Chapter 52

The Sorrow of Heaven

The guests had all departed, but the Xie family’s spring banquet was not yet over. Without the patriarch’s word, the womenfolk didn’t dare to leave. Restless and uneasy, they sat, whispering among themselves.

Meanwhile, Xie Queshan had unexpectedly begun to eat. Moments ago, he had only been drinking wine, barely touching the exquisite dishes on the table. Now, he ate with elegance, unhurried and composed, as if he had no worries at all. No one could discern even the slightest hint of emotion from his face.

Most of the dishes on the table were left untouched. After such a major event, who could have the heart to eat?

The only exception was Nan Yi’s table, where every plate was empty. To her, nothing—neither heaven nor earth—was as important as the matter of eating. Glancing around at everyone else’s uneaten food, Nan Yi sighed inwardly.

What a waste.

“Second Sister,” Xie Queshan set down his chopsticks and dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “It would be good to send someone to check on Father.”

The New Year’s pastries for the temple in the rear mountain had, of course, been prepared by Lady Gantang. However, the area was guarded by Xie Queshan’s personal soldiers, and without his permission, she couldn’t send anything inside. In the earlier chaos, she had completely forgotten to ask.

Unexpectedly, it was Xie Queshan who brought it up on his own.

Lady Gantang glanced at Xie Sui’an. “Xiao Liu, you take the New Year’s pastries over, and while you’re at it, pay your respects to Father.”

Xie Sui’an froze, looking at Lady Gantang in disbelief and suspicion.

Lady Gantang simply nodded lightly at her.

This small interaction between the two did not escape Nan Yi’s notice, and she found it odd.

Was there some kind of secret hidden in the rear mountain temple?

•

Xie Sui’an carried the box of pastries alone to the temple in the rear mountain.

The area was heavily guarded by soldiers, and Lord Changning was being kept under house arrest there. Perhaps because it was the New Year, Xie Queshan had relented and allowed an outsider to enter. Normally, only servants delivering food supplies were permitted to come and go.

Xie Sui’an, however, looked unusually tense, her footsteps quick and anxious. Only she knew what—or who—was truly hidden in the rear mountain temple.

As she walked, her mind raced. Why had Second Sister suddenly assigned her this task?

She lifted the multi-tiered food box and glanced briefly inside. The amount of pastries prepared was far too much for just one person. Second Sister must have discovered something.

But Second Sister had never been to the rear mountain. How could she have found out? Staring at the food box in her hands, Xie Sui’an began to piece things together. Father practiced Buddhism and was a vegetarian year-round, but Prince Ling’an wasn’t a devout adherent. The food sent to the temple always contained hidden meat dishes. The temple’s supplies were separate from those of the main household, and compared to the Xie family’s vast consumption, no one paid much attention to the temple’s minor comings and goings.

However, Second Sister was meticulous. After taking over the household’s back courtyard affairs, she might have noticed subtle clues in the supplies. Fortunately, it was Second Sister who noticed—if Xie Queshan had found out instead… Xie Sui’an didn’t even dare to imagine the consequences.

The temple consisted of a small courtyard with two sections. The front hall enshrined a golden statue of Buddha. Though Xie Sui’an wasn’t particularly devout, she still bowed respectfully before lifting the curtain to enter the rear courtyard.

Xie Jun stood there, unsurprised to see her.

“Father, Happy New Year.”

“Go inside,” Xie Jun said, nodding slightly at her.

Standing before the door, Xie Sui’an hesitated for a moment just as she was about to push it open. She had worked tirelessly on behalf of the person inside but had never met him, had no idea what he was like, or what his temperament was.

“Your servant, of the Xie clan, pays her respects to Your Highness. I wish Your Highness long life, good health, and a prosperous New Year.”

Prince Ling’an, Xu Zhou, was hiding right under the noses of the Qi people—in the rear mountain temple where Xie Jun was under house arrest.

Xie Jun hadn’t been involved in the Bureau of the Candle’s affairs at first. It was only after arriving at the temple that he discovered Prince Ling’an was there. As a loyal minister, he naturally helped to conceal him without hesitation.

Ironically, it was Xie Queshan’s order to confine Xie Jun here that made the rear mountain temple the safest hiding spot. What had seemed like an incidental move turned out to be a fortuitous one, as the temple became an overlooked blind spot. The constant delivery of food and supplies provided a plausible cover. While the Qi soldiers watched the front courtyard meticulously, they completely overlooked the fugitive in the rear mountain.

“Lady Liu, there’s no need for such formalities. Please rise and speak.”

Xie Sui’an raised her head and looked at Xu Zhou. This was her first time seeing the young prince.

Even someone as careless as her knew that anything involving Prince Ling’an required the utmost caution. Back when she had been tasked with helping to receive him, her role was only to pass messages and send signals. The prince’s escort had been comprised of death guards handpicked by Xie Hengzai himself. Once Prince Ling’an entered the rear mountain temple, those death guards remained stationed there.

Fearing her movements would attract attention, Xie Sui’an had never dared approach the place until now.

It wasn’t until today, under the pretext of the New Year, that Xie Sui’an finally had the chance to meet this future emperor in person and discuss future plans with him.

Until now, Prince Ling’an had been mentioned repeatedly by everyone, but he was more of a symbol, a banner. What kind of person he was or what he looked like didn’t matter. What mattered was the royal blood running through his veins, which made him the last legitimate heir of the dynasty. Even though he had once been an unpopular prince, pushed to the outskirts of the empire in a remote fiefdom, this very lack of favor had spared him from disaster.

And then, suddenly, he was thrust into a precarious position of power, expected to be unyielding, to overcome danger, to possess unshakable resolve. But everyone seemed to forget that he was just a boy, not yet twenty years old.

