“Help! A tiger—!”
The sky had already grown dark. Wei Shubin had accompanied Chai Yinglu at Ganye Temple until evening. After placing the body of Li Wanxi, the County Lady of Linfen, in her coffin and sending her for burial, the two women finally returned to Zixu Temple, which was located west of Ganye Temple.
Jinxuan, the Taoist priestess, was waiting outside the temple gate, seemingly having something to tell Chai Yinglu. After getting out of the carriage, Wei Shubin felt the urgent need to relieve herself. Since she had visited Zixu Temple many times and was familiar with the place, she excused herself and entered, heading toward Chai Yinglu’s courtyard quarters east of the main hall.
Before she reached the courtyard gate, a sudden gust of wind whooshed by, accompanied by a musky odor. Something warm and furry pounced on her, its force immediately knocking her to the ground.
“Ah… Ahhh! Help!”
Before her eyes was a blood-red maw with two rows of sharp fangs, and a crimson tongue covered in barbs extended toward her face. Wei Shubin screamed until her voice cracked, frantically kicking and flailing. Through the chaos of servants’ screams, a commanding voice suddenly cut through:
“Atun! Atun! Come here, you beast!”
The wild beast on top of her pulled back slightly, its mouth moving away from her eyes, allowing Wei Shubin to finally see clearly:
She had been pounced on by a man-eating tiger.
“Help! A tiger—!”
With a whoosh, a horsewhip cracked through the air. The beast growled lowly and leaped backward with remarkable agility, retreating several steps after landing.
Wei Shubin still collapsed on the ground, turned her head to look. A young man wielding a whip had rushed over, frantically lashing out. The spotted-fur beast stood its ground, raised its face to squint at Wei Shubin, then glanced at the whip in the young man’s hand. With a flick of its leopard tail, it turned and walked away.
Leopard… wait, leopard tail?
As Wei Shubin began to recover from her shock, she propped herself up slightly to look. Indeed, the beast had round ears and a small face, wasn’t particularly large, and its fur was covered in spots rather than stripes. Its furry face, which kept looking back, had two thick black tear lines – it must be what they called a leopard, not a tiger… but how did a leopard end up in Zixu Temple?
Had some deity’s mount from the temple manifested its true form?
“Atun! You rascal!” Chai Yinglu’s voice rang out again. She hurried over, and the leopard walked to her side, rubbing against her and wrapping its tail around her legs in an intimate manner. The head priestess of Zixu Temple gave the leopard’s head a light slap, though her scolding tone was betrayed by her delighted expression:
“All these years and you still haven’t broken this habit of pouncing on pretty ladies! You deserve a good thrashing!”
Turning back, she apologized to Wei Shubin:
“I’m sorry, Shufen, please don’t be upset. It’s all the leopard keeper’s fault for not securing it properly. This silly beast has always been timid and would never harm anyone – it just has this bad habit of getting friendly with pretty young ladies. It’s been like this for over ten years, and we just can’t break the habit. I apologize on Atun’s behalf.”
So this leopard was Chai Yinglu’s pet, and it was called “Atun”… Wei Shubin glanced at the leopard’s plump limbs and the long fur hanging almost to the ground on its belly – well, the name certainly fit.
The young man who had rushed over with the whip to save Wei Shubin was the leopard keeper in charge of training Atun. He now held onto Atun’s collar, hanging his head sheepishly as Chai Yinglu scolded him. He appeared to be seventeen or eighteen years old, wearing eunuch’s clothing, with dark skin and hard features suggesting some Hu barbarian ancestry.
Chai Yinglu handed the leopard over to him, continuing her scolding while helping Wei Shubin up and dusting off her clothes. Wei Shubin had completely calmed down by now, though her voice still trembled slightly:
“It’s- it’s nothing, Sister Ying is too kind… Is this a hunting cheetah trained for hunting? I’ve heard of them before but this is my first time seeing one. I heard these leopards only come from Persia in the Western Regions and are extremely rare – I never expected Sister Ying to have one.”
“That’s right, this fellow was originally a hunting cheetah, but unfortunately I’ve spoiled it,” Chai Yinglu chuckled, glancing back at the leopard. “It was given to my father by Hu merchants from Shu during the Wude era. They sent a pair of newly captured hunting cheetahs to Chang’an, but the mother died after giving birth to this little one, and the father didn’t survive long due to the change in environment. The trade routes weren’t established then, and we couldn’t find any Hu servants in the entire city who knew how to train cheetahs, so I just raised this beast in my quarters like a house cat. It survived, but it turned out fat, stupid, and cowardly – completely useless for hunting. It’s just kept for amusement now. When the Women’s Learning Society opened, I had people tie Atun up in the courtyard to avoid frightening the ladies…”
The fat cheetah seemed to understand that people were talking about it. Its black pointed tail swished a few times, and it stared at Wei Shubin while taking a few steps forward. But after just two steps, it suddenly turned to glance at the whip in the keeper’s hand, let out a meow, and scurried back to hide behind him.
