The weather that day was mild and pleasant. After finishing their morning meal, Lin Xiao brought Qin Yao to call on his aunt and uncle at the Duke of Lu’s residence.

Since Yuyin Academy had been closed, the Duchess of Lu had been relieved of her duties as Dean for the time being. She was content to enjoy the leisure, and had spent the past stretch of days resting at home in proper ease, her days’ pleasure consisting entirely of playing with her grandchildren.

When Qin Yao and Lin Xiao arrived at the gate, the Duke of Lu was in his outer study watching a group of household scholars competing at chess, while the Duchess of Lu was in the inner courtyard with her daughters-in-law, inspecting tribute goods sent from the various estates in preparation for the New Year.

At the main gate, Qin Yao and Lin Xiao parted ways — Lin Xiao went to find the Duke of Lu in the outer study, while Qin Yao was led by servants to the inner courtyard.

As she walked, Qin Yao went over what Lin Xiao had told her the night before. The Duke of Lu had not only enjoyed the profound trust of the current Emperor — he had also been a close attendant of the late Emperor, participating to varying degrees in all major decisions made by both rulers. As for the internal story behind Yuyin Academy’s sudden closure twenty years ago, even if the Duke of Lu did not know every detail, he could certainly offer some general account.

Unfortunately, the old gentleman had always operated by the principle of “loyal to the sovereign, serving the nation.” When it came to matters where the late Emperor or the current Emperor had issued sealed commands for silence, he would never discuss them further. The likelihood of drawing anything out of him was essentially nil.

The Duchess of Lu, however, though she herself had already graduated from the academy by that time, had been personally singled out by the late Empress for her sterling reputation and appointed as the head female official assisting the Dean at the time. She had therefore been a direct witness to the sudden closure of the academy. Even though the Duchess had never brought it up to others in all these years, given her renowned ability to perceive large truths from small details, she might well know the real reason for what happened.

The two of them had decided that rather than trying to crack the Duke of Lu — a tough bone to gnaw — they would go directly through the Duchess. It was for this reason that Qin Yao had insisted on coming to the Duke of Lu’s residence first thing that morning.

Arriving at the main room, she found both of the Duchess’s daughters-in-law present. There was also a young noblewoman she did not recognize — about fifteen or sixteen years of age, lovely and refined in appearance, slender and straight of bearing, her every movement carrying a spirited, energetic grace. Looking more closely, Qin Yao could see that the young woman’s brows and eyes bore some resemblance to the Duchess of Lu.

Early on in her marriage, when she had accompanied Lin Xiao to pay his respects to his aunt and uncle, Qin Yao had vaguely heard mention that the Duchess of Lu had sent someone to Yingchuan to fetch one of her maternal family’s younger nieces to stay at the residence for a time. This vivacious and poised young beauty must be the young Miss Zheng from the Zheng family.

The Duchess introduced her with a smile: “This is the youngest daughter of my third elder brother. Among all the younger generation of the Zheng family, she is exceptional — always sensible and generous, very much beloved. I saw that she had nothing pressing at home and brought her to Chang’an to keep me company for a while. Her given name is Ying, and by seniority she ought to call you Elder Sister-in-Law.”

Zheng Ying kept her gaze straight ahead, stepped forward, and gave Qin Yao a proper bow: “Elder Sister-in-Law.” Her every movement was thoroughly correct and dignified. Only her expression was perhaps a touch too solemn — identical to the manner the Duchess wore when meeting people — as though a slightly smaller version of the Duchess were standing before her.

Qin Yao couldn’t say exactly why, but the sight made her feel a faint urge to laugh. It was as if she were looking at the Duchess scaled down to a smaller size, with the Duchess’s traits visible in every detail — and what made it all the more charming was that this same person was now greeting her in that very same earnest, formal way.

She quickly helped Zheng Ying straighten up, and smiled as she looked at her: “Now that you’ve come to Chang’an, Aunt certainly won’t let you go back to Yingchuan for some time. Come and visit us at our residence whenever you like. I also have several classmates — all about our age, all spirited and fun-loving — I’ll invite you out together with them sometime.”

Zheng Ying looked at Qin Yao with a faint smile, lowered her eyes, and answered composedly: “Thank you, Elder Sister-in-Law.”

The Duchess’s expression warmed with pleasure. She watched the two young people finish their greetings, then turned to Qin Yao and asked: “Did you come here together with Weijin?”

Qin Yao smiled and said yes, taking a seat just below the Duchess’s place of honor. “He said it’s been some time since he last saw his aunt and uncle, and he’s been thinking of them — so he came specifically to pay his respects to the two of you.”

The Duchess did not often let her feelings show, but even so, a warm brightness rose in her eyes at these words. “Weijin hasn’t been on duty these past few days. Now that you’re both here, won’t you stay for the midday meal?”

Qin Yao was more than happy to have the excuse. She said cheerfully: “Even if you hadn’t mentioned it, we had already planned to impose on you for a meal before leaving.”

“Impose — what a thing to say.” The Duchess quickly instructed a servant to go and prepare the dishes Lin Xiao liked. “Weijin has considered this half his home since he was small. Before he was married, he was always here eating and staying — he and Third Son were inseparable, closer than real brothers. The only reason he became more careful about dropping in all the time was that Third Son began taking women into his rooms, and Weijin didn’t feel comfortable staying as often. Even so, he still came by regularly every few days to take his meals with us. It’s funny, really — Third Son has since turned over a new leaf and sent all the women in his courtyard away. His rooms are thoroughly quiet now. Yet at the same time, Weijin has gone and gotten married, and when he’s not on palace duty, he’s home keeping company with you. The two of them can’t seem to find a way to meet as often as they did when they were young — things can never quite go back to the way they were when they were small, when they were always at each other’s side.”

Qin Yao listened with a warm blush on her cheeks, and happened to glance toward Zheng Ying standing behind the Duchess. She wasn’t sure if she imagined it, but at the moment the Duchess mentioned the matter of Jiang Sanlang taking women into his rooms, something seemed to shift in Zheng Ying — her expression didn’t change, yet the tips of her ears went red, as if she were faintly embarrassed. Then Qin Yao looked more carefully and saw that Zheng Ying’s gaze had gone distinctly colder than before, her lips pressed tight, and there was something like disdain in the set of her face.

Qin Yao found this even more interesting. This young Miss Zheng apparently had a low opinion of her cousin’s conduct — and was not bothering to conceal it even in the Duchess’s presence. But those ears that were blushing without her permission… what were those about?

The Duchess seemed to have no need to turn around to know what expression Zheng Ying was wearing. Without pursuing the subject any further, she shifted course smoothly: “The gardener has coaxed a few pots of orchids into bloom in our garden — quite beautiful specimens. Since the weather today is still reasonably warm, why don’t we go for a walk in the garden instead of just sitting here talking? It’ll aid digestion.”

Qin Yao had been trying to find a way to speak with the Duchess alone, and immediately nodded and agreed.

In the garden, Qin Yao walked beside the Duchess, deliberately slowing her pace so that they fell behind the rest of the group.

She saw that the moment was rare and precious, yet she hesitated, uncertain how to begin.

The Duchess was a perceptive woman and had already noticed some time ago that Qin Yao clearly had something she wanted to ask, but kept stopping herself from speaking. She waved a hand to send the nearby servants well out of earshot, then patted Qin Yao’s hand gently and said: “Out with it. Is there something you want to ask me?”

“Aunt.” Qin Yao looked at the Duchess with a sheepish expression. “Truly nothing escapes you.”

There was no point in speaking in circles before someone this clear-sighted, Qin Yao decided, and set her hesitation aside. She sorted through the full tangle of questions she had been carrying, and came straight to the point: “It isn’t anything else, really — I simply wanted to ask whether you still remembered the night when a great many resentful spirits appeared within the academy?”

The Duchess stopped walking and looked at Qin Yao with a contemplative expression. “After everything that happened that night — not only the appearance of so many resentful spirits, but then female official Lu hanging herself in the academy at first light the next morning — how could I forget it?”

