Chapter 111

Our Discord Server: https://discord.gg/PazjBDkTmW

The night wind carried with it the chill of spring’s lingering cold, brushing past the Linguang Palace.

Eunuchs and palace maids stood respectfully beyond the glow of the lanterns, heads lowered. Within the hazy drapery that flickered between the burning candle flames, the Emperor placed a piece heavily upon the board. The sound was sharp, betraying a foul mood.

“Zhen fears that recalling Min Changwen to court was a grave mistake.” [TL_Note: Zhen = Royal We]

Opposite him, likewise seated within the veil of gauze, sat a woman. Though her features were but faintly visible, the luster of her dark hair at her temples and her dignified beauty could still be discerned. She possessed a gentle nature and a keen understanding of others. With jade-like fingers, she held a black stone and followed his move, the corners of her lips lightly curving as she spoke in a soft voice:

“Your Majesty has never erred. If there is fault, should it not lie with the subject?”

“Lihua… you do not understand.”

The Emperor was but in his thirties. His features were noble and upright, his mannerisms more imbued with scholarly grace than imperial majesty. He sighed as he stared at the chessboard and let out a quiet chuckle.

“Zhen became Crown Prince at seventeen, and remained so until Zhen was thirty. It was no easy road. Build a few pavilions, and the ministers say: Your Majesty must not grow indulgent. Compose a few essays, and they claim: Your Majesty meddles too much in state affairs. Invite a Venerable Master to counsel on the blessings of the realm, and they object: Your Majesty must not entrust the fate of the nation to illusory spirits and ghosts.

…I feel that, save for a few like you, all others stand in opposition to me.”

As his voice trembled with restrained anger, the woman across from him gently caressed the back of his hand, her words tender and reassuring.

“Your Majesty still governs the realm with diligence—only, they are too blind to see it.”

Hmph!

The Emperor seemed aggrieved. Yet as his other hand slapped a piece down upon the table, the warmth of her soft palm brought a measure of calm to his voice.

“My beloved consort speaks wisely. Zhen concern himself with the plight of Heliang Prefecture—do they see that? The Venerable Master foretold that the natural disasters in Heliang would be but short-lived. And was it not just a few days ago that news arrived? That rain had fallen at last, followed by several days of heavy snow.”

The graceful woman across from him curved her lips in a faint smile and replied softly:

“A timely snow heralds a bountiful year. Heliang Prefecture may yet have hope in the coming spring.”

“Indeed. Those ministers and their constant admonitions are nothing compared to the Venerable Master’s divine foresight.”

As one who had finally ascended the throne after much hardship, Emperor Chen Shubao carried a bitterness he could not easily voice. His palm landed on the table with a series of muffled thuds.

“They think Zhen does not see who schemes behind the scenes, who leaps and cavorts in the shadows. Zhen granted them such lofty positions—was it so they could vex Zhen further? Especially that Min Changwen, Zhen does not know what madness possessed Zhen to summon him back…”

Perhaps it was that his fury had reached its peak—uttering such words as “which nerve of mine misfired”—that the maids and eunuchs attending nearby blanched in fear and quietly withdrew from the hall. Such utterances were not things they dared to hear.

Within the hall, the woman rose and seated herself beside the Emperor. Reaching out, she gently stroked his back. “Calm your breath, Your Majesty. As the sovereign of the realm, words spoken in anger should be tempered. Just look at how you’ve frightened those below.”

“If they dare speak a word of this outside, beat them to death with rods.” The Emperor snapped with resentment.

The imperial consort, wise and discerning, chose not to press further on the matter. Her fingertips brushed softly along the Emperor’s back as she deftly turned the conversation.

“Lately, Jing’er has grown more and more sensible.”

“He is the Crown Prince, after all.”

At the mention of his son, Chen Shubao’s expression finally softened into a smile. The child resembled him greatly in his youth—earnest and gentle in nature, and most importantly, shared the same fondness for poetry and music.

