◎Heaven and Bodhisattvas, if there’s sin, don’t blame her◎

Late at night, Lan Shanjun sat before her journal, unable to put pen to paper. She sat quietly at her writing desk, not daring to write.

She couldn’t write down the fact that she had urged Yu Qingwu to kill his teacher.

How could she begin?

Should she write: With twisted roots tightening around his neck, burying his corpse with summer’s luxuriant leaves?

She sighed, stood up, opened the window, leaned out her face, and closed her eyes to feel the wind blowing through.

——She hoped Yu Qingwu wouldn’t mind her overstepping.

He didn’t seem to mind at all.

Lan Shanjun became hesitant.

She always felt he had an immense tolerance toward her. As if no matter what she did, he thought it natural and proper. Even when she impulsively spoke of patricide today, he hadn’t refuted her. He was even guilty, as if by drawing her into such a matter, he had become a sinner.

How could she write about such a person?

After standing in the cool breeze for a while, she sat back down. When she picked up her brush again, she actually had the notion of writing his entire life.

She thought she would be the person most able to witness his whole life. She was also the one who could reach the deepest parts of his heart.

The Yu Qingwu under her brush would be his truest face. No matter what others said, in her heart, his innocence was unique.

She wasn’t a court historian and wouldn’t write biographies, but she could write journals. She could record his every detail, every word and deed, in her journal. At this time, she still couldn’t mention Yu Qingwu’s three characters on paper, but she must write at the beginning of the volume: The parasol tree stands lush and verdant. I rested at the mountain’s foot, observing its entire life, thus this record.

She had once read his journals from age six to sixteen. Now, she wanted to continue his journals from seventeen to thirty years old.

If after ten years they still hadn’t died, she would show him the journal: “Look, this is you in my eyes, this is your life.”

His life…

She picked up her brush and wrote in the journal: “Yuanshou 48th year, August. I glimpsed a parasol tree’s struggle and pain. I glimpsed it having its branches cut away, leaving only the trunk, forced to become a solitary subject in the mountains. I glimpsed it—to reach up to the clouds—rooting in foreign soil, twisting and breaking its own gnarled roots that should have spread outward, turning instead to compete with other great trees for light, constantly struggling…”

She took a deep breath, paused for a long time, then wrote stroke by stroke: “Yuanshou 44th year… he left his homeland, severed his own roots, wanting to plant himself elsewhere.”

“Yuanshou 47th year… worldly affairs change without constancy, heaven and earth’s winds and clouds have already shifted…”

“Yuanshou 48th year, I saw the many branches he cut down. I bent to pick them up, preparing to use them to build a house, construct a home.”

After writing the last sentence, when she came to her senses, her body was already covered in a thin layer of sweat.

Yet she felt exhilarated, her whole being somewhat lighter. As if something that had been pressing on her heart was finally released—she was truly happy.

She solemnly reorganized her journal, revised it, put it away properly, locked it in a chest, and placed the key under her pillow. She told Nanny Zhao: “Don’t touch it.”

Nanny Zhao acknowledged with a sound, smiling: “Young lady looks very pleased. Is there some happy news?”

Lan Shanjun lay down, shaking her head: “Not exactly happy news, but I’ve resolved a matter weighing on my heart.”

Nanny Zhao didn’t ask further.

The Sixth Young Lady’s concerns—they could see she had them, but what exactly they were, they didn’t understand at all.

She could only take a fan to fan her, saying: “That’s good then. Concerns are like stones on a mountain—resolve one and one stone drops. But they can’t all drop completely, otherwise your heart would feel empty.”

Lan Shanjun laughed: “There’s such a saying?”

Nanny Zhao: “Yes.”

She said: “This servant will massage your head for you? You always have nightmares at night, waking with a start in the middle of the night. If this continues for years, it won’t do. Taking advantage of your good mood tonight, this old servant speaks out of turn—you should still take medicine to ease it. These things can be treated.”

But Lan Shanjun shook her head: “No need.”

This was a demon in her heart—medicine wouldn’t help.

Nanny Zhao had no choice but to nod. But the next day at the Shou household, she secretly pulled Nanny Qian aside and explained the situation: “Ordinarily, people like us shouldn’t speak out of turn, but it’s been like this since returning last November—every single night. How can this continue?”

She said: “Nanny Qian, speaking beyond my station, our young lady treats you like her own grandmother, most sincerely. She’ll certainly listen to what you say. Now our young lady is already betrothed to Minister Yu. In another half year, she can marry… Even if she doesn’t like that household, she can still recuperate her health in this household.”

Hearing this, Nanny Qian said anxiously: “You old thing, why didn’t you say so earlier?”

Nanny Zhao: “Though the young lady treats us well, we didn’t dare speak carelessly about her affairs.”

Nanny Qian grasped her hand: “As soon as I saw you, I knew you were a good person.”

She patted her chest: “Shanjun listens to me. Don’t worry, I’ll definitely get her to see a doctor.”

Nanny Zhao wiped her tears: “Then I can rest easy.”

Nanny Qian was very strategic. First, she made no move, only calling for Yu Qingwu: “Young Master Yu, yesterday in the vegetable garden, did you water too much?”

Yu Qingwu immediately fell silent as a winter cicada.

Nanny Qian: “Hmph! This morning when I went, that vegetable seedling was so small, yet you actually drowned it alive. I had only just planted it not long ago, and you even pulled up its roots!”

Yu Qingwu stammered evasively: “Blame its shallow roots. Blame it for not knowing how to cry out.”

Nanny Qian’s gaze shifted, directly changing the subject: “Shanjun has nightmares. Do you know what they’re about?”

Yu Qingwu was actually tricked by her words and answered directly: “I don’t know.”

Nanny Qian frowned: “You really don’t know.”

Yu Qingwu came to his senses and smiled: “Nanny Qian, now you’ve also learned how to extract information from me.”

But Nanny Qian waved her hand: “Even you haven’t been told.”

Yu Qingwu then said: “Shanjun has many concerns weighing on her heart but doesn’t wish to tell anyone. We’d better not pry.”

Nanny Qian had originally thought that whoever tied the bell should untie it—knowing the cause of the illness would help prescribe medicine. Who knew even Yu Qingwu didn’t know? She hesitated: “Would Miss Zhu know?”

Yu Qingwu suddenly became confident: “I don’t even know, so how would she know? Shanjun and I have no secrets from each other—we’re truly kindred spirits.”

Nanny Qian laughed: “Fine, my eyes aren’t blind.”

She said: “It’s finally a rest day. Go quickly and get some rest.”

But she was still concerned about his court affairs: “From now on, you won’t be going to the Court of Imperial Stud anymore?”

Yu Qingwu: “I still must go. Killing Marquis Boyuan was just an appetizer—the dishes that follow are the truly delicious ones.”

Reforming horse administration wasn’t something that could be done overnight, but improving it bit by bit was essential. This was the foundation of the nation, the foundation of the people—it couldn’t be delayed.

He softly comforted the old woman: “It’s not just me doing this. Besides Shanjun, I have other like-minded people.”

Minister Su at the Court of Imperial Stud had actually been thinking about this for a long time. He was an extremely steadfast old man who never participated in court struggles, only quietly improved gelding techniques to minimize losses for common people raising horses.

But this fundamentally couldn’t solve the root problem. So when he met Yu Qingwu, he said: “If you can do it, I’m willing to help you. You’re not even afraid of death—I’m just an old bag of bones, so what do I have to fear?”

The two were very compatible. Through Minister Su’s introductions, Yu Qingwu met many more people. Now thinking carefully, he had never worried that losing Wu Qingchuan would leave him walking alone.

The world was too vast. Previously, he had only listened to Wu Qingchuan’s lectures, but now, when one whale falls, ten thousand teachers rise—he was actually like a fish in water.

He smiled: “Nanny Qian, tomorrow after leaving my post, I’ll buy you a vegetable seedling to replace it?”

Nanny Qian nodded. She then led him to see Lan Shanjun. She sat down smiling and saw Shanjun airing books for Old Madam. But Old Madam was already asleep inside the room.

Alas, Old Madam was sleeping more and more.

Nanny Qian worried about this and that—not one thing put her at ease. After Shanjun finished airing the books, she rambled about this and that: “Shanjun, let me brew you some tonic medicine?”

Lan Shanjun knew it was Nanny Zhao who had spoken. She smiled and shook her head: “I know my own body. Besides having many nightmares, there’s nothing else wrong.”

But Nanny Qian was advanced in years and immediately thought of matters involving ghosts and spirits. She had experience and asked: “What do you dream about?”

Don’t let it be that she’s been entangled by something unclean. That won’t do—it drains yang energy.

Lan Shanjun intended to be evasive, but Nanny Qian saw through it. With a grand wave of her hand: “Shanjun, you must speak truthfully. Don’t make this old woman worry.”

Lan Shanjun could only say carefully: “I dream… I dream that I’m confined, with pitch darkness all around.”

She said: “Someone grabs my throat, wanting me to die. I don’t want to, so I always struggle.”

Hearing this, Nanny Qian was so frightened she stood up: “You dream this continuously?”

Lan Shanjun: “Yes, continuously.”

Nanny Qian: “When did this start?”

Lan Shanjun: “After arriving in Luoyang.”

Nanny Qian: “Heavens! This must be that you were entangled by something when you first arrived in an unfamiliar place.”

What could be done?!

She first pulled Lan Shanjun to stand under the sunlight, having her bow three times toward the direction of the sun. Then she hurried to the kitchen to fetch a meat cleaver and came back in a rush.

She strode toward Lan Shanjun, then supported Shanjun’s shoulders and chopped on either side of them. As she chopped, she cursed: “Go away, go away! Whether you’re three souls or six spirits, stay away from my child! If you dare approach again, I won’t be polite!”

Then she shouted to Yu Qingwu, who stood at a loss to the side: “Young Master Yu! Quickly fetch the water I sun-dried during Dragon Boat Festival, and use willow branches to sprinkle it on Shanjun!”

Standing there like a door god without any sense at all!

Yu Qingwu hurried off.

The two of them circled around Lan Shanjun, deeply worried: “We should still go to White Horse Temple to pray.”

Lan Shanjun stood dazed in place. Hearing them muttering about fetching a Bodhisattva statue to bring home and place there, she felt that since being reborn, her tears came more and more easily.

She suddenly felt a surge of grievance, exactly like a child bullied outside who could finally go home to complain. Her mouth trembled, her lips shaking: “Nanny Qian, I… my heart feels uncomfortable.”

Nanny Qian: “Yes, I know, I know.”

She dropped the cleaver and pulled her into an embrace: “I know.”

If she were comfortable, how could her joy never reach her eyes even when smiling most brilliantly?

The old woman’s heart ached terribly: “Alas, what great suffering must she have endured to be like this? Heaven and Bodhisattvas, if there’s sin, don’t blame her—come for us old folks who won’t die!”