Qin Yao stood facing the Duchess and saw that the Duchess’s eyes held a shadow of unease — she had clearly also harbored doubts about these events all along. Qin Yao gave a quiet inward nod. “And then, the academy was closed again on imperial order. That was the second time in twenty years the academy had been shut down by decree. I heard that when the academy was closed twenty years ago, you were also serving as a female official there. I simply wanted to ask — was it because some sinister energy had appeared in the academy at that time, or because someone had died under suspicious circumstances, that the late Emperor had been compelled to issue the order to close it?”

The Duchess’s expression grew grave. She frowned and looked at Qin Yao for a long moment without answering.

Qin Yao steeled herself and held the Duchess’s scrutinizing gaze, though her heart was quietly pounding — she was afraid that the Duchess would not only refuse to reveal a single word, but might also rebuke her for meddling.

Fortunately, the Duchess studied Qin Yao only for a moment before she spoke. “The events of that year were not particularly extraordinary in themselves. Since you want to know, I suppose it does no harm to tell you.”

She turned and led Qin Yao along a slow, unhurried path forward. Reaching a small octagonal pavilion, she had a cushion spread out and took a seat by the railing. She dismissed everyone in the vicinity, and then said to Qin Yao with a composed, measured expression: “Yuyin Academy was founded at the very beginning of this dynasty by the Empress Xiaomu herself, with the purpose of cultivating women of distinguished virtue, refinement, and skill — fit to be the principal wives of noble houses. It has always recruited the daughters of princes and high officials. Having the full support of the imperial house throughout its nearly one hundred years of operation, it has flourished without interruption. Twenty years ago, it is true that I was serving as a female official in the academy. At the time, I had just given birth to my second son. A female official at the academy had taken ill and returned home, and the Empress could not immediately find a suitable replacement to assist the Dean. As the Duke was away on imperial campaign at the time, the Empress asked me to come in periodically and help with instruction. Apart from myself, Weijin’s mother, Princess Derong, and a number of young noblewomen who were later appointed as the principal or secondary wives of various princes and as the principal wives of noble houses — all of them were at that time students in the academy. As I was several years older than they were and had graduated from the academy some years before them, I was serving as a female official while they were still students.”

Qin Yao listened, thoroughly absorbed. She had known that Lin Xiao’s mother had once studied at Yuyin Academy, but she had not imagined that Princess Derong and the Duchess of Lu had not only known each other but had actually been teacher and students — or fellow classmates — with each other.

“At that time, my younger sister —” The Duchess paused to think, then turned to look at Qin Yao. “That is, Weijin’s mother — had already been betrothed to the Sixth Prince, and Princess Derong had already been promised to Young Lord Xia of the Duke of Wei’s household. There were others who had been promised in childhood betrothals since they were small, and since their matches were already settled, they were in the academy simply to learn a little more of music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. The remaining students were mostly waiting to graduate the following year, when the late Emperor would make matches for them. Since everyone there was from old families who had known one another from childhood, they got along well enough. That was, until later — when the late Emperor, seeing that several princes were still unmarried and that most of the one-principal-four-secondary spots for consorts remained unfilled, and that there were also many young men of the imperial clan who had reached marriageable age without matches being arranged, decided in comparison that there were too few students in the academy to choose from. He issued another decree adding a few new places and enrolling several daughters of officials newly transferred to Chang’an from outside the capital, intending them as candidates for secondary consorts—”

She seemed to pause here as if some old memory had surfaced, and her eyes narrowed, fixed on some point in the distance. For a long time she said nothing further.

