Chapter 18: Beyond the Material World (I)

On the day of Qingming, the Emperor and Empress led the officials out of the city to perform the sacrificial rites.

The spring rain that had persisted for three days since Hanshi had just ceased. The distant sky shimmered brilliantly, with colorful clouds drifting by, presenting an auspicious sight that dispelled the gloom brought by recent mists over the city.

In such fine weather, the Emperor and Empress ascended the imperial tombs to pour wine and burn incense. The ministers knelt in rows at the foot of the mountain, paying their respects in silence along the path.

During the highest ceremonies, the Emperor would lead the court to first pay respects at Shouyang Mountain, then proceed to the imperial tombs, reach Xiuying Temple, light the candle tower, and by nightfall cruise the Bian River. The Crown Prince would personally preside over the sacrificial rites, paying homage to the ancestral temples, altars, and gods.

However, today was merely a regular Qingming ceremony, not requiring such complexity. Since the third year of Tianshou, the Ministry of Rites always tactfully avoided the nighttime ritual at the Bian River. The current Emperor, Zhao, was only nineteen, and there was no Crown Prince in the dynasty.

The incomplete ceremony went unspoken.

The sacrifice at the imperial tombs lasted half a day. By the time the Emperor and Empress returned to the city and ascended Xiuying Temple, it was nearly past noon. Xiuying Temple served vegetarian food as a reception.

Song Lan naturally disregarded Buddhist rules, but Luo Wei always followed protocol, insisting on separate dining for men and women upon entering the temple. Thus, Song Lan had no choice but to be accompanied by palace attendants and guards to another meditation room.

Two female officials responsible for meals respectfully stood before the table, verifying the food offered by Xiuying Temple for poison and taste-testing repeatedly. After confirming there were no issues, they respectfully excused themselves. Luo Wei glanced at the white porridge beside her hand and casually asked, “Who did he leave to accompany him?”

Yanluo replied, “It’s Censor Ye.”

Luo Wei slowly stirred the porridge with her spoon. Upon hearing this, she raised an eyebrow: “He trusts Ye San so much?”

After the morning sacrificial ceremony, the ministers didn’t need to accompany them; they bowed at the entrance and dispersed. Unless the Emperor personally ordered it, Ye Tingyan wouldn’t have had the chance to accompany them up the mountain.

Yanluo answered, “Your Majesty should consider that when the Emperor first arrived in Beiyu, he had actually forgotten the essay ‘Shang Zhi Lun’ thoroughly. It was Ye Tingyan who repeatedly devised ingenious strategies and presented them before the Emperor, earning his favor.”

“This humble servant has inquired further and learned that the Emperor originally had little impression of him and even harbored some suspicion. But Ye Tingyan’s clever mind and silver tongue managed to change the Emperor’s attitude. For the next thirteen days in Beiyu, he was summoned daily for questioning, sharing meals, and traveling together. Otherwise, how could the Emperor endure the Censorate’s criticism just to bring him back to the capital?”

Luo Wei then said, “Thus, the other day, he solved the Western Garden murder case and proved his innocence by cutting his own flesh. No wonder, no wonder he can share the Emperor’s trust with Yu Qiushi right after entering the political arena. Among those I can use, there is indeed no one else like him.”

Hearing Luo Wei’s words, Yanluo softly “hmm”ed. She had spoken much at once, and now she carefully concluded: “But this person is exceedingly intelligent, almost eerie, eloquent, and persuasive. He intentionally aligns with Your Majesty against the Grand Tutor. He can be used but not trusted. Even if Your Majesty designs to subdue him, and he actively shows goodwill, he still cannot be fully trusted.”

Trusting someone means risking heartbreak.

Luo Wei fiddled with a lonely green leaf in her bowl of porridge, shaking her head with a smile: “Such a venomous creature, who dares to trust him? If I were younger, even just two or three years younger, I’d probably be devoured alive without a trace left.”

She felt disarray in her mind and only managed to finish her bowl of white porridge. She couldn’t eat another bite.

