[Rainy night at the temple]
Early spring: the Soldiers’ Shrine was established, and the Qi Family Army set out on their return journey to the North. The Emperor held a special farewell banquet, appointing General Qi Shen as the Commander-in-Chief of the North, seeing off tens of thousands of border troops.
The Soldiers’ Shrine was situated near Huguo Temple. To show the vastness of Imperial favor, Empress Dowager led a group of princes, consorts, and officials’ families to the temple to pray for peace and well-being, guiding the souls of the thousands of fallen heroes back home. Coincidentally, the Crown Prince was currently grounded for his misconduct and was not permitted to leave even for the prayers at the Soldiers’ Shrine. His former duties in the Eastern Palace were reassigned by the Emperor to the First Prince.
The First Prince had already established his own residence outside the palace for several years and had made significant achievements in court. Once the tasks were in his hands, he handled them properly, earning himself a reputation for virtue.
The imperial carriages were lined up at the palace gates; the consorts and princes from various palaces had already arrived.
When Ying Fusheng arrived, he saw Consort Ning’s carriage in the distance. He walked up to her and greeted, “Imperial Mother.”
Consort Ning’s attitude toward Ying Fusheng’s greeting was lukewarm. Constrained by the presence of others, she had to maintain appearances, but when she saw that Ying Fusheng had his own separate carriage, a hint of hatred flickered in her eyes.
Ever since Ying Fusheng took his place among the princes at the palace banquet, his travels followed the official protocol for a prince, which included a private carriage. In contrast, her own son was grounded for a “minor mistake” and was forbidden from leaving even for a major event like this prayer ceremony. Consort Ning squeezed her palms tight. Her gaze kept drifting toward Empress Xu’s carriage; only when she confirmed there was no carriage from the Eastern Palace did she finally lose all hope.
She turned and entered her carriage, leaving Ying Fusheng standing there alone.
Many people nearby were watching. Bi Zhu said, “The Consort has been feeling uneasy and unwell lately. Your Highness resides in the Cining Palace, so you have naturally grown a bit distant from her.”
After a pause, she added: “It is cold; please do not catch a chill, Your Highness. Return to your carriage.”
Her words carried a hidden edge, subtly blaming Ying Fusheng for his lack of filial piety and for failing to return to Weiyang Palace. The onlookers around them, seeing the Sixth Prince standing motionless before the carriage, began to murmur in disapproval. Ying Fusheng lowered his eyes slightly as the carriage curtain was already drawn shut.
“Is Consort Ning…?”
“The Sixth Prince has been at Cining Palace for so long; I heard Consort Ning has been ill for several days.”
It was common knowledge within the palace that the Sixth Prince was recuperating at Cining Palace. Now, the surrounding crowd turned their gazes toward him. Recently, rumors had been circulating that Consort Ning was bedridden with illness, yet the Sixth Prince had failed to serve by her bedside. Seeing their encounter before the carriage today, the rumors seemed to be true. Low whispers broke out as the Sixth Prince, having performed his formal salutations and offered his greetings, showed a flicker of exhaustion across his pale face. He stood there for a moment before turning back toward the princes’ carriage.
As he walked toward the carriage, Ying Fusheng endured the strange looks from the people around him, many of whom had eyes full of probing suspicion.
After the Crown Prince’s downfall and Song An had sent word back to Weiyang Palace, Consort Ning had immediately declared herself ill. This coincided far too perfectly with the recent series of events in the palace. Ying Fusheng understood Consort Ning’s plan perfectly; however, he understood the drama of “loving mother and filial son” better than she did, and he possessed far more patience.
Ignoring the stares of others, Ying Fusheng boarded the carriage. Upon entering, he noticed a charcoal stove had been specially placed inside.
The palace servant responsible for driving the carriage bowed hurriedly to greet him. “Your Highness, if it gets cold, please just give the word.”
Since Shen Changcun had been demoted to the Junior Minister of the Imperial Houses, the management of imperial carriages now fell under his jurisdiction. It was not difficult for Ying Fusheng to guess who had prepared this.
