Twenty li (roughly 10 kilometers) west of Xuandu’s city gate lies the Six Pure Mountains, where waves of bamboo stretch for a thousand layers and mists condense into clouds. Nestled among the clouds sits the ancient Hanqing Temple, simple, quiet, and sparsely attended.
Standing before the temple gate, Shen Qinglan said, “Only Master Liaowu and a young novice live on the mountain. Master Liaowu has been in the Buddhist faith for fifty years. He possesses the ability to engage with the world, yet he has never descended the mountain. Years ago, Prince Ying came to the mountain to inquire about the Heavenly Dao, but Master Liaowu only shook his head and smiled, refusing to calculate the dynasty’s destiny. When Prince Ying’s threats and inducements failed, he ordered the temple to be burned. Master Liaowu sat serenely in the fire, his expression pure and compassionate.”
Shen Quebai replied, “I believe there are those in this world with great abilities who can calculate heaven’s luck and human destiny, but if life relies on calculation, one knows neither joy nor how to obtain it. It is better to move forward step by step and see for oneself.”
Shen Qinglan was silent for a moment before saying, “That makes sense. It’s just that I have been blind for many years and know deeply that if you walk too slowly, you drift; if you walk too fast, you stumble; and if you take a wrong step, you end up bloodied and broken.”
“I will take your teachings to heart, Brother.” Shen Quebai helped him ascend the steps, one pause and one resonant sound at a time, “Brother, listen—I am walking steadily.”
Shen Qinglan chuckled softly and led him through the temple gate.
Crossing the quiet bamboo path, they reached a zigzagging stream. A narrow wooden bridge spanned it. Shen Quebai glanced down and saw koi swimming in the water—red, white, black, and yellow, darting and flickering like discolored lotuses. Below the bridge lay a large, stone-paved square. The temple was devoid of chanting; it was excessively quiet.
Suddenly, a young novice rolled out from the bamboo forest to the left, along with a dirt-covered radish. He tumbled twice on the ground, used his forehead to brake, leaped up with a nimble spring, and grabbed the radish to greet them, “Amitābha.”
“Greetings, Little Master Miaoshi.” Shen Qinglan returned the greeting with his brother, “My younger brother and I have come to offer a stick of incense to ward off disaster.”
Miaoshi looked at Shen Quebai, unable to say that the “disaster” they sought to ward off was currently waiting behind them. He simply said, “Follow me, patrons.”
They entered the main hall. Shen Quebai took off the wooden box from his back, removed a copper plate for offerings, and took the thin incense stick from Miaoshi, bowing three times with disciplined reverence. Miaoshi placed the incense into the burner. Shen Quebai turned around, and he heard Shen Qinglan say, “I am also here to fulfill a vow and must recite a sutra. Ah-Jiu, you should go out and clear your mind.”
Shen Quebai exited the hall without hesitation.
Shen Qinglan laughed, “Forgive my brother, Little Master.”
“Although Patron Shen does not believe in Buddha, his heart is sincere. I do not find it amusing, nor does the Buddha.” However, Miaoshi turned his gaze outside the hall and noticed that the direction Patron Shen had chosen was heading straight toward “disaster.”
Shen Quebai followed the corridor to the back of the main hall. After descending the steps, he found a winding stone path lined with unidentified small-leafed plants. At the end lay an open space. Beside it, waves of bamboo surged, while in front stood clusters of rare, brilliant Wei Zi peonies elegant, cold, and strangely harmonious.
Wei Zi peonies the Wei Zi of Xuandu.
A dazzling, enchanting face floated before Shen Quebai’s eyes, whispering to him with a cryptic smile, “It is I.”
He paused, then slapped the person flying with one palm.
At the end of the open space stood a small hall. Its doors were a pale sandalwood color, and the window lattice looked like flowing water. It was morning, and the sunlight slanted down, sweeping a circle of snowy light in front of the door.