Wei Shubin couldn’t help but laugh, her fear greatly diminished. Chai Yinglu asked the keeper: “Earlier, Jingniang said you took Atun out for exercise this afternoon, and Atun discovered traces of intruders?”
“Yes,” the keeper bowed slightly to his mistress. “It was in the valley with the pond, about two li northwest of the temple. Atun caught the scent and went over. By the pond, there was an extinguished campfire, rabbit fur, and entrails, and I also found this.”
He took out a broken leather container from his clothes and handed it to Chai Yinglu. Wei Shubin also leaned in to look. The container had a narrow mouth and wide belly, made in the style of water skins commonly used by the Hu people. However, the mouth was bound with what appeared to be a piece of horn, which was not only pure and delicate but also carved with an intricate pattern of intertwined dragons and horses along its grain – the craftsmanship was skilled and exquisite.
“This water skin is quite valuable,” Chai Yinglu frowned in contemplation. “Even though the leather part is torn, the horn mouthpiece could be removed and attached to a new skin for continued use. It looks like something a Hu merchant leader or nobleman would carry – why would it be carelessly discarded in the wild? This doesn’t seem like the work of poachers.”
The imperial grounds were vast and deliberately stocked with deer, rabbits, wild boars, and other game for the royal family and nobles’ hunting pleasure. Although commoners were forbidden to enter, there weren’t enough guards and poor people often snuck in to poach and fish. Usually, when the imperial guards caught them, they would just beat them and drive them out – it had become commonplace. But this horn-mouthed water skin certainly didn’t seem like something a poor person would own.
“I also saw that around the campfire, the grass was disturbed and there were torn cloth pieces caught in the thorns as if several people had fought there,” the young keeper reported. “I was so focused on telling this to Master Jing that I didn’t watch Atun properly…”
Chai Yinglu thought for a moment, then handed the horn-mouthed water skin back to the keeper with instructions:
“Secure Atun first, then go to the North Compound’s Seventh Camp and find the duty officer. Tell him I sent you, and report what you found today. Give him this item as well. If the officer shows interest, lead his men to inspect the campfire you discovered. Besides that, don’t say anything more.”
The defense of the imperial grounds was the responsibility of the “North Compound Seven Camps” established by the Emperor a few years ago. All seven camps were stationed within the grounds, so reporting the discovery of intruders to the garrison officers was standard procedure. The keeper agreed and left. Jinxuan the Taoist priestess had somehow approached them, and she said to Chai Yinglu:
“The place where the strangers made their fire is so close to our Zixu Temple, and we don’t have any soldiers guarding us – this servant feels uneasy! Should we ask the garrison general to send a squad of guards to stand watch?”
Chai Yinglu shook her head:
“It’s useless to ask. The imperial guards are severely understaffed now – they can barely maintain full shifts at the Taiji Palace and Da’an Palace, how could they spare any men for our small temple? You’d be better off checking our temple staff and arranging night patrols ourselves.”
“The imperial guards are severely understaffed?” Wei Shubin couldn’t help but ask. She knew that after the Turks surrendered in the fourth year of Zhenguan, peace prevailed throughout the realm. The Emperor concerned that the low-lying and damp terrain of Taiji Palace could easily cause wind-related illnesses, would leave the capital annually to “escape the summer heat.” In the past two or three years, he had spent more than half the year at Jiucheng Palace in Qizhou, three hundred li northwest of Chang’an, taking most of his imperial guards with him. The guard shortage made sense then, but now the Emperor was staying put in Taiji Palace…
“Don’t you know?” Chai Yinglu glanced at her. “At the end of last year, Duke Li Jing of Dai led troops to campaign against the Tuyuhun. Large numbers of officers from three of the South Compound’s Sixteen Guards volunteered for the western expedition, and the North Compound’s Seven Camps had to fill in the guard duty gaps. Oh right, I heard even Fourteenth Uncle wanted to join General Yaoshi on the western campaign, but His Majesty berated him so severely he had to back down…”
The two women chatted as they entered the courtyard to prepare for dinner and rest. Jinxuan had already had people prepare a guest quarter for Wei Shubin, making it warm and comfortable, complete with hot bath water, change of clothes, and serving maids. Wei Shubin was deeply grateful.
After dining with Chai Yinglu, she returned to her guest room for a good hot bath and changed into casual attire – even the undergarments were brand new and made of fine silk, though slightly loose, presumably made for the tall Chai Yinglu. A maid dried her hair with a warmed large towel and arranged it in a loose bun. Since she was preparing for bed, there was no need for ornaments.