“Master Shen is most thoughtful,” Ying Fusheng remarked.
The driver replied, “Your Highness, it is only right.”
With the princes’ carriage leading the way, Ying Fusheng had Song An light the charcoal stove. Having had very few opportunities to leave the palace, he paid close attention to the bustling streets as they passed through the city lanes.
Song An, meanwhile, gazed intently out the window and remarked. “Your Highness, it is so lively outside.”
“Qi Shen is setting out for the North; it’s only natural that it would be lively. With his return to the northern borders, Great Yuan stands as if protected by an iron wall.” Ying Fusheng leaned against the window frame, his gaze lingering briefly. It was indeed bustling… With Qi Shen’s departure for the North this time, Great Yuan would be secured for at least several years of peace.
In his past life, Qi Shen had been the Imperial House’s blade from beginning to end—until his Imperial Father fell gravely ill, the court succumbed to internal strife, and the new Emperor ascended the throne.
At that time, the first to extend a helping hand to him had been the Qi family.
If everything followed the trajectory of his past life, now that Qi Shen was leaving the capital, Qi Hanzhou should be taking up his post in the Embroidered Uniform Guard. From the previous Emperor to his own father, the object of the Qi family’s loyalty had always been the imperial power alone. There was only one exception: the new Emperor. When the new Emperor took the throne, the Qi family did not pledge their loyalty—and the one who led the defiance was Qi Hanzhou.
The Qi family were the Emperor’s confidants, and Qi Shen’s prestige over the Qi Family Army made him the true backbone of the entire clan. As Qi Shen’s only son, Qi Hanzhou was a man difficult to decipher. He had achieved fame as a youth, yet instead of heading to the borders to build his legacy, he remained in the capital, relegated to the Embroidered Uniform Guard where he almost completely vanished from the public eye. But Ying Fusheng knew that in just a few years, the entire Embroidered Uniform Guard would be in the palm of his hand—becoming the sharpest blade turned against the new Emperor in the future.
At this moment, Qi Hanzhou had not yet matured into the man of profound calculation he would become. However, after two meetings, Ying Fusheng knew that the man had already set his sights on him.
Just like in his past life, a “dog’s nose”… and the most useful blade of the Imperial House.
Ying Fusheng instinctively opened his palm, his expression unreadable as he lowered his eyes. While lost in thought, the imperial procession arrived at Huguo Temple.
As he stepped off the carriage, the oncoming chill cleared his drowsiness, and Song An hurriedly handed him a hand warmer.
They were to stay here for two days for the offering of incense and prayers.
Just as he disembarked, someone approached. The Seventh Prince was dressed somewhat elegantly today; since the incident at the martial arts field, he rarely wore bright or flashy ornaments. He gave Ying Fusheng a rare nod of acknowledgment before walking away toward the distance.
The First Prince’s carriage was just ahead. With the Crown Prince grounded and the First Prince performing exceptionally well lately, the status of the Yun family in court had changed significantly. The same went for the Seventh Prince; he and the First Prince were brothers of the same mother, and their bond was tight. Noble Consort Yun stepped down from her carriage with both princes standing guard before her. Ying Fusheng turned to head toward Consort Ning, only to see Bi Zhu already supporting her as they walked away.
Song An said, “I intended to go over, but Sister Bi Zhu took the Consort ahead, saying she wasn’t feeling well.”
Ying Fusheng curled his fingers and faked a light cough. Ignoring the stares from those around him, he led Song An forward.
The Ministry of Rites had organized the Soldiers’ Shrine, and the monks of Huguo Temple were performing rites for the deceased. Led by the Empress Dowager and the Empress, the princes, consorts, and families of the court officials followed in sequence to offer incense and pray.
It was Song An’s first time here, and he was cautious every step of the way, terrified of making a mistake. He was incredibly attentive to Ying Fusheng, even inquiring with the monks about the location of the pharmacy so he could prepare the Prince’s medicine.
