DAWN'S LIGHT was still faint on the horizon as Yu Qingze waited for his family to bring over his horse. He adjusted his jade crown and brushed off his clothes, then vaulted into the saddle, ready to head toward the palace gates.
His wife, Lady Zhao, came personally to see him off. "Take care, my lord. Have a safe trip."
The general nodded and set his heels to his horse's sides.
The war between Great Sui and the Göktürks had come to an end just before the new year. He'd returned from the front lines to deliver his report in time to experience the Lantern Festival, and had been summoned on short notice to accompany the emperor to the Buddhist ceremony.
The emperor kept a small and carefully chosen company today. Only his most trusted ministers were permitted to join him for the ceremony. Nearly all the valued officials who participated in decision making at the Council Hall were included—their presence demonstrated the great importance the emperor placed on this prayer ceremony. After all, there'd been a solar eclipse only the day before. Whether to atone before the heavens or soothe the hearts of the people, the Buddhist ceremony had to showcase the grandeur of Great Sui to its subjects.
The ministers had gathered, and the time had come. They set off from the Zhuque Gate with the emperor in a grand procession. Their destination was Daxingshan Temple, located in Jingshan Ward.
The snow on both sides of the road had been cleared overnight. Downy drifts still piled up on the rooftops, but this didn't impede travel. As the sun rose, the snow began to melt away—perhaps a sign that their troubles would soon fade as well, making way for a new beginning.
He Zhong, one of the emperor's personal attendants, glanced up at the sky. He quickly lowered his gaze again, looking straight ahead as he kept pace with the Imperial Guard. Inwardly, he breathed a silent sigh of relief. His mood had eased considerably.
After yesterday's eclipse, he'd been on tenterhooks—and he wasn't the only one. No one at the palace had dared even breathe too loudly.
The emperor's face had been like a thundercloud since the start of the year, and the empress had been bedridden in the palace. After the upheaval at the Prince of Qin's residence on the night of the Lantern Festival, the emperor's mood had reached a new low. As an attendant who served the emperor so closely, He Zhong naturally wasn't happy either. Court ministers often tried to curry favor with him due to his position, but in front of the emperor, He Zhong had to walk on eggshells while still dutifully carrying out his responsibilities as an attendant.
The Buddhist ceremony was something that couldn't be put off; they would have proceeded as scheduled even if a blizzard struck. But seeing the snow clear filled him with new hope.
May today go smoothly. No more snow, and no more eclipses! He Zhong prayed in his heart. Those around him were all of the same mind.
Soldiers had cleared the imperial street for the procession, and the shops on either side were tightly shut. Only the sound of hoofbeats and footsteps accompanied them down the road. There was no conversation or chatter. An occasional bird flew through the blue skies, its crisp calls echoing through the clouds.
It had been a long time since He Zhong had felt this relaxed. Lulled by the sound of the birds, he lost himself in thought, his gaze sweeping over the ministers around him. The generals marched in front, clearing the way, and they were followed by civil officials. Even pillars of the nation such as Yu Qingze were among them. It was a reassuring sight.
Only one face was conspicuously absent—Feng Xiao's.
He'd been embroiled in the trouble at the Prince of Qin's residence, then escaped the Ministry of Justice's prison. No one had seen him since. Having Deputy Chief Feng here with all his martial arts would have been even more of a comfort.
He Zhong recalled the emperor's stormy expression when the breakout was reported the previous day. In truth, He Zhong also found it hard to believe Feng Xiao was the culprit. But in that case, what was he trying to do? The emperor favored him immensely; if he wanted a higher rank and greater wealth, he needed only say the word. It made no sense for him to do something as absurd as attack the royal family.
Nevertheless, the evidence was compelling. The crown prince, the Prince of Jin, and several others had all testified against him. Without a solid explanation, even the emperor was unable to help him.
He Zhong's position was special, as he was often in close proximity to the emperor. Because he was tight-lipped and discreet, the ruling couple trusted him deeply. He knew many secrets that most people, even high-ranking officials, did not. For example, he knew that, some time ago, the chief of the Zuoyue Bureau had come before the emperor and empress. He had linked several suspicious events to the people around Princess Leping and even suggested that the princess herself was involved.
