Huang Zixia felt she had no strength left to face this man. She silently turned her head away and asked, “What virtues does she possess to earn such admiration from you?”
“This story begins three years ago! I was fifteen, and she was twelve. At fifteen, I hadn’t found my purpose in life yet. I thought I’d end up like my brothers, either buried in accounts at the Ministry of Works or drafting documents all day at the Department of State Affairs. Everyone said my brothers were successful, but I didn’t see it that way. Life is so beautiful – what’s the point of wasting precious time floating around in officialdom? And then, at my most uncertain and confused moment, Huang Zixia appeared!”
Huang Zixia saw his eyes sparkle as he gazed at the moon. At that moment, she genuinely felt the urge to tear off a chicken wing and eat it, just to relieve her feelings of nausea.
Zhou Ziqin’s voice suddenly rose, clearly conveying his excitement: “Then, I suddenly found my life’s purpose! Huang Zixia, at just twelve years old, and a girl at that, was already helping the Ministry of Justice solve mysterious cases, bringing glory everywhere. And what was I doing at twelve? What had I been doing for the past fifteen years? The moment I heard about her achievements, I suddenly found my life’s meaning! Suddenly saw the clear path ahead! Suddenly glimpsed my own destined path to glory!”
Huang Zixia finally couldn’t help but interrupt: “Haven’t you heard the rumors that Huang Zixia fled after killing her family?”
“Impossible!” He shook the chicken leg in his hand, his face resolute.
Since her incident, this was the first time she’d met someone who believed in her so firmly. For a moment, she thought he seemed a bit simple-minded, but Huang Zixia still felt something stir in her heart, and her gaze fell on his face: “Why?”
“Huh?”
“Why… do you believe in her?”
“Oh, well, I think someone like Huang Zixia who’s solved so many mysterious cases – if she wanted to kill someone, she’d devise a method that would leave no trace at all. How could she just brutally kill her family like that? It would be completely unworthy of her reputation!”
Huang Zixia silently resumed looking at the sky, feeling that her momentary touch of emotion had been completely wasted.
By the time Zhou Ziqin finished his roast chicken, nearly half a watch had passed. He pulled out a package of melon seeds and shared half with her. This time she didn’t refuse, quietly cracking a small handful.
The moon slanted westward, approaching the fourth watch. Zhou Ziqin removed the sealed silver plates from the three corpses’ mouths, finding that only the plate from the suspected Feng Yiniang’s body had turned black. He carefully cleaned it with soapberry water, then looked at the deep gray color that wouldn’t wash away, saying: “She died of poison, no doubt.”
Huang Zixia responded with a “mm.”
Feng Yiniang, the qin teacher from Yunshao Garden in Yangzhou, the Princess Consort’s instructress, had collapsed among the Youzhou refugees, death by poisoning. Yet the soon-to-be Princess of Prince Kui said her instructress had returned to Yangzhou.
While she was still pondering this, Zhou Ziqin had begun examining the internal organs: “To be thorough, let’s check the digestive tract.”
The stomach and intestines, though mostly burned, were still quite nauseating when cut open. Even Zhou Ziqin, with nerves as thick as chopsticks, finally showed some discomfort, tilting his face and only looking from the corner of his eye. As he was inserting the silver plate, he suddenly made a sound of surprise, feeling something cold and hard under his fingers. He took it out, looked at it, and said excitedly: “Hey, Chonggu, come look at this!”
In his palm, something small gleamed coldly in the moonlight. Huang Zixia put on gloves, took it, and examined it carefully.
It was a small piece of mutton-fat jade, translucent and only as big as a little fingernail. Under the moonlight, she wiped away the blood stains and grime, held it up to the light, and saw a single small character carved on it: “Nian.”
The white jade’s color shifted between dense and light in the moonlight, flowing like water waves before her eyes. She stared at the flowing character “Nian” for a long time.
The white mutton-fat jade was placed before Li Shubai. He looked at the carved character but didn’t reach for it, only asking, “What is this?”
Huang Zixia said: “Why don’t you pick it up and see?”
Li Shubai didn’t touch the small jade piece, instead reaching for the crystal vase on the table, watching the small red fish swimming leisurely inside, saying: “Touch something like that? What if it was taken from a dead person’s mouth?”
