The Eastern Palace.

Liu Bingyu let out a quiet breath and looked toward the still and silent palace entrance.

After completing the nuptial wine-sharing ceremony, the Crown Prince had gone out to receive the Emperor’s instructions and offer wine to the assembled guests. An hour had passed, and he had yet to return.

She shifted her neck slightly, which had grown rather stiff, wondering whether she ought to change out of her heavy, layered formal wedding robes into something lighter and softer so her body could breathe a little — when suddenly her stomach let out a grumbling gurgle.

She felt a touch of embarrassment, quietly stuck her tongue out, and then pulled it back. She hadn’t eaten a single thing since she began having her hair dressed that morning, and by now she was so hungry her front and back felt as if they were touching.

Out of habit she reached toward her wide sleeve — but her hand had barely moved halfway when she caught herself. Today was not like any ordinary day; all the snacks she would normally always have on hand for a nibble were nowhere to be found.

She sighed in mild frustration. Of all the many customs of a wedding, perhaps the most unreasonable was that a new bride was not permitted to eat normally at the banquet the way the guests could.

Just then, the sound of a succession of palace servants’ voices offering greetings came from outside: “Your Highness.”

Liu Bingyu’s heart tightened. She quickly sat up straight and stole a glance toward the entrance — and saw a familiar figure stride briskly inside.

He was dressed in the Crown Prince’s ceremonial robes, which made him appear even taller and more imposing than usual. Coming inside and catching sight of the delicate and lovely beauty seated on the bed, his face flushed and he stopped abruptly in his tracks, his gaze settling fixedly on Liu Bingyu’s face, as clear and beautiful as the moon. Only when a palace servant behind him gave a discreet cough as a reminder did he sheepishly come back to his senses. After a brief moment, he waved his hand to dismiss the servants behind him.

Liu Bingyu felt a wave of shyness at being watched like that, and shifted her position with studied nonchalance. Face flushed, she met his gaze — back at the time when the formation at Yun’yin Academy had been broken, his eyes had become far clearer, and the air of dull-witted simplicity that had once marked his face could no longer be seen. Yet now, standing in the palace hall with his gaze burning into her, he still somehow looked a little bit like himself from before.

She couldn’t help but let out a small, involuntary laugh. She rose, smoothed her heavy wedding robes, and gave A’Han a proper bow with composed formality. In a clear, crisp voice she said: “Greetings to His Highness.”

A’Han was momentarily taken aback to be called “Your Highness,” then smiled, a little bashfully, and walked to the bedside. He looked down at her with a small smile and called: “A’Yu, little sister.”

This familiar address instantly closed the distance between them. Liu Bingyu’s heart relaxed, and she smiled back with an easy, natural expression.

“Are you hungry?” A’Han, not wanting Liu Bingyu to see how nervous he was, forced himself to stay composed and sat down beside her, turning to ask her.

“Mm.” Liu Bingyu nodded. She felt no apprehension whatsoever now. Though the person beside her seemed more composed and reserved than before, she could sense that at his core, he was still the same warm and gentle A’Han — not changed in the slightest.

“I’ve been hungry for ages,” she said, lifting her eyes to look at him, patting her belly with a hint of grievance.

“I’ll have them bring food in.” A’Han seemed to have anticipated exactly that answer from Liu Bingyu, and without a second word called for servants to bring things in.

Before long, the palace servants presented box after box filled to the brim, and arranged everything neatly on the table. Without even waiting for A’Han’s instructions, they clasped their hands and withdrew.

A’Han hesitated for a moment, then took Liu Bingyu’s hand and guided her to the table. “I knew you’d be hungry by now. I thought of having them send food in earlier, but—”

He smiled a little shyly. “But I wanted to eat together with you, so I waited until now to have them bring it up.”

Liu Bingyu looked up, puzzled, and then looked down at what was on the table — and suddenly understood what A’Han meant. For amid the steaming dishes and hot food that covered the entire table, there were also several small boxes of sweets: half of them were the Jade Su Cakes from Derong Pavilion, and the other half were the Three-Flavor Fruits from Qingyun Abbey.

