Chapter 117: Feng Shui

Reeds grew abundantly by the water, easily forming large banks and ponds. The reed marsh outside Xiangfan City didn't naturally display the beauty of "autumn reeds like flying snow." However, after Princess Pei of Jing'an Royal Residence developed a fondness for it, the local residents of Xiangfan, who once harvested reeds for firewood or paper pulp in autumn, voluntarily stopped. Fortunately, the princess, known for her compassionate nature, annually provided financial subsidies to nearby villagers. Her frequent visits also inspired local scholars to identify and name scenic spots within the marsh, such as "Fragrant Reed Paths" and "Green Lake Fishing." The "Heavenly Waves Reflecting a Mirror" archway was personally inscribed by a renowned calligrapher two years prior. This development, in turn, allowed the locals to earn a significant income by offering boat tours to affluent visitors.

Princess Pei typically visited in autumn to admire the reed snow, after the spring season. This year, she arrived noticeably earlier. Her outings from the city were always very modest; she was accompanied only by two personal maids and a small detachment of lightly armored royal guards. King Zhao Heng of Jing'an had governed Xiangfan with remarkable success for many years, treating his people like his own children and earning an excellent reputation. Furthermore, he was widely known as a devout follower of Buddhism and Taoism. Consequently, it was unheard of for the princess to encounter any difficulties during her excursions outside the city.

A small path branched off the main official road, leading into the dense reed marsh. In previous years, when the princess came to enjoy the scenery, she would invariably alight from her carriage and have her guards follow from a distance. The guards, in turn, dared not disturb her refined enjoyment. Moreover, the reeds were taller than a person, at least ensuring the princess was out of sight and out of mind. This visit, however, was unusual. Not only had she arrived earlier than usual, but she also remained in her carriage upon reaching the crossroads.

Inside the carriage, Princess Pei, who personally managed all affairs within her residence, lit a small sandalwood incense burner. She sat kneeling, her hips resting on her legs, which subtly accentuated a graceful curve. Even her two maids, though women themselves, found this sight captivating. The princess possessed exceptionally soft and beautiful long black hair, which her personal maids couldn't help but sincerely praise as they gently held it while styling. The gentle-natured princess would then softly smile at her reflection in the bronze mirror. Occasionally, when washing the princess's "white lotus jade feet" after she grew tired from reading, the maids' hearts would flutter, marveling at her exquisite beauty.

Princess Pei held a letter, which King Zhao Heng of Jing'an had given her before she left the residence. He had told her it was best to personally hand it to the Prince of Beiliang by the reed marsh; otherwise, she wouldn't have come so early. Princess Pei held the envelope, which hadn't been carefully sealed, seeming to hesitate whether to remove the letter. No one in the world understood King Zhao Heng better than she did. He never spoke plainly or acted decisively, always leaving things ambiguous for others to guess; he treated everyone this way. Prince Zhao Xun's eccentric personality was precisely forced upon him by his father. As for Zhao Xun's hidden, unnatural glances, Princess Pei, no longer a naive maiden, instinctively knew their meaning. That child likely harbored more hatred for her. Although she had no desire for power struggles when she became Princess of Jing'an, the former princess, Zhao Xun's birth mother, had inexplicably died of illness. Regardless of how clear Princess Pei's conscience was, this "debt" was attributed to her. Therefore, over the years, facing Zhao Xun's complicated and ill-mannered gazes, she never exposed him, never reprimanded him, nor did she ever slander him in front of King Zhao Heng. Zhao Heng was extremely focused on health preservation, so Zhao Xun inheriting the title after his death would be two decades later. By then, Zhao Xun, whose title would be legally reduced to Marquis of Jing'an, would probably not harbor any designs on an aging and faded Princess Pei.

Besides the secret letter in her hand, Pei Nanwei also had a sandalwood box containing prayer beads placed by her leg. She dearly loved the carvings on the box. It had never been opened, as she knew that the more she cherished something, the more Zhao Heng would detest it—especially since this sandalwood box was a gift from someone Zhao Heng considered an eyesore. She feared that if she opened it and he found out, both the prayer beads and the box would be destroyed.

