from inside for a long time.
Prajna didn’t dare hurry, standing outside waiting.
During Tanmoloujia’s seclusion, only one guard protected the cave temple, and no others were allowed to approach within half a step. Even the monks bringing food and water only left their baskets at the foot of the mountain wall to avoid disturbing the Buddha’s Son’s meditation. Prajna was Tanmoloujia’s guard and also followed this rule. If not for the tragic news of the Regent’s death, he would never have come to disturb the Buddha’s Son.
After a while, the guard’s voice came from inside: “The King already knows what you wish to report.”
Prajna’s expression was anxious: “News of the Regent’s death has spread throughout the Holy City. People’s hearts are in turmoil. The noble ministers will surely take this opportunity to cause trouble. Today, young novices discovered many suspicious noble family slaves lingering around the Royal Temple, along with private soldiers from the Kang, Xue, An, and Meng families. Will the King emerge from seclusion tomorrow?”
Footsteps sounded from inside as the guard seemingly went to the meditation room to report. After a while, the footsteps returned, and the guard said: “The King will emerge from seclusion tomorrow. Issue orders that from tomorrow, temple monks may not leave, including the temple master and meditation masters. Anyone who dares force their way into the Royal Temple shall be arrested immediately.”
Prajna responded worriedly and went to relay the message to the temple master.
Sudan Gu’s death meant a new Regent would need to be chosen to manage state affairs. That night, inside and outside the Holy City, from noble ministers to common soldiers, many would remain sleepless through the night.
In the cave temple, the guard sent Prajna away and returned to the innermost meditation room.
This cave was very large, with niches carved into the walls leading to the main hall, densely packed like a honeycomb, each housing Buddhist statues.
Tanmoloujia, having removed his dark robes and black gloves, walked slowly along the cave wall, holding a gilt candlestick. His jade eyes lowered, expression serene, as he lit the candles before each Buddha statue one by one.
On the felt carpet beneath the southern cave wall of the meditation room sat Yao Ying, cross-legged, still blindfolded. The soft warm glow fell upon her, making her black hair shimmer with dazzling golden light.
The guard showed an embarrassed expression, averting his gaze, not daring to look at her further.
Whenever the Buddha’s Son needed to leave or was too ill to appear in public, he was the guard who remained in the cave to maintain the facade. This secret passage in the cave led to the beast garden, known only to the few most trusted people around the Buddha’s Son.
Even Prajna didn’t know about it.
Tonight the Buddha’s Son had brought Princess Wenzhao through the secret passage, and the guard was so shocked he still hadn’t recovered his senses.
Yao Ying couldn’t see the guard’s reddened face. She sat quietly cross-legged, waiting for Sudan Gu to call her.
A flickering, faint light fell on the black cloth, and she sensed she must be inside the Royal Temple now. A subtle fragrance mixed with spices floated in the air – not incense, but the smell of books and paper. The paper used for copying scriptures in the temple was a fragrant paper from the Central Plains and parchment. She remembered this scent.
Yao Ying waited for a long time without hearing any voices. Sensing the especially solemn and majestic atmosphere, she feared speaking would disturb Sudan Gu, so she didn’t dare open her mouth.
Tanmoloujia lit all the lamps and candles, their hundreds of flames casting intersecting shadows. Bathed in golden radiance, he pressed his palms together and closed his eyes, silently reciting scriptures.
The guard didn’t dare make even the slightest sound.
After the time it takes to drink a full cup of tea, Tanmoloujia turned, his gaze passing over Yao Ying.
Yao Ying sat formally, motionless. Though blindfolded, her face showed no trace of panic, radiating docility and trust from head to toe.
He raised his eyes, signaling the guard with his gaze, then turned to face the Buddha niches.
The guard had never encountered such a situation before. Red-faced, he walked to Yao Ying and held out his sword: “Princess, I am Balmi, the Buddha’s Son’s guard. Please hold onto the sword and follow me. The Regent has ordered me to escort you back to your quarters. Please remain silent along the way.”