At this moment, his image became clear to Xie Sui’an for the first time.

Years of fear and anxiety had left him looking frail and pale. He didn’t appear fierce, but there was a guarded vigilance in his eyes that spoke of someone who trusted nothing and no one.

However, the way he looked at Xie Sui’an was gentle.

Before entering, Xie Sui’an had been extremely nervous, worried she might say or do something to displease this future emperor. But upon meeting Xu Zhou, her unease melted away.

She enthusiastically opened the food box she had brought.

“Your Highness, while Father practices Buddhism, the food sent here often had to be simple to avoid drawing attention. Today, I specifically selected some pastries and treats for Your Highness to try something different.”

“Thank you, Lady Liu.”

Xu Zhou only tried a little of each item, but his youthful curiosity got the better of him. He looked up at Xie Sui’an and asked, “Is there a spring banquet being held today? I faintly heard the sound of music from the front courtyard.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Xie Sui’an replied.

For a moment, Xu Zhou seemed lost in thought, his expression tinged with envy. “How wonderful, how lively.”

“Today... the Princess Lingfu also came,” Xie Sui’an hesitated but eventually told Xu Zhou.

“Yao Yao A-jie?” Xu Zhou’s eyes lit up. “Why is she in Lidu Manor? Is she well? Did she bring back any news of Father or the rest of my siblings?”

Xie Sui’an didn’t know how to respond.

The light in Xu Zhou’s eyes dimmed. He had already understood.

“Your Highness, please don’t worry. The Candle Bureau has a new leader in Lidu. Today, he has successfully gained the trust of the Qi people. With his planning, he will surely rescue the Princess Lingfu and safely escort Your Highness to Jinling.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Xu Zhou asked anxiously.

“Your Highness, you need only wait here safely,” Xie Sui’an replied.

Xu Zhou sighed.

Sensing his dejection, Xie Sui’an felt a pang of sorrow.

This boy, who seemed so fragile and defenseless, was hiding in this small, confined place, living in constant fear while waiting for news from the outside. The burden on his shoulders was so heavy, yet there was so little he could do. He must feel utterly helpless.

She reassured him, “Leave the rest to us. We will risk life and limb to carry you through this journey.”

Xu Zhou had heard such words many times before—so many that they no longer inspired him but instead deepened his self-reproach. Yet, hearing them from Lady Liu, he felt a renewed sense of strength.

He couldn’t help but study her closely.

Pang Yu, who had always been by his side protecting him, was of a similar age, and naturally, they had often chatted. Pang Yu would frequently talk about his fiancée, Lady Xie Liu.

During their escape, Pang Yu was Xu Zhou’s only friend. In those rare moments free from terror, they would occasionally argue. Pang Yu would insist that his fiancée was the most beautiful woman in the world, while Xu Zhou would counter that his future consort was even more beautiful.

They would spend half a day debating these trivial matters, finding unexpected relief and joy in such arguments.

Based on Pang Yu’s descriptions, Xu Zhou had already formed a vague image of this woman in his mind—a stiff and lifeless image. Only upon meeting her did she come alive before him.

No wonder Pang Yu was so fond of her. She was someone who exuded vitality, a person whose energy was infectious and uplifting.

But Pang Yu was dead. Xu Zhou would never have the chance to tell him, “I’ve met your fiancée. She really is as wonderful as you said.”

A wave of sorrow swept over Xu Zhou.

“Don’t risk life and limb... I don’t want any of you to die for me,” Xu Zhou said earnestly, looking at Xie Sui’an. “Lady Liu, my condolences.”

Xie Sui’an stared at him in confusion. “Condolences?”

Xu Zhou froze, realizing that Xie Sui’an wasn’t aware.

The news of Pang Yu’s death had been carefully concealed from Xie Sui’an. They had told her that Pang Yu was on another mission, which was why he wasn’t by Prince Ling’an’s side.

But no one had instructed Xu Zhou to keep the secret, and no one expected the topic to come up suddenly.

Quickly recovering, Xu Zhou said, “I meant… your elder brother’s passing. Please accept my condolences.”

Though his answer was technically correct, Xie Sui’an’s heart skipped a beat. She felt as though she had caught a faint thread of something, but it was too elusive, like a slippery fish that escaped her grasp in an instant.

Boldly, she studied Xu Zhou’s expression. He avoided her gaze. Slowly, she clasped her hands in thanks. “Thank you for your concern, Your Highness.”

After a few more polite exchanges, Xu Zhou seemed increasingly distracted, so Xie Sui’an took her leave.

As she passed the Buddha statue again, she suddenly noticed its eyes were worn and faded.

It was as if something deep inside her had cracked even further.

Xie Sui’an stared intently at the statue, her breathing becoming shallow.

Was it because the gods had been blinded that this world had become so chaotic and unjust?

Or was it because there were no gods at all, and what people worshipped was nothing more than their repeated hopes? Hopes that flesh and blood could turn to unyielding steel, that a single drop of dew could bring the dead back to life. If not that, then at least the hope that justice would prevail, that the good would be rewarded and the wicked punished.

But what if the righteous perished as mere skeletons while the wicked still roamed free?

That thought howled through her mind. She turned back to confirm it, her steps retracing themselves.

As she returned to the courtyard, she overheard the voice of the young prince, speaking to Xie Jun with evident relief behind the carved door:

“That was close—I almost let it slip in front of Lady Liu. So she doesn’t know about Pang Yu’s death yet...”

Boom! It was as if thunder had cracked over a calm plain.

She stepped back, her foot hitting a loose stone in the courtyard. The people inside, startled, opened the door. A sliver of warm candlelight spilled out, but no matter how small it was, it couldn’t contain the vastness of this night.