These were exactly the sweets the two of them had exchanged with each other that day outside Qingyun Abbey.

Liu Bingyu raised her head and looked at A’Han with an amused expression. No wonder he had been so set on eating together with her — so this was what he had been waiting for.

The two looked at each other with knowing smiles. After a while, A’Han picked up his chopsticks, selected a piece of Three-Flavor Fruit for Liu Bingyu, and said: “You don’t need to worry about freshness this time — the cook from our abbey made these fresh in the imperial palace just yesterday. Have a bite of this first, then eat the rest.”

Out of habit, he still thought of Qingyun Abbey as home, and still called it “our abbey” without thinking.

Liu Bingyu ate the piece from A’Han’s chopsticks, and in return picked out a piece of Jade Su Cake for A’Han.

As they ate, the two gradually drew closer and closer together. By the time Liu Bingyu reached for what would have been her fourth piece of Three-Flavor Fruit from A’Han’s chopsticks, she found that instead of the fruit, she was met with two warm, burning lips.

Liu Bingyu’s mind went blank. She stared, unblinking, at the pair of bright, dark eyes right before her face, and her heart very nearly leaped out of her throat.

But before she could go on being lost in that feeling, there was a soft, discordant little sound, and both of them let out a mutual exclamation as they startled apart.

“You — you knocked against my teeth!” Liu Bingyu’s face was so red she looked ready to drip blood, and she accused A’Han in a stammering voice.

A’Han was flustered for a brief instant, then glanced up and met the girl’s watery eyes and peach-petal pink lips — something like a flame blazed in the depths of his chest. His surging desire completely overtook his sense of shame. He steeled himself, shamelessly wrapped her up in his arms and lifted her off her feet, not daring to look at her face, and said in stumbling tones: “I — I’ll kiss you a few more times, and then I won’t knock against your teeth anymore.”

He pulled her firmly into his embrace and walked in great strides toward the bed.

After the wedding, Liu Bingyu found the palace too quiet and lonely. Aside from managing the affairs that a Crown Princess ought to manage, in her free time she frequently invited Qin Yao and the others to come into the palace to keep her company.

A’Han, for his part, thought of Qin Yao often, and when he wasn’t busy studying and reviewing memorials with the Emperor, he was going to watch over their Master’s formation. He genuinely had very little time during the day to spend with Liu Bingyu, and so he invariably indulged her.

After the worst of her morning sickness had passed, Qin Yao also could not stay home in idleness, and whenever Lin Xiao was away, she would go into the palace to visit A’Han and his wife, or go to the site of the formation to check on her Master.

Whether because of the deep affinity between A’Han and Liu Bingyu, or for some other reason, the Eastern Palace as arranged by Liu Bingyu was remarkably warm and welcoming, with none of the cold austerity that usually pervaded a palace.

When Qin Yao happened to visit, she would invariably be held up by Liu Bingyu’s warm and enthusiastic hospitality. Too lazy to travel back and forth in the bitter cold, she would simply stay at the Eastern Palace for the midday meal before returning to Prince Lan’s manor.

And A’Han, whenever he heard that Qin Yao had come, would do his best to set aside his more burdensome duties and come to keep them company. When the Shixiong and Shimei were together, it was just as natural and close as it had always been, no different from before.

Lin Xiao, whenever he finished his own affairs, would come to the Eastern Palace to collect Qin Yao, and the two would return home together.

But the Emperor’s health declined day by day.

What made matters worse was that despite his body being in an extremely poor state, the Emperor continued to personally instruct A’Han day and night without rest or recovery, and in doing so senselessly accelerated the progress of the corpse poison.

By the time Qing Xuzi had fully laid the formation and Yuan Jue activated the first ceremony of supplication, the Emperor had finally fallen gravely ill and taken to his bed, unable to rise.