Yao Ying was startled and stood up asking, “Where is the Regent?”
Balmi’s eyes darted as he said, “The Regent has gone to see the Buddha’s Son.”
Yao Ying made a sound of acknowledgment and gripped the sword’s scabbard, following the guard out of the cave.
The meditation room blazed with lamplight, the Buddha statues standing solemnly with their dignified countenances.
Tanmoloujia stood beneath the niches, not looking back, his silhouette solitary.
…
The sword was cold in her grip, far less convenient than holding onto a sleeve.
Yao Ying stumbled along behind Balmi for a long while before he stopped and said quietly, “Princess may remove the blindfold now.”
She sighed in relief and removed the black cloth, her gaze sweeping around to find herself standing in a spacious corridor. Just past a few more earthen walls would be her quarters in the temple.
Balmi fastened his sword back at his waist and said, “Princess, your guards have remained stationed in the courtyard during your absence from the temple.”
The few personal guards left at the Royal Temple had been anxiously awaiting the safe return of Yao Ying’s group. Today when news of the Regent’s death spread through the Holy City, they had heard it too and were extremely worried. They wanted to leave the city to find Yao Ying but remembered her instructions not to leave the temple without permission. They could only sit anxiously fretting, sighing repeatedly.
When Yao Ying suddenly appeared at the courtyard gate, the guards were dumbstruck, thinking they were dreaming. They rubbed their eyes and came forward to kowtow to her.
“Princess, you’ve finally returned!”
Having safely delivered Yao Ying, Balmi turned back toward the cave.
Yao Ying watched him walk away, standing at the door gazing toward the towering northern cliffs. In the thick night, points of lamplight shone from the cave temples in the cliff face, looking like celestial lanterns floating among the clouds, pure and otherworldly.
After being lost in thought for a moment, she returned to her room surrounded by her guards.
“Princess, why have you returned alone? Where are Xie Qing and Xie Chong?”
“We heard the Royal Court’s Regent was killed by bandits – is it true?”
Yao Ying said casually, “A Qing and the others will return in a few days, don’t worry about them. The Regent’s matter is Royal Court business – whatever happens next, don’t ask too many questions. The situation is unstable now, so don’t go wandering about these next few days.”
The guards acknowledged her orders and reported that this winter, more homeless Hexi refugees had been taken in outside the city. Following her instructions before she left, they had helped the refugees dig cave dwellings. Although this year’s snow was heavier than usual, the refugees had shelter from the wind and cold and food to eat, allowing them to survive the harsh winter. The refugees were very grateful to Yao Ying and vowed to work hard once the weather warmed.
Yao Ying sat beside the candlestick, reviewing account books and registers while listening to the guards report one by one. She marveled silently: these guards had originally been rough men, but now each had taken on different duties – some led refugees in building houses, some taught children martial arts, some became teachers, some watched over dried grapes, some had become sharp-tongued hagglers bargaining with shrewd Hu merchants, some wandered the marketplaces daily buying horses, sheep, and cattle… Given more time to gain experience, each would be capable of handling matters independently.
After the guards finished their various reports, one of them suddenly remembered something, and slapped his forehead, his face flushing with anger as he said heatedly: “Princess, Princess Fukang has also come to the Holy City!”
Yao Ying raised her eyes.
The guard laughed coldly: “I misspoke. Princess Fukang is now a Northern Rong Princess. Somehow she became a princess of Northern Rong, came as an envoy to the Royal Court, and on her first day in the Holy City specifically requested to see you by name!”
Yao Ying didn’t know whether to laugh or cry: “She wants to see me?”
The guard nodded: “The Northern Rong chief envoy personally came to the Royal Temple, saying the Princess was an old acquaintance of the Northern Rong Princess and requested to meet with you. The temple master refused, saying you were praying for the Buddha’s Son in the main hall and wouldn’t see anyone.”
