In the thirty-third year of the Dayi Dynasty, during the season of Qingyang, the warm spring sunlight shone upon the red bricks and green tiles, filling the land with solemn serenity.
Qianzhong Mountain’s Ancient Ferry Temple was one of the most venerated temples in the Dayi realm and also the one closest to the imperial capital, Yingyue City. Today was the fifteenth day of the lunar month, and the temple was far more crowded with worshippers than usual.
Amid the curling incense smoke, a figure in pale yellow moved quietly through the crowd. Finding a shaded, secluded spot, Su Qingtang sat down and leaned against an artificial rockery. That uncomfortable feeling welled up again. Ever since some time ago, that faint, elusive sensation had made her feel as if her days were numbered. After her birthday yesterday, the feeling had grown even stronger.
She thought of all the worshippers she’d seen on her way here—each with smiling faces, praying sincerely for their futures. But then she remembered what the physician had told her: “This illness stems from congenital deficiency. Miss, you should make preparations soon.”
Su Qingtang had died suddenly at her work desk and awakened in this strange, supernatural era. At first, she thought it was Heaven’s mercy—she now had a prime minister for a father, a general for a mother, and even a hereditary gift that allowed her to communicate with nature and spirits.
But reality proved her luck wasn’t as good as it seemed. Her life was now nearing its end, yet her parents were still in their prime…
As she thought this, a shadow fell over her. A sudden warmth surged into her chest, filling her with new strength. When she opened her eyes, she was greeted by an enlarged scene—a bamboo-leaf-patterned oil-paper umbrella, and beneath it stood a young man in a black brocade robe. Tall and elegant, he stood among the bustling crowd like a figure from a painting.
That man, Yin Guhuai, turned lazily to glance back. “Miss Su, we should be heading back.”
Su Qingtang stared blankly at the familiar face, touching her chest—the strange oppressive feeling vanished instantly.
Seeing her still sitting there, Yin Guhuai turned and said, “Am I the Crown Prince, or are you? Must I invite you personally?”
Yin Guhuai was the Crown Prince of Dayi, a scion of the Yinglong clan—the supreme lineage when the divine aura descended upon the world, with Yingyue City as its center. To have the Crown Prince himself fetch her… her face must be larger than her father’s.
Su Qingtang quickly stood up. “Oh—oh, let’s go.”
Only then did she notice the once-clear sky had darkened, heavy clouds gathering for an impending downpour. She glanced at Yin Guhuai still standing in place and wisely moved closer to his side. Smiling, she asked, “So… are we going now?”
Yin Guhuai cast her a sidelong glance. “We’ll find Mother first. She’s still in the main hall—it may take a while.”
The prayer beads consecrated at the Ancient Ferry Temple were believed to carry blessings. Every person of age came here with their parents to pray. Since yesterday had been Su Qingtang’s birthday, they had come especially for this.
“Oh, did you hang up our red ribbons with our birth dates and eight characters?” she asked absently, walking beside him and counting the stone tiles beneath their feet.
Hanging red ribbons was another form of blessing—Bodhi trees, being spiritually aware, could protect the souls represented by the ribbons on their branches. Yin Guhuai had received prayer beads last year but hadn’t hung a ribbon then. Today, however, he had behaved properly and done so.
He looked ahead, his gaze drifting occasionally to Su Qingtang’s bowed head, slowing his steps to match hers. “Mm, I hung them,” he replied casually.
Su Qingtang toyed with her fingers, tilting her head. “Aren’t you worried someone might steal your birth data and make a voodoo doll to curse you?”
“If you’d read more serious books…” Yin Guhuai replied, not directly answering.
But having grown up with him, Su Qingtang immediately understood his meaning: she preferred reading ghost stories like Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio and had no patience for tedious statecraft texts. In short, he was calling her lazy and unstudious.
Fine. When she found his birth data, she’d make a doll for sure!
As they talked, raindrops began tapping softly on the umbrella, sliding down its tilted edge in streams. Soon, only a few umbrella-bearing pedestrians remained on the now-soaked path. In a puddle’s reflection, their figures appeared side by side—their steps steady and perfectly in sync.
On their way to the main hall, they passed the Bodhi tree. The towering giant’s lush branches were adorned with countless red ribbons. The green leaves and crimson silk intertwined beautifully, swaying with the breeze while wind chimes rang softly nearby. Su Qingtang couldn’t help but sigh inwardly: To be alive… truly is wonderful.
Seeing her stop and stare dazedly at the tree, Yin Guhuai switched the umbrella to his other hand and moved to stand on the windward side. Though spring had come, the air was still chill—especially in such fine drizzle—and Su Qingtang had always been frail.
[Little girl, do you wish to live?] A deep voice suddenly resounded in her ear. Yin Guhuai instinctively tightened his grip on the umbrella, stepping closer and scanning their surroundings.
Before Su Qingtang appeared an old man with white hair and beard, his back hunched, smiling kindly at her.
[Of course I do. Who wants to die if they can live?]