Xiuying Temple wouldn’t light the incense burner until the middle of the afternoon. Palace attendants cleared away the remaining dishes. Luo Wei still had some time to rest, so she leaned against a roughly carved wooden lotus couch.

She wasn’t sleepy but felt deeply weary. Amidst the daze, finding it boring, she casually asked, “What ingenious move did that Ye San make in Beiyu to change Song Lan’s attitude?”

Yanluo frowned, recalling: “I heard he presented a masterpiece by a renowned artist. The painting was done by a famous painter from Beiyu. Though Central Plains literati disliked it, it circulated widely in the border regions for a time. The Emperor loved it so much that he brought it back and hung it in Qianfang Hall.”

Luo Wei found it curious: “What kind of painting is it?”

Yanluo replied, “This humble servant remembers, the name of the painting seems to be... ‘Danxiao Trampled’?”

Her drowsiness vanished instantly.

Upon hearing this, Luo Wei suddenly sat up, overwhelmed by a surge of anger and hatred. Her body felt as if bathed in boiling oil—her skin burning painfully while her insides turned icy cold, glowing red-hot yet chilling to the bone.

Yanluo was startled: “Your Majesty!”

Luo Wei reached out, tightly gripping a teacup on the table. The cool porcelain helped clear her mind slightly, knowing she couldn’t shatter it and draw attention.

But this surge of hatred had nowhere to vent.

She endured and endured, finally covering her chest and emitting a long, low laugh: “Of course, they appreciate each other as similar beings. He actually used this tactic to win hearts. Ha, he could guess, how dare he?”

After several deep breaths, she swallowed her surging emotions. Luo Wei rubbed her bloodshot eyes, feeling moisture on her fingers, which she wiped away one by one. She began explaining to Yanluo.

“Danxiao refers to the highest point of heaven where deities reside, bringing lightning and thunder into the world—Lingye is his courtesy name, meaning sun and lightning. This painting title implies... that a radiant force has been trampled.”

Such a painting was meant to commemorate Song Lan’s subtle achievements.

•

After speaking these words, Luo Wei could no longer sit idly. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she removed her golden crown, leaving even Yanluo behind, and headed alone to the secluded rear mountain of Xiuying Temple to clear her mind.

There were pavilions and old halls in the rear mountain, usually inhabited by Buddhist disciples practicing in solitude. However, Xiuying Temple, preparing for the royal visit today, had specially evacuated everyone.

Luo Wei walked slowly along the stone path behind the meditation rooms. Not far ahead, she saw an unnamed old hall.

The old hall was empty, without any plaques, but meticulously cleaned, spotless. Approaching closer, she noticed a section of the floor inside had collapsed, revealing a secret passage below. The stone lotus tiles had been dug up and not refilled.

She stood there for a moment, recalling ancient stories about the mad prince of her grandfather’s generation staging a coup. His followers had once executed a golden cicada shedding its shell strategy at Xiuying Temple. Presumably, this was the trace left by those thrilling old events.

This place had fallen into desolation, and it was unknown how many people in the world still remembered.

Luo Wei continued past the main hall and, in the vast, empty garden behind the great hall, spotted an ancient tree—or rather, the remains of an ancient tree, as its trunk was blackened and dried, showing no hint of new leaves in the spring.

Among the rugged branches reaching towards the sky, one branch bore a bright red silk ribbon tied by someone. The color was vibrant and showed no signs of wind or sun exposure.

When the wind blew, it fluttered high, dancing freely under the azure sky.

“This tree was once a hundred-year-old tree of Xiuying Temple. Countless lovesick men and women made vows here, and it was said that wishes made here were very effective.”

While Luo Wei was still gazing at the ancient tree, a smooth male voice suddenly appeared behind her. Recognizing who it was, she was somewhat startled.

Before she could speak, the man walked to her side and continued: “But no one knows which pair of devoted lovers this tree sacrificed itself for. One quiet spring night, it suddenly shed all its leaves, and life ceased. With the tree dead and the spirit gone, wishes could no longer come true. Gradually, no one came anymore.”

