To follow one’s true heart is the ultimate good.

1 BCE, Chang’an

Early summer had just arrived. Golden sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, forming patches of light on the ground. In the somewhat desolate courtyard, birds sang and insects chirped in succession, creating a scene of joy and harmony.

Wang Yan carefully carried a food box, walking through the courtyard’s corridors. She discovered a colorful butterfly stuck to a spider web, desperately struggling in its death throes. Though it had broken some of the silk strands, half its wings remained trapped.

Crying out softly, Wang Yan looked around, picked up a broken branch from the grass, and rescued the poor butterfly from the spider web.

Watching the butterfly fly away unsteadily, Wang Yan remembered she still needed to bring food to her father, so she lifted her skirt hem and quickened her pace.

The Wang family was a great clan, so vast that others could not imagine it, all simply because the current Grand Empress Dowager was surnamed Wang.

When Emperor Cheng of Han ascended the throne, his first act was to ennoble his uncle Wang Feng, Marquis of Yangping, as Grand Marshal and General-in-Chief in charge of secretariat affairs.

This was an official position even more powerful than the chancellor—truly one person below the emperor and above ten thousand others.

Soon after, Emperor Cheng of Han ennobled five of the Wang family uncles as marquises in a single day. The Wang family immediately became the new nobility of Chang’an, wielding power over court and countryside with none to rival them. Eventually all the Wang brothers were ennobled as marquises, and the Wang clan’s descendants divided up positions of authority. Gradually, there weren’t enough official posts in Chang’an to distribute, and even local ministers were mostly surnamed Wang.

The Wang family became the foremost surname of the dynasty. The Wang clan’s mansions and residences in Chang’an stretched for miles with layered buildings and pavilions, rear courtyards filled with concubines and countless servants.

The Wang brothers treated the palace as their own residence, coming and going and staying overnight at will. Some Wang clan descendants even pierced through Chang’an’s city walls without permission, channeling river water from outside the city into their estates just to fill enormous pools in their courtyards for boating. Some even built halls and pavilions in their courtyards identical to the White Tiger Hall in Weiyang Palace—a serious breach of protocol that was ultimately ignored, with Emperor Cheng of Han issuing no punishment. The high officials and nobles throughout Chang’an knew that even offending someone surnamed Liu was better than offending someone surnamed Wang. Because Liu-surnamed princes were all enfeoffed in distant territories and not in Chang’an, but those surnamed Wang all had some connection to the Wang clan in one way or another.

In such an extravagant and hedonistic Wang family, Wang Yan felt her father lived like an outsider.

Because her grandfather died very early and missed the enfeoffment of marquises, Wang Yan’s father lived in the greatest poverty, rotating between living in his uncles’ homes since childhood.

Perhaps because he depended on others’ charity, her father was humble and rigorous in character, simple and meticulous in lifestyle. After the family division, he supported his mother and widowed sister-in-law, treating his brother’s orphaned sons better than his own children. Combined with his perseverance in learning, respect for elders and care for the young, and humble courtesy, against the backdrop of the Wang family’s group of dissolute sons, he quickly became a model with far-reaching reputation.

Wang Yan knew many people praised her father, but she could also see that some praised him sincerely while others revealed sarcasm and mockery. But their family was indeed impoverished—even though her father had previously held the position of Grand Marshal, his salary and rewards all went to assist subordinates or commoners.

Wang Yan was now nine years old and didn’t have a single ornament on her entire body. Her mother had previously been mistaken for a Wang family maidservant by a subordinate official who came to visit her father, showing how plainly her mother dressed.

Her right hand was getting sore from carrying the food box, so Wang Yan switched it to her left hand and used her right to lift her skirt hem. This dark green jacket and skirt, to save some money, had been made large anticipating her growth, so the hem dragged on the ground, making it difficult to walk. Usually her mother delivered food to her father, but ever since her second brother died and her father and mother completely fell out, her mother never again gave her father a pleasant look.

Thinking of her beloved second brother, Wang Yan’s small face showed sorrow. Even after more than half a year, even though their family had moved back to Chang’an from the enfeoffed state of Xindu, Wang Yan could never forget that incident.