Princess Pei said softly, "Go down and see if His Royal Highness the Prince of Beiliang is near."

The two maids, who even reported the princess's daily meals to King Zhao Heng in letters, bowed their leave and gracefully stepped out of the carriage.

With two fingers, Princess Pei extracted the secret letter. It was in King Zhao Heng's own handwriting: "Send nephew a thousand li."

Princess Pei frowned, murmuring, "Does this imply 'a thousand-li journey must end in parting'? Is he not going to see him off personally?"

Princess Pei shook her head, feeling she hadn't grasped the true meaning of the five characters. After Zhao Heng's failed attempt to seize power in the palace years ago, his reputation among the dynasty's top court officials was low; he was even openly ridiculed by the non-imperial King Xu Xiao and several powerful vassal kings. Yet, she knew he was still an extremely ambitious man. As long as he harbored hatred for the humiliation he suffered back then, he would not cease yearning to return to that city and that palace. For such an ambitious vassal king, as unyielding as the reeds outside enduring wind and rain, to have his son Zhao Xun beaten, and then personally visit to apologize, was an immense display of restraint. Was he truly giving up entirely, humbling himself again to express parting sentiments to a junior? Pei Nanwei inexplicably recalled his words when he stood at the top of the steps, looking down, twirling his prayer beads, and smiling as she left the residence: "Our marital fate is but a fleeting affair. I have already prayed a million blessings for you; this King has a clear conscience."

Pei Nanwei placed the secret letter back into the envelope and looked down at the sandalwood box. Parting the curtains, she saw her maids still waiting expectantly on the road for the noble young man. Subconsciously, she reached out to touch the sandalwood box, but instantly recoiled as if burned. Annoyed, the princess, in a fit of pique, snatched up the box and smashed it against the inner wall of the carriage. The sandalwood box fell to the ground, scattering a string of ancient prayer beads. Pei Nanwei didn't believe in Buddhism or Taoism. However, being from a prominent aristocratic family and having gained much knowledge and experience in Jing'an Royal Residence over the years, she had fallen in love at first sight with this string of Bodhi seed beads, renowned in the Central Plains as "Prince Beads." Women are indeed changeable; she had just thrown the box, but now she picked up the beads with tender care. Leaning against the carriage wall, she held one smooth, ivory-white "Prince Bead" and gazed at it wistfully. In the eyes of the world, as a princess, Qingzhou was hers, Xiangfan was hers, the reed marsh outside the window was hers; everyone said they were hers. But what was the truth? Just as common folk would never understand the intrigues within the imperial court, none of these things truly belonged to her.

Pei Nanwei recalled her carefree childhood, the splendor of her initial entry into the royal residence, the cold face of the former princess, Zhao Xun's gloomy demeanor learned from Zhao Heng, and the absurd moment when she left the inn by Lean Sheep Lake. When she heard the thundering hooves, she finally remembered the secret letter and the parting message from King Zhao Heng, which had been like a funeral couplet, wishing them to grow old together in harmony. Pei Nanwei was suddenly startled, dropping the prayer beads. Her face turned as pale as the desolate, snow-white reeds of autumn.

It wasn't a thousand-li farewell; it was clearly a send-off to the Yellow Springs!

A young man lay on the top crossbeam of the "Heavenly Waves Reflecting a Mirror" archway. The breeze from the reed marsh gently ruffled the hair at his temples, creating a scene of utmost leisure and elegance.

He considered himself a very optimistic young man, never one to complain or blame others. In his childhood, he and his mother lived in solitary hardship, enduring much scorn. When she died of illness, skeletal like a female ghost, he was only nine. Before her death, his mother said many things he didn't understand at the time, but the general gist was that she didn't regret giving birth to him and held no resentment towards the father he had never met. Later, he personally dug the grave and buried his mother, whose eyes would not close even in death. Though young, he understood that she had hoped to see that person one last time, even just a glimpse, but it never happened.

As he sat on her barren grave, wondering how to avoid starving to death, a burly man appeared. His voice was oddly high-pitched and soft, a stark contrast to his physique. He wore lavish clothes, unlike anything the boy had ever seen, which looked extraordinarily beautiful but made one feel as if he were draped in a luxurious human skin.

