Li Fuxiang replied, “I like it very much. It’s sweet and delicious. I want to take it all with me.”
Just as he finished speaking, a disguised Jinyiwei agent appeared out of nowhere and swiftly collected the untouched snacks.
Gao Yuexing glanced at him a few times.
He looked unfamiliar—not the coachman from earlier.
Gao Yuexing had long been curious about the Jinyiwei, that famed blade in the Emperor’s hand, said to be unrivaled in sharpness and precision. She couldn’t help but wonder how dazzling their brilliance would be when fully unleashed.
However, if one could not wield the Jinyiwei for themselves, it was best to never have the opportunity to encounter their power.
Gao Yuexing, her thoughts complicated, finished her vegetarian meal. After returning the dishes to a young monk, she took Li Fuxiang to seek an audience with the abbot.
A young monk led the way.
Gao Yuexing inquired, “Little master, does your temple have a female benefactor with the surname Chen who frequents this place?”
The young monk clasped his hands together and replied, “Amitabha. The benefactors coming and going from the temple are countless each day. As a humble monk, I never ask where they come from or their names.”
Gao Yuexing smiled faintly. “Is that so?”
The young monk did not understand why she was smiling.
Gao Yuexing continued, “But when I entered earlier, the monk guarding the outer gate clearly addressed me as Miss Gao. Are you sure you don’t inquire about origins or names?”
The young monk hesitated. “This…”
Gao Yuexing pressed, “How did that outer gate disciple know my surname is Gao? I’ve been away from the capital for nearly five years. To think there are still acquaintances in Qingliang Temple who recognize me. I don’t recall visiting the temple often enough to leave such an impression.”
Her smile carried a subtle hint of mockery.
The young monk’s expression showed a flicker of panic, but he quickly composed himself and sincerely apologized, “I’m sorry, benefactor. Please forgive the laughable behavior of our temple’s outer disciples, who are secular and lack discipline.”
Gao Yuexing studied him for a moment, her gaze inscrutable. Finally, she sighed meaningfully. “Forget it.”
After stepping into the temple, Gao Yuexing noticed something unusual: though the temple seemed quieter than usual, it felt as though something odd lurked everywhere.
She glanced at Li Fuxiang, uneasy.
Li Fuxiang seemed oblivious, walking along a bamboo-shaded path and curiously observing his surroundings.
Gao Yuexing cautioned, “Stay close to me.”
Li Fuxiang retracted his wandering gaze and nodded.
They were nearing the abbot’s meditation room.
The young monk opened the door to the room.
Gao Yuexing and Li Fuxiang waited outside for a moment before the young monk stepped out and bowed, gesturing, “The abbot invites you both to enter and talk.”
Gao Yuexing walked to the door at a measured pace, pausing briefly.
From inside the meditation room, the abbot’s aged voice called out, “Please enter, benefactor. It has been many years, but it seems fate has brought us together once again.”
Several years had passed.
Strangely, Gao Yuexing could still recall the abbot’s voice.
In that moment, her heightened vigilance eased entirely. She exhaled deeply—perhaps she had been overthinking things earlier.
Reassured, Gao Yuexing stepped into the meditation room.
The abbot had changed little from a few years ago. He was still robust, his gaze sharp and penetrating, and his expression kind and compassionate as he regarded her amidst the lingering fragrance of incense.
Gao Yuexing clasped her hands together and performed a Buddhist salutation. “Abbot, do you see any difference in me compared to a few years ago?”
The abbot sighed deeply, “It has been… seven years, hasn’t it?”
Gao Yuexing replied, “Just about.”
The abbot said, “Seven years ago, when I first saw you, the life pattern on your body was like the interplay of the sun and moon. On the surface, they seemed to coexist, but in truth, they could never appear simultaneously. It was impossible to discern which was real and which was an illusion.”
Gao Yuexing asked, “So, Master, can you discern it now?”
The abbot replied, “For years, I have wondered what wondrous spectacle might unfold if the sun and moon patterns within you were to truly merge.”
Gao Yuexing inquired further, “And now, have you seen it?”
The abbot said, “The cry of a phoenix piercing the heavens.”
Indeed.
Gao Yuexing stared at him, unable to speak for a long time. In the past, she hadn’t believed in Buddhism and had always thought listening to monks speak of Zen was a dull and tedious affair.
The abbot’s gaze shifted to Li Fuxiang.
In a hoarse voice, he slowly said, “Heavy with bloodshed, yet deeply blessed.” The prayer beads in his hand gently clattered with a muffled sound as he pointed at Gao Yuexing and said, “You are his blessing. The day you leave him, all that will remain on him will be endless bloodshed.”
Gao Yuexing bowed slightly, expressing her gratitude for the master’s advice. She stood and was just about to bid farewell when suddenly her vision darkened. Her legs went weak, as if stepping onto cotton, followed by an overwhelming and inexplicable drowsiness.
Why was she suddenly so sleepy?
The sleepiness came out of nowhere and wasn’t due to her body’s natural condition.
Having spent four years in the Medicine Valley and under the tutelage of legendary masters, Gao Yuexing had developed a natural sensitivity to medicine and physiology.
She belatedly realized—someone had drugged her.
Who?
Gao Yuexing steadied herself against the table, trying to regain her footing, but someone caught her and held her firmly.
Li Fuxiang was behind her, his arms securely supporting her. The incense smoke lingered in the air, curling around them. Gao Yuexing tilted her head up to meet Li Fuxiang’s gaze.
It was that look again.
Familiar yet unfamiliar, it sent Gao Yuexing’s memories drifting far away before finally settling on a place.
In truth, she could no longer clearly recall her husband Li Fuxiang’s temperament from their past life.
Unless she deliberately tried to remember.
Half-dreaming and half-awake, Gao Yuexing felt deeply buried memories resurface, unearthed from beneath the sands of time.
The wedding of Prince Xiang.
Her father had been reassigned to Shuzhong and was already preparing to depart when the Emperor’s sudden decree of marriage delayed his journey.
The Emperor allowed Gao Jing to personally witness his daughter’s wedding before leaving the capital.
Thus, the marriage between Prince Xiang and Gao Yuexing was both extraordinarily grand and yet, undeniably rushed.
From the Emperor issuing the marriage decree to Gao Yuexing’s family elders returning to the capital, and then to the completion of the ceremony, the entire process took no more than two months.
At that time, Gao Yuexing was full of curiosity about her future husband, wondering what kind of spirited and heroic figure the young general, famous since his youth, truly was.
Amid the chaotic rebellion in Shuzhong years ago, a fleeting silhouette riding through trampled blossoms had etched itself deeply in her memory. Though the scene was painted in light, subdued tones, it became the most vivid stroke in her recollections, impossible to erase, like an indelible mark.
Yet, he seldom smiled.
Whether joyful or content, his smile was exceedingly rare. Even during the most intimate moments between husband and wife, Li Fuxiang would only recline against the pillow, gazing at her with quiet intensity, without speaking.
In her previous life, Gao Yuexing had always known she never truly entered his heart.
But in this life, having met him in their youth, they entrusted each other with mutual trust. Gao Yuexing truly stayed by his side, witnessing him escape the confines of the Xiaonan pavilion, only to be sent to the Emperor’s Qianqing Palace. She watched as he rose from the darkness of hell to the pinnacle of glory.
In this life, Gao Yuexing had firmly taken root in his heart.
His obedience and unreserved reliance were experiences Gao Yuexing had never enjoyed before.
She had immersed herself in them, long since lowering her guard.
Humans wear many faces.
Li Fuxiang gently lifted Gao Yuexing’s legs and carried her to a wide chair beneath the window, curling her up comfortably. Confirming that she was sound asleep, he turned back and sat across from the abbot.
The abbot remarked, “You mixed sedative incense into my sandalwood.”
Li Fuxiang replied, “But, Master, your profound inner strength seems entirely unaffected.”
The abbot gave him a long, deep look, closed his eyes, and began chanting sutras, “Amitabha—”
Li Fuxiang picked up a teacup, poured himself tea, and sipped it slowly. A single cup lasted as long as it took for a stick of incense to burn. Finally, Li Fuxiang spoke, frowning slightly, “I’ve always found it strange—why is temple tea always so bitter?”
The abbot replied, “Because bitterness awakens clarity.”
Li Fuxiang set down the teacup, raising an eyebrow. “Master, do I look clear-headed to you?”
The abbot shook his head and said, “For Your Highness, the bitterness of this humble cup of Liu’an tea cannot compare to the bitterness of your past.”
Li Fuxiang said, “Master, you live secluded in Qingliang Temple yet seem remarkably attuned to worldly affairs. How is it you know about my past? Did you calculate it?”
The abbot replied, “This humble monk has not left Qingliang Temple for fifteen years. I cannot claim to know worldly affairs. However, Your Highness’s name is as resounding as thunder. For the past half-month, it has been a topic of conversation within the temple, impossible to ignore.”
Li Fuxiang repeated, “A topic of conversation? So, the people in this temple have been gossiping about me.”
The abbot rhythmically rotated the prayer beads in his hand and said, “Qingliang Temple has not hosted outside visitors for half a month. I had initially thought Your Highness entered unknowingly, but it seems you were well aware of the tiger on the mountain and yet chose to climb.”
Li Fuxiang lowered his head, holding the empty teacup in his hand like a delicate trinket. In a low voice, he asked, “And the monks in the temple?”
The abbot continued to rotate the simple wooden prayer beads with a steady rhythm.
He replied, “Qingliang Temple is small. The monks live self-sufficiently and harmoniously, numbering no more than twenty. Now, all of them lie buried in shallow graves in the bamboo forest behind the mountain.”
Li Fuxiang asked, “When did this happen? Half a month ago?”
The abbot did not immediately answer but glanced toward the door.
Li Fuxiang, understanding his concern, said, “For the Jinyiwei, eliminating a few people silently is no challenge. We still have time. Is there anything you wish to entrust to me?”
He spoke as if to affirm something.
Outside Qingliang Temple, near the abbot’s meditation room, the sudden clamor of killing broke out—a distinct sound of blades being drawn from their sheaths.
Almost simultaneously, the pounding of hooves shattered the stillness as horses charged through the gates of Qingliang Temple.
The abbot calmly asked, “You said there is still time?”
Li Fuxiang replied confidently, “Of course. I am here to retrieve something. What did Miss Chen of the Chen family leave behind in Qingliang Temple?”
—”Ah! Assassins! Quick! Our Highness is still inside!”
The fragmented screams of panic reached their ears intermittently.
The abbot slowly pressed the prayer beads in his hand onto the table, his expression neither mournful nor angry. “I had thought I might not live to see this day. Trapped here in Qingliang Temple, I often spent my nights studying the stars. The stars told me to wait patiently, so I waited. At last, you have come… Your Highness, the twenty-odd lives of everyone in Qingliang Temple died in vain. Their deaths were unjust, unbearably so.”