The layout of the Lord Wen Shrine was simple, and they had seen everything there within moments. Wen Zhuo stood quietly in the main hall for a while before turning toward the stele gallery, where he examined, row by row, the stone tablets engraved with names.
Shen Zheng, meanwhile, found the shrine’s only staff member and asked in a low voice, “I noticed that parts of the outer wall are beginning to peel. I’d like to make a small offering toward its upkeep. Do you know who I should speak to?”
The staff member set down his broom. “Are you a visitor? The descendants of the Wen family here in Mianzhou all contribute to the Lord Wen Shrine. We carry out repairs about once every two years. Some parts have been deliberately left as they are to preserve the ancient character.”
Shen Zheng understood, but persisted. “I’m very fond of Wen Zhuo. It’s just a token of my appreciation.”
“Then thank you for your kindness.” The staff member pulled out his phone, tapped twice, and showed him the screen. “Our shrine actually has an official website. You can make the offering online, and afterward we’ll mail you a donation certificate and a collection of Lord Wen’s writings.”
“All right. Thank you.”
Before long, Wen Zhuo came looking for him. The moisture in his eyes had faded, and he said softly, “Let’s go.”
The two of them left the Lord Wen Shrine. Following the principle of “Since we’re here anyway,” they bought tickets and climbed Zhe Mountain.
Wangxiang Temple stood halfway up the mountain. More than a thousand steps wound upward, and with no cable car available, they had no choice but to make the ascent on foot.
Wen Zhuo had always been frail. He had barely made it halfway before he was panting heavily, clutching his chest and coughing repeatedly.
Back when he had served in court, the most exercise he ever got was walking from his residence to the imperial city in time for the morning audience. Later, when he began lodging in the Qianqing Palace, even those few steps had been spared him.
Shen Zheng was both amused and helpless. “Shall I carry you up, Teacher?”
Wen Zhuo straightened his sleeve and shook his head firmly. “My constitution remains quite sound. How could an emperor carry his minister?”
Ten minutes later—
Wen Zhuo lay limply across Shen Zheng’s back as Shen Zheng carried him up the mountain one step at a time.
His hair was damp with sweat, clinging to the side of his neck, and his cheeks were flushed from overexertion.
He quietly tried to justify himself. “This is the present age. Since my husband is willing to carry me, I shall accept.”
Shen Zheng turned his head and kissed the mouth that always managed to make everything sound perfectly reasonable.
At last, they reached Wangxiang Temple.
The temple was packed with worshippers. People crowded shoulder to shoulder through the entrance, leaving barely enough room to set one’s feet down.
The entire temple had long since been renovated by later generations. Its tiled roofs were clean, and its beams and pillars gleamed. Only the moss-covered floor tiles in the corners, cracked and overgrown, retained a trace of its former age.
As soon as the worshippers entered, they swarmed toward the main hall to burn incense and make offerings. Wen Zhuo and Shen Zheng, on the other hand, were pushed by the crowd into a secluded rear courtyard.
The rear courtyard contained the monks’ quarters and a small garden. Hand-washed robes hung from clotheslines, vegetables grew in the garden beds, and smoke curled from a nearby stove, carrying a faint fragrance through the air. The place was steeped in the atmosphere of ordinary life.
Not wishing to disturb the monks’ meditation, Shen Zheng was just about to turn away when Wen Zhuo suddenly stopped.
His gaze had fallen upon a line of faintly carved characters on the wall—
“Recorded by an old monk of this temple: Master Faji was flawless in his observance of the precepts, and his compassion embraced all living things. Yet he was troubled by the question of whether to save or not to save. His heart was bound by worldly ties, his reason fettered by the workings of karma. Thus, though the lamp of wisdom within him shone brightly, he never attained perfection. This account is preserved within the temple as a warning to later generations: the difficulty of Zen does not lie in the deep mountains, nor in sitting in meditation, but in the two opposing choices within one’s own heart.”
Master Faji was the monk from their past life.
What kind of dilemma had a renowned holy monk encountered, that he could never attain enlightenment in his entire lifetime?
Just then, a side door creaked open. First, a plain white sleeve emerged, followed by a woman.
Her long hair was tied up, secured with a single unadorned wooden hairpin. She wore a white cotton-linen blouse and a long mamian skirt. With no makeup on her face, she was breathtaking all the same.