A month dragged on, and the completion of the final few ceremonies was within sight — yet the Emperor did not manage to wait to see Consort Hui’s reincarnation with his own eyes before sinking into his final moments.

In these last few days, the Emperor’s condition was especially dire: whatever little he ate, he brought back up, and in the end he could not keep down so much as water or food. A breath was caught in his throat — neither able to go down nor come out.

The attending ministers, watching the Emperor’s deteriorating state, dared not leave the palace, and had kept vigil outside Hanyuan Hall for several days in a row.

That night, the Emperor, unexpectedly, managed to drink a full bowl of congee. The cloudiness cleared from his eyes, which brightened once more. He was even able, with the support of a palace servant, to sit upright, and when he spoke, his voice carried some strength — he seemed, to look at him, not so different from before his illness.

Yet the expressions of Yu Ruoshui and the others grew ever graver. They knew that this was the glow of the dying flame before it goes out, and that the Emperor was unlikely to survive the night.

The Emperor sat steadily at the bedside and instructed Wang Gonggong: “Call them in.”

When the attending ministers had gathered before him, he asked: “How is the Crown Prince?”

The few trusted ministers who had served the Emperor for many years could certainly read his thoughts, and said at once: “The Crown Prince is wise and benevolent, humble yet resolute, deferential and diligent in his studies — to have such an enlightened ruler is truly a blessing for all the people under heaven.”

They were accustomed to offering flattery, yet these words of praise for A’Han came from the heart. The newly appointed Crown Prince was kind yet decisive, gentle without being weak — he was truly a person of excellent moral character.

The Emperor’s brow would not relax. “After Our death, there are several edicts that need to be proclaimed before the court by your hand.”

Hearing this, Mo Cheng’s heart trembled with dread. He gathered his courage and said: “Your Majesty, this servant makes bold to ask — is one of the secret edicts Your Majesty intends to proclaim one that would suppress and restrain the Young Lord of Prince Lan’s Manor?”

The Emperor’s expression turned cold and he rebuked him: “Since when have Our decisions been a matter for ministers to comment upon?”

Mo Cheng knelt with unusual determination. “Your Majesty, honest counsel is unpleasant to hear. Even if Your Majesty punishes this servant today, this servant cannot but offer one word of caution: Your Majesty must think it through very carefully! Please do not forget — the Crown Prince’s body has a particular condition, and he requires the Young Lord of Prince Lan’s Manor to help maintain his clarity of mind—”

Only those who had been present at Yun’yin Academy that day to witness the events surrounding Consort Hui — along with a small number of trusted attendants — knew of this matter.

The Emperor’s illness-induced agitation surged; he closed his eyes and did not respond. A’Han had only just taken his position, and his foundation was not yet secure. The Weijin father and son had deeply entrenched power networks within the court — they were ultimately a concern. If not for the fact that A’Han’s clarity of mind required Lin Xiao’s continued presence, he would not have settled for merely posting them away from Chang’an. He would have removed the father and son entirely, root and branch, to eliminate the threat permanently.

“The Young Lord of Prince Lan’s Manor is upright and open in all he does — if he harbored any intent of rebellion, he would surely have schemed during the great upheaval in Chang’an last time. Why would he wait until the Crown Prince ascended the throne?” Wang Xingzhi saw that the Emperor’s condition was worsening and also knelt beside Mo Cheng, pleading earnestly. “Moreover, the Young Lord’s wife and the Crown Prince are from the same Master and regard each other as siblings. If Your Majesty were to move against the Young Lord without cause, it would, for one, put the Crown Prince in an impossible position and damage the bond between the Crown Prince’s consort and the Crown Prince. For another, the Young Lord would surely grow cold of heart — a man who had no disloyal intentions to begin with might well have such intentions forced upon him by Your Majesty.”