Perhaps due to having heard about the painting ‘Danxiao Trampled,’ Luo Wei felt a wave of icy disgust. Her words inadvertently carried a touch of sarcasm: “Lord Ye, long residing in Beiyu, how well-versed you are even in the old tales of Biandu. Oh, I almost forgot. Lord Ye’s discerning eyes see through bones to marrow. Forget popular tales; even ancient history is crystal clear to you.”

Ye Tingyan sensed her unusual tone and gave her an extra glance, surprised. However, Luo Wei quickly masked her previous sarcasm and smiled, turning to ask, “What a coincidence. What brings you here, my lord?”

Ye Tingyan feigned a bow toward her.

Luo Wei ignored him, and Ye Tingyan didn’t genuinely intend to bow either, so he bent slightly, considering the gesture complete: “His Majesty is resting during the noon hour. I found some leisure time and thought to view this legendary ancient tree in the rear mountain. Unexpectedly, I met Your Majesty here—it must be the merit of my sincere prayer to the Buddha moments ago.”

“Lord Ye is indeed a person of great fortune,” Luo Wei teased. “I thought I would meet you tomorrow during the Shangsi Spring Hunt, but today, favored by His Majesty, you’ve followed us up the mountain. It seems not only the Son of Heaven but even the gods protect you.”

Ye Tingyan remained composed: “Your Majesty flatters me. I am ashamed.”

After this statement, the surroundings fell into a sudden silence. Each harbored their thoughts, and no one broke the impasse.

Ultimately, Ye Tingyan sighed first: “Your Majesty sees me, why do you have nothing to say? At the high terrace meeting, I couldn’t believe it, fled in panic. Is Your Majesty angry with me?”

His tone was open and natural, the words he spoke ambiguous and lingering, infinitely meaningful, and it was unclear why he was no longer embarrassed.

Luo Wei forced a smile, speaking sparingly: “How could that be?”

She hesitated for a moment, seeing no response from the other party. Originally intending to ask about the painting, she instead said, “Did you finish telling the legend of this ancient tree?”

Even if Ye Tingyan intended to show goodwill, she couldn’t trust him completely—he was simply too dangerous. Any hint of hatred towards Song Lan perceived by him might someday become a fatal blade.

Ye Tingyan noticed she hadn’t meant to speak of it and didn’t delve deeper, only replying: “What I wanted to say is already said. Just now, I wanted to ask Your Majesty one more question: if this love tree were still effective, what wish would you make?”

Luo Wei indifferently replied: “His Majesty and I cherish each other deeply. What other wishes could there be? Even if there were, I wouldn’t entrust them to this dead object.”

She looked up; the wind had stopped, and the red silk drooped lazily. Behind the withered branches stretched a sky filled with colorful clouds.

For some reason, after she finished speaking, Ye Tingyan remained silent. A long while later, she heard him emit a barely audible chuckle.

The laughter contained perhaps coldness, perhaps mockery, or perhaps she misheard, and it was nothing at all.

Subsequently, a cold hand suddenly supported her waist, forcefully pulling her close.

Luo Wei was greatly startled. Coming to her senses, she found herself already in his arms.

Angry beyond words momentarily, but within moments, the faint scent of clean lan fragrance from his clothes gradually approached, gently enveloping her.

Luo Wei’s grip on his crimson robe relaxed, and she was momentarily distracted.

—In that pure lan fragrance, she smelled the familiar sandalwood scent beloved by an old acquaintance.

A short while later, she came to her senses and struggled twice. Ye Tingyan didn’t let go but instead tightened his hold with an undeniable force.

Luo Wei glanced around and frowned, pushing him away: “Ye San, you’re being presumptuous!”

However, Ye Tingyan merely looked down at her, his pitch-black eyes unreadable. Hearing her words, he didn’t flinch, only curling his lips into a sneer with a tone she had never heard before: “Presumptuous? Didn’t Your Majesty say that whatever I want, you can give? How quickly Your Majesty’s intentions change!”