The abbot inauguration ceremony at Shaolin Temple had already concluded. Under the guidance of the senior uncles of the great generation, Master Puzhu had performed all the proper rituals befitting an abbot and officially became the new abbot of Shaolin Temple.
Tonight the moon was bright, the autumn night clear and serene. No cicada sounds could be heard, only the sound of gentle wind brushing through treetops, rustling softly like the sound of rain.
Puzhu pushed open the door to his monk’s quarters. After tomorrow, he would move to the abbot’s meditation chamber, and this would no longer be his room.
In the clear breeze and bright moonlight, with the window lattice half-open, soft and clear moonlight streamed into the room. He saw a frost-like scene covering the floor. Raising his head, he noticed that the chess game on the table had been started—black and white stones were half-placed, as if the battle was fierce, and two cups of clear tea still wafted with lingering fragrance.
Yet there was no one there.
Puzhu was slightly startled. The room was completely silent, with no trace of anyone’s presence—only an unfinished chess game, as if not long ago someone had waited here for a very long time, growing truly lonely from waiting, and so had played half a game of chess with themselves. He had not seen the person who had been waiting, and felt a vague disappointment in his heart. His gaze was then drawn to the unfinished chess game on the table.
The black and white stones were evenly matched, battling fiercely with each side having hope of victory. However, two white stones and three black stones had fallen to the floor, leaving gaps on the board. Puzhu picked up the chess pieces, holding them between two fingers. After pondering for a moment, he placed one stone among the black pieces, but after contemplating for a long while, he picked up that black stone again, unable to place it down. This chess game had complex variations—with his chess skills, he actually could not determine where these few scattered pieces had originally been placed. Puzhu concentrated in deep thought, picked up the clear tea on the table and took a sip. After a full half hour, he placed down one white stone and one black stone, but the remaining pieces still could not be fully restored.
Gradually, he felt the night wind seemed to grow stagnant. Before his eyes, everything except the chess board seemed hazy. He seemed to hear sounds in his ears, yet his heart could not confirm them. Just as he was in this trance-like state, a slender, delicate hand reached over. She took a white stone from Puzhu’s hand and placed it on the center point of the board. Puzhu picked up a black stone and placed it next to the center point. The woman placed another stone… Without realizing it, the two had each played dozens of moves. The woman placed down the final white stone and said softly, “You lost.”
I… Puzhu looked up, seeing everything before him was hazy. Even the chess board that was usually so familiar had become blurred. The woman’s voice was very familiar and very pleasant, yet very distant… He felt as if he was about to tilt and fall from his chair. Instinctively reaching forward to grab onto something—his hand grasped a warm, soft palm. Everything before his eyes dissolved into emptiness, leaving only a vast whiteness…
In Puzhu’s monk quarters, the woman in peach-colored robes smiled gracefully and lifted the unconscious Puzhu into her arms. With a sweep of her sleeve, the window lattice of the monk’s quarters closed, and the moonlight was immediately shut out. The bed curtains in the monk’s quarters fell, the lamp went out, and except for the table of scattered chess pieces, everything seemed not too suspicious.
The autumn night condensed frost and dew, bright moon shining on lotus flowers.
In the garden of the National Uncle’s mansion, Tang Lici had set up a zither platform and placed an elegant ancient jade zither on it. This zither was not particularly fine—it was an old item that Tang Weiqian had carried from his hometown to Kaifeng when he was young. The tone could not be considered the best, but it was not bad either. Tang Lici rarely played the zither at home. Today, after meeting with Consort Yun once, he suddenly said he wanted to set up a zither platform upon returning home at night, which surprised everyone in the mansion.
The young master smelled of alcohol. Yuan’er served incense and set up the zither for Tang Lici, seeing his face flushed with drink and feeling secretly worried. Everyone in the household knew Tang Lici had a tremendous capacity for alcohol. For him to get drunk, one truly did not know how much he must have consumed. Tonight, looking at the young master’s expression, he really seemed somewhat drunk, different from usual.
“Young Master, the zither is ready.” Yuan’er stepped aside. Tang Lici sat on a smooth large stone in the courtyard, his five fingers lightly touching the strings. With a “zheng” sound, the zither resonated, its voice soaring like clear moonlight. Yuan’er listened intently. The young master was elegantly skilled in music and played all instruments very well. However, when listening in the past, he always felt that while the tone and melody were beautiful, they seemed to lack soul—unable to make people laugh or cry… But tonight, as soon as the zither sounded, suddenly he understood what subtle intoxication meant.
The young master played a very short piece, then fell silent. After a while, he raised his hand and played it again, then fell silent again. After another while, he played it once more… Yuan’er quietly listened to the zither music as Tang Lici repeatedly played that melody of only three to five phrases over and over. After most of the night had passed, he slowly leaned over the zither and fell asleep, saying not a single word beyond playing.
Yuan’er rarely served the young master, so he did not know if the young master was often in poor spirits, but at least he knew the young master rarely got drunk. Seeing Tang Lici fall asleep leaning over the zither, Yuan’er hesitated for a long time, then timidly reached out to touch his forehead. Breathing a sigh of relief, he gently draped a light purple outer robe over Tang Lici.
The young master had cured the master’s illness. The doctor had said that illness could not be cured, yet the young master had easily cured it. Was he really a fox demon? Yuan’er peered to see if Tang Lici had a tail, then carefully examined his nose, and pulled up his hand to check if he had claws. Tang Lici’s palms were warm and smooth, no different from an ordinary person’s. Yuan’er gently placed his hand back on the zither, suddenly thinking in his heart… If the young master was actually not a fox demon, and the master treated him this way, was his heart… very sad? Looking at Tang Lici’s face flushed with drink, sadness… the young master would not be sad, would he? The young master was someone who would not encounter difficulties, would not be sad, would not be heartbroken, would not have worries—there was nothing the young master could not accomplish, just like an immortal.