At the time, He Zhong had been standing at the entrance to the hall. What he'd overhead had shocked him. He desperately wished he'd been born deaf and blind; he determinedly pretended he didn't know the Zuoyue chief had been there at all. But afterward, he noticed the emperor and empress putting distance between themselves and Princess Leping. They no longer sent her gifts as freely as before.
When the incident had occurred at the Prince of Qin's residence, He Zhong's thoughts had turned at once to the princess. But Princess Leping hadn't been at the Prince of Qin's residence that night. She hadn't attended the banquet or even visited in the days leading up to the attack. With the princess cleared of suspicion, Deputy Chief Feng became the prime suspect.
He Zhong would never voice his thoughts, but he had privately considered the matter numerous times. Unfortunately, the more he mulled it over, the more he found the truth shrouded in layers of fog, impossible to clear.
If neither Princess Leping nor Deputy Chief Feng was the murderer who attacked the banquet, then who could it be? Surely it couldn't be Chief Cui playing a villain to catch one? He suddenly noticed that Cui Buqu was not among the procession today either—where had he gone? Honestly, things had been going awry since the start of the year. Should they change the name of their ruling era from Kaihuang to something else?
The scent of incense grew stronger as they approached their destination, rousing He Zhong from his reverie. It was the rich, warm smell of sandalwood, unique to the temple. He raised his head and saw the swooping eaves of the majestic mountain gates standing before him.
Clearing his throat, he called a drawn-out "Stop—!"
The imperial procession came to a halt. He Zhong bowed and lifted the tasseled curtain, helping the emperor alight from the palanquin. The emperor himself had requested this: He wished to walk through the mountain gates alone, without attendants, to demonstrate his sincerity.
All the officials dismounted, falling into step behind the emperor.
Master Lingzang, the temple's abbot, personally came out to greet them. He had been a close friend of the emperor since his days as the Duke of Sui. Although the temple's monks were understandably nervous about the emperor's visit, Master Lingzang was as calm and composed as ever, an attitude that only deepened the emperor's respect for him.
They exchanged a few words, and Master Lingzang led the emperor into the temple. He brought him through to the main Mahavira Hall, while the officials stopped to wait in outer Tianwang Hall.
"Your Majesty's mind is clouded, and your emotions are in turmoil. I fear you'll find it difficult to worship with a sincere heart."
Only Master Lingzang would dare say such words. The emperor wasn't upset; instead, he sighed. "I know. But I can't seem to settle my heart. I even took some calming medicine before leaving the palace."
"To untie the bell, one must find the one who tied it," Master Lingzang quietly chanted. "The Buddha resides in the heart. Worshipping him serves to cultivate peace of mind. If the obstacles in Your Majesty's heart remain, all worship will be meaningless."
The emperor was silent for a moment. "My heart has too many obstacles; I must resolve them before the Buddha."
Master Lingzang didn't say anything further, but his face was filled with compassion. He beckoned the emperor to follow.
He Zhong pricked up his ears, listening intently to their conversation as he walked behind them. It wasn't that he wished to pry into the emperor's thoughts, but it was his duty to anticipate the emperor's needs.
Master Lingzang and the emperor walked in front, while He Zhong and the junior monks trailed after them. He Zhong's eye caught on the young monk beside Master Lingzang. He had a handsome face and carried himself with remarkable poise. He appeared to be an exemplary Buddhist—his focus was drawn inward, and not once did he glance in He Zhong's direction.
When they arrived outside the main hall, Master Lingzang instructed them to offer incense as a display of their sincerity. Focused on holding his three sticks of incense, He Zhong tripped on a protruding stone. Just as he was about to topple, a hand reached out and steadied him. Even the three sticks of incense that had slipped from his fingers were snatched from the air and shoved back into his hands, as if by magic.
It was as though he had never tripped at all. He Zhong's eyes went wide, his heart pounding. He almost thought he'd imagined the entire thing. Falling and hurting himself was a trivial matter, but making a fool of himself before the emperor was a serious offense. If not for the young monk beside him, he'd probably have lost his head.