A middle-aged woman followed at her side. She wore exquisite makeup, carried a luxury-brand handbag, and walked in high heels. She was dressed in splendid fashion, yet beside the other woman, she seemed utterly ordinary.
At the sound of her voice, Wen Zhuo looked up. The woman happened to raise her head at the same moment, and their eyes met.
Both froze.
For an instant, Wen Zhuo nearly believed that Lin Yingniang had crossed the centuries and arrived in the present age.
The woman’s appearance resembled Lin Yingniang’s by at least ninety percent, yet her temperament and gaze were entirely different.
Shen Zheng was equally startled. After the passage of several hundred years, it was astonishing to encounter two people whose features were so remarkably alike.
The woman had not yet recovered from her surprise. Her companion, however, was the first to let out a startled cry, then quickly lowered her voice. Her Cantonese accent was unmistakable.
“Ah Qiu, you didn’t follow her all the way from Hong Kong, did you…?”
Qiu Ruoling shook her head and said softly, “I don’t know them.”
Her companion heaved a sigh of relief. “Good heavens, even if you’d given birth to him yourself, you couldn’t have produced someone who looks this much like you!”
Qiu Ruoling thought to herself: That’s right. Even if I gave birth to him myself, I couldn’t produce someone who looked this much like me.
Perhaps because Wen Zhuo looked so much like her, she inexplicably felt a sense of familiarity. Taking the initiative, she stepped forward and gave him a slight nod.
“Hello.”
Wen Zhuo’s fingers tightened unconsciously. His lips moved, but for a moment, he could not produce a sound.
Seeing Qiu Ruoling extend a friendly greeting only to receive a cold reception, her companion smiled and introduced her at once.
“This is Sister Qiu from TVB. She starred in The Grand Qian Palace and Autumn’s Happy Affairs. Surely you’ve heard of her?”
“Oh, of course. It’s an honor to meet you!” Shen Zheng promptly put on a pleasantly surprised expression. In truth, the name was only vaguely familiar to him. He had not been born during the golden age of Hong Kong cinema and did not know much about Hong Kong actors.
Wen Zhuo remained silent, simply gazing at her.
Qiu Ruoling did not take his silence as rudeness. If anything, she felt even more inclined to treat him kindly.
Noticing that the two of them had been staring at the dust-covered inscription on the wall, she smiled and explained, “It records an old legend. During the Great Qian era, Wangxiang Temple was home to a Master Faji. One day, he encountered a boy who had been abandoned in the wilderness. The boy wandered among the deer and lived beside wolves and leopards. He knew neither human speech nor human customs, and all he knew was to eat plants and drink from mountain streams. Taking pity on him, Master Faji fed him vegetarian meals and clothed him in coarse hemp.”
“One day, while Master Faji was deep in meditation, he glimpsed Heaven’s secrets. The boy’s worldly ties were not yet severed, yet his destiny held a calamity that could not be avoided. From that moment on, Master Faji fell into profound confusion. Day and night, he contemplated the matter, but could not find the answer. Karma turns according to its own laws, and destiny follows its appointed course. To intervene recklessly would be to violate the order of reincarnation. Yet the Buddha is compassion itself—if one sees suffering and does nothing, how can one call oneself a monk? How can one hope to ferry others across?”
“To save him would be to disrupt karma; not to save him would be to betray compassion. Master Faji spent his entire life unable to break free of his attachment or attain perfect enlightenment. Regret remained in his heart, and his thoughts could never be free of their burden. Thus, after his cremation, not a single relic was left behind.”
Wen Zhuo and Shen Zheng fell silent, looking at one another.
The boy in the legend must have been Ying Xingluo.
They had never imagined that Ying Xingluo, who had not become Consort Chen, would still have such a connection with Wangxiang Temple.
Qiu Ruoling pressed her palms together. “Buddhism is vast and profound. Most of us could spend an entire lifetime trying to understand even a fraction of it. All we can hope for is a little peace of mind.”
Her companion began urging her again from the side. “Ah Qiu, come back to Hong Kong with me. Hong Kong has Wong Tai Sin too, doesn’t it? Why insist on staying in a place like this? It’s already affecting your work!”
Qiu Ruoling answered her softly, “My ancestral home is here. I have a connection with Mianzhou.”
