The air was thick with incense smoke.
Gao Yuexing had made a vow before the Buddha, kowtowed, and gracefully stood up from the prayer mat, lifting the hem of her skirt.
She sensed someone watching her from behind. Turning around, she saw the elderly abbot of Qingliang Temple standing nearby, observing her with a kind and benevolent expression.
Gao Yuexing offered him a formal greeting. Just as she heard her mother call out, “Ah Xing,” she lowered her head and prepared to walk past the abbot.
However, as she passed by, the elderly abbot spoke slowly, “Young benefactor, please wait a moment.”
Gao Yuexing stopped in her tracks and looked at him, puzzled.
The abbot pressed his palms together. “This old monk sees that, despite your young age, you have come before the Buddha to make a vow. What could you desire so much that you must seek it here?”
Gao Yuexing tilted her head and smiled faintly. She replied to the old monk, “The Buddha said, ‘It cannot be spoken.'”
The abbot shook his head, a trace of helplessness flickering in his tranquil eyes. “Young benefactor, your dual destiny is both stable and perilous, transcending time and space, crystal clear and profound. Why is it that you cannot see through it? Seeking Buddha is not as good as seeking oneself.”
After saying this, the old monk walked away with measured steps, passing by her side.
Gao Yuexing stood there, stunned, for a long while. Then, she hurriedly chased after him. “Master, please enlighten me!”
The abbot lowered his head and smiled. “The Buddha said, ‘It cannot be spoken.'”
Before Gao Yuexing could respond further, her elder sister, Gao Yuemin, caught up with her, accompanied by a servant girl. She scolded her with a hint of irritation, “Ah Xing, why are you running off? Mother told me to take you back quickly!”
Gao Yuexing seemed distracted, her mind lingering on the phrase “seeking oneself is better than seeking Buddha.” The elderly abbot, having uttered words like “transcending time and space,” must have seen something extraordinary.
Seeking Buddha is not as good as seeking oneself…
What profound meaning could this hold?
Gao Yuexing mulled over the monk’s words for days, unable to smile. She felt as though she stood on the brink of an epiphany, yet she always fell just short, unable to grasp the essence of it.
At Gao Jing’s instruction, Gao Yuexing began attending lessons with her elder sister. The family had hired a private tutor specifically for the two girls.
Gao Yuemin was already studying the Zhuangzi1Zhuangzi (庄子), also known as Chuang Tzu, is both a classical Chinese text and the name of its purported author, Zhuang Zhou (ca. 369–286 BCE), a renowned philosopher of Daoism (Taoism). . Gao Yuexing, listening in on the lessons, suddenly thought of the story of Zhuang Zhou dreaming of a butterfly. The tutor mentioned the tale during the lecture, and Gao Yuexing, holding a small hand warmer, sat cozily in the study. The warmth made her drowsy, and in her half-asleep, half-awake state, her thoughts began to wander uncontrollably.
Zhuang Zhou, the butterfly.
Zhuang Zhou dreamed he was a butterfly. Was it Zhuang Zhou dreaming of the butterfly, or the butterfly dreaming of Zhuang Zhou?
Does a dreamer truly know they are dreaming?
Gao Yuexing suddenly jerked awake, sitting bolt upright as cold sweat drove away her lingering drowsiness.
Ever since the moment she reopened her eyes and found herself back at six years old, she had considered this a strange encounter. Deep down, she always believed that her former self, who had died in another lifetime, was her real self. This bizarre rebirth felt like a dream—surreal and fleeting—leaving her feeling as though she walked on clouds, her heart uneasy and unable to shake the sense of unreality.
Because the experiences of her previous life were so deeply etched, she had assumed they were real.
But what she believed to be real—was it truly real?
Gao Yuexing rushed into her mother’s room and demanded to visit Qingliang Temple again.
Madam Gao gently patted her head. “The temple fair at Qingliang Temple has already ended. Let’s wait for the next one, alright?”
Gao Yuexing shook her head. “Mother, I don’t want to see the temple fair. I want to meet the abbot of Qingliang Temple.”
Madam Gao was puzzled. “What about the abbot of Qingliang Temple?”
Gao Yuexing answered truthfully, “During the temple fair, I was fortunate to meet the master once and was lucky to receive his words of enlightenment. Unfortunately, I couldn’t fully comprehend them at the time, so I wish to visit him again.”
Madam Gao had noticed that her daughter seemed to have matured significantly since returning from the palace. Her words and actions had shed their childishness entirely. Aware that her husband was keeping a close eye on the child, she found it neither easy to refuse nor to agree and decided to wait for her husband’s return that evening to make a decision.
When Gao Jing heard about it, he pondered for a moment before saying, “Let her go. Two days from now, I will be on leave. I’ll accompany you all.”
