She had thought of the person who could help her resolve the problem. As long as he was willing, he would certainly settle things — settle them cleanly and neatly, leaving no hidden troubles behind. This much she trusted in him, and it was what she valued most about him.

But the problem also followed immediately: how was she to persuade him next? Only if he were willing would he agree to help her fulfill her wishes again, as he had done that time at the He Xi commandery office. She would have to think this through carefully.

Given the current situation — in which Li Xuandu seemed to feel even greater disdain for her than at the outset — to resort to the same old trick of recounting her childhood miseries, shedding a few tears, and sending over a fan and flower cakes to earn his sympathy would surely be useless now. Once or twice with tears was one thing, but no matter how prettily they fell, tears cried too often lost their effect.

But Pu Zhu had no intention of giving up.

The situation she now faced was, in principle, the same as competing for favor. If one wanted to obtain what one desired from another person, one had to thoroughly understand that person’s weakness — it was a matter of striking the snake at its vital point.

The people of this world came in all varieties, each with their faults. Some loved wealth, some were drawn to beauty, some sought only empty reputation.

Li Xuandu was no immortal — how could he possibly have no weakness?

His weakness was the opening she could exploit.

Pu Zhu thought of Li Xuandu in her previous life, and of Li Xuandu as she had first encountered him in He Xi in this life. She thought for much of the night, and at last a plan slowly took shape in her mind.

To be frank, had the circumstances not been so unusual this time — with the situation perhaps about to derail her future entirely — she had truly not wanted to mention this matter to anyone before she had the power to make it a reality.

This was something she kept buried deep in her heart, a place no one was allowed to touch.

But of all the methods she could think of that might move him, this was the only one she had. She had no choice but to try.

Even if it ultimately failed, the worst outcome would merely be that he refused to help her. There would be no real loss — at most, he would hold her in even greater contempt.

There was no time to waste. Having decided in her mind, the next day she sought out Guo Lang’s wife and said she had heard that the old peony at Angu Temple was said to be blooming unusually splendidly this year, and she wanted to go enjoy the last days of its flowering while she still could.

Angu Temple’s peony had bloomed late this year and would also be late to fade; at this point its blossoms were still on the branches, though the flowering season was estimated to have only a few days remaining. The capital’s men and women, taking advantage of the fine weather, had been going out these past few days to view the flowers, and Angu Temple had welcomed another wave of flower-viewing visitors.

Yan Shi was busy herself and unable to get away. She arranged for the steward to take Pu Zhu in a carriage. Because Ju A’mu had developed back pain from years of hard work and was having a flare-up these past two days, Pu Zhu urged her not to accompany her and to rest at home. She called for a maid to bring a food basket, umbrella, extra clothing, and other necessities for the outing, and set off.

They arrived smoothly at Angu Temple — it was around noon. She obtained a meditation room to use as a resting place, ate a simple vegetarian meal, took a cursory look at the peonies, and then told the steward and the maid that she was tired and wanted to rest. She sent them off to enjoy the flowers on their own and said they could all set out for home together in the evening.

Once she had dismissed the people around her, she changed into a set of men’s clothes that she had packed in advance, combed her long hair up into a small bun and secured it at the top of her head, put on a small cap, slipped into her wooden clogs, and while no one was watching, quietly slipped out through the rear gate of the mountain temple.

Her true destination today was, of course, Ziyang Monastery.

The Taoist monastery was not far from Angu Temple — from one, at morning and evening, one could hear the bell and drum of the other drifting through the mountain gates. She arrived very quickly.

The monastery had never attracted as many worshippers as a Buddhist temple. What was more, there were no peonies to see today, so all the visitors had gone to the other place. The monastery’s gate was quiet and deserted, with only a young Taoist acolyte sitting on the steps and dozing. Pu Zhu entered the Three Pure Ones Hall to kneel and offer incense. After donating her incense money, she asked the acolyte about Prince Qin and learned that he had indeed come here several days ago.