Last year, after accompanying the imperial consort on a return visit to her native homeland, the boy had matured noticeably. He no longer showed the inattentiveness he once had toward his studies. The Grand Tutor of the Eastern Palace even praised him as having the bearing of a wise ruler, which had brought Chen Shubao joy for many days.

There was but one matter of concern—on their return journey to the capital, mother and child had encountered an assassination attempt. When questioned about its cause, the reply had been that the assailants were sent by the Venerable Master’s men—yet Chen Shubao refused to believe it.

He had said:

“Pudu Cihang is a venerable monk of great virtue, deeply learned in the Dharma, harboring compassion for all and guiding the world through calamity. As the Venerable Master of our nation, how could he possibly seek to harm Jing’er? It must surely be an impostor, seeking to sow discord.”

In the days that followed, the Emperor had noticed something else. Since the imperial consort’s return, she had suddenly taken a keen interest in matters of the divine. Within her Jieqi Pavilion, she had erected a small shrine, and from time to time would make offerings, most often to folk deities of the common people.

Perhaps she saw how I revere the Venerable Master, and so sought to please me in this way…

Such a notion eased his suspicions, and he was pleased to allow it.

Dong!

Dong dong!

Just then, the doors to the hall parted with a muffled knock. A eunuch stepped in and bowed. “Reporting to Your Majesty and the Imperial Consort—the Crown Prince has arrived.”

“Wasn’t Jing’er already asleep?”

As the eunuch stepped aside, a small figure clad in luxurious robes came dashing in. At his waist, a twin-fish jade pendant with a pearl in its mouth swayed and jingled with each step.

“Father! Mother!”

The curtain parted, and the woman within stepped out in quick strides. The golden hairpin and jade ornaments nestled within her elegantly coiled hair swayed with her movements, while her finely powdered face bore delicate features touched lightly with rouge.

Had Lu Liangsheng or Sun Yingxian been present, they would surely have recognized her at once—it was none other than He Jingqiu, who had arrived in the capital alongside them.

Over on the other side, Zhang Lihua lifted her deep crimson robes and stepped forward to greet the child, taking the small figure by the hand and leading him back beneath the gauzy curtain.

“It’s so late—why aren’t you asleep yet?”

Chen Jing nestled close to his mother, the haze of slumber still lingering on his young face. He rubbed his eyes and let out a yawn.

“Jing’er couldn’t sleep. I wanted to come see Father and Mother.”

“Very well then. Enjoy a moment of family warmth with your royal father—Mother will go change her garments.”

Facing her son, Zhang Lihua shed all trace of her usual seductive bearing and spoke with gentle warmth. She guided Chen Jing over to the Emperor, then curtsied lightly.

“Your Majesty, this humble consort shall take her leave for now. I will soon return with a bowl of warming soup.”

“Go, then.”

The Emperor chuckled as he waved his dragon sleeve, reaching out to pull the Crown Prince to his side. After asking a few questions to check on his studies over the past days, his gaze fell upon the jade pendant hanging at the boy’s waist.

“Jing’er—who gave you this?”

“A gentleman.”

“From the Eastern Palace?”

“No. It was someone Jing’er and Mother met on the road while returning to the capital. He was a very kind gentleman. Look—don’t you think this jade pendant is beautiful?”

At this point, all traces of drowsiness had vanished from Chen Jing’s face. With the glee of a child showing off a treasure, he held the twin-fish pendant up to his chest. The instructions Lu Liangsheng had given him had already slipped his mind.

“…And that gentleman could do magic! He was amazing, and very kind too!”

The Emperor’s brows furrowed. “He could do magic?”

“Mm! His name is Mister Lu Liangsheng.” The little one’s face glowed red with excitement, nodding eagerly. “Even Mother said he’s very impressive!”