Shaken, He Zhong waited until the emperor offered his incense and took the chance to quietly thank the young monk. The monk waved a hand and pointed to his mouth, silent.
So this young man was mute.
He Zhong mused that becoming one of the monks who accompanied Master Lingzang was no small feat in itself. Not only did the abbot's attendants have to be beautiful, they must also be skillful and agile. It was a pity the man couldn't speak—he'd never be able to give a sermon as a high monk in the future.
He glanced at the young monk, then inserted the incense into the burner and hurried after the emperor.
The sound of Buddhist sutras drifted through Daxingshan Temple. Inside the main hall, the chanting seemed to wrap around them like a wall of shimmering gold, enclosing the temple in its protection. Even if it was only an imaginary barrier, He Zhong grew steadily calmer.
He gazed at the emperor, seated cross-legged in the center of the hall. Perhaps he was experiencing a similar sense of relief.
***
Feng Xiao had no idea He Zhong felt so sorry for him.
In fact, he hadn't intended to infiltrate Daxingshan Temple. But he'd only just escaped the Ministry of Justice and desperately needed to wash and change his clothes. Returning to the Jiejian Bureau was not an option—only if he remained in the shadows would he pose a threat to the enemy.
He'd been contemplating finding a brothel and pretending he was a wandering gentleman in order to rid himself of the stench when he passed Daxingshan Temple. The smell of sandalwood and the soft sound of chanting had stopped him in his tracks. In the distance, a young monk happened to be returning to the temple. A brilliant idea bloomed in Feng Xiao's mind.
He could never previously have given up all his worldly attachments, but things had changed. After marinating in the smell of chamber pots for hours, his nose seemed to be broken—everything still reeked. He'd need to wash his hair ten times at least. Psychological scarring was difficult to heal.
Why not start anew?
His neurotic need for cleanliness was the deciding factor. He crept up behind the returning monk, a young man named Congyun, and knocked him out cold. After tapping his sleep acupoints, he tossed him under a bridge on the outskirts of the city with some water and dry rations. The unfortunate young man wouldn't be back for several days—and Feng Xiao only needed one.
He Zhong's stumble was no accident. Feng Xiao deliberately led him toward the protruding brick. No matter how well one concealed their martial prowess, it was difficult to suppress reflexes. But He Zhong's reaction had been that of an ordinary person; he couldn't be an infiltrator. Feng Xiao promptly turned his attention elsewhere.
Throughout the day, he'd wandered all over the temple under various pretexts and seen no suspicious individuals. But it was possible they were too well-hidden for him to find by simply walking around. Feng-er furrowed his brow, then smoothed it, resuming the act of a silent and dutiful monk.
The emperor sat on the mat for a long time, but the chanting failed to soothe him. A restless beast seemed to pace anxiously within his chest.
The war with the Göktürks had lasted three years. The previous dynasty had attempted to secure peace with the Khaganate through marriage, but the emperor of Sui refused to compromise. He opted to steadily grind the Göktürks down. He sent envoys to sow discord among the tribes while also engaging them in open battle. This combination of soft and hard tactics had ultimately forced Ishbara Khagan to sue for peace.
It was an achievement on par with those of Qin Shi Huang, first to unify the disparate nations of the land, or the legendary Emperor Wu of Han. The emperor himself was exceedingly pleased. Even if he didn't order it, future history texts would surely chronicle his contributions in vivid detail.
Yet this joy had been unexpectedly dampened by a series of setbacks. Someone had sought to catch him off guard with the solar eclipse, this much was true—but while the enemy could bribe Hong Yuan, they couldn't control the heavens. Could it be that he really shouldn't have usurped the Yuwens?
At last the Buddhist rites came to a close, and the monks lining the walls quietly departed. At the center of the vast Mahavira Hall, only Master Lingzang and the emperor remained.
Even He Zhong had retreated to a corner. Without waiting for the emperor's orders, he closed the doors, giving them privacy to converse.