Huang Zixia said seriously: “It wasn’t, really wasn’t taken from a dead person’s mouth.”
Only then did he extend his beautiful hands, picking up the jade piece between his thumb and forefinger, holding it up to examine it, reading the character: “Nian?”
“The ‘Nian’ from Chen Nianniang,” she said.
He put down the jade and thought briefly before asking: “Are you planning to give this jade to Chen Nianniang?”
“That would mean telling her about Feng Yiniang’s death. Chen Nianniang would surely cause trouble then, alerting our quarry.”
“Mm, keep it safe for now.” He handed the jade back to her. Huang Zixia took the cloth that had originally wrapped the jade from the table, wrapped it again, and put it in her sleeve pocket.
Li Shubai frowned slightly and said: “I find it strange though – why were they so careless with such an important identifying item, letting it stay with Feng Yiniang?”
“Because Feng Yiniang swallowed it before she died from the poison.”
As Huang Zixia spoke, she indeed saw Li Shubai’s eyelashes twitch. Feeling an inexplicable pleasure, she added: “Feng Yiniang’s body was half burned and withered, but the internal organs were mostly intact. We dug it out of her stomach.”
Li Shubai looked at his two fingers, then raised his eyes to look at Huang Zixia standing before him. His usually calm face finally showed a ripple of emotion.
Huang Zixia maintained a normal expression as she looked at him: “Fortunately, we didn’t disappoint Your Highness. Zhou Ziqin and I finished everything before dawn and then restored the burial site. I guarantee all traces have been eliminated.”
Li Shubai looked at her unperturbed face, then at his hands, and finally could no longer contain himself. He grabbed the Longquan porcelain brush washer from the table and began vigorously washing his hands: “Huang Zixia, you disappear immediately too!”
Although she had spent the night examining corpses, seeing Li Shubai lose his composure for a moment made Huang Zixia feel it was all worth it. She happily ran off to catch up on sleep: “Yes! I obey Your Highness’s command!”
Prince Kui Li Shubai’s wedding day was set for the sixteenth of the fifth month.
On the sixth of the fifth month, ten days before the wedding, Wang Ruo followed customs and prepared to go to the Xianyou Temple in the suburbs to pray for blessings.
Xianyou Temple was exceptionally beautiful, and since the dynasty began, several consorts and ladies had received divine responses after offering incense there. So although there were many Buddhist temples in the city, making offerings at Xianyou Temple had become fashionable among the court officials’ wives.
Wang Yun had informed Li Shubai in advance, so after Prince Kui’s household made arrangements, the temple was cleared early that day, and even the young novice monks were not allowed to leave their meditation rooms without cause. By the hour of the Shen, the temple was empty of visitors.
Huang Zixia, Su Qi, and more than ten maids from Wang Yun’s household accompanied her to offer incense. Xianyou Temple was vast, built along the mountainside. The front hall at the foot of the mountain housed the smiling Maitreya Buddha, with Skanda enshrined behind. The main hall was on the mountainside, enshrining the Buddha, Manjusri, and Samantabhadra. There was also Amitabha Buddha of the West with Mahasthamaprapta Bodhisattva and Avalokitesvara Bodhisattva. The East had the Medicine Buddha with the Sun and Moon Light Bodhisattvas, along with the Eighteen Arhats, and there was also a Hall of Five Hundred Arhats.
They visited the Buddha and burned incense in the temple, kneeling in succession. After paying respects at the main hall on the mountainside, Su Qi and the other maids were already exhausted. Seeing that the rear hall was still at the mountaintop, they all went limp.
Su Qi said: “I really can’t go on. Since the temple is empty today anyway, Yang Chonggu, you accompany the Princess Consort up there.”
Huang Zixia agreed, and the two of them climbed the steps, holding incense as they went up the mountain.
Spots of moss grew on the bluestone steps. The two watched their footing, and the temple was completely quiet except for occasional bird calls. A snow-white bird flew across the sky.
The bird crossed the sky and disappeared into the mountains and forests ahead. Following the bird’s flight path, their gaze fell on the rear hall, and suddenly, they saw a man standing in front of its doors. His appearance was so abrupt as if he had transformed from that white bird, materializing silently.