The Emperor sighed. “What you say, We know well enough. But the Crown Prince’s vulnerability lies in Weijin’s hands. And Weijin is truly a man of breadth and ability. If We allow him to remain by the Crown Prince’s side, We cannot put our mind at ease. Even if he has no disloyal intentions now, over long years and many changes, who can guarantee he will not develop them? If at that time he were to hold the Crown Prince in check or even commit treason, how would the Crown Prince be able to deal with it?”

Wang Xingzhi and Mo Cheng were struck dumb.

The Emperor said: “We will do nothing to Weijin. He is Our nephew; We watched him grow up. We merely wish to post him away from the Crown Prince’s side for the time being. Once the Crown Prince has a firm hold on the court, he can be recalled to Chang’an. That is all.”

Having said this, he finalized the edicts and instructed Mo Cheng and the others to keep them for the time being, to be proclaimed in the presence of the court on the day the Crown Prince ascended the throne.

With all his arrangements in place, he called A’Han to his bedside and told him: “Once your mother has reincarnated, you must come to my funeral hall and inform me. I owe her far too much in this life. In the next life, I will be too ashamed to face her again. But if you can learn where your mother has gone, let me know — as long as I know she is living well, I can rest at peace.”

A’Han gave a quiet, indifferent acknowledgment.

That night, the Emperor passed away.

Before the secret edict could be placed in the hands of the wholly unsuspecting Crown Prince, someone had already quietly presented it to Lin Xiao.

Lin Xiao already understood the full story from beginning to end. Without even opening it, he knew it contained nothing more than a demotion-in-name-only posting that would send him far from Chang’an — a means to remove any potential threat from the Crown Prince’s side to the greatest possible extent.

Had it not been for the second Nusù token on his body — had the Emperor had no need to consider the matter of A’Han’s three-year formation maintenance — what was written on this edict was most likely an order to have him put to death.

He smiled with bitter contempt. This was the nature of the imperial family — interests always took precedence over kinship, and loyalty could be traded away at any moment.

He held the edict over the lamp and set it alight, watching the dancing flame with disdain. His Imperial Uncle had truly had his heart corrupted by corpse poison, leaving him without a shred of good sense. If Lin Xiao had genuinely harbored any wish to rebel, a handful of edicts would hardly be enough to suppress him. Setting aside all else — whether A’Han could ascend the throne smoothly the next day lay entirely within Lin Xiao’s hand, governed by a single thought.

The paper was exceedingly thin. The moment the flame caught, it quickly curled and blackened, and in moments was reduced to a small heap of ash at his feet.

He stepped over the ash and walked to the doorway. Outside, palace servants were already waiting with mourning white garments at the ready. Seeing Lin Xiao emerge, they hurried forward to help him into the white mourning robes.

Lin Xiao stood passively as the servants dressed him, gazing with a cool, impassive expression at the hip-and-gable roof tops blanketed in thick white snow. Without needing to look back, he knew that someone stood nearby awaiting his direction. After a long silence, he spoke: “The Emperor has passed. Announce the mourning in all quarters, and begin preparations for the Crown Prince’s enthronement.”

The man accepted the order and withdrew to make the arrangements.

Lin Xiao cast a cold glance back at Hanyuan Hall behind him. Everyone said the imperial family was clothed in splendor and glory — very likely no one knew that some were born into it and had never wanted to be part of it at all. He had no way to choose his own birth, but if he could, he would never, for the rest of his life, wish to see his sons and descendants entangled again in these kinds of struggles.

The Emperor had passed. By the hundreds, his officials and subjects donned white mourning garments to see him to his rest.

A few days later, A’Han ascended the throne and changed the reign title to Longyuan. He issued an edict conferring upon Lin Xiao the title of Prince Cheng, along with a newly granted Prince Cheng’s Manor.

Two days after that, Yuan Jue and the others completed the final ritual ceremonies, cleansed Consort Yi’s life fate of its sinful taint, and then invited Qing Xuzi to begin the final step of the soul-exchange formation: lifting the seal that had suppressed Consort Hui, and sending her on her way.