As she watched two servant girls carry out the large bathtub, Wei Shubin faintly heard the sound of bells and chimes from outside the window, and asked the attending maid: “Is that the evening service at the Three Pure Ones Hall?”
“Yes,” replied the maid with a sweet round face. “Now that the Mistress has returned, everyone wouldn’t dare neglect the regular service. I just heard Master Jing instructing people to send ritual implements to the hall – the Mistress might personally oversee the service.”
Wei Shubin thought for a moment – since her hair was still damp and she couldn’t sleep yet, she might as well go for a walk. She put on an outer robe, slipped on her shoes, and walked out through the corridor beyond the guest quarters, where the bell and chime sounds grew clearer and more melodious.
Both Zixu Temple and Ganye Temple were inner temples within the imperial grounds, but Zixu Temple was presided over by Chai Yinglu, a noble lady of royal blood. With frequent visits from the Empress and noble ladies for lectures, and many wealthy patrons, the temple itself was built in a grand style with mountains behind and waters in front, multiple courtyards flanking the main axis, and was maintained in spectacular condition – worlds apart from the desolate Ganye Temple.
The sky had nearly darkened completely, with only a last strip of deep orange clouds in the west outlining the corner of the Three Pure Ones Hall’s multi-tiered eaves and wind chimes. A flock of birds circled the roof ridge before gradually settling into their nests among the buildings. Standing in the corridor, Wei Shubin gazed upward in a daze, suddenly feeling a wave of desolation as tears welled up in her eyes.
Though Chai Yinglu, Jinxuan, and the other temple leaders treated her well, how long could she stay here? Could she stay forever and never return home?
“Shufen.”
Turning around, she saw Chai Yinglu walking along the corridor from the direction of her quarters, with a maid holding a lantern lighting the way ahead. The female Taoist also appeared freshly bathed, wearing a fox fur outer robe, but her hairpins were neat and she looked energetic, showing no signs of fatigue.
“Sister Ying… haven’t retired for the night yet?”
Chai Yinglu shook her head with a smile: “I still have matters to attend to – I need to prepare medicinal ingredients for pill-making. Today at Lizheng Hall, I noticed the Empress wasn’t in the best health. She’s been constantly exhausted since giving birth to the Twenty-first Princess last year, never getting proper rest. She needs some tonics.”
“May I go with you, Sister, and learn a bit?” Wei Shubin asked. Coming to stay at Zixu Temple, she had intended to study medicine: “If Sister Ying doesn’t mind my slowness, please take me as your disciple. Master, please accept your disciple’s bow…”
“Don’t be silly,” the female Taoist laughed and stopped her from bowing, “With my limited skills, how dare I take disciples and be anyone’s master? I just learned some basics from Master Sun the Medicine King, and these years I’ve only treated noble ladies’ affluent ailments and pregnancy-related issues in palaces and mansions. As for the common folk’s epidemic diseases, dysentery, external injuries, carbuncles, and such – I’ve barely seen any cases, let alone treated them. The ladies spread rumors calling me a female Hua Tuo, but I know my limitations.”
“Medicine King Sun was already known as a divine physician during the Sui Dynasty, and in all these years he’s never been known to take disciples. Sister Ying, for a pretty young lady like you to receive Master Sun’s favor, he must have seen your intelligence and talent.”
“I just put in hard work,” Chai Yinglu said. “From age six or seven, I would follow my late mother to Medicine King Sun’s ‘Thousand Gold Temple,’ learning to identify medicinal herbs and meridian charts while playing. At fifteen or sixteen I formally entered the temple as his disciple, and it’s been about ten years now. Yet I still only dare treat women and children, and at most my elderly and frail maternal grandfather…”
The two women strolled along the connecting corridor as Chai Yinglu chatted casually:
“Master Sun is modest and still won’t accept my formal discipleship ceremony. Though after my pestering for over ten years, he no longer objects when I call him ‘Master’ – my old master is quite an interesting person. When he agreed to teach me medicine and alchemy back then, he openly said it was firstly because my mother held a high position and had a fearsome temper, so he dared not offend her; secondly, he had vowed to specifically collect medical prescriptions and treatments for women’s and children’s illnesses, but as a common male physician, he had limited opportunities to personally examine and treat female patients and sick children, so he rather wanted to train a female physician to help him observe symptoms and treatments; thirdly, after all, my family was of royal blood with a princess’s household, with power and money that could greatly aid his ambition of compiling medical texts. Oh right, though he wouldn’t let me perform the discipleship ceremony, he was quite forthright in accepting tuition fees – every time he returned to Chang’an after traveling for two or three years, he would always take several cartloads of gold, silver, silk, and medicinal ingredients, to build charitable clinics and hospitals in other regions…”
Wei Shubin couldn’t help but laugh, and asked:
“Why did Master Sun vow to specifically collect medical prescriptions and treatments for women’s and children’s illnesses?”