Because Emperor Cheng of Han had died and a new emperor ascended, the new external relatives, the Fu clan, rose to power. The Fu clan wanted to replicate the Wang clan’s glory, so naturally they first had to deal with several prominent figures of the Wang family. Wang Yan’s father sadly stepped down from office and went into seclusion in the enfeoffed state of Xindu. Though they left Chang’an’s prosperity, their family had long been accustomed to this quiet, low-key life, but some people were not accustomed to it.

Even dogs take advantage of their master’s power to bully people, let alone humans.

Her mother had always been gentle and weak in temperament. Her father’s rear courtyard was simple, and she and her four brothers were all born to her mother alone, so there was no need to employ any schemes to manage the household. But the household slaves around her father showed one face of servile compliance before her father, then turned to show vicious and cruel expressions. Even after arriving in the enfeoffed state of Xindu, being far from Chang’an and surrounded by common people, they became even more wantonly arrogant and tyrannical. Her second brother Wang Huo once witnessed such a household slave oppressing common people and nearly forcing an innocent woman to death. His long-accumulated anger exploded on the spot, and he threw a punch. The household slave fell to the ground and unfortunately struck his head on stones, dying instantly.

Actually, this wasn’t really a big matter. In the Great Han Dynasty, slaves were property of the master’s family. How many slaves a family had was registered in the household records as property like horses, cattle, and sheep, all subject to taxation. This was like having a bowl at home—if it broke, it broke. Who cared whether you accidentally dropped it or deliberately smashed it? Moreover, that household slave deserved to die. When Wang Yan heard about this, she was only momentarily stunned and didn’t take it seriously.

But in her father’s eyes, this was an enormous matter.

He scolded Wang Huo—not with ugly words, but with various sage teachings that Wang Yan couldn’t understand. The scolding drove Wang Huo, who was already deeply guilty about accidentally killing someone, to drink poison and commit suicide that very night.

Wang Yan still remembered that night when her father preferred to believe others’ one-sided words rather than trust his own son, persisting in his Confucian way of punishing evil and promoting good.

But what was good and evil? Was not killing living beings good? Was indifferent observation good? Was destroying relatives for righteousness good?

Instead, because of the incident of her second brother paying with his life for a household slave, her father gained the attention of those high officials and nobles in Chang’an, who all proposed that he return to office. Soon after, they returned to Chang’an, but Wang Yan wasn’t happy at all—this had been bought with her second brother’s life, and she would rather not have it.

Because of her second brother’s incident, her mother stayed behind closed doors, her two brothers became estranged from their father, and the Wang mansion’s servants were also trembling with fear, not daring to approach their family, afraid of being blamed by the other brothers. So now only she could deliver food to her father.

Wang Yan passed through the desolate courtyard and came to her father’s study. She knocked on the door with practiced ease, entered after receiving permission, bent down to place the food box on the desk, and unsurprisingly saw her father holding a ceremonial cap and examining it carefully.

It was a Xiezhi crown.

Wang Yan had always been close to her father, and she knew this Xiezhi crown was given to her father by his teacher. Legend said the Xiezhi was a divine beast that Emperor Yao kept in his palace when he ruled. It could distinguish between people’s good and evil—when it discovered treacherous officials, it would use the single horn on its head to knock them down and then devour them. During the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, King Wen of Chu supposedly also had a Xiezhi, and later made ceremonial caps in its image to wear, so Xiezhi crowns became fashionable in Chu. Later, Qin Dynasty law enforcement censors wore Xiezhi crowns, and the Han inherited Qin institutions similarly. Common people called it the law crown—the ceremonial cap worn by law enforcers.

Wang Yan’s father was not a censor, so he had never worn this Xiezhi crown, only keeping it in his study for contemplation, reminding himself to always distinguish right from wrong and punish evil while promoting good.

When Wang Yan had seen this Xiezhi crown before, she would feel reverence, but since her second brother’s death, she found it laughable, though she couldn’t express this.

“Yan’er.” Wang Mang put down the Xiezhi crown in his hands and beckoned to Wang Yan lovingly. Wang Mang had a beautiful beard and quite the elegant temperament of a scholar. Because of his gentle and humble character, his entire person made others feel naturally drawn to him.

Wang Yan obediently knelt beside her father and looked up with a tranquil smile.

Wang Mang gently stroked the top of her head and sighed, “Very well-raised. If the current sage emperor didn’t dislike women, this old man would definitely consider sending you to the palace.”