The formation required three full days and nights to complete. A’Han and Liu Bingyu kept vigil outside the formation from start to finish, watching through tears as Consort Hui’s remains were worked upon, and neither closed their eyes for all three days and nights.

Once the formation was entirely complete, A’Han issued orders to search throughout the entire realm for a baby born at exactly the hour the formation concluded.

After Qin Yao learned of this, she followed the developments closely, and each evening when Lin Xiao returned, she would cling to him and ask for the latest news.

Fortunately, the matter proceeded far more smoothly than anyone had imagined. Within less than half a month, a baby born at precisely the right hour was found in the household of a scholar-family on the outskirts of Chang’an.

Qing Xuzi and Yuan Jue received the news and, together with A’Han, made haste through the night to reach the household. It was indeed that of a man of letters — with ancestral property to draw upon, the family lived in comfortable means. The husband and wife had been betrothed since childhood and were devoted to each other, but despite having been married for several years, they had no children. Having at last been blessed with a daughter, they treasured her like a jewel in their palms, cherishing her beyond all measure.

When the child was brought out, it was a girl — born plump and rosy with health. Qing Xuzi and Yuan Jue drew close to look, and caught sight of the cinnabar-red mole on the baby’s earlobe — identical to A’Ling’s in life. Their certainty deepened all the more.

Those sent to inquire elsewhere returned with word that, strangely enough, no other baby had been found in all of Chang’an born at that particular hour — only this one, in the family on the city’s outskirts.

Once the couple learned of A’Han’s identity, they were immediately thrown into a state of bewildered uncertainty. Watching the young emperor and his two companions — one monk, one Daoist — standing there weeping silently over the bundled infant, they exchanged glances with each other in utter confusion.

A’Han looked at the peaceful, serene expression on the baby’s face, in which no trace of resentment or sorrow could any longer be seen. His heart was struck with a mingled grief and joy, and his voice broke as he said: “In her last life, my mother was made to live in quiet suffering by the machinations of imperial power, and in the end fell to the cruelty of a scheming enemy. In this life, let me, her son, use that same imperial power to shield her in peace and comfort for all her days, and never let her suffer even a fraction of grief again.”

Qing Xuzi and Yuan Jue, eyes reddening, hearts full of wistful sorrow, let out a deep and heavy sigh.

More than a year later.

It was a spring day in Chang’an. In Siru Pavilion, the peonies and camellia flowers were in full, glorious bloom.

A number of servants stood about the courtyard, all gathered around Nanny Wen, gazing at the chubby little young lord in her arms with eyes full of longing.

The child was barely half a year old, and grew as prettily as if carved from jade — round, soft, little flour-dumpling cheeks, and a pair of eyes like polished black agates, round and bright, breathtakingly beautiful. He was taller and sturdier than other infants of the same age. Held securely in Nanny Wen’s arms, he had a fat, pudgy little hand clutching a peony he had just mercilessly plucked off, and was looking somewhat distracted, turning his little head every now and then to peer toward the courtyard gate.

“Our little A’Da is waiting for Mother to come home, aren’t you?” Nanny Wen asked him with a pursed smile.

A’Da, hearing these words, seemed to be roused into the mood for talking. He pointed his little chubby finger toward the courtyard gate and opened his mouth: “Da-da, ah, da-da-da.” His voice rang out clear and crisp as a bean, melting the hearts of all who heard it.

But though he babbled away with great gusto, waving his arms and legs with considerable flair, what came out was entirely made up of “ah” and “da” sounds, like a language from another world.

Nanny Wen, however, seemed to understand perfectly, and said with a barely suppressed smile: “A’Da is reporting on Mother, isn’t that so? Mother has been out so long and our A’Da already misses her — why isn’t Mother home yet?”

A’Da let out a soft whimper, put on the most aggrieved expression imaginable, and snuggled up to Nanny Wen, gazing at her with grape-dark little eyes while his little pudgy hand patted her cheek gently.