“They didn’t dare offend the Buddha’s Son, so they had to give up. But I’ve seen people from the Northern Rong delegation lingering outside the Royal Temple – they must be waiting to bring Princess Fukang to see you when you go out.”
Yao Ying’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Why was Zhu Lüyun so determined to see her?
…
Balmi avoided the patrolling monk soldiers and returned to the cave.
Tanmoloujia still stood beneath the niches. As candlelight flickered throughout the room, he removed his headscarf, tore off the scar tissue, revealing his true face, and said: “Go summon Master Tiduo.”
His tone was cold and clear.
Balmi acknowledged and left. Half an hour later, he returned leading an elderly man wearing a gray kasaya, then withdrew.
The old man had gaunt cheekbones and dull brown eyes, though sharp light flickered in their depths. He walked tremblingly to the niches and said softly: “This humble monk is the temple’s Weinuo, in charge of discipline, ensuring all matters are orderly and all monks strictly observe the precepts. Why has the King summoned this humble monk?”
Tanmoloujia pressed his palms together, lifted his robe, and knelt, saying: “This disciple Luojia has violated a major precept and should receive punishment.”
The old monk’s eyelids trembled several times as he pressed his palms together and asked: “Which precept has the King violated?”
“The precept against killing.”
The old monk sighed, “In troubled times, protecting the dynasty and sheltering all beings, cannot be avoided. However, as the King is a member of the sangha, having violated a major precept, punishment indeed cannot be avoided.”
He softly recited some scriptures and raised his dharma staff high.
…
The sound of beatings continued one after another.
Standing outside the cave, Balmi listened with his scalp tingling, yet Tanmoloujia didn’t make a single sound.
Half an hour later, the old monk left. Balmi exhaled and quickly walked into the cave.
Tanmoloujia stood up, his expression calm, and walked to another meditation room used as living quarters. He removed his bloodied inner garment, took a crimson kasaya from the rack and put it on, picked up a string of prayer beads, and wrapped them around his wrist several times.
The oversized kasaya enveloped his tall, sturdy frame, also covering the fresh wounds on his shoulders and back.
With a faint rustle, a soft handkerchief slipped out from the sleeve of his removed inner garment.
Balmi quickly bent to pick up the handkerchief, startled: it was soft and smooth, made of fine material, with exquisitely rich landscape embroidery depicting misty mountains and clouds, carrying a warm sweet fragrance. It also had square blocks of Chinese poetry embroidered on it – not something belonging to the Buddha’s Son.
Princess Wenzhao was Chinese, and this handkerchief must be hers. It was said the Princess knew an advanced craft that she had taught to her people, and now everyone in the Royal Court knew that the fabric sold by Chinese merchant groups was the most exquisite.
Balmi’s face instantly turned blood-red, suddenly feeling as if the handkerchief in his hand weighed a thousand jin and was burning hot.
Tanmoloujia lowered his gaze, looking at the soft handkerchief in Balmi’s hand.
When his temperature fluctuated between hot and cold, Yao Ying stayed with him from morning to night, using this handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his neck. When he had a fever, the handkerchief was cool; when his body was cold, the handkerchief had certainly been warmed over a charcoal fire.
She said she couldn’t help much and only wanted to make him more comfortable.
He didn’t know how this handkerchief had ended up on his person.
Tanmoloujia remained silent.
Just as Balmi felt the soft handkerchief growing countless sharp thorns pricking him all over, his palm suddenly lightened.
Tanmoloujia had taken the handkerchief away.
Balmi quietly let out a breath of relief.
Tanmoloujia’s expression remained calm as he casually set the handkerchief aside and said: “Ring the bell.”
Balmi’s spirit lifted as he respectfully acknowledged.
…
In the small courtyard, Yao Ying was still sitting before the lamp discussing matters with her guards.
