Chapter 82

A fire broke out in Duke Xian’s mansion, and soon the entire capital seemed shrouded in a deathly silence, enveloped by the aftermath of the smoke.

The first snowfall wasn’t heavy, and delicate snowflakes drifted slowly from the sky. Before they could even touch the flames, they were already melted and evaporated into steam.

Half the city’s imperial guards hurried to extinguish the blaze, but they were unable to save the residence.

The mansion, with a hundred years of military legacy, was reduced to rubble overnight, leaving behind only broken walls and ruins.

The fire raged throughout the night, and by the next morning, someone had arrived at Ningxuan Palace.

Rong Tang had been woken early. After washing up, he proceeded to the main hall, then followed Wang Xiuyu outside, where they stood at the gates awaiting the arrival. Su Huaijing stood by his side, head bowed, eyes fixed on the ground.

The snowflakes hadn’t even covered the earth. It seemed as though the pure, white snowfall had come only to play a final, mournful elegy for Duke Xian’s mansion.

Rong Mingyu and Rong Mingli had both taken leave and did not attend court that day. Rong Tang stood at the palace gates, waiting for a long time. The winter sun slowly climbed overhead, and at last, several carriages and horses came into view, accompanied by an honour guard that seemed endless.

Duke Xian’s mansion was located directly across from the palace of Eldest Princess Duanyi. The fire had burned throughout the night, filling the air with smoke and the glow of flames.

Princess Duanyi was now over sixty years old. Rong Mingyu and Rong Mingli had spent a sleepless night due to concern for her health. They’d ordered the servants to prepare a courtyard to be reserved for the Princess in Ningxuan Palace before heading out at dawn to bring her back.

Rong Tang looked at the grandeur and respect surrounding them, then glanced back at the family members standing in solemn reverence before Ningxuan Palace. For a moment, he couldn’t discern whether their filial piety was genuine or merely a façade.

Was it because she was their zumu, which naturally brought affection and respect, or was it simply because, with Princess Duanyi still alive, Ningxuan Palace’s people retained a tenuous, almost negligible, yet undeniable connection to the imperial family?

But he couldn’t tell. Looking around, every face displayed the utmost respect.

Even the Emperor and Empress paid her their due respect. How could they possibly slight her?

The carriages stopped in front of the palace. The nurse recited formalities, and the honour guard began their ritual. It took the time of half a cup of tea to finally welcome the princess into the palace.

Wang Xiuyu and the second consort stepped forward, leading the grandchildren. They bowed deeply, while the rest of the grandchildren, led by Rong Tang, knelt in respectful greeting.

Rong Tang couldn’t help but reflect that this was the first time in his life he had ever knelt.

He didn’t feel any resistance. In his previous two lives, he had met Emperor Renshou on numerous occasions, each requiring him to kowtow and kneel in similar ceremonies. Thus, it came naturally to him, his gaze dropping to the cracked stone slabs beneath him, lost in thought. He failed to notice the fleeting displeasure on Su Huaijing’s face as he knelt down beside him.

Eldest Princess Duanyi was helped down from her carriage by her nurse. She stood at the gate, exchanging a few words with her two daughters-in-law. Rong Mingyu stepped forward, bending down and lowering his head to ensure his words could reach her ears clearly. His tone was one of utmost respect and filial devotion as he said, “Mother, please enter the palace.”

He extended his hand, intending to assist her inside.

The Eldest Princess remained unmoved, glancing around before calling, “Tang’er, Huaijing, rise.”

Rong Tang, caught off guard, looked up at her, puzzled. He saw her gentle expression, her whole being still exuding the simplicity and peace shaped by years of sandalwood and scriptures. The fire from the previous night seemed to have left her completely unaffected.

Seeing that Rong Tang didn’t move, Princess Duanyi spoke again, “Help me inside.”

Rong Yuan couldn’t help but raise his head sharply, casting a look of surprise and jealousy at Rong Tang. By contrast, although Rong Zheng had a hint of confusion and disappointment on his face, deep down, he was still genuinely happy for his xiong zhang.