Nanny Wen simply could not hold out against this kind of pitiful little attack. Every time this child fixed her with that look, she found it utterly impossible to harden her heart. “A’Da is a good boy. Your Third Uncle Jiang is getting married tomorrow, and Father and Mother went to the Duke of Luo’s manor to help. This hour is about the right time for them to be coming back — our A’Da just has to wait a little longer and Mother will naturally be home.”

Before she had even finished speaking, sure enough, the sound of Qin Yao’s laughing voice came from behind: “A’Da.”

A’Da’s eyes lit up at the sound. He twisted in Nanny Wen’s arms and reached out his little white lotus-root arms, trying to burrow headlong into Qin Yao’s embrace.

Qin Yao smiled and hurried forward, taking A’Da from Nanny Wen’s arms. She pressed several big, enthusiastic kisses to his round, chubby cheeks, and as she carried him toward the inner room, asked: “Was A’Da a good boy while Mother was away?”

A’Da grinned happily and, as if presenting a treasure, held up his peony for Qin Yao to see.

Nanny Wen, watching from behind, closed her eyes as if in pain.

She should have known. She should have destroyed the evidence before the Lady of the manor returned.

Sure enough, she heard Qin Yao’s voice rise in outrage: “That was sent over from the palace by your Imperial Uncle — Mother hasn’t even used it for the peony banquet yet! How did you manage to ruin it like this, you little one?!”

Smack — the light sound of a small bottom being patted. A’Da’s offering of goodwill had entirely backfired, earning him a smack on the bottom instead. He puckered his mouth with a deeply aggrieved expression.

Mother and child were engaged in a staring match when they heard a succession of voices from behind offering greetings: “My Lord.” Lin Xiao had returned as well.

A’Da heard his father come home and immediately felt as if he’d been granted a pardon, and started making sounds again, reaching toward Lin Xiao to be held.

Lin Xiao took A’Da and lifted him high with a pleased expression, asking him: “Good boy, what have you been up to at home?”

A’Da was thrilled beyond measure, gurgling with laughter, and his little legs kicked restlessly against Lin Xiao’s shoulders. Lin Xiao, who was usually fastidious about cleanliness, paid it not the slightest mind, and his clean sapphire-blue robe was immediately left with several small black footprints.

Qin Yao, seeing this, felt even more aggrieved.

The family of three went into the inner room, and Lin Xiao set A’Da down on the window-side couch. The little side table that used to sit there had long since been removed, replaced now with a collection of A’Da’s small toys and playthings. The moment A’Da was set down by his father, he crawled of his own accord to the center of the couch, sat cross-legged, and spread an assortment of toys out in front of him to play with.

Qin Yao took the casual house clothes set out by Nanny Wen and personally helped Lin Xiao change, and as she did, she said: “Can you say something to Third Brother Jiang? Tell him to stop hunting about for strange and peculiar things to give A’Da as toys. By the time they get into A’Da’s hands, they’re ruined within half a day. It’s nothing but waste.”

Lin Xiao looked down at his wife’s face, as lovely as a magnolia blossom, and said: “You know Third Brother Jiang’s nature — when he takes a liking to someone, he would give the very heart out of his chest for them. As long as he sees something fun and interesting on his travels, he wants to bring it back for A’Da to enjoy. But then again, now that he’s about to marry the Zheng family’s younger cousin, once there’s someone to rein him in, surely he won’t be running over to provoke our A’Da whenever he has nothing else to do.”

The tone was faintly exasperated.

Qin Yao couldn’t help smiling. “The way you talk about Third Brother Jiang, it sounds like he’s a wild horse that needs a bit in its mouth.”

“Isn’t that exactly what he is?” Lin Xiao said, quite unapologetically.

Qin Yao smiled. A’Da’s favorite people in the world were this Third Uncle Jiang and his Qu family maternal uncle. The former regularly brought him fun things to play with; the latter was famous in A’Da’s presence for his inexhaustible patience — no matter what unreasonable demands A’Da made of him, Qu Ziyu would satisfy them entirely. And so every time A’Da laid eyes on Third Uncle Jiang or his Maternal Uncle, he would get so excited he could barely contain himself, not knowing what to do with his happiness.