Wang Yan lowered her eyelids, staring at the mud stain on her skirt hem, thinking disapprovingly. Her father was truly confused—she was only nine years old this year, still far from the age of maturity. The current sage emperor was already twenty-five. Even if the sage emperor didn’t dislike women and exclusively favor the current Grand Marshal, he still wouldn’t be interested in a little girl like her!

Since his second son’s suicide, his wife and children had all distanced themselves from him. Wang Mang could only talk with his daughter, not expecting her to understand.

Wang Yan was bored. As her lowered eyes wandered, she discovered that the Xiezhi crown on the desk had actually taken flight without warning, replaced by a palm-sized white little sheep!

Blinking hard in disbelief, Wang Yan almost thought she was dreaming, but her father’s rambling voice continued in her ears while her heart clearly heard another voice.

Little girl, can you see this deity?

Wang Yan looked in shock at the little sheep that had suddenly appeared on the desk. More precisely, this wasn’t really a little sheep.

“Yan’er, what’s wrong?” His daughter’s unusual expression made Wang Mang alert. He quickly followed her gaze and found his daughter was looking at the Xiezhi crown beside his hand.

“No… nothing…” Wang Yan realized her father couldn’t see the little sheep that had suddenly appeared, so she curiously asked, “Father, what does a Xiezhi look like?”

“Xiezhi is a divine sheep with a sheep’s body, a qilin’s head, and a single horn growing from its forehead.” Wang Mang rarely saw his daughter ask him questions, so he showed twelve parts patience.

Having a sheep’s body, a head like a qilin’s, and a single horn on the forehead… Wang Yan listened to her father speak while comparing it to the little sheep’s appearance, becoming more startled the more she looked. This was clearly a Xiezhi!

“Can Yan’er recognize the character for ‘good’? The character for good has a sheep radical at the top. Xiezhi can distinguish good from evil, right from wrong—it’s a divine sheep.” Wang Mang had forgotten that he had previously told Wang Yan about the Xiezhi crown’s origins, so he explained it again in detail, not noticing that his daughter was listening absent-mindedly.

What he said is correct. Only those who are truly good can see this deity. The Xiezhi blinked its black pupils, and Wang Yan could actually see a hint of amusement in them.

But Wang Yan felt horrified. She didn’t think being able to see a divine beast was a good thing—otherwise, why had she never seen it before but could only see it today? She… was definitely not someone truly good.

But why couldn’t her father see the Xiezhi? Even he wasn’t a truly good person?

Your father is a hypocritical person, so naturally he sees this deity as nothing.

Seeing that the Xiezhi could know her thoughts, Wang Yan was somewhat frightened, but on second thought, since it was a divine beast, what did this bit of supernatural ability matter? But hearing it call her father hypocritical made her somewhat unhappy.

The Xiezhi chuckled and continued: Your father gained praise in childhood for showing slight humility to elders. He became intoxicated with praise and suppressed his natural disposition. Such goodness done for praise is not true goodness but false goodness.

Wang Yan was dumbstruck. She didn’t want to believe the Xiezhi’s words, but every word it spoke stabbed directly at her heart.

Why had her father always maintained poverty alone? Why did her father need to keep himself pure? Why had her father preferred to drive his own son to death rather than lose universal praise from the world?

Was everything, everything just seeking fame and fishing for reputation…

One person’s good can be evil to others. Earlier this deity observed you saving that butterfly, but what of the spider that worked hard to weave its web? Will it not starve to death because of you? Both are living beings in this world—the spider is ugly while the butterfly is beautiful. Why did you save the butterfly but harm the spider? If it weren’t a butterfly near death but a mosquito caught in the web, what would you do? Save it or not?

Wang Yan was so confused by the Xiezhi’s string of questions that she didn’t know how she said goodbye to her father and left.

She only remembered that on this early summer evening, as she stumbled through the corridor, she inadvertently glimpsed the broken spider web with only scattered silk strands dancing in the wind.

The divine beast Xiezhi that only she could see became Wang Yan’s nightmare.

It would often appear silently around her. Though it no longer communicated with her, those dark eyes always made her shudder, making her think carefully before doing anything about whether it was good or evil.

But this torment didn’t last long before Wang Yan became reconciled to it. She wasn’t a god or buddha, nor a sage—how could she possibly be perfectly good? She tried her best to treat the omnipresent Xiezhi as nonexistent, but because of what it had said, the filial affection in her heart for her father had diminished considerably.