The following morning, after Xie Changgeng had left, Mu Fulan put on the plain clothing of an ordinary household, boarded a carriage, and went out of the city toward Huguo Temple.

Nanny Mu assumed she had been moved by the previous day’s visit and was simply going again on her own to worship, and so together with the maidservants she prepared incense baskets and the like, and set out through the gates with her.

When the carriage reached the foot of the mountain below the gates of Huguo Temple, Mu Fulan told the coachman to wait there, and ascended the steps herself.

Unlike the scene the day before — the grandeur and bustle of fine carriages and magnificent horses outside the mountain gate — today the place was tranquil and still. Not a single soul could be seen on the straight stone steps leading up to the mountain gate. Sunlight fell on the treetops, and among the vines and creepers, from deep within the empty mountains came the clear and bright sound of birdsong.

Mu Fulan arrived at the mountain gate, and a monk assigned to receive guests came out. The previous day, there had simply been so many people, and today she wore plain clothing and had not identified herself — so she was received as an ordinary female worshipper making the ascent, and was led to the Guanyin Hall.

She knelt upon a prayer cushion, and after offering sincere and reverent prayers, she left Nanny Mu and the maidservants behind, went out of the Guanyin Hall on her own, and asked the monk who received guests about the child she had seen the day before.

“…The child came up to about here in height, wearing a monk’s robe, yet not tonsured…”

She described in as much detail as possible what she had glimpsed in that one brief moment.

“He is the secular ward of the Elder.”

“The Elder gave instructions long ago: should anyone come seeking to ask about this child, I am to lead them to him.”

“Female patron, please follow me.”

The monk said this.

Through the entire previous night, and again this morning on the way here, Mu Fulan had been unable to rest, caught between hope and dread.

She feared hearing that the temple had no such child. That everything had been nothing but an illusion of hers.

And now, because of what this monk had said, the faint yet heart-holding hope — the one she had hardly dared to keep — seemed as though it might still go on being kept after all.

In that very instant, she was already so moved that she nearly came to tears.

She held back that rush of feeling surging toward her, thanked the monk, and followed him to the pagoda forest in the rear mountain.

As the monk led the way, he told her about the child’s origins.

The child was an orphan. Not long after birth, he had been abandoned in the rear mountain’s pagoda forest, with a slip of paper bearing his birth characters on him — showing that he had been born under the signs of heaven-killing and earth-isolating. His parents had feared him, dreading that he would bring misfortune and disaster upon them, and so had abandoned him. His cries of distress drew the Elder, who had subsequently raised him at his side.

The monk said the child was now nearly three years old and still had not spoken a single word. The Elder was nevertheless very fond of him, and for reasons unknown held him in exceptional regard. Breaking with convention, he had come to call him his disciple — a position equal in rank to the resident abbot — yet had never formally tonsured him and accepted him into the order, saying only that this child still had worldly ties yet to be resolved. Not long after taking the child in, the Elder had given this very instruction.

Before Mu Fulan’s eyes arose once more the image from the previous evening — the child turning back to look in her direction — and her heartbeat began to quicken again, impossible to calm.

“We have arrived. This is the pagoda forest. The Elder is inside. Female patron, follow the path in.”

The monk stopped and pointed to a stone path ahead, pressed his palms together before Mu Fulan in a gesture of respect, then turned and left.

Mu Fulan followed the stone path, passing through the silent and solemn reliquary pagodas on either side of her, making her way slowly deeper into the pagoda forest. Finally, when she had reached one of the pagodas, she slowly came to a stop and looked ahead, holding her breath.

Not far ahead, there in the space between the pagodas, an elderly monk with entirely white hair and beard was with a young child — each of them holding a broom, sweeping the fallen leaves scattered on the ground around the pagoda forest.

The young child had a small topknot tied straight up on his head, and wore a miniature repurposed monk’s robe. In his hands he gripped a small broom, and was mimicking the elder monk, sweeping at the ground with measured, deliberate strokes.

His expression was young and childlike, yet his movements were precisely methodical and entirely earnest. The ground behind him had been swept immaculately clean, without a single fallen leaf left behind.

Mu Fulan did not blink, fixing her gaze upon the child before her. A feeling of closeness — the most deeply familiar she had ever known, belonging only to herself — came rushing toward her face to face.

The hollow emptiness in her heart — that void which had felt as though a piece of flesh had been gouged out of it from the very day she opened her eyes and found herself returned — in this moment was filled to the brim by a feeling of disbelieving joy and profound peace.

He was her Xi’er. She knew it.

He had returned from his cycle of reincarnation, just as he had once told her he would — come back to keep her company.

Her eyes reddened, her throat grew tight. She wanted to run to him immediately, take his small body in her arms and hold him, never letting go — to tell him that she was his mother, and from this day forward they would never be parted again. She would do everything within her power to protect him, until he had grown to adulthood and begun his own new life.

Yet she was also afraid that this self of hers would frighten him.

“Xi’er!”

She stepped forward, and in a trembling voice, tentatively called out his name.

The child stopped. Holding the small broom in his hands, he raised his head and looked at the young, beautiful woman who had suddenly appeared before him.

