“Prepare a tub of water,” Cheng Yunxiang said in unusually high spirits. “I want to bathe.”
Hua Ying attended her as she washed. The warm water was steeped with plum blossoms gathered in early spring, their faint fragrance soothing and refreshing. On a white porcelain lotus-leaf tray lay bath beans and a green bean cleansing powder scented with chrysanthemum leaves and osmanthus stamens, the sort of facial powder made in the imperial workshops, using only the finest ingredients.
The maids used silk cloths to carefully wipe her skin. After she finished bathing, her complexion emerged luminous and jade-like, like a freshly blooming lotus. Watching such a radiant young lady, who ought to have married the finest nobleman in Lin’an, the maids felt even more distressed, covering their faces as tears nearly fell.
Cheng Yunxiang comforted them. “Perhaps Sister is doing this for my own good.”
This whole matter had been so sudden and unusual that even now she had not fully processed it.
It was true Cheng Zhixiang was desperate for a child, but when they were at the palace earlier that day, Cheng Yunxiang had heard Old Madam Cheng mention that the Princess Consort of Prince Xu intended to adopt her as a goddaughter. Only then had Cheng Zhixiang spoken of sending her younger sister into religious life to pray for blessings. It did not seem like a carefully thought-out decision, more like something said on impulse.
Perhaps Sister knew that becoming the Princess Consort’s adopted daughter was not a good thing, yet could not say so openly, and so used this method to help her avoid it.
The maids dared not speak ill of Consort Chen.
Cheng Yunxiang smiled faintly, feeling her entire body relax, light and unburdened. For the time being, she did not have to marry. Such wonderful news, yet she could not run through the streets proclaiming it to the world, which was truly a pity.
That night, overwhelmed with joy, she was too excited to fall asleep. Even near the end of the third watch, she was still lying in bed counting sheep.
From the neighboring courtyard came hushed voices deep into the night, rising and falling. It was Concubine Li and Concubine Zhou, along with their maids, whispering in gloating satisfaction, their moods far lighter than the day before.
“She’s already sixteen. If she spends a few years in religious life…” The good husbands would no longer be hers.
“Thankfully the Third Miss and Fourth Miss didn’t enter the palace. If Her Highness had seen them, would she still have been willing to send her own sister away?” They knelt devoutly in the courtyard, bowing several times in gratitude to heaven for sparing their daughters from such a fate.
…
Later that night, after all the households had gone to sleep, Old Madam Cheng called Cheng Ping to her room and quietly told him about the Emperor and Consort Chen’s plan to have a child through another woman.
“I intend to select a pretty and clever maid from the household and send her into the palace,” she said. “What do you think?”
Cheng Ping frowned deeply. “Zhixiang is mistaken. Even if we find a suitable girl, she would not be as reliable as Hanxiang or Lixiang. If a prince is born, no matter what, he would carry our Cheng family’s bloodline.”
“Zhixiang refuses to wrong her younger sister,” Old Madam Cheng replied.
Cheng Ping hesitated. “Mother, this matter is no small thing. Allow me to think it over carefully.” It concerned the future of the Cheng lineage. There was no room for error.
That night, in Chen Baomiao’s room, he lay on the bed complaining, “If a prince were born to Hanxiang or Lixiang, he would be our own grandson. Such a good opportunity, yet Zhixiang won’t give it to her own sisters and insists on letting outsiders benefit…”
Chen Baomiao sat up, her light green mandarin duck undergarment half covering her full chest. Leaning over him, she raised her arm and smacked his shoulder. “No matter who gives birth, the child’s mother can only be Zhixiang. He can only be the Cheng family’s grandson.”
No one must ever know the identity of the birth mother.
Cheng Ping fell silent, rubbing his shoulder as he turned over to sleep. Yet neither of them could fall asleep. They tossed and turned until both grew irritated, complaining at the same time, “Are you going to sleep or not?”
Cheng Ping muttered, “If Zhixiang insists on this, she should still choose between Hanxiang and Lixiang. Sisters working together would make it easier to handle any future complications.”
“Besides, a prince born to her own sister would still be good for her. An aunt can also be a mother…”
Chen Baomiao snorted. “I don’t make such decisions, so don’t tell me about it.” She pinched him. “The one I worry about now is Yunxiang.”
Cheng Ping was unconcerned. “Yunxiang is only going to stay at a Daoist temple for a while. Once Zhixiang’s matter is settled, we can bring her back in three to five years. What’s there to worry about?”
Chen Baomiao stared at the canopy above, saying nothing, lost in thought. Cheng Ping, meanwhile, continued calculating, his mind still on his two concubine-born daughters.
…
By the middle of the third watch, Cheng Yunxiang had finally managed to sleep for a short while after processing the good news. At dawn, it was time to leave for Ganquan Temple.
Yawning repeatedly, she sat before the dressing table. Suli wrung out a silk cloth from a silver basin and wiped her face. Cheng Yunxiang dipped her hands into the water, catching the faint scent of flowers, her eyes lighting up. “Just wiping is enough.”
She would not need makeup today. “A simple hairstyle will do.”
No need for elaborate adornment. Had she known, she would have slept a little longer.
Suli looked at the large chests filled with hair ornaments beneath the table. The young lady would have no use for them in the future, and her heart ached again. She chose a pale aqua outfit for her, leaving her appearance plain yet possessing a serene elegance, like a lotus rising from water.
Cheng Ping had already instructed the steward to prepare a carriage waiting in the front courtyard. Seeing his daughter emerge, he spoke kindly, “Yunxiang has always been steady and dignified. Perhaps that is why your sister entrusted you with this important task. Once you enter the temple, do not fail her expectations.”