Rong Tang didn’t quite grasp the sudden show of kindness and care from Duanyi. He was only momentarily stunned before respectfully replying, “Yes.”

Then, he rose to his feet.

Before Rong Tang had moved, Su Huaijing was kneeling perfectly upright. However, the moment Rong Tang bent down slightly and reached out as if to brace himself, Su Huaijing, having reached the limit of his patience, instinctively stepped forward, took Rong Tang’s arm, and helped him up. After Rong Tang was steady on his feet, Su Huaijing bent down and brushed the dust off his robe.

The whole sequence of actions was carried out so fluidly and naturally that there was no trace of pretence or flaw to be found. The Eldest Princess’s eyes flickered briefly, but she quickly composed herself.

Rong Mingyu’s expression darkened, as if he wanted to scold his daughter-in-law for his lack of decorum. How could he turn his back to his elders and start brushing off dust while they were present?

However, not only did the Eldest Princess remain unperturbed, but she also interrupted Rong Mingyu before he could speak. She extended her arm and softly called out, “Tang’er.”

Rong Tang quickly responded, stepping forward to support the Eldest Princess’s arm. He bent down slightly, matching her slow pace as they walked together into Duke Ningxuan’s Palace. Su Huaijing kept a respectful stride behind them.

It wasn’t until Rong Tang, the Eldest Princess, and Rong Mingyu with his brother had all entered the house that those kneeling outside, including Rong Zheng and Rong Yuan, began to gradually stand.

In preparation for Duanyi’s arrival, Duke Ningxuan’s Palace had been meticulously cleaned inside and out, presumably to ensure his mother’s comfort.

However, Duanyi made her way directly to her own courtyard, barely glancing around. After inspecting the Buddhist hall, she placed the Buddha she carried with her on the altar, knelt down, and offered three sticks of incense.

Duanyi turned to Rong Tang and asked, “Have you been copying scriptures lately?”

From the moment she had called his name at the palace gates, Rong Tang had felt a little perplexed. He wasn’t sure whether it was because he had woken up too early and wasn’t fully alert, or because he hadn’t slept well. The Eldest Princess’s series of questions had left him unsure how to respond.

In this life, he had only given scriptures to the Eldest Princess once, and that was when he was welcoming Su Huaijing into the family.

There had been other times when he copied scriptures, especially before his marriage and during the flower-picking festival, but it had become rare afterwards.

It wasn’t that he didn’t think about it, but that there were other things to do that seemed more meaningful than copying scriptures.

During the months he spent living in the Suzhou garden, Rong Tang had almost forgotten about it entirely.

He shook his head and answered frankly, “Your grandson is foolish. I only copied scriptures to resolve the confusion in my heart and am not as devout and unwavering as zumu. These days, I have rarely copied scriptures.”

Most people, knowing that the Eldest Princess was devout, would be eager to cater to her in everything they said or did. Rong Tang had once been the same. But now, he understood the importance of speaking to her honestly, though he was unsure how the Eldest Princess would react.

To his surprise, not only did she not reproach him, but she also nodded approvingly, saying, “That’s good.”

Rong Tang was taken aback. “Good? What are you praising me for, zumu?”

“I commend your honesty and clarity,” Duanyi replied straightforwardly. “Do you remember what I told you when you visited me earlier this year?”

Rong Tang thought for a moment before replying, “Zumu has offered me much guidance, all of which I remember. One thing in particular: ‘Do good deeds, and don’t concern yourself with the future.’”

“Did you manage to do it?” Duanyi asked him.

Rong Tang hesitated for a moment, subconsciously turning his head to glance at Su Huaijing before nodding. “I’m in the process of doing it.”

Duanyi smiled, her fingers moving lightly over a string of prayer beads. “The Princess’s Palace was affected by the fire and needs repairs. I might stay at the this palace until after the new year. During that time, if you need anything, you both can come directly to me.”

“You both,” not just “you.”

Rong Tang furrowed his brows in thought.