After a moment, he hesitated, then opened a pair of bright and guileless eyes wide, and slowly asked: “Is Xi’er me? Are you my A’Mu — the mother who has come to take me?”

Perhaps because he was speaking for the very first time, his words came haltingly, but each one was enunciated with absolute clarity.

The very instant she heard him ask this in his childlike voice, Mu Fulan could no longer hold herself back, and tears fell.

“Yes, you are Xi’er! I am your A’Mu, the mother who has come to take you!”

She answered through her sobs, nodding with force.

What fortune had she deserved, she wondered, for heaven to treat her with such great kindness. Even after so much grief and sorrow in the previous life, in this life — they had still been allowed to meet again in this way, mother and son once more.

She ran toward that small figure and gathered him into her arms in an instant, holding him tightly.

Kisses fell upon his little face like raindrops, one after another without stop.

Xi’er was held in her arms and at first did not move, letting her kiss him over and over again without a word. Slowly, his eyes filled with light radiating with joy.

“I dreamed of A’Mu coming to take me. You look exactly like the A’Mu in my dream. Yesterday Xi’er saw you, but did not dare to call out to you.”

“So you really are my A’Mu…”

His small mouth pressed close to Mu Fulan’s ear, shy yet joyful, whispering to her.

Mu Fulan’s tears flowed all the more freely, and she held him ever more tightly.

“A’Mu, please don’t cry…”

Xi’er reached out a small hand and wiped her tears.

“Good — A’Mu will not cry!”

Mu Fulan quickly held back her tears and smiled at Xi’er.

“Teacher! I have a name now!” Xi’er’s eyes shone brightly as he looked up with excitement.

“She is my A’Mu! My A’Mu has come to take me!”

Mu Fulan came back to herself, quickly wiped away her tears, gently released Xi’er, and turned to face the elderly monk who had been standing quietly to one side observing throughout.

With a heart full of deepest reverence and gratitude, she bowed respectfully to the high monk before her, broom in hand.

“Elder, Xi’er is my child. May I take him with me?”

After expressing her thanks, Mu Fulan asked.

The Elder’s gaze was serene and deep. He regarded Mu Fulan for a moment, and then said: “This child was never one who belonged to the monastic path. By the workings of fate, he had formerly come to dwell here for a time. Now that the female patron has found her way here, flesh and blood reunited — such is the way of heaven and human relations. How could I presume to refuse?”

Mu Fulan bowed in deep and earnest gratitude, then slowly settled her heart, and turning the matter over, very quickly came to a decision. She said to Xi’er: “A’Mu’s home is in a place called the Kingdom of Changsha, which is very far from here. A’Mu still has matters to attend to and cannot return with you just yet. A’Mu will first send someone to bring you home, and you wait at home for A’Mu to return — all right?”

Xi’er froze, and a look of worry appeared in his eyes. His two small arms tightened around Mu Fulan’s neck, and after a moment’s hesitation, he said quietly: “A’Mu, will you not come back, and not want me again?”

Mu Fulan’s heart ached with warmth. She gathered her son into her arms again and pressed a firm kiss to his forehead.

“Xi’er, be at ease. Xi’er is the person A’Mu loves most in this world. Before, it was A’Mu who could not find you. Now that A’Mu has finally found Xi’er, how could I not want you? Be good, Xi’er. Once the matters here are done, A’Mu will come home immediately. After that, we will never be parted again — all right?”

Xi’er let out a breath of relief, and joy spread across his face again.

“Good. Xi’er will listen to A’Mu and wait at home for A’Mu to come back.”

Mu Fulan held her son tightly for a moment longer, finally released him, and returned once more before the Venerable Huiji, saying: “Elder, I will make arrangements today to have people come up the mountain, and send Xi’er off as soon as possible.”

The Elder said nothing, and only beckoned to Xi’er with his hand.

Xi’er ran over to him.

The Elder smiled gently, and with affectionate care, patted him on the head. Then he pointed to the stretch of pagoda forest ahead and said: “This is where our fate began, and all things have their beginning and their end. Is Xi’er willing to first help his Teacher finish sweeping this ground before leaving?”

“Xi’er is willing.”

He nodded at once, ran back to pick up the small broom he had set down, then turned to smile at Mu Fulan: “A’Mu, Xi’er has to help Teacher finish sweeping the ground first before he can leave.”

Mu Fulan smiled through tears and nodded in agreement.

She stood to one side, watching the small figure of Xi’er’s back as he swept the ground with diligent effort. She wiped away the remaining traces of tears on her face, turned, and walked back to the front to begin making arrangements.

On this trip to the capital, Mu Xuanqing had arranged for two capable loyal retainers of the Mu Family to travel along with the tributary envoy’s party, disguised as attendants.

The tributary envoy’s delegation, having presented its tribute, could not remain in the capital — they had to depart within three days. But those two loyal retainers had secretly stayed behind, available for her to call upon.

Mu Fulan knew that her own path ahead was uncertain, fraught with more danger than hope.

It was precisely because of this that she wanted to send Xi’er back to the Kingdom of Changsha as quickly as possible.

Only when Xi’er had safely returned to the Kingdom of Changsha could she set down her worry and deal with the people before her.

She had to find a way to extricate herself as soon as possible. Whatever the cost, whatever the means.