Pu Zhu said: “I trouble the young acolyte — would you be so kind as to lead me to His Highness Prince Qin’s quarters?” As she spoke, she placed a few coins in the acolyte’s hand with a smile. “Go buy yourself some fruit to eat.”

The acolyte accepted happily and led her along. They passed through several main halls, went through a gate in a wall, and came to the western side of the monastery. He pointed to the steps ahead and said: “The Great Prince is in there, cultivating the Way.”

Pu Zhu saw a grove of ancient pines and cypresses stretching into the distance, and at the far end, a monastery hall, above whose lintel hung a signboard bearing the three characters for “Jade Clarity Hall.” The only sounds around her were the crisp calls of birds from somewhere unknown, making the surrounding silence seem all the deeper. She made her way up the stone steps carpeted with fallen pine needles, came to the door, and saw two guards standing there blocking entry. She announced her name and said that Prince Qin knew who she was and that she had come on an important matter and wished to be received.

Though she was dressed in blue garments and a small cap, her figure, face, and voice were entirely those of a woman. The guards exchanged a glance; one went inside and came back shortly, saying Prince Qin was in seclusion and would not receive outside visitors.

Pu Zhu was not about to turn back so easily. She asked when the seclusion would end, but the guards said nothing. Suspecting that Li Xuandu simply would not see her, she had no choice but to say: “I know Ye the Guard Commander as well. Is he here?”

The guards lost patience and moved forward to drive her off. Pu Zhu was pushed down the steps but refused to leave, and paced back and forth at the bottom of the steps for a long while. Finally Ye Xiao came hurrying out. He glanced at her appearance and said with a frown: “Young miss, His Highness is observing spiritual retreat these past days and sees no outside visitors. Please leave at once!”

Pu Zhu earnestly said: “I truly have an important matter and wish to see Prince Qin — it will only take a brief moment of his time. I beg Guard Commander Ye to please convey my request once more.”

Ye Xiao said: “Young miss, I have told you His Highness is in spiritual retreat. Will you not listen? Very well then, if you wish to wait, wait by yourself.” He turned and went back inside, leaving her behind.

Having made up her mind and come all this way without seeing anyone, Pu Zhu could not possibly leave. She walked one full circuit around the outer wall of the hall — truly finding no gaps she could slip through, the walls being high and imposing, and herself having no hope of climbing over them — and had no choice but to return to the entrance and watch for any opportunity to act.

She waited for the better part of the afternoon. Li Xuandu never appeared, and she could find no opening to take advantage of. Meanwhile the sky gradually darkened, and above her head black clouds massed. Suddenly a great gust of wind swept past, and in the pine grove the sound of rustling filled the air.

It was going to rain!

In the blink of an eye, great drops of rain began to fall, spattering the shoulders of her robe.

Her heart urgent, Pu Zhu hurried once more to the entrance, requesting to see Ye Xiao.

Ye Xiao had gone to the rear hall and was gazing at the faintly visible silhouette through the green curtain ahead. He said hesitantly: “Your Highness, it is about to rain outside. The young miss is still not leaving — she must have something truly important…”

“I said I would not see her. If she wants to get soaked, let her.” A voice emerged from behind the green curtain, its tone cold and indifferent.

Ye Xiao had no choice but to come out again. He stood at the doorway and said to Pu Zhu: “Young miss, His Highness truly is in spiritual retreat today. It is about to rain — please return quickly…”

“Your Highness!”

Pu Zhu suddenly looked past him and called out loudly with a bright expression of surprise and joy on her face.

Ye Xiao instinctively turned to look — there was nothing behind him. He realized too late that he had been tricked, but before he could turn back around, Pu Zhu had already pushed him aside and rushed past him, running toward the rear hall in the direction from which he had emerged. She charged straight to the front of the green curtain swaying in the wind, yanked it aside with one hand, and said: “Your Highness—”

Her voice suddenly froze. Her feet, too, came to an abrupt halt.