“It’s a pity Shige’s wife has just become pregnant — he has to go home to keep her company every day after finishing court duties. And with Shige’s wife not feeling well, we can hardly always bother them.” Qin Yao glanced at A’Da. “This one has energy enough to burn. It takes quite a few grown-ups taking turns to keep up with him.”

As she finished, she had just completed helping Lin Xiao change, and was about to turn away when Lin Xiao abruptly pulled her back by the waist, drawing her toward him.

Lin Xiao held her firmly in his embrace, bent his head and kissed her, then said: “Why did you come home so early today?”

Qin Yao did not want to bring up the matter of encountering Princess Derong’s daughter-in-law at the Duke of Luo’s manor — Derong still maintained that same polite and distant manner, but Feng Chuyue had taken the rare step of showing her face in public. By all accounts, ever since she had given birth to her daughter, the child had been taken away by Derong to raise herself, and Feng Chuyue was rarely allowed to see her daughter at all. Xia Di, it was said, was now serving as a military supervisor in the Lingnan Circuit and was almost never at home.

Feng Chuyue, having no recourse, had set her sights on Qin Yao.

The moment Qin Yao arrived, Feng Chuyue had waylaid her at the inner courtyard gate, dressed in all her finery. She had clung to Qin Yao and would not let go, dropping hints in every other sentence that she wanted Qin Yao to say a few words on her behalf to Liu Bingyu, to put pressure on Princess Derong and have Derong return the child for her to raise.

Qin Yao had listened in silence for quite some time. So the Empress Liu Bingyu need not do anything at all anymore, and could simply spend her days interfering in the domestic affairs of her subjects?

Of course these thoughts were only worth entertaining inside her head — she had no wish to bring them up in front of Lin Xiao, lest she upset him. So she smiled and shifted her gaze toward A’Da. “I missed him, didn’t I?” she said.

The two of them, fearing A’Da might roll off the couch, walked over and sat down on either side of him. A’Da immediately abandoned his toys and made a beeline for his father.

Lin Xiao stretched out one arm and gathered A’Da in, indulging him as he climbed about on Lin Xiao like a fat little monkey. He said to Qin Yao: “Chang Rong’s wedding with Miss Zhou is set for next month. It will probably need you to take a hand in the arrangements.”

“Why be so formal about it with me?” Qin Yao knew of the deep bond Lin Xiao had with Chang Rong and his mother, and said, feigning displeasure at his courtesy. “The day before yesterday, Chang Rong told his mother that Miss Zhou’s mother had suffered greatly at the hands of the scorpion spirit — her husband gone, her family separated, and only Miss Zhou left. But since they’ve been managing on their own this past year, they’ve truly been self-sufficient — working at needlework day and night, never idle for a single day. Knowing that the family fortune had been wiped out and they had nothing to depend on but their own hands, they’ve been saving every coin they earn from their needlework, and by all accounts Miss Zhou’s mother has now put all those savings into Miss Zhou’s dowry.”

Lin Xiao had little interest in these domestic details, and only said “Mm,” then added: “Chang Rong sought Miss Zhou out himself, so we’ll just do as he wants.”

That night, when both had settled down to sleep, A’Da stuck to Qin Yao like a piece of sweet taffy and refused to sleep with his wet nurse no matter what.

Qin Yao coaxed A’Da to sleep. The great virtue of this child was that he ate well and slept well — once he’d had his fill of milk, he rarely cried or fussed through the night, so whether Qin Yao or the wet nurse was minding him, it wasn’t particularly exhausting.

After the child fell deeply asleep, the two of them naturally shared some tender moments. Throughout all of it, A’Da remained entirely undisturbed — no matter what his father did to his mother, he was utterly oblivious, peacefully inflating and deflating his little belly in contented sleep.

Afterward, when the warmth and pleasure had subsided, Lin Xiao gathered Qin Yao’s bare body into his arms, smoothing the damp strands of hair away from her temples and tucking them behind her ear. “Rest for a bit first, then we’ll go bathe.”

Qin Yao gave a soft hum of agreement and lay quietly against him, gradually calming her breath. She then lifted her head and looked steadily at Lin Xiao. “Weijin,” she said, “I want to discuss something with you.”

Lin Xiao rarely heard his wife use such a serious tone, and said: “Say whatever you’d like — I’m listening.”

“Qingyun Abbey was burned to the ground by Consort Yi’s people, and it’s still being repaired to this day. Master has no place to go, and Shixiong has pressed him to stay in the palace in the meantime. But every time I go to the palace to see Master, I feel that he’s terribly lonely — either sitting alone in his room reading and drawing talismans, or standing in the courtyard lost in thought. I think that all these years, what kept him going was the matter of Shixiong and Consort Hui. Now that everything has been laid to rest, he seems a bit lost. I always feel that Master isn’t like Abbot Yuan Jue in his ability to engage with the world. After Yuan Jue returned to Dayin Temple, he very quickly reorganized all the temple’s affairs, going everywhere to preach the sutras. Whether or not he truly needs to be so busy, at least he has things to do and shows no sign of despondency. Whereas Master—”

Her voice dropped as she spoke, growing more faint and sorrowful.

“You’re thinking of finding something for the Daoist to do?” Lin Xiao said quickly, taking the words from her.

Qin Yao nodded. “Every time I bring A’Da to see Master, he’s truly delighted — he takes a piece of talisman paper and lets A’Da grab it to play with, and sometimes he even amuses himself conjuring talisman arts to entertain A’Da. I’ve been thinking: when A’Da is a little older, why not let him learn some Taoist arts from Master? For one thing, it would give A’Da a skill to protect himself; for another, it would keep Master from feeling so terribly alone.”

Lin Xiao didn’t think his wife was being fanciful at all, and only reminded her: “That little scoundrel of ours has a robust constitution — from birth until now he hasn’t had so much as a headache or a mild fever, which goes to show his physical foundation is stronger than most children. And he’s a quick-witted little thing besides. If on top of that he learns Taoist arts, who knows how mischievous he’ll turn out — I wonder if we’ll be able to manage him.”

Qin Yao raised her brows. “What is there that can’t be managed? We’ve already brought under control those great demonic stars of the Seven Sha — are we going to be unable to subdue one little mischievous star?”

Lin Xiao suppressed a smile inwardly. “That’s what you said — so when it comes time for me to discipline A’Da, you’re not allowed to interfere.”

Qin Yao laughed. “Then when I discipline A’Da, you’re not allowed to interfere either. And don’t forget — we agreed last year that come spring, we’d go to Jiangnan and Lingnan to see the world — the beauty of West Lake, the scenery of the Qinhuai River, the scenery of the Shu roads. And further south, there’s the Min River, Hunan and Guangdong, and to the west, Yunnan and Guizhou. I’m told the world is vast and every place has its own particular charm. And this time around, we can bring Master and A’Da along too, and travel and sightsee everywhere — it would be far better than staying cooped up in one corner forever.”

Lin Xiao was always a man of his word. Since he had promised to take Qin Yao and the others out to travel, he had naturally made the arrangements long since. But seeing the brilliant shimmer in Qin Yao’s eyes, his own heart stirred. He couldn’t resist the urge to tease her, and leaned close to her ear, murmured something, then drew back with a faint smile. “You agree to this, and I’ll do whatever you say.”

Qin Yao, in response, bit Lin Xiao’s chin, flipped herself on top of him, and looked down at him with great self-assurance. “Will ten times be enough?”

Lin Xiao was briefly caught off guard, then broke into a delighted smile, raised a hand to brush her cheek, and let out a satisfied, low sigh. “Yao’er, how fortunate I am — to have met you in this life.”

Qin Yao bent down and kissed his lips lightly, murmuring: “I feel the same.”