Qin Yao dared not press her, but it felt as though there were tiny cat’s paws scraping gently inside her chest. She waited, and at last the Duchess opened her mouth again — but instead of picking up where she had left off, she chose a different thread. “In those days, the late Emperor had a great reverence for the Daoist path. Daoism flourished enormously across the land, and extraordinary Daoist figures appeared from every direction. By the twelfth year of the Yuanfeng era, one such figure rose to prominence — a certain Master Li — whose mastery of Daoist arts was extraordinarily refined. He was most skilled in reading the heavens and had on several occasions foretold floods and plagues in advance. At first the late Emperor had brushed his predictions aside as mere talk, but when, on several occasions, the late Emperor witnessed the predictions of Master Li come true with his own eyes, he was moved to regard him in an entirely different light. He bestowed on him the title of National Preceptor and invited him to reside permanently in the palace to study celestial phenomena. And from the time this Master Li arrived, the late Emperor began undertaking great works of water and timber. In one particular year, he even had the waters of the Cangheng River outside Chang’an diverted into the city, and the South Garden Lake was built from those waters—”

South Garden Lake! The sound of buzzing began to ring in Qin Yao’s ears. It was through the underground connection between the Cangheng River and the South Garden Lake that the jade corpse had once roamed freely within and without Chang’an unchecked. She recalled that she had once asked Lin Xiao why the Emperor had the South Garden Lake excavated; he had only said the Emperor wished to dig canals for the benefit of the people. It had never occurred to her that the Emperor had done so at the suggestion of this Master Li.

The layout of Chang’an and its surroundings had been significantly altered by a series of measures the late Emperor had taken in those years. But what Master Li’s intent had been in persuading the Emperor to make those changes — that she did not know.

“It was also that same year that the late Emperor brought Master Li, along with several princes, to the academy to assess the geomantic forces there.” The Duchess paused at this point, seeming to weigh whether she ought to share what followed with Qin Yao. But when she looked up and caught the expression on Qin Yao’s face — the look of someone absolutely resolved to get to the bottom of things — she gave up on the idea of concealing anything. “At the time, two of the princes present were both struck at once by a young woman from outside the capital who had just come to study at the academy. The two brothers even quarreled because of her. There was a rumor that this was the very reason the late Emperor issued the order to close the academy — but in my view, it is far more likely that the late Emperor closed the academy based on the counsel of Master Li. For my younger sister had, purely by chance, overheard Master Li say something to the late Emperor that very day, and when she came back she told me about it quietly, saying she had been somewhat frightened by it.”

“Oh?” Qin Yao perked up intently. “What did Master Li say at that time?”

The image of her sister — still in the bloom of her youth that long-ago day — rose in the Duchess’s mind. She spoke slowly: “She said: ‘Elder Sister, that Master Li told our lord that our academy’s topography holds a mountain yin and symbol yin, occupying the Seven Red and Five Yellow of the Nine Stars — which may be said to encompass all five of the most baleful forces. It is a place of great calamity, and if it is not closed as soon as possible, within twenty years there will be a catastrophe that shakes the very nation.'”

Nine Stars — Seven Red — Five Yellow! Qin Yao was struck with sudden clarity, as if something had struck a resonant chord. This Master Li had indeed possessed a profound mastery of the theory of the five elements and the celestial phenomena — a true “master of geomancy and feng shui,” as her shifu would say. A thought suddenly struck her: could this Master Li, whose Daoist attainment ran so deep, have been the very person who first laid the spirit-sealing formation within Yuyin Academy?

She asked quickly: “Aunt, where is this Master Li now? Why have I never heard his name mentioned?”

“He died,” the Duchess said. “He passed away from a sudden illness inside the palace, twenty years ago.”

Qin Yao was briefly taken aback, though she was not particularly surprised. Those who were skilled in divining geomantic forces — masters of that caliber — so often came to poor ends from having revealed too many of heaven’s secrets. She turned the thought over for a moment, then brought her attention back to the piece the Duchess had skirted around. “Aunt, you mentioned just now that two princes both fell for a young woman in the academy, and the late Emperor was greatly angered because of it — could you tell me who that young woman was, and where she is now?”

The Duchess regretted having let that slip. She exhaled a long breath, and her tone became firm and unyielding. “My good child, you’ve heard what I’ve told you — and that is enough. Your aunt counsels you sincerely: do not pursue this any further.”