The hall within was dim and cool. Behind a great gilded purple incense burner half a person’s height, Li Xuandu wore only a broad white crane-feather robe with a straight collar draped over his shoulders, its sash tied loosely at the waist, and below his collar bone, half his chest was exposed.

He was barefoot, one knee drawn up as he sat on a purple bamboo cloud-couch, facing the wide-open western window, a jug of wine in his hand. His head was tilted slightly back, and he was drinking straight from the spout of the jug.

The wind came in great surges through the western window; inside the hall the green curtains billowed wildly. The hem of his robe hanging down from the cloud-couch and his wide sleeves also whipped about in the wind. Hearing the disturbance, he turned his face sideways — and she saw that the corners of his eyes shimmered, the depths of his gaze red, and a streak of vivid crimson grape wine was flowing down his neck along his protruding throat, like a line of blood, slowly running down to his chest and finally seeping into the disordered folds of his open robe.

Pu Zhu had never imagined that this man would conduct his “spiritual retreat” in such a manner.

She stared at the scene before her, wide-eyed and astonished.

Li Xuandu swallowed the mouthful of wine he had just drunk. His throat moved in a slight roll as he swallowed.

“Young miss! How could you conduct yourself like this!”

Ye Xiao was somewhat flustered. He came running up at this moment, and hurriedly begged Li Xuandu’s pardon, saying the fault was his own for not doing his duty.

Li Xuandu appeared not to hear him. His hand still held the wine jug. He glanced at her coldly. “What do you want with me?”

Ye Xiao paused, realizing his master intended to let her stay, and no longer forced her out. He gave Pu Zhu an irritated look and withdrew.

Pu Zhu came back to her senses and hurriedly said: “Your Highness, I know I have been outrageously presumptuous, but I have encountered a difficult matter. Of all the people I know, only Your Highness can help me, which is why I had no choice but to come and seek an audience. I earnestly beg Your Highness to assist me.”

Li Xuandu said lightly: “Can the Crown Prince not help you?”

“He cannot!” Pu Zhu’s tone was decisive.

“Aside from Your Highness, no one can help me!”

Li Xuandu let out a cold laugh. He casually set the wine jug down at his feet, tilted to one side, and leaned against the head of the cloud-couch, turning his face toward her.

“Oh? Tell me then.” His tone was one of careless indifference.

Pu Zhu’s eyes suddenly found themselves at a loss for somewhere to look, and in the end she could only fix her gaze on the great incense burner before her as she said: “The Princess Imperial visited the Guo household yesterday to see me, and also privately asked Guo Grand Tutor’s wife for my birth date and hour. She very likely intends to seek a marriage for me with her son. I cannot marry him.”

He made no reaction, remaining motionless, watching her.

Perhaps because of the slight intoxication, his pair of eyes had a deep, dark luster, suffused with the rich amber color of wine.

Pu Zhu did her best to ignore the invisible but quietly pressing sensation of pressure emanating from the figure across from her, and explained: “I truly did not lure your nephew. That day he came to the courier station of his own accord with the Young Prince — you may ask the Young Prince if you do not believe me; I would never deceive you. I admit that I did use a certain method with the Crown Prince, but aside from the Crown Prince, I have not the slightest interest in anyone else…”

Li Xuandu suddenly seemed to grow impatient — or perhaps the wine had gone to his head — for he sat up from the cloud-couch, stretched out his foot, and stepped off. As he did so, his sleeve caught the wine jug. The jug toppled onto the cloud-couch and the vivid red wine spilled out, spreading across the purple bamboo surface, rapidly dyeing a corner of his Taoist robe.

He did not even glance at it. Barefoot, he stepped onto the floor.

“Why should I help you?”

He said coldly, stepping past her and striding out toward the door.

Pu Zhu turned to face his retreating back — that broad-shouldered silhouette disappearing into the gusting wind, his Taoist robe billowing around him — and said in a clear, steady voice: “For the sake of bringing my father’s remains home from the enemy barbarians’ wilderness where he fell!”

Li Xuandu’s steps halted.