Two days later, accompanied by her parents, Gao Yuexing visited Qingliang Temple again. After explaining her purpose, the old abbot agreed to see only Gao Yuexing.
The abbot’s wise gaze shone through his aged eyes. Though he was very old, with white hair and beard, he did not give off the impression of frailty. “Young benefactor, have you come to understand these past few days?”
Under the swirling incense smoke, Gao Yuexing’s expression appeared tranquil and gentle. “If I had understood, I wouldn’t have come to trouble you, Master.” She took the bitter tea the master poured for her, lightly sipped it, and asked, “Master, please enlighten me. How can one distinguish between dreams and reality?”
The abbot replied, “Memory regression.”
“Memory regression?” Gao Yuexing echoed.
The abbot explained, “Humans are unaware they are dreaming. The moment they realize they are in a dream, the dream will immediately end.”
“What if they never realize it?” Gao Yuexing asked.
“Then they will never escape it, not until they die,” the abbot answered.
Gao Yuexing’s heart raced. She felt that the answer she sought was within reach. “Master, what do you mean by memory regression?”
The smile on the abbot’s face deepened slightly. “The difference between a dream and reality lies in this: the memories of reality are continuous and infinitely traceable. Your memory and life form a clear, unbroken line. In a dream, it is different. While in a dream, you cannot find the source. Some people appear out of nowhere, some vanish without reason, and even the starting point of your life is often vague.”
Tears fell from Gao Yuexing’s eyes as she clasped her hands together in gratitude. “I understand now. Thank you, Master.”
Seeking Buddha or seeking oneself?
If she already knew the outcome years ahead, was she truly supposed to do nothing and wait passively for tragedy to unfold?
No!
Returning home with her parents, Gao Yuexing appeared dutiful—studying, embroidering—but a seed of rebellion had already taken root in her heart. If she continued living as a sheltered and naïve noble lady, her tragic fate would surely remain unchanged.
She had to find a way to change something.
Time flew by, and three months passed.
It was heard that in the imperial palace, His Majesty had finally eradicated all the spies from the Fox Hu Tribe. The few who were intentionally allowed to escape had served as bait, just as he had hoped, enabling a thorough purge of not only the royal city but also the entire capital.
Gao Yuexing also heard that the Emperor had instructed the Ministry of Personnel to present characters for naming the Fifth Prince and the child raised in the Qianqing Palace.
The Fifth Prince eventually chose the character “You” (宥).
Li Fuyou.
As for Li Fuxiang, it was said that the character “Xiang” (襄) had not been among those provided by the Ministry of Personnel.
The emperor himself had chosen that particular character, as his mind still lingered on that small frontier city in the western territories.
On the imperial genealogy, a spot remained empty for the Fifth Prince. By rights, since the name had already been decided, it should have been inscribed. However, the emperor postponed the matter, saying it would be done during the sacrificial ceremony to the ancestral temple in the late summer or autumn of the following year.
Those with keen insight in the court could see that the emperor’s delay was deliberate, leaving time to find a way to legitimize Li Fuxiang’s status along with the Fifth Prince’s.
The emperor was fully aware that this matter couldn’t be forced. Otherwise, arbitrarily altering the genealogy would violate etiquette and ancestral customs, causing the upright censors in court to launch fierce protests. They might even stage dramatic acts of defiance in the palace halls.
They truly would dare to do so.
Li Fuqiu had disappeared.
And that was not the most terrifying aspect.
The truly alarming part was how silently he vanished. The mistress of Jingmen Palace, Consort Hui, kept vigil at the palace gates day and night but had noticed nothing amiss. It wasn’t until three days later that someone realized something was wrong. Upon opening the door, they found the east side chamber eerily quiet and spotless. The bed, cabinets—everything was empty, leaving no trace, as though the person had never existed.
Consort Hui rushed to Qianqing Palace.
This year, Qianqing Palace was warmer than ever before. The dragon-shaped fire stoves blazed brightly, and the brazier fires burned with no expense spared. Outside, snow had been falling for days, yet the emperor wore only a single-layer robe inside the palace.
Consort Hui removed her fur coat and frowned. “Your Majesty, with the heavy burden of state affairs, you must take care of your health. The sudden shifts between the cold outside and the warmth inside make it easier to catch a chill.”
The emperor invited her to sit. “Thank you for your concern, Consort Hui. This year is unlike others—I’m raising a child in my palace.”
Since falling ill repeatedly, Li Fuxiang had not fully recovered. He had been on medication for a long time, yet his health still fluctuated, especially in the mornings and evenings. The imperial physicians said he couldn’t withstand the cold and needed extra care to stay warm in winter.