Tang Lici leaned over the zither and slept for a moment, then slowly raised his head and pressed his hand to his forehead. Several strands of silver hair on his forehead fell with his fingers, floating gently in the wind, his posture lazy and beautiful. “Yuan’er, you should go back first.”
“The young master has not yet returned to his room to rest. How can Yuan’er go back first?” Yuan’er said respectfully. “If the young master wishes to sit in the courtyard, Yuan’er will stand behind the corridor and will hear nothing and see nothing.” Tang Lici’s eyebrows curved slightly. “Dawn is approaching, and you serve the master during the day as well… Go back, there’s nothing for you to attend to. Go back and rest.” Yuan’er hesitated for a moment, quietly took his leave, and returned to his room.
The moonlight had reached its brightest moment. Tang Lici raised his head and glanced at the bright moon. Suddenly, many outsiders of unknown origin had appeared between the Eastern and Western capitals. Someone had infiltrated the palace to force Consort Yun to steal the “Green Enchantment”—what was their true purpose? The Emperor harbored killing intent toward him, but because he doted on Consort Yun and trusted his adoptive father, he would not act for the time being. If he provoked the Emperor’s patience at this time, the consequences would be unpredictable. And how long could Meihua Yishu, Kuanglan Wuxing, and Fu Zhumei, who were poisoned, hold on? Also… during his absence, did Xifang Tao truly take no action? Liu Yan had been missing for a long time, the Shaolin abbot was about to appear, were the rumors of three kowtows true or false? Where was Liu Yan now?
Complex and numerous problems came one after another. The slightest carelessness would lead to consequences… unthinkable… Tang Lici abandoned the zither and stood up, letting his sleeves hang as he walked toward his room. The problems that must be resolved within a day or two were—Consort Yun’s poison wound, and obtaining the Green Enchantment properly. As his foot crossed the threshold, he drew Xiao Taohong from his bosom with his right hand and swept it across. His left wrist spurted fresh blood. Taking another step forward, the wound landed precisely on the thin-walled, smooth silver cup placed on the table. Blood serum… he did not know if his blood serum could neutralize the Enchanting Blossom poison. He would try it for now. If blood serum could not neutralize the Enchanting Blossom poison, then the Green Enchantment plan would have to be advanced.
Obtaining the Green Enchantment was merely a small matter. Tang Lici looked at his own fresh blood in the silver cup, lightly pursed the corners of his mouth, and smiled faintly.
The next day, Tang Lici once again took a carriage to the imperial palace, bringing blood serum for Consort Yun and personally administering it into her bloodstream. After sitting in Ciyuan Hall for a while and seeing that Consort Yun showed no adverse reactions, he took his leave. Emperor Taizong was uneasy about Tang Lici treating Consort Yun. Seeing him come to bring medicine for Consort Yun, after court he hurriedly dispatched imperial physicians to investigate and personally went to check on her. However, Consort Yun’s complexion had improved, and the “medicine” Tang Lici had brought seemed quite effective, with nothing abnormal. After taking her pulse, the imperial physician said the empress’s condition had improved slightly, but the root of the illness remained, and she still needed rest. If the medicine used by National Uncle Tang was correct and without error, perhaps after ten days to half a month more of the empress taking it, her health would recover. Emperor Taizong felt both joy and anger—joy that Consort Yun was finally improving, anger that Tang Lici was indeed a fox demon. An illness that imperial physicians could not cure was actually improving in his hands. He did not know what medicine he had used on Consort Yun that was so remarkably effective.
Before long, Emperor Taizong emerged from Ciyuan Hall, followed by several eunuchs, hurrying toward Chuigong Hall. The imperial garden was ingeniously designed with pleasing autumn scenery, but Emperor Taizong did not spare it a single glance, just kept his head down and hurried along. Suddenly, with a “whoosh” sound, a long arrow suddenly swept past Emperor Taizong’s side. Emperor Taizong turned back in alarm, only to see someone on the roof of the nearby corridor, dressed in eunuch’s clothing in broad daylight, drawing a bow and aiming an arrow directly at him. Fortunately, having spent half his life in military campaigns, his reactions were quite sharp. Seeing this, he quickly dodged to the side. With a “thud,” the second long arrow also swept past his body without hitting him.
“There’s an assassin! Save the Emperor—” The several eunuchs following Emperor Taizong immediately screamed. Two of them blocked behind Emperor Taizong together, while another shrilly called for help: “Someone come! There’s an assassin! Someone come—”
Several guards in the imperial garden rushed over upon hearing the commotion. The assassin on the roof shot arrows like a swarm of locusts. Only screams could be heard as several people were hit by arrows and wounded. Emperor Taizong hurriedly ran toward the courtyard ahead. He saw someone walking under flowering trees not far ahead who had just turned around upon hearing the noise. Emperor Taizong fled toward them as a long arrow shot like a shooting star chasing the moon, about to strike Emperor Taizong’s back. The person under the flowering trees swept out his long sleeve, pulling Emperor Taizong behind him with his right wrist. With a “pa” sound, the long arrow fell to the ground. The assassin drawing the bow on the roof was stunned—this arrow had been infused with his full internal force. Even a tiger would have been pierced through by it, yet this person had merely swept his long sleeve and made his arrow fall to the ground.