The Eldest Princess waved her hand, signalling them to leave, and turned back to kneel on the prayer mat, appearing ready to chant sutras.

Rong Tang bowed respectfully to her back and prepared to leave, but Su Huaijing remained standing, his voice soft as he asked, “There is something I’m curious about. May I ask the Eldest Princess for guidance?”

The Eldest Princess’s back was slightly hunched, and despite her best efforts to stand straight, the passage of time had clearly left its marks on her.

She paused slightly, fingers stilling on the beads. “Speak.”

Su Huaijing gazed at her back and inquired, “How was the fire last night?”

Princess Duanyi, still facing away from them, lifted her head slightly to look at the golden Buddha statue in front of her.

Outside the courtyard, servants and maids bustled back and forth, carrying luggage. In the crisp, clear air following the snowfall, sparrows flitted from tree branches to the ground and then flew up to the eaves.

Duanyi remained silent for some time—so long that Rong Tang thought she might not answer at all. Then, she chuckled softly. “Very good.”

The sound of her aged voice filled the quiet, solemn prayer hall. Beneath the Buddha statue’s compassionate gaze, she continued.

“I haven’t seen a fire like that in many years. It burned almost everything.”

The fire was all-encompassing and thorough. She had knelt in the Buddhist hall all night, chanting sutras. As she listened to the endless footsteps and the sound of water splashing outside the courtyard walls, a stone that had weighed on her heart for years suddenly fell away.

At dawn, Duanyi had walked out of the hall, the remnants of moonlight still lingering. Step by step, she left the palace that had imprisoned her for so many years and looked across the street.

The stone lion was still dilapidated. Half its head was missing, one of its eyes was gone, and the faux pearl that should have rested beneath its paw had disappeared long ago. A passing carriage from the imperial guards had bumped the lion, and the remaining stone pearl fell to the ground, rolling across the street until it came to a stop at the Eldest Princess’s feet.

She bent down and picked up the stone pearl. When she raised her head again, it felt as if a lifetime had passed.

It had all begun so innocuously… a distant conversation at a palace banquet, chatting with a tree between them. He praised her for her extraordinary talents and knowledge, and she admired his family’s righteous loyalty to the nation.

That was how they came to know one another, and how their friendship began.

Back then, no one had spoken of marriage. He saw her as a confidante, and she regarded him as a close friend. Within the walls of the imperial city, meeting a kindred spirit was already a rare and cherished blessing.

Later, perhaps sensing their mutual feelings, the emperor had playfully arranged a marriage. He’d asked the mighty general who had fought by his side all his life, “Bro, what do you think of me marrying my daughter to your family?”

It was an honour for any princess to marry within the capital, especially one of uncertain status like her.

Thus, everything had seemed to fall into place. The young princess began to dream of more than just political strategy and the dust of the frontier. There was now the hope of love and the intimacy of a shared future.

But then the emperor had passed away, and the weight of national stability had crushed any thoughts of youthful romance. She had pulled back from the step she had been about to take.

They returned to being confidants. He became the general defending the nation on the battlefield, while she rose to power as a stateswoman.

The Wei family, bereft of male heirs, relied heavily on the Eldest Princess’s palace for support. Duanyi herself had long since forgotten when her relationship with General Wei had shifted from close friends to companions, from companions to something even deeper. Eventually, she had come to regard his son, Wei Zhun, as her own grandson.

For years, the Duke’s mansion had been empty, while she sat in her glittering palace across the street, chanting sutras in front of the Buddha.

The stone pearl now resting in her hand, Duanyi straightened up. A single tear slipped from her eye, falling to the ground alongside the charred remnants of her past.

And in the faint early morning light, her two sons—both powerful yet filial—stood waiting to take her away from this palace, this cage.

Pulling herself from her memories, Duanyi gazed at the ancient Buddha. In a soft voice, she said, “The fire burned well. It cleansed everything.”

The shadows of the past, of many, many years, had all been reduced to ash.

She wondered, where would the next fire be?

Would she be there to see it?

In this world, there was always retribution.