Hearing this, Consort Hui refrained from further advice, knowing that the child was now the emperor’s dearest treasure, cherished beyond compare.
When the main topic came up, Consort Hui blamed herself deeply. “It’s all my fault for failing to watch over him properly, betraying Your Majesty’s trust, and letting that wretched child escape.”
The emperor spoke calmly. “This matter is not your fault. For the past ten years, it’s been my mistake, burdening you with unnecessary trouble over a wretched child.”
From the emperor’s tone, Consort Hui sensed something unusual and raised her eyes in surprise.
The emperor smiled and handed her a cup of tea.
Zheng Qianye’s second son had gone to Medicine Valley and invited its master to treat Li Fuxiang. The details of the treatment were unclear, as the world of the martial arts community was ever-changing. The master of Medicine Valley couldn’t stay in the capital for long and remained for only half a year, leaving behind a disciple named “Yaonu (Medicine Slave).”
What Gao Yuexing knew was that Li Fuxiang’s asthma was never fully cured.
She missed him.
After the New Year, a grand spring hunt was to take place at Xiaoshan Hunting Grounds in the suburbs of the capital. The families of the court officials had already begun preparations early. This year, Madam Gao couldn’t attend due to her pregnancy. Her growing belly made it inconvenient for her to move around. Gao Yuexing often leaned on her mother’s stomach, listening for any movements from the little one inside. This child would be a boy—obedient and sensible. In the future, he would pursue martial arts and become the apprentice of the reigning martial arts champion.
The Gao family had always been open-minded. Though Gao Jing was a civil official, he had a cheerful and straightforward temperament, never looking down on warriors. Not only did he not obstruct his youngest son’s rebellious path, but he even generously lent his support.
Though Madam Gao couldn’t go to the hunting grounds, she didn’t want her condition to hold her children back. Fortunately, the eldest son of the Gao family was now grown, responsible, and dependable, so their parents entrusted the two younger sisters to his care without concern.
Gao Yuexing wasn’t entirely indifferent to the spring hunt.
She enjoyed the thrill of galloping freely across the horizon as much as anyone.
But what she looked forward to most was seeing Li Fuxiang again.
The emperor would certainly bring Li Fuxiang along to the spring hunt.
Perhaps she might catch sight of him at the hunting grounds.
Even if it was just a fleeting glance from afar, it would be enough to ease the restlessness she had been feeling.
The hunting grounds’ palace had been prepared two days in advance, and the emperor, eager as ever, set out with Li Fuxiang.
The imperial carriage headed east, with Li Fuxiang sitting inside reading a book.
On the small table beside him, a delicate food box held only three pieces of pastry.
Lately, the emperor had been restricting his pastries. He had discovered that not only did Li Fuxiang have a sweet tooth, but he also often treated pastries as meals. If he had enough pastries, he wouldn’t eat proper meals.
That wouldn’t do, so the emperor had to take measures, forbidding him from indulging too much.
—”You’ve been reading the whole way. Aren’t your eyes tired?”
Li Fuxiang still wasn’t fond of talking, but he would occasionally respond with a few words.
At first, his responses were a little awkward, and the emperor sometimes couldn’t understand him. But Li Fuxiang’s comprehension was extraordinary, and with steady teaching, he learned quickly.
When the emperor urged him, he obediently put down his book. The emperor handed him a small box, heavy in his hands. Upon opening it, he found it filled with gleaming little gold pumpkins and peanuts. The emperor said, “Keep this for rewarding people. Outside the palace is different from within. Even with my instructions, the attendants at the travel palace may still neglect things. If you’re generous, they’ll naturally be more attentive.”
Li Fuxiang carefully put the box of gold away, placing it next to his luggage.
The emperor lifted the curtain, letting him see the scenery outside.
Dusk was settling in as they traveled through the countryside. Though the weather was warming, the night wind still carried a chill. Li Fuxiang closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of the wind brushing against his face. Only those who had been imprisoned could understand the freedom carried by the wind, a feeling that stirred longing in the heart.
A river ran alongside their path, meandering through the countryside like a flowing ribbon, winding up toward the mountains and disappearing into the horizon.
Li Fuxiang leaned against the window, unable to tear his gaze away until the carriage entered the mountain road. Only then did the emperor lower the curtain and say, “We’ll arrive before nightfall.”
When they reached the travel palace, Consort Xian had arrived earlier and had made all the necessary arrangements. However, there were always matters that required the emperor’s personal attention, so he settled Li Fuxiang in his own quarters, instructed the attendants to take good care of him, and quickly left.
Li Fuxiang, holding the box of gold with both hands, stood on the high steps and watched the attendants move about, busy yet steady in their work. Suddenly, he emptied the entire box of gold onto the ground.