Old Madam Cheng did not press further and only asked, “Your elder sister doesn’t blame the family, does she?”
After learning that Cheng Zhixiang intended to bear a child through another woman, Cheng Ping had gone to Old Madam Cheng many times. Mother and son argued, quarreled, and struggled back and forth, yet in the end they still chose one of the Cheng family’s two concubine-born daughters and sent Cheng Hanxiang into the palace.
Cheng Yunxiang replied, “Elder Sister said she will treat Hanxiang well.”
“Zhixiang has always been a sensible child,” Old Madam Cheng said.
Yunxiang retorted silently, The rice is already cooked, what else could she do, make a scene with her natal family?
Grandmother and granddaughter spoke briefly about the important matters. Old Madam Cheng straightened herself slightly just as a maid announced from outside that Concubine Zhou, Concubine Li, and Cheng Lixiang had arrived. She had them come in to see Cheng Yunxiang.
Yunxiang rose to greet them. She noticed that Concubine Zhou was dressed far more lavishly than before, clearly benefiting from her daughter’s newfound status, with Old Madam Cheng rewarding her generously.
Concubine Li and Cheng Lixiang, however, looked faintly dejected, as if envious that Cheng Hanxiang could enter the palace and attend upon the Emperor.
After exchanging pleasantries, Cheng Lixiang leaned close to Yunxiang and whispered, “Second Sister, Eldest Sister and Third Sister both have their futures settled, but the two of us still don’t know what lies ahead.”
She would turn fifteen by the end of the year and undergo her coming-of-age ceremony. After that, matchmakers would likely come knocking. As an inconspicuous concubine-born daughter of the Cheng family, the suitors would not be especially distinguished, nor would they be the most promising sons of their households.
Her birth mother, Concubine Li, came from humble origins and had no wealth to her name, having never saved a proper dowry for her. When the time came for her to marry, everything would depend on Old Madam Cheng producing something merely to maintain appearances, with little substance beneath. Each time she thought of it, she felt deeply dispirited.
Yunxiang spoke gently, “Your second sister here lives day by day without much thought, I deal with tomorrow when it comes, I haven’t planned that far ahead.”
It was both true and not.
What truly weighed on her mind was that once the Pei family of Yanzhou marched south, Later Yue would fall, and she, bound to the crumbling ship of the Song family, would become helpless prey.
Naturally, she would never share such thoughts with Cheng Lixiang; they were not that close.
Lixiang smiled awkwardly. “Grandmother always says you are broad-minded and tells me to learn from you, not to overthink everything.”
“You have your strengths, Liniang,” Yunxiang said. “Grandmother has praised you in front of me before, saying your needlework is excellent and your demeanor gentle. You see, elders are always like this.”
Cheng Lixiang’s lips parted slightly, and she managed a rare smile.
Yunxiang stayed until evening, then left the Cheng residence with a stomach full of the delicate pastries Chen Baomiao had prepared, returning contentedly to Ganquan Temple. Before leaving, she went to bid farewell to Cheng Ping. In his study, he sat with a stern expression, lecturing her in a didactic tone to observe the rules of the Dao, cultivate sincerely, and keep a devout heart. She was nearly dozing off when he suddenly changed the subject.
“How are Zhixiang and Hanxiang getting along in the palace?”
The question startled Yunxiang. She pressed her lips together before answering, “Elder Sister has always treated us sisters well.”
“Good,” Cheng Ping said in a sanctimonious tone. “If you sisters remain united, the Cheng family will secure its footing in Lin’an.”
Yunxiang thought to herself, Enduring aristocratic families rely on generations of capable sons, not on daughters or grandsons gaining influence through marital ties. Father should be urging Cheng Wen and Cheng Bo to study diligently and succeed, that is how the Cheng family will have a future.
…But she could not be bothered to argue.
She simply murmured her agreement.
That night, a dry breeze blew softly as Cheng Yunxiang returned to Ganquan Temple and slept soundly.
Meanwhile, at the Mei residence in Sweetwater Alley, the lamps burned through the night. A spy had delivered a report that Fu Xian had gone to the Ministry of Revenue the previous evening, searching through the archives for a long time. According to the informant, he had been examining the military rosters from the time when Yingtian was garrisoned.
Mei Yan felt a wave of unease.
Just as he had expected, Fu Xian had come to Lin’an for the sake of Yingtian. His fingers clenched tightly into his palm.
They had contended with the Fu family for many years and knew well how difficult they were. Back in Yingtian, if not for the regent at the time, the second prince Song Yu, being misled and failing to send reinforcements, they would not have been so fortunate. Such luck would not come again.
He had to eliminate Fu Xian immediately. He could not wait any longer. Getting rid of him will remove a hidden threat to Beicang’s hold over Yingtian, he thought urgently.
Zhao Cheng pondered briefly. “Yes, my lord. I have already planned how to carry this out.”
In recent days, he had selected the place for the assassination and devised a way to lure Fu Xian there.
He wrote it down and showed it to Mei Yan.
Ganquan Temple.
They would lure Fu Xian there and kill him.
Mei Yan considered it for a moment. “Excellent.” Then he added, “Do not harm her.”
Do not harm Cheng Yunxiang, who was living there.
Zhao Cheng nodded. “Understood.”
Back at Ganquan Temple, Cheng Yunxiang collected the peach blossom wine she had ordered over a month ago and spent her days sipping it lightly while reading.