It was Su Qingtang’s voice. Yin Guhuai’s heart stirred. It was said the Prime Minister’s bloodline could communicate with spirits of mountains and trees. He had always thought it a legend—or that the bloodline’s power had long thinned out. After all, he’d known Su Qingtang since childhood and had never seen such phenomena—only her sitting alone on a wall, talking to herself.
Though curious, his expression remained unchanged.
[This old one knows a special remedy. Would the young lady be willing to try it?] murmured the Bodhi Tree spirit, stroking its long beard.
Su Qingtang’s eyes lit up instantly. [Quickly, tell me!]
[It is said that a dragon’s pearl can extend life and cure all ailments.]
The spirit’s gaze shifted meaningfully toward Yin Guhuai, standing motionless nearby. Following its eyes, Su Qingtang also looked over. She recalled her father once telling her—the royal family of today descended from the Yinglong clan.
[Even if that’s true, what difference would it make? I’ve been childhood friends with Yin Guhuai for years—if illness comes, it will come regardless!] she countered.
The Bodhi spirit shook its head. [Miss only turned of age yesterday, and your sickness began the same day. Today, this young man hung the red ribbon with both your birth dates upon my branch. The Bodhi blesses all beings—it is fate that binds us.]
[You may try.]
With that, the spirit faded into the mist.
Su Qingtang glanced strangely at Yin Guhuai and scratched her neck. “I was just checking if you hung the ribbon properly.”
Yin Guhuai pointed. “I hung it there, not here.”
…She really was going to make a doll later!
Carrying their own thoughts, the two walked on in silence until they met the Empress and the Prime Minister’s wife, who had just finished offering incense.
“Mother!” Su Qingtang spotted the Prime Minister’s wife first, calling out and lifting her skirt as she ran forward.
Seeing her lively daughter, the Prime Minister’s wife handed her prayer beads to the Empress and opened her arms. “Tangtang, slow down! It’s raining!”
Her words said one thing, but her hands and feet were already moving toward her daughter.
Yin Guhuai also quickened his pace, only stopping when Su Qingtang threw herself into her mother’s arms. He met the Empress’s amused eyes and awkwardly looked away.
At that moment, the clouds parted slightly, and warm sunlight spilled through.
The Empress took Su Qingtang’s hand and fastened the prayer beads around her wrist. “Our Tangtang is so beautiful—these beads make her even more so.”
Su Qingtang raised her hand under the light, admiring them. “Tangtang loves it! Thank you for the gift, Mother.”
Then she playfully planted a kiss on her mother’s cheek, making everyone laugh.
“But, Your Highness,” Su Qingtang suddenly called out to Yin Guhuai as he was about to leave, “you said yesterday you’d make up for my birthday gift. So today…”
Yin Guhuai knew her well—she disliked elegant, scholarly gifts. He’d given her books on Dayi history and quick calculation techniques. The night before, she had excitedly opened the largest package and nearly cried on her birthday.
Expressionless, he asked, “What gift does Miss Su want?”
Su Qingtang stepped closer, resting her chin on her hand. “I heard the Crown Prince, as one of the dragon clan, still keeps some shed dragon teeth. Could you give Tangtang one?”
Her words made the Prime Minister’s wife freeze for a moment, her eyes darting between the two before settling on the Empress.
[What’s going on with these two?]
The Empress patted her hand. [Relax. Isn’t this what we both wished to see?]
Unaware of their mothers’ silent exchange, Su Qingtang only wanted to test the Bodhi spirit’s claim. Once they returned to Yingyue City, she and Yin Guhuai would part ways. If she could conduct a small experiment, all the better. The easiest thing to obtain was a dragon’s tooth—anything else would be too suspicious.
Yin Guhuai had already suspected her intent the moment she mentioned the dragon clan. Was she trying to test me? he thought.
Still, his hands moved honestly—he conjured a dragon tooth necklace and said flatly, “Which one do you want?”
Leaning closer, Su Qingtang examined it, then pointed to one. “Which one’s the tooth I knocked out when we were little?”
Both mothers gasped. Before either could speak, Yin Guhuai, face unmoved, said coldly, “The biggest one.”
“Oh, then could you take it off for me? I want to wear it around my neck!” she said cheerfully, completely unaware of how shocking her words were.
Expression unchanged, Yin Guhuai used magic to detach the largest tooth, turning it into a pendant and handing it to her. “Put it on yourself.”
“Mhm!” Su Qingtang took it eagerly, crouched beside her mother, and said, “Mother, help me clasp it.”
“Oh, alright. Thank you, Your Highness.” The Prime Minister’s wife was astonished but quickly composed herself and fastened the necklace.
Su Qingtang looked down at the dragon tooth resting against her chest and smiled brightly at Yin Guhuai. “Thank you, Brother Crown Prince!”
Yin Guhuai shot her a cold glance. When she needed something, he was “Brother Crown Prince.” Otherwise, he was just “Your Highness.”
[Tonight I’ll take the necklace off and check—then I’ll know if Grandfather Bodhi’s words were true.]
The moment that thought echoed in her mind, the two women standing nearest her lifted their heads again.
That was… heart speech?