Shen Quebai raised his eyes and saw the Buddha with bowed head and a compassionate expression. Inside the hall, a person sat on a cushion, back straight, robe hem splayed like a flower, resembling purple grass adorned with lotus. He wore no cap, his hair tied mid-length with a purple ribbon, resting neatly yet lazily over his left shoulder.
The threshold acted like a chasm, separating the two worlds inside and out.
Shen Quebai, not expecting that the Zhu Hexing he had just slapped away would reveal his true form, turned and walked away. His footsteps were as hurried as if he were being chased by a dog; he failed to notice the old monk walking out from behind the redbud trees.
“Amitābha.” Liaowu withdrew his gaze and walked to the temple door, “I have yet to congratulate Patron Zhu on his upcoming marriage.”
Zhu Hexing did not chant sutras nor ask of Buddha, only closing his eyes to calm his heart. Hearing this, he said, “If you don’t want to go without wine next month, do not disturb me.”
“Disturbed,” Liaowu turned and left immediately.
Rain fell that night, continuing on and off for three days, unsettling the heart. Shen Quebai, however, liked it. When the people from the palace arrived, he was learning to carve with Shen Qinglan.
“Mid-June?” Shen Qinglan said, “Why so hurried?”
The eunuch delivering the message chuckled, “This is the auspicious date calculated by the Chengtian Observatory!”
When a man and woman marry, one looks at the woman’s birth date to set the date. How do you calculate it for two men? By throwing dice?
Shen Quebai smiled but said nothing, knowing well that this was either made up by those charlatans at the observatory or it was someone’s specific intention.
Shen Qinglan gave them silver and had Wen Xie see them out. Seeing Shen Qinglan’s furrowed brow, Shen Quebai comforted him, “We will cross the bridge when we get to it. Brother, don’t worry.”
Shen Qinglan could not help but worry, “There is news in the court today regarding an illegitimate son.”
Shen Quebai turned his eyes; it seemed Zhu Hexing or Emperor Jing’an had made their move.
Shen Qinglan said, “The Prince of Mingxuan.”
Shen Quebai raised an eyebrow.
“If the Prince of Mingxuan is an illegitimate son, then the Emperor’s favor toward him has a concrete reason. The two kings of the Zhu clan become compensation. Those blood-written characters didn’t refer to an illegitimate son hidden in Chaotian City, but to the Prince of Mingxuan, who happened to enter Chaotian City at that time,” Shen Qinglan said, “It makes sense.”
Shen Quebai thought for a moment and recounted the events of that fateful night. Shen Qinglan did not speak immediately, but Shen Quebai could feel the aura around him turn cold; he was clearly enraged.
“No wonder you sent me an urgent letter, asking Father to plead illness before the throne and recover at home; you were meant to cooperate with Prefect Li in this play. Today’s news should have been instigated by His Majesty to shift the focus toward the Prince of Mingxuan. Is His Highness’s situation not more dangerous now?” Shen Qinglan’s profile was tense, “The wedding date hasn’t arrived…”
“But the matter has already been decided.” Shen Quebai pressed his hand, “I know you are worried about me, Brother, but I have my own plans. Don’t take risks for my sake.”
With that, he placed a small knife into Shen Qinglan’s hand, rubbing a strand of hair against the back of his hand, whispering softly, “Brother, carve me a wedding gift.”
“…” Shen Qinglan exhaled, drawing out the tone, “Fine.”
It was a small magpie, carved from white jade. White magpies were rare; adding another layer of clear and auspicious meaning to the omen of magpies bringing good news, Shen Qinglan had originally intended to give it to Shen Quebai for his capping ceremony. He had not expected the good omen to fail to arrive, and instead, bring only terrible news. Yet, he still carved it with meticulous care, drilling the hole for the tassel, sanding and polishing it, and delivering it to Shen Quebai on his wedding day.
On that day, Shen Quebai did not wear a cap; a finger-wide strip of red silk threaded through his hair, appearing and disappearing. The white jade magpie hung from his waist, the bright red highlighting the warm, clear white jade.