Shen Lanzhi, the temple’s original resident, continued his daily chores of sweeping and cleaning, occasionally slipping out through the back gate. They kept to themselves and lived without conflict.
On the night of the tenth day of the fifth month, a torrential rainstorm struck Lin’an. By dawn, it had turned into a relentless downpour, as if the Dragon King himself were pouring water from the sky.
“It’s leaking.”
Shen Lanzhi curled up in a corner, watching the steady drip of rainwater, feeling cold and damp, unable to sleep.
By midnight, the northwest corner of the room had collapsed under the rain, water streaming down the walls. He had no choice but to move under the eaves for shelter.
By dawn, the rain eased and the sky began to clear.
That morning, Cheng Yunxiang rose early and went for a walk. When she reached the back courtyard, she saw Shen Lanzhi drenched like a drowned rat, crouched over a small stove trying to start a fire. A trace of sympathy stirred in her heart.
“Daoist Shen, is your room leaking?” she asked.
The cool morning wind carried her voice away, and Shen Lanzhi misheard her, thinking she found him troublesome. He replied coldly, “When the weather clears, I will leave this place.”
Yunxiang blinked, then realized he had misunderstood, recalling the earlier attitude of the female official Liu.
“You’ve misunderstood,” she said quickly. “I was asking if your room was leaking.”
Shen Lanzhi paused.
Suli leaned forward and noticed the flush on his cheeks. “Daoist Shen, are you ill?”
He turned his head away.
Yunxiang said to Suli, “There are many empty rooms in the temple. Find a better one for Daoist Shen.”
Suli acknowledged and went to fetch the keys, but before she could, Shen Lanzhi swayed and collapsed to the ground.
Yunxiang: “……”
Half-conscious, Shen Lanzhi murmured someone’s name, though she could not make it out. Together with Suli, she dragged him to the woodshed, brewed a bowl of ginger soup, and forced it down his throat. She also had Suli bring a blanket to keep him warm.
He’s rather pitiful, Yunxiang thought.
The next day, Shen Lanzhi had not improved, still feverish and delirious. Yunxiang had no choice but to send Suli to fetch a doctor. The whole ordeal cost several taels of silver for a man she barely knew.
Fortunately, after three to five days, Shen Lanzhi recovered enough to get up, and after a few more days, he resumed his usual chores.
One afternoon, Yunxiang encountered him in the courtyard. Looking closely, she saw his tall, slender build and strikingly handsome features. He was a truly delicate-looking young man. With nothing better to do, she teased him, “Daoist Shen must be quite skilled at drawing talismans after so many years of cultivation, right?”
Shen Lanzhi lowered his eyes. “What kind of talisman does Daoist Cheng want?”
Yunxiang hesitated. “Anything, really. One for protection, wealth, warding off trouble…”
She was simply bored and looking for something to pass the time.
Shen Lanzhi nodded. “Very well.”
He returned to his room and soon came back with a tray. On it lay a talisman drawn in cinnabar ink, intricate and dazzling. He handed it to her.
“It’s for you.”
Yunxiang accepted it. “Thank you, Daoist Shen. What does it do?”
“To sever rotten romantic ties,” he said.
Yunxiang was momentarily stunned, then delighted.
He understood her perfectly. Things like that troublesome Third Prince of Beicang truly deserved to be cut off.
“Thank you, Daoist Shen. I want to learn,” Yunxiang said, blinking eagerly. “Senior brother, please teach me.”
She intended to draw countless such talismans and plaster them all over her room so that the Third Prince of Beicang would never come near her again.
Shen Lanzhi yawned and did not agree.
Yet from that day on, after they grew familiar, he seemed like a different person. When prompted, he could be quite talkative, often sharing amusing stories from the streets. In return, she invited him to drink peach blossom wine or play a few rounds of cards. Their exchanges made her days of “quiet cultivation” far more interesting.
To her surprise, Shen Lanzhi was also skilled at crafting hairpins, particularly with engraving techniques. The gold hairpins and ornaments he made were exquisitely detailed. One set, shaped like a phoenix holding a knotted flower branch, had such fine openwork in the leaves that even a strand of hair could not pass through. His room held enough pieces to form a complete set of head ornaments.
Yunxiang became fascinated with his craftsmanship and often sought him out to learn. Unfortunately, lacking talent, she could not even master the simplest hammering technique.
“How did you learn this?” she asked wistfully.
“My father once served in the Imperial Armory workshops,” Shen Lanzhi replied, his gaze dimming.
The Imperial workshops gathered the finest artisans, producing the palace’s gold and silver wares. So it was a family trade. No wonder.
But how had the son of such a craftsman ended up as a eunuch?
Was it truly as her sister had said, that he, of low birth, had coveted Princess Jianing and was castrated by the late Emperor, then sent to serve in the princess’s household?
Yunxiang sized him up, spinning stories in her mind. So you met the princess while working with your father, fell hopelessly in love, and angered the Emperor…
Just as she was immersed in her imagination, a noise came from the front courtyard.
“A thief!” Suli exclaimed, immediately running to check.
“Unlikely,” Shen Lanzhi said calmly. “I have lived here for over ten years. No one dares cause trouble.”
Near the palace, countless guards patrolled day and night. Even stray cats would practically announce themselves.
Sure enough, Suli soon returned, saying she saw no thief, only a mother cat leading her kittens chasing mice.
But as the old saying goes, one should never speak too absolutely.