Recalling how the Imperial Consort had set up a shrine upon her return to the palace, Emperor Chen Shubao’s expression darkened slightly.

But a moment later, a smile once again crept across his face as he pulled the Crown Prince close.

“You are the Heir Apparent—wearing fish motifs is unsuitable. Let Father keep this for now.”

“Another rule again?”

“Yes. The palace has its own laws and customs.”

Not long after, Chen Shubao, his expression returned to normal, enjoyed a brief moment of familial warmth with his consort and son, before returning alone to the Linchun Pavilion.

There, gazing at the twin-fish pendant still warm from his son’s body, he found himself sleepless through the long night. Only as the eastern sky turned pale did he slowly drift off.

Morning light pierced through the clouds in the east, driving away the deep blue hues of night. It spread across the imperial palace and blanketed the entire capital in golden splendor. Within moments, all under heaven was bathed in radiance.

The snow of winter had long melted away. The damp tree branches pushed forth tender new buds. Droplets that had gathered through the night slipped silently to the ground.

“Cock-a-doodle-doo… oh-oh…”

A rooster in the kitchen yard of the Min Residence stretched its neck and let out a resounding crow. The voices and footsteps of the household began to stir in response, filling the air with early morning bustle.

“…Driving away the cold of winter before my eyes,

The old tree greets spring, sprouting new branches,

Beneath the parasol tree, the immortal upon the stone.”

Lu Liangsheng pushed open the door to his room. Bathed in morning light, he stretched lazily, then made his way to the corner of the side courtyard where a large water vat stood. Scooping a mouthful of cold water, he swished it about, gargled a few times, and spat it neatly at the root of the parasol tree.

It had been two days since his return to the capital. The Spring Imperial Examination on the second of the second lunar month was just a week away. The Daoist had left the day before, saying he couldn’t get used to staying here and would rather wander about for a bit, returning after the exam.

“That’s fine. Forcing him to stay would only be awkward.”

After washing up, Lu Liangsheng shook the water from his hands. The droplets fell neatly to the ground of their own accord. Refreshed, he returned to the room. The Toad Daoist, still curled under his tiny blanket, remained fast asleep. At some point, most of the blanket had been kicked off. Sensing the cold, he smacked his lips and scratched his pale white belly with his webbed hand before rolling over to resume his slumber.

Lu Liangsheng pulled the blanket up over him, then picked up a book and strolled leisurely into the courtyard. Sitting down on a stone bench beneath the parasol tree, he basked in the sunlight and quietly recited page after page.

Heaven rewards the diligent. True knowledge comes through steady effort.

“Young Master Lu!” From beyond the crescent moon gate of the side courtyard, a maid entered carrying a tray of porridge and breakfast dishes. She bowed slightly, setting the dishes neatly upon the stone table. Her gaze lingered on Lu Liangsheng’s profile, aglow in the morning sun.

Lu Liangsheng looked up from his book, smiling with a polite nod.

The maid’s face flushed red as she lowered her gaze. In a soft, graceful voice, she said, “Young Master Lu, please enjoy,” before lifting her skirts and hurrying off like a startled bird.

At the same time, the door to the bedchamber creaked open softly. Toad Daoist raised a finger to his lips and shushed the scroll hanging on the wall, then carefully stepped out on his stubby legs. He kept his eyes fixed on his disciple, who was seated on a stone bench reading a book, and tiptoed along the wall with exaggerated caution—his round, bulging belly leading the way as he inched forward in silence.

A moment later, the Daoist scurried into Wang Shuhua’s study, grabbed a brush and a sheet of paper, his long tongue hanging in excitement as he sprinted back with flailing webbed feet.

Lu Liangsheng, having just finished his porridge, glanced toward the room and chuckled, shaking his head. He raised his book once more and quietly resumed his reading.

The parasol tree swayed gently in the breeze, its leaves rustling in a soft sha—sha—sha.

A glimmer of spring, radiant and serene.