The sun set, dusk arrived, and the sound of gongs and drums drifted faintly, gradually becoming distinct and deafening. Shen Qinglan heard a soft sound beside him and reached out to touch, only to discover that Shen Quebai had put on his bridal veil. When the Prince’s estate had sent the wedding robes, they said the veil was optional. After all, Shen Quebai was a man; this wedding ceremony was unorthodox from beginning to end, so why follow any rites or rules?
Shen Qinglan stifled his pity, “Why put it on?”
“There are many people outside; I am shy. Besides,” Shen Quebai said meaningfully, “I want to give His Highness a surprise.”
The one who came to welcome the bride was a young man with a thin scar on the tail of his right eyebrow, his face appearing colder and more severe. Accompanying him were officials from the Ministry of Rites and the wedding party personally appointed by Emperor Jing’an. The red makeup stretched for ten li, the red silk pulled out of sight, the carriage inlaid with gold and jade, drawn by five horses with rain-drenched manes and frost-dusted hooves.
Shen Quebai stepped out of the gate. The young man stepped forward, “I am Yan Chao, Commander of the Prince of Mingxuan’s Guard, commanded to welcome you, Young Master.”
Shen Quebai said gently, “I have troubled you.”
“Please enter the palace to offer your respects.” Yan Chao raised his arm to help Shen Quebai into the carriage.
The carriage door closed, and the procession departed with gongs and drums. Shen Qinglan stood at the gate, listening as the sounds grew distant.
Shen Ruozhong was a martial general but possessed the elegant air of a scholar. He withdrew his gaze, stepped forward to support Shen Qinglan, and said, “There are many people today; Father is afraid someone will bump into you. Your brother’s great day don’t frown; it is unlucky. In three days, he will come back to see you.”
Shen Qinglan looked toward the direction the carriage had departed, murmuring, “I truly hope so.”
The wedding party moved further and further away from the Marquis’s estate. Shen Quebai traced the white jade magpie at his waist, as if he could still hear Shen Qinglan’s sigh. This road was very long; he felt he was only one breath away from “attaining enlightenment” right where he sat. By the time he entered the palace and got out of the carriage, his buttocks, which had felt like one steamed bun, had stiffened into two blocks of cold iron.
He spent the journey walking on tribute bricks, entering and leaving major palace halls, paying respects to the Empress and Empress Dowager, and finally listening to the holy teachings before the Emperor. By the time he exited the palace and reached the Prince of Mingxuan’s estate, the sky was already dark. The master of ceremonies chanted, “First bow to Heaven and Earth, second bow to the ancestors,” and the two newlyweds bowed to each other amidst countless stares of “joy,” whether true or false—the ceremony was complete.
Entering the bridal chamber, Shen Quebai sat on the edge of the bed. The accompanying nannies and officials retreated. The room was empty. He lifted his veil, lay back on the bed, and heard a “crack” from his waist.
Even if two men were in love, they could not produce children, so there were no longans, peanuts, or other fertility-inducing snacks on the wedding bed. Shen Quebai was lying comfortably and was just about to fall asleep when a light footstep sounded. He instantly woke up, sat up, and pulled the veil over his head, looking like a doll that had been soaked in cinnabar.
The door opened and closed. Shen Quebai listened to the footsteps getting closer and closer until clean black boots burst into his field of vision.
Zhu Hexing scrutinized the person at the edge of the bed. The jade bridal rod in his hand went up, lifting a corner of the red veil to reveal the agate bead string on the new Princess’s chest.
Green, white, and red intertwined, winding twice around that long, slender porcelain neck and chest.
For some reason, Zhu Hexing’s wrist faltered. After a moment of silence, the jade rod finally lifted the veil.
Outside the window, wedding blankets covered the ground; inside, a pair of red candles flickered. Zhu Hexing lowered his eyes to look and once again met lips of red, teeth of white, phoenix eyes, and green mountains.