Once he left, Ying Fusheng’s surroundings suddenly grew quiet. After sitting for only a short while, he wandered out on his own.
Huguo Temple had stood for many years, nestled in the mountain forests of the capital’s outskirts, renovated by several generations of the Imperial family.
In a secluded area of the back mountain, an elderly man in monastic robes stood still. Birds rested around him, and there were even a few wild monkeys.
Ying Fusheng saw that the monkeys were not being mischievous at all; instead, they were quietly eating grain from a bowl held by the Abbot. He stood and watched for a long time out of boredom, and the Abbot seemed to have noticed his presence long ago.
“There are many living creatures in these mountains; when they are hungry, they come to the temple to beg for food.”
The Abbot gave a slight bow to Ying Fusheng and held out the simple bowl. “Sixth Highness, why not give it a try?”
Being recognized, Ying Fusheng paused for a moment before walking to his side. He took the bowl from the Abbot’s hand, picked out a few grains, and enticed a bird to land on his arm. The Abbot remained calm as a still pond, watching patiently as Ying Fusheng expertly fed the creatures.
The youth fed them quietly, his outstretched hand held perfectly still as he waited for the birds to finish bit by bit. As the food in the bowl diminished and was finally gone, the Abbot spoke: “Your Highness is a person of kindness.”
Ying Fusheng looked at the small birds, now devoid of any predatory nature, and his interest in feeding them faded. “I wouldn’t call it kindness. I simply once raised a falcon.”
At that moment, a few drops of light rain fell from the sky.
Ying Fusheng stiffened and looked up slightly.
“The winds are heavy in the mountains, and rain is a common occurrence. This way, please, Your Highness.” The Abbot led the way.
Ying Fusheng walked through two corridors, but as he crossed a threshold, he came to a sudden halt.
The guest hall was tranquil, with incense smoke curling before the Buddha. In front of the Guanyin statue, Empress Xu stood with her hands pressed together in prayer. Her plain robes trailed across the floor; her lowered head and downcast eyes were the very picture of piety. Despite being the Empress, she had no servants attending her. The incense and candles on the altar were already half-burned; she had been here for a long time. Ying Fusheng paused, intending to turn away, but at that moment, the Empress looked over and saw him.
“Greetings, Your Majesty,” Ying Fusheng saluted.
The Empress’s gaze lingered on him for a moment as she nodded, then quickly shifted to the Abbot. “Grandmaster Liao Zhi.”
Hearing the Empress’s form of address, Ying Fusheng remembered who the Abbot was—Grandmaster Liao Zhi, the eminent monk of Huguo Temple and the former National Preceptor of Great Yuan.
“Imperial Mother! There are such huge birds on the back mountain, I want to raise one too!” The Eighth Prince came bounding in. Just as he was about to throw himself into the Empress’s arms, he nearly collided with Ying Fusheng standing by the door.
Ying Fusheng took a step back, deftly avoiding him.
Seeing the Eighth Prince, he realized why the Abbot had used a specific alms bowl for such a small task as feeding birds. It was common knowledge throughout the city that the Eighth Prince loved large birds; that small bowl had been prepared for him.
While the Crown Prince was grounded, the Empress still had the Eighth Prince under her wing, and he was the one she had brought on this trip.
The Eighth Prince ran to the Empress’s side. She restrained the playful boy, a trace of helplessness appearing in her eyes as she scolded him, saying that one should not make noise in a Buddhist hall. “The Eighth Prince is unruly; I trust he didn’t disturb you, Grandmaster?”
Grandmaster Liao Zhi replied, “The Eighth Prince is innocent and full of childish wonder; it is truly a blessing. I happened to encounter the Sixth Highness, and my business on the back mountain is finished.”