Inwardly, Cheng Yunxiang scoffed, but outwardly she replied, “Yes, Father. I will remember your teachings, observe the rules, and devote myself to cultivation.”
Cheng Ping nodded in satisfaction. Perhaps because his eldest daughter had always shone so brightly, he had never paid much attention to his other daughters. But at this moment, he realized his second daughter possessed beauty and intelligence no less than her sister’s. He resolved that in the future, he would find her a good marriage and not give her away lightly.
After bidding him farewell, Cheng Yunxiang boarded the carriage. Her maids Suli and Hua Ying, along with two older servant women, accompanied her to Ganquan Temple.
A gentle breeze blew through the bright late spring day as the carriage rolled along.
When they arrived, the temple’s heavy gates loomed tall, blocking the view within. As her carriage stopped, one side of the gate creaked open. A female official in palace robes stepped out with two young Daoist attendants. “Miss Cheng, please come in.”
It was Liu, the official Cheng Yunxiang had seen at Pingyue Palace the day before, sent by Empress Dowager Shen to guide her. “Come, I’ll show you around Ganquan Temple.”
In the front courtyard stood an altar to the Three Pure Ones. A graceful Daoist nun in ceremonial robes, holding a fly whisk, awaited them. “I am Li Lingzhu, Daoist named Xuanzhong. Greetings, Lady Liu, Miss Cheng.”
Hearing her name, Cheng Yunxiang searched her memory. She had heard of her before. She had entered religious life at eight and never returned to secular life. When Princess Jianing had taken vows, it was Li Lingzhu who had conducted the ceremony. Though now past fifty, she still looked radiant and youthful, her eyes bright and her hair dark, a testament to her carefree life.
Far better than marriage.
However, there were rumors that in his later years, the former emperor Song Ting had grown suspicious and established the Embroidered Guard, appointing Li Lingzhu as its leader under the guise of recruiting Daoists for alchemy. In truth, they had secretly investigated officials and eliminated those deemed disloyal, earning a fearsome reputation.
Li Lingzhu did not reside here but in Peach Blossom Temple in the south of the city. She had come today to conduct Cheng Yunxiang’s initiation. Afterward, she would become a lay follower of Daoism, officially stepping onto the path.
Cheng Yunxiang quickly returned the greeting. “Daoist Li.”
Li Lingzhu smiled warmly. “The auspicious hour has not yet arrived. Please wait a moment.”
Liu said, “Miss Cheng, in that case, let us take a look at the rear courtyard.”
They walked to Lian Garden, a residence within the temple grounds. Winding paths, blooming roses, and a quiet, refined atmosphere gave it an air of elegance and nobility.
No wonder it had been built for a royal princess.
Garden, study, meditation room—everything was there.
Cheng Yunxiang thought living here would surely prolong one’s life.
After walking for a while, they reached the stables. Pushing open a small door, two low tiled houses came into view.
“That is Daoist Shen’s residence,” Liu said quietly after a pause. “If you find him unpleasant, you may have him driven away.”
Cheng Yunxiang looked confused.
At that moment, the door creaked open, and a slender man in a worn gray Daoist robe stepped out. He appeared around twenty-seven or twenty-eight, his hair pinned with a jujube-wood ornament. Seeing them, he narrowed his eyes. “Lady Liu, what an honored guest. What brings you here today?”
Clearly, they were acquainted.
Liu replied coolly, “A distinguished guest has come to cultivate here. Did Her Highness not inform you, Daoist Shen?”
She then said to Cheng Yunxiang, “This is Shen, who once served Princess Jianing.”
At the mention of Princess Jianing, Cheng Yunxiang suddenly recalled who he was. Rumor had it that after the princess became a nun, she had fallen in love with a young man from the imperial workshops. When the former emperor discovered this, he had the man castrated and made him serve her as a eunuch. The two had lived together here for years. Later, when the princess returned to the palace, he had remained behind.
This must be that unfortunate man.
Shen Lanzhi said indifferently, “I was not informed.” He gave Cheng Yunxiang a casual glance before turning his attention back to the plants he tended in the courtyard.
Liu watched Cheng Yunxiang, ready to drive him away at a single signal.
But Cheng Yunxiang seemed not to notice and said, “The auspicious hour is nearly here. Let us return to the front courtyard so as not to keep Daoist Li waiting.”
…
Outside the temple, within the imperial city, in the court of government—
At the Hall of Resounding Chimes, officials argued fiercely, delaying Emperor Song Yu until nearly noon.
At that moment, the Minister of Rites, Chang Wuji, hurried in. “Your Majesty, an envoy from the Pei clan of Yanzhou has arrived. Left Censor-in-Chief Gao Yao has reached Lin’an.”
Song Yu straightened immediately. “So soon… Have you met him?”
Though he had heard rumors of the northern envoy’s arrival, he had not taken them seriously until now.
“I only learned of his arrival this morning and have not yet met him,” Chang Wuji replied.
“Then go at once,” Song Yu said, anxious not to appear neglectful.
Chang Wuji acknowledged and departed.
Meanwhile, in an inconspicuous residence in Sweetwater Alley—
A young man in pale robes sat in a high-backed chair, his brows sharp, his gaze steady, his bearing refined and noble. He looked to his attendant Zhao Cheng. “Has Gao Yao arrived?”
Zhao Cheng, a man in his forties, smiled. “He has entered Lin’an. Congratulations, my lord.”
You are to be married.
Gao Yao’s mission this time included seeking a marriage alliance for this young man—with the daughter of the Cheng family, younger sister of Consort Chen, Cheng Yunxiang.