Even at his young age, he felt he had encountered a man-eating demon. Yet, the man simply took his hand and said he would take him home.

His mother was gone; where was home?

Then he was taken to a city with very high walls; he stared in awe through the carriage curtains. After alighting from the carriage, the man, who hadn't spoken to him the entire way, led him as if through countless city gates until they finally reached a lake. By the lake stood a man who looked remarkably like him, dressed entirely in golden yellow, covered in what looked like snakes.

Later, he finally learned those weren't snakes, but dragons. And the man, who hadn't spoken a word or shown any expression upon their meeting, wore what was called a dragon robe. Afterwards, he gained two "nominal" masters: besides the man who brought him "home," the other was an old monk who rarely smiled. The former, who later became his "Senior Master," had an excellent temper. When he first saw the man covered in ferocious yellow "snakes" by the lake, he was so frightened he burst into tears. This future Senior Master, leading him back, knelt down and softly told him not to be afraid. As he grew up, he remembered that Senior Master Han, regardless of his mischievous antics, would only smile at him, as if smiling was all he knew how to do. In that vast, boundless home, everyone else was terrified of him. During the Mid-Autumn Festival when he was twelve, he secretly climbed Wuying Hall to admire the moon, was caught, and nearly beheaded. It was his Senior Master who knelt before that man to plead for him. Only then did he realize that his Senior Master wasn't just capable of smiling; a man who was bowed to daily would also kneel to others. After that, no one ever stopped him from climbing the great halls again—Wuying Hall, Baohe Hall, Wenhua Hall, he could climb them all freely.

His Junior Master's temper was much worse; he always had an endless supply of feather duster beatings. When he talked about Buddhism, he said if he lost, he'd be beaten, but even if he won, he'd still get a thrashing. However, once, when the Junior Master was in a daze, he touched his bald head, and surprisingly, the Junior Master didn't get angry. In truth, the full truth had come to light even before he came of age, but he wasn't willing to compete for things, and even if he did, he might not win. So what if that man was his biological father? He was utterly tired of staying in that family where everyone was seemingly united but deeply estranged. Moreover, he truly didn't get along with the mischievous girl, Sui Zhu, constantly fighting and bickering. So he simply ran off to Shangyin Academy to live a carefree life. Among all women in the world, he only liked those who weren't conventionally beautiful but were very appealing upon closer acquaintance. His own mother was just like that; even when gravely ill and no longer attractive, her eyes still made him feel the most intimate connection. Finally, he had a chance to personally meet that famous, ill-tempered girl. He climbed over a wall into her small building and was indeed met with a sword thrust. Later, he reluctantly agreed to the "Ten Games of the Lake." If he lost, he lost; who decreed that a man must always win against a woman? He was perfectly content to spend his life serving his own wife, making her comfortable and ensuring their life together was happy, stable, and without any ripples.

Unfortunately, every time he secretly went to her place to feed the chickens and ducks, he couldn't escape a fierce expulsion by her sword energy. He didn't mind, though; after all, it was perfectly natural and endearing for his own wife to play a little trick or show a bit of temper with her husband, wasn't it?

Below this optimistic and aspiring young man stood four crimson armored talisman-generals.

The Water Armor had already been destroyed by an old sword god who had re-emerged in the martial world. Though his heart ached, he endured it, considering that the old sword god was risking his life for his brother-in-law. He didn't even mind leaving one Water Armor talisman-general behind.

Since he had been as benevolent and righteous as possible, it was time to get down to business.

His main reason for sneaking out of the academy this time was to deliver an oral message to King Zhao Heng of Jing'an. The gist was that while the succession of titles normally had nothing to do with Zhao Heng, if he was willing to exert himself, the share from Beiliang would be given to him.

King Zhao Heng of Jing'an was a very intelligent man. Previously, he lacked boldness, but this time he had learned his lesson, making a grand move right from the start.

The young man sat up, his feet dangling from the archway. Gazing into the distance, he finally spotted the dust rising from the official road and laughed, "Brother-in-law, don't blame your future brother-in-law for being disloyal. You should know, this place has excellent feng shui."