The Empress lowered her eyes and noticed the slight remnants of grain husks on Ying Fusheng’s sleeves. Hearing that Ying Fusheng had accompanied the Abbot in the feeding, her expression gradually softened. When she was composed, it was difficult for anyone to discern her emotions. Grandmaster Liao Zhi seemed to perceive something as he gestured forward to lead the way: “Since Your Majesty is here and my tasks are complete, please follow me this way.”
The Empress leaned down toward the Eighth Prince and said softly, “Mother has matters to attend to. Stay here and do not misbehave.”
The Eighth Prince murmured, “I know…”
Ying Fusheng watched the interaction between Empress Xu and the Eighth Prince, waiting quietly to the side.
The wind and rain outside were quite cold. Not far away, Empress Xu carefully brushed away the leaves and debris from the Eighth Prince’s clothes, her soft whispers full of warmth. It was as if the flickering lamplight of the Buddhist hall cast their faint, swaying shadows against the wall, trembling with the wind.
Ying Fusheng watched for only a brief moment before shifting his gaze away.
The sky grew dark as evening approached, and the chill in the air deepened. He pulled his robes tighter and turned to look out of the hall. The mountain forests were silent; nightfall was imminent.
As Empress Xu followed the Grandmaster further inside, the figure behind her gradually vanished as she turned into the corridor. Her casual observation did not escape Grandmaster Liao Zhi’s notice.
“Your Majesty has something on her mind,” the Grandmaster remarked.
“The Sixth Highness is kind-hearted; he is quite similar to Your Majesty.” The Grandmaster led the way, his tone peaceful, yet his words seemed to pierce through the surface. “In the past, when the young monks of the temple fed the living creatures, Your Majesty would always gift them a piece of candied fruit. When I came by today, several of them were still pestering me, saying they wanted to come before Your Majesty.”
However, Empress Xu’s expression turned cold upon hearing this. She looked down at the small embroidered pouch at her waist. “I forgot to bring the candied fruit today.”
Empress Xu always carried small snacks with her; it was a habit formed because of the Crown Prince since his childhood—medicine was bitter, and candied fruit eased that bitterness. Grandmaster Liao Zhi did not explicitly point out the anomaly in her attitude toward Ying Fusheng. He softly chanted a few Buddhist mantras before speaking again: “Your Majesty has come today to light a lamp for the Crown Prince, I presume?”
The Buddhist hall fell silent. Once the Empress left, the Eighth Prince stared intently at Ying Fusheng.
Ever since being pushed aside at the martial arts field, his attitude toward Ying Fusheng had become complicated. He had mentioned it to his elder brother, the Crown Prince, several times, but the Prince had ignored him. Seeing Ying Fusheng about to leave the hall, he hesitated awkwardly for a long while before finally speaking: “About that day at the martial arts field… thanks.”
Ying Fusheng glanced at him slightly, acting as if he hadn’t heard. “What?”
The Eighth Prince pursed his lips and couldn’t help but raise his voice: “I said, thank you!”
Ying Fusheng reacted as if he had just come to a realization. “There is no need for such politeness, Eighth Brother.”
Inside the hall, the lamps burned perpetually. Requesting a lamp at Huguo Temple was a ritual to pray for protection and well-being. Ying Fusheng’s gaze shifted slightly; the curtain of rain outside seemed to be thickening. As his voice trailed off, the pitter-patter of raindrops sounded like a rushing torrent. In the wilderness outside the Buddhist hall, the number of people carrying umbrellas and lighting lamps began to dwindle.
The wind and rain gathered strength as the night grew deep.
Only then did the Eighth Prince notice that Ying Fusheng was looking at the prayer lamps. Seeming to finally find a topic for conversation, he added a few more words: “You’ve rarely left the palace, so you probably haven’t seen this, right? Just behind this hall, all the consorts from the inner palace and the officials come to request lamps. Since your body is so weak, you should have Consort Ning request a few extra lamps for you, so you don’t keep getting sick…”
“Requesting lamps…?” Ying Fusheng repeated the words with a peculiar tone, casting a slight glance at him.
The Eighth Prince was puzzled. “What is it?”
Ying Fusheng suddenly let out a soft laugh. “Indeed. She really should request a few more lamps for me.”
He leaned against the doorframe of the hall, his gaze falling gloomily upon the Eighth Prince. “Since we have nothing better to do, why don’t we go and take a look at the lamps?”
The prayer ceremonies at Huguo Temple were a major event; the families of the officials followed after the Imperial family.
In a small hall on the back mountain of the temple, a woman set down her umbrella and stepped inside. Her clothes were already soaked through by the rain. Unlike the usual noble family members, the hem of her robe was patched and the corners were washed thin until they were white—clearly a woman from a frugal household. A young daughter followed behind her. After entering, the two first lit a lamp and then offered incense before the Buddhist shrine.
The surroundings were brightly lit by the lamps, but as the wind swept in, the flames within the hall flickered and swayed. The mother and daughter prayed with great piety.
When Ying Fusheng walked in, only that mother and daughter were in the hall. He lowered his eyes slightly, noting the woman’s remarkably plain everyday attire. The Eighth Prince apparently hadn’t expected anyone to be there; the moment he entered, he couldn’t stop staring at them. “Why are there people here?”
The woman was the first to see the Eighth Prince. Of all the princes, the Eighth Prince was the most flamboyant when traveling. Even though his attire was relatively simple today, that aura of imperial nobility was impossible to ignore. The woman froze for a moment before leading her daughter in a formal salute. “This humble subject’s wife greets Your Highness.”
The Eighth Prince only cared about showing Ying Fusheng the lamps. He waved his hand to dismiss their formalities and turned to call out to Ying Fusheng, “Come over here!”
Seeing the mother and daughter looking his way, Ying Fusheng gave a slight nod of acknowledgment.
The woman paused briefly, then followed suit by saluting Ying Fusheng.
With just a single glance, Ying Fusheng knew exactly who this mother and daughter were. Although the woman’s clothing was simple, the style of her sleeves and even her cloth shoes were quite distinct; her wrists were wrapped tightly and finely—a style used to fend off the biting winds by those who lived year-round in the northern borderlands. It was a sharp contrast to the ladies who had spent their lives in the capital.
This was Madam Hu, the legal wife of the Prefectural Magistrate of Anlong, Hu Buyu. Sharing the same surname, the two were childhood sweethearts.
Through Shen Yunfei, Ying Fusheng had gathered a great deal of information.
Anlong Prefecture was located in the Northwest and served as the mandatory passage to the northern territories. Dealing with the border armies stationed in the North year-round made the role of a local official there an incredibly difficult one. Yet, Hu Buyu was no ordinary man; he had once been a trusted confidant who led troops alongside Ying Fusheng’s father before his ascension to the throne. Having accompanied the Emperor for years, he was appointed Prefectural Magistrate of Anlong after the coronation.
When his Imperial Father returned in triumph this time, Prefectural Magistrate Hu’s wife and daughter had accompanied the procession to the capital. Some in the court claimed this was due to Prefectural Magistrate Hu’s wartime contributions and the Emperor’s favor. To Ying Fusheng, however, Hu Buyu was an old fox. From the moment the Emperor took the throne until now, he had stayed honestly and dutifully in Anlong, rarely interacting with the various factions in court—a rare neutral party.
To hold such a critical position connecting to the North for over a decade required more than just being a frugal, upright official. Hu Buyu was exceptionally smooth; he maintained good relations with almost everyone. Over the years, many had tried to strike deals with him, yet he managed to keep the Emperor’s absolute trust. In that regard alone, the man was far from simple.
Since Hu Buyu’s wife and daughter arrived in the capital, the Emperor had not promised any official posts, and the pair remained at home, rarely going out and avoiding the other noble ladies of the capital.
Today, however, was an exception. With the establishment of the Soldiers’ Shrine, Madam Hu—as the family of a court official—was naturally required to attend.
Ying Fusheng lowered his eyes, concealing the calculations in his heart.
His goal for coming to Huguo Temple this time was precisely them.