Master Lingzang and the emperor sat face to face, both silent. A long time passed.
"Was I too ruthless in eradicating the Yuwen family?" The emperor seemed to be asking himself as much as Master Lingzang.
"Your Majesty already knows the answer in your heart," said Master Lingzang. "Why do you ask me?"
The emperor's voice was hoarse. "No dynasty yields to another without bloodshed. What choice did I have…?"
His voice trailed off. Despite his justifications, he couldn't rid himself of his guilt.
Master Lingzang sighed. "Heads are not like chives, Your Majesty. Once you cut them off, they will not grow back. Your Majesty understands this well; your recent disquiet is due to your own inner demons. However, the new dynasty you've established—one that stabilizes our borders and eases the burdens on the people—has greatly benefited the common folk. Such progress would never have been possible under the previous dynasty. Each year, countless civilians on the borders faced slaughter or capture at the hands of the Göktürks. The line between good and evil is not a clear one. You've taken lives, yet you've also done great deeds. We cannot generalize. Your Majesty does what Your Majesty must. Remember your guilt over the Yuwen family and become merciful. Hundreds of years from now, when all these events are history, the people of the future shall come to their own conclusions."
The emperor's old friend was a monk through and through, and often spoke in abstruse terms that made it hard for ordinary folk to understand him. It was rare for him to offer such candid words of comfort.
After days of being repressed, the emperor's emotions finally surged to the fore. Eyes reddening at the rims, he forced a smile. "Truly, you understand me best."
Master Lingzang's counsel had banished half his worries in one stroke.
"Allow me to recite a sutra for Your Majesty," suggested Master Lingzang.
The emperor nodded. "I would be much obliged."
Master Lingzang didn't overthink his choice. He casually recited a passage from the Surangama Sutra. The emperor didn't need to hear him recite any text in particular; all he needed was inner peace. A thousand words from a bystander were nothing compared to a single moment of self-enlightenment.
Master Lingzang recited the sutra, his words like flowing water. His voice was aged, yet it wasn't hoarse but filled with a tranquility brought about by the slow ebb of time. The fragrance of sandalwood permeated the air as the rhythmic sound of chanting filled the hall. Gradually, the emperor slipped into a reverie. Scenes of the past flitted before his eyes.
His first meeting with Emperor Wu of Zhou in his youth, when they'd enjoyed a hearty conversation.
Emperor Wu of Zhou pointing at Crown Prince Yuwen Yun and saying, I have a brilliant son, and you have a lovely daughter. Would they not be a perfect match?
Emperor Wu of Zhou listening to the words of the soothsayer that had led him to gradually distance himself from Yang Jian and grow suspicious of him. Their peaceful relationship as ruler and subject had devolved into hostility. He'd endured and compromised for many years until Emperor Wu finally passed. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief.
Kindness and enmity, fondness and hate. It was no longer clear with whom each had originated. But the Yuwen family had never killed a single member of the Yang clan. On the contrary, it was he who'd exterminated them, root and branch. If Emperor Wu was in the underworld now, could he let go of his grievances with a smile?
The emperor slowly turned to look at the giant statue of the Buddha in front of him, as if hoping to glean some answer from the bodhisattva's faint and mysterious smile. The bodhisattva's eyes were lowered, its lips shaped in a soft curve.
Suddenly the curve widened, pulling eerily on its face until its entire expression warped. Its golden gaze swung over to rest upon the emperor.
The emperor's eyes widened in shock. He froze, as if struck by lightning.
Quiet laughter drifted into his ears, pitched first high and then low, echoing ominously through the hall. The emperor's first thought was that someone had intruded on them. But he soon realized the eerie chuckles came not from any living person, but from the mouths of the twenty-four celestial statues lining either side of the hall.
The Buddha statue's uncanny grin sharpened. The statue's arm swung down too fast for him to evade—the emperor cried out as a heavy hand clapped him on the shoulder. He collapsed backward.
"Your Majesty!"
The emperor jolted awake. His face was white as a sheet, cold sweat sheening his brow. But there was no demonic Buddha statue—only Master Lingzang's worried face looking down at him.