“I asked him about this too,” Chai Yinglu’s expression grew more serious. “Master mentioned vaguely once that his first wife and early children died from pregnancy-related illnesses. He practiced medicine among common people for decades and was also summoned many times to treat noble patients of the Sui and Zhou royal families. Whether imperial physicians and medicine officials or street doctors and traveling physicians, most would rather focus on men’s common ailments and showed disdain for women’s and children’s illnesses…”
“Why?”
“Silly girl,” the female Taoist sighed, “Isn’t it obvious? In this world, whether in grand mansions or humble huts, the household’s resources are controlled by husbands and fathers. When men themselves fall ill, they’ll spare no expense to seek treatment, willing to bankrupt the family to please physicians. But when it comes to women’s childbirth and children’s illnesses, the head of household starts calculating – if medical fees are too expensive, they simply won’t treat them, figuring they can always remarry if the wife dies or have more children if the little ones die. The practice of medicine is already considered a lowly profession, looked down upon by society. Besides seeking profit, physicians have nothing else to strive for, so naturally few care about women’s and children’s illnesses that won’t earn them good fees. Master grieves at this injustice, saying that in the cycle of heaven’s way and equality of worldly law, there is no greater unfairness than this.”
Wei Shubin couldn’t help but think of her father’s attitude toward her mother and herself. Her chest tightened and her eyes reddened again. Chai Yinglu noticed and smiled, putting a hand on her shoulder:
“If you want to study medicine, there’s no rush. You’ve been running around these past couple of days and you’re in low spirits – go back to your room and get a good night’s sleep first. I’ll be busy these few days and might not be able to look after you. Tomorrow I need to go to Ganye Temple first to sort through the First Lady’s belongings, then in the afternoon take them back to my home to place before her spirit tablet. If you need anything, just ask Jingniang – don’t be shy.”
Wei Shubin still wanted to go with her, but as she gave a slight stretch, fatigue seeped from her very marrow. Knowing her stamina was far too poor to push herself, she nodded and asked:
“Sister Ying, may I accompany you tomorrow to help sort things at Ganye Temple? First Lady’s case is too deeply connected to my family… If I can help in any way, I’m willing to risk death.”
After all, she was still “an important suspect in the murder of the County Lady of Linfen” – although seemingly no one believed it – the sooner this case was solved, the sooner she could be at ease.
Chai Yinglu pondered for a moment: “That would work – having an extra pair of hands would make things more convenient. But we’ll need to post lookouts at Ganye Temple’s gate first. In case your father Minister Wei suddenly shows up again, we’ll need time to warn you so you can hide…”
Wei Shubin burst out laughing. Chai Yinglu’s face bloomed with an even brighter smile as she embraced Wei Shubin into the guest quarters, personally escorting her to her room. She instructed the maid “Ayuan, take good care of the young lady,” patted Wei Shubin’s cheek, and told her to get to bed early.
Though this female Taoist was only about ten years older than Wei Shubin, she had a more steadfast and protective feeling than her mother. Wei Shubin had already secretly thought that even if she were to spend the rest of her life in this temple, becoming a nun to study medicine and compile books – perhaps that would be an acceptable future?
Vol 1 – Chapter 16 Notes:
1. Atun is an “Asiatic cheetah.” During the Tang Dynasty, the royal family and nobility were very fond of training these cheetahs for hunting purposes. Clear depictions can be found in the murals of Crown Prince Zhanghuai’s tomb and on some burial figurines. These hunting cheetahs were mostly imported from the Western Regions and could not be bred in captivity in the Central Plains region. Images of the reproduced murals from Crown Prince Zhanghuai’s tomb can be viewed on the author’s Weibo account.
2. The “Medicine King Master Sun” mentioned in the text naturally refers to Sun Simiao, and the medical text he vowed to compile is indeed the famous “Qianjin Fang” (Thousand Gold Prescriptions), which at the time would have been the first volume, “Emergency Formulas Worth a Thousand Gold.” In the surviving version of this thirty-volume medical text, following the general medical theory section, women’s prescriptions and pediatric formulas were indeed placed at the very beginning, with the warning that “women’s illnesses are ten times more difficult to treat than men’s.” In the social environment of that time, this was already quite remarkable. Therefore, the several lengthy related passages in this chapter, which were initially removed during revision but later restored, can be considered a tribute to Medicine King Sun.