Wang Ruo’s steps faltered. Huang Zixia gently pulled her sleeve and said: “Young Master Wang and the household guards are all here, don’t worry.”
Wang Ruo made a sound of agreement, and the two walked up the final dozen or so steps to the rear hall’s entrance, raising their incense to bow in worship. The rear hall naturally enshrined the Ancient Buddha of Burning Lamp, with offerings of fragrant flowers and precious candles before him. In the curling smoke, even the precious banners seemed hazy.
Wang Ruo knelt before the Buddha, murmuring prayers. Huang Zixia looked back at the man and saw him still standing outside the door. Behind him were pale blue distant mountains and azure sky, and in his blue-green robes, he seemed to merge with the background, appearing ethereal and distant.
He seemed to sense her looking at him and turned to look at her through the curling incense smoke, his lips suddenly curving into a smile. His features were ordinary, just a commonly handsome man, but this smile appeared gentle and peaceful, with the soft air of distant mountain mists.
Huang Zixia lowered her head slightly in acknowledgment of his greeting. As her gaze lowered, she noticed he was holding a birdcage. The snow-white bird they had seen earlier was perched inside it. The bird seemed quite intelligent – seeing her look its way, it chirped and hopped around in its cage, appearing extremely lively.
Wang Ruo had finished her prayers and stood up, turning to follow Huang Zixia’s gaze toward the small bird.
In the empty hall, inside and out, there were only the three of them. The man lifted the birdcage, and the westward-slanting sunlight cast his shadow into the hall, enveloping them. Like a huge bat of the night, spreading its wings.
He smiled gently and asked: “How do you like this little bird?”
“Is it yours? It looks very well-behaved,” Wang Ruo looked at it curiously.
The bird seemed to understand her praise and hopped more energetically in its cage, as if unwilling to stop for a moment.
“Yes, very well-behaved. Even if I open the cage and it flies into the forest, it will immediately return when it hears my whistle,” he said, reaching two fingers through to gently stroke the bird’s head. The bird affectionately rubbed its little head against his fingers.
Huang Zixia led Wang Ruo toward the exit, not wanting to create any trouble. But as they passed by the man, they heard him say: “After all, no matter how things are now, everything that was done before, everything that was experienced, remains deeply branded on the heart. Even if you can deceive everyone else, you can’t deceive yourself.”
Huang Zixia felt Wang Ruo’s body slightly stiffen, her steps faltering.
“—Like having an invisible rope around your neck; the further you try to escape, the tighter it becomes.” The man saw Wang Ruo’s reaction but only smiled and said, “I’m talking about this little bird.”
Huang Zixia turned to look at him and asked: “Do you know who stands before you? How dare you speak so improperly.”
“Of course I know,” the man’s voice was calm, carrying a smiling composure. “If nothing goes wrong, in ten days she will become Prince Kui’s Princess Consort.”
“In that case, please do not disturb the noble one, to avoid causing trouble.”
“I’m not trying to disturb the noble one, I just want to show the Princess Consort something interesting.” He slowly approached, bowed to them, his sleeve passing over the birdcage as he placed it before them, then looked up with a smile and said: “A minor trick, just to amuse the Princess Consort.”
In that instant, the bird that had been happily hopping just moments ago had vanished. Before them stood only an empty cage made of forty-eight finely carved purple bamboo strips.
Wang Ruo’s expression was shocked, and she looked helplessly at Huang Zixia. Huang Zixia stared directly at the man, silent.
“Please be extremely careful these next few days, Princess Consort. Otherwise, you might disappear like the caged bird – even the most tightly woven cage cannot prevent it,” the man smiled slightly at them, turned toward the hall, and they heard him recite loudly: “A bird in a cage, in an instant, becomes nothing. Wealth and glory are but floating clouds, unaware we dream in this great dream!”
In the sunset, the temple bells rang from afar as monks chanted their evening sutras. The Sanskrit chanting and slanting sunlight enveloped them. Their shadows and the birdcage on the ground stretched long into the deep hall.
Huang Zixia quickly turned and looked into the hall, but it was already empty. She turned back to see Wang Ruo’s face, as white as a withered fallen flower.