Learning that Yang Qian was secretly training volunteer forces, the guards’ blood boiled with excitement as they eagerly volunteered to go help him.
Yao Ying had already chosen suitable candidates in her mind. Yang Qian was full of passion and would not turn back even if he hit a wall – the person sent to his side must be diplomatic and modest, otherwise it would create enemies rather than cooperation.
As several people sat discussing, one of the guards suddenly frowned and gestured for everyone to be quiet.
Everyone immediately fell silent.
In the still night, the clear, resonant sound of bells came from afar. The thunderous ringing echoed and swirled in the cold, desolate winter night, its lingering sound heavy and long, resounding throughout the entire Royal Temple.
A guard stood up, opened the door, listened carefully for a moment, and said: “The Buddha’s Son has emerged from seclusion!”
The entire Royal Temple was awakened by the bell sounds. More and more people opened their doors and windows, listening to the echoing bells, excitedly reciting scriptures aloud.
News of Tanmoloujia’s emergence from seclusion quickly spread to every corner of the Holy City.
The next morning before dawn, the Royal Temple entrance was filled with carriages and horses, bustling with activity. The narrow entrance path to the temple was so crowded that not even water could trickle through.
Most who entered the temple wore fine robes and elegant attire – they were court ministers and noble scions of the Royal Court. The common people who had traveled thousands of li to pay respects to Luojia were blocked outside, unable to enter the Royal Temple.
Tanmoloujia did not receive those noble scions. After emerging from seclusion, he needed to first chant sutras in the hall for seven days to deliver Sudan Gu’s soul.
The ministers were impatient, continuously submitting memorials urging him to select a new Regent. He refused. The ministers took a step back, demanding that a new Regent be appointed immediately after seven days. This time he did not reject it.
As the ministers pressed step by step, the court situation grew increasingly complex and treacherous. Private armies of noble families continuously poured into the Holy City from all directions, surrounding the entire Royal Temple in layers.
Fighting for the position of Regent, friction, and conflicts between noble families were constant. The Four Armies that should have fought side by side were now at daggers drawn, ready to explode.
No matter how arrogant the ministers became, Tanmoloujia never appeared. A rumor spread unbidden: after losing the Regent, the Buddha’s Son had once again been marginalized by the noble families.
Yao Ying heard temple monks privately muttering: had the Buddha’s Son been marginalized?
She knew Tanmoloujia would never passively await defeat, unlike the anxious monks.
During this tense situation, the Northern Rong delegation took advantage of the monks’ unsettled state to have someone deliver a letter to Yao Ying’s desk, requesting that she meet with Zhu Lüyun.
The letter was written in Zhu Lüyun’s voice, full of deep sentiment and precious words. First confessing her sins and asks Yao Ying’s forgiveness, then says they are both Chinese people in foreign lands and should support each other, hoping she could put aside past grievances and reconcile with Zhu Lüyun. Finally hinting that if she could reconcile with Zhu Lüyun, Haidu Aling would never dare offend her again.
The guards were furious, cursing loudly.
Yao Ying stopped the guards, smiled, crumpled the letter, and said: “Very well since we’re old acquaintances, we should indeed reminisce about old times.”
A few days ago she couldn’t reveal her identity, so naturally had to avoid Zhu Lüyun. Now that she had returned to the Holy City, there was no need for such concerns – she could have a good chat with Zhu Lüyun about old times.
Yao Ying asked her guards: “Have princesses from other tribes all arrived in the Holy City?”
The guard replied: “They’ve all arrived and are staying at the guest house, except for the Princess of Tianzhu who is staying at Princess Chima’s residence.”
Yao Ying nodded, picked up her brush to write a letter, and gave it to a monk to deliver to Tanmoloujia.
In the afternoon, the monk returned to the courtyard and said: “The Buddha’s Son requests the Princess to come to the main hall.”
Yao Ying rose and followed the monk toward the main hall.