Seizing the opportunity, Shen Zheng smiled and said, “We’ve been fortunate enough to meet at Wangxiang Temple. It must be fate. May we take a photo together?”
A glimmer of delight flashed through Qiu Ruoling’s eyes, but her gaze went directly to Wen Zhuo.
“Of course.”
Wen Zhuo neither answered nor objected.
Her companion took the phone from Shen Zheng. “I’ll take it.”
Shen Zheng stood on the right, Wen Zhuo in the center, and Qiu Ruoling on the left. Behind them was the Buddhist tale about the agonizing dilemma of the heart.
The shutter clicked softly, freezing the moment into eternity.
Wen Zhuo’s body remained stiff throughout. Their companion was a member of the entertainment industry and extremely particular about photographs, directing them, “Try another pose. Look more natural. Smile a little!”
Qiu Ruoling tilted her head slightly toward Wen Zhuo and asked softly, “Would it offend you if I took your arm?”
Wen Zhuo met her eyes, gently shook his head, and raised his arm.
Qiu Ruoling naturally looped her arm around his, then smiled at the camera, her expression warm and graceful.
Wen Zhuo couldn’t help curling his lips into a smile as well, his expression easing.
That photograph turned out the best. Shen Zheng transferred it to his phone via Bluetooth and saved it.
Just before they left, Qiu Ruoling suddenly rummaged through the canvas bag she carried close to her body. At last, she took out a small wooden horse tied with a red cord.
She held it out to Wen Zhuo and said sincerely, “This was blessed at the temple. It happens to be the Year of the Horse, and meeting each other is fate. I’m giving it to you. May your life be peaceful and everything go smoothly.”
She had spent many years navigating the entertainment industry. She might not have been perfectly sophisticated in every situation, but she was always thoughtful and proper. Today, however, she had momentarily let herself get carried away. She remembered only to give something to Wen Zhuo and completely overlooked Shen Zheng.
Wen Zhuo lowered his head and looked at the wooden horse resting in his palm, his throat tightening slightly.
He knew that the person before him was not Lin Yingniang. Qiu Ruoling was more composed, more radiant, and more confident than Lin Yingniang. Yet, somehow, every detail coincided so perfectly.
At last, he spoke his first words to Qiu Ruoling.
“You too… stay safe.”
On the drive back, Wen Zhuo held his phone and looked through Qiu Ruoling’s life story.
She had been born in Mianzhou. Because she was not a boy, her parents abandoned her. Later, she was adopted by a Hong Kong couple and grew up in Hong Kong from the age of nine.
Because of her striking beauty, she entered the Miss Hong Kong pageant and won first place in one fell swoop. As soon as she entered the industry, she was cast as a leading actress.
She had appeared in more than twenty productions and won over ten awards of varying stature. Even though she had now faded from the entertainment industry, she had still achieved an elegant and respectable retirement.
Her romantic life, however, had been full of hardship. Several of her relationships had caused a great stir in Hong Kong, yet all of them had ultimately ended without result. The apparent reason was that she did not want children.
In an interview, she had said candidly, “Children would hold back my career. I also have wounds from my childhood that have never healed. I don’t possess a complete personality or an abundance of maternal love. For the sake of being responsible to a child, I chose not to bring one into this world.”
Now, she had devoted herself wholeheartedly to Buddhism. After returning to her ancestral home in Mianzhou, she donated money to support education and devoted herself to quiet spiritual practice. It seemed that she had finally found peace within herself.
Wen Zhuo put down his phone and gently stroked its screen, lost in thought.
Shen Zheng took his hand and reminded him gently, “She isn’t her.”
Wen Zhuo gave a faint smile. “I only saw another possible life for my mother in her.”
The two of them spent seven leisurely days in Mianzhou before taking a flight back to Beijing together.
As soon as they arrived home, Wen Zhuo immediately replenished his dwindling supply of ice cream. After finishing one bar, he wandered into Shen Zheng’s study and began searching for something else to read.
His understanding of the modern world had been advancing by leaps and bounds lately. Sure enough, there was one eternal truth that had remained unshaken from ancient times to the present:
Of all things, reading was supreme.
Meanwhile, Shen Zheng sat in front of his computer, being hounded by his advisor to revise his dissertation.
His advisor sent him a message: “Start a video call. I’ll tell you in person.”
With a helpless sigh, Shen Zheng opened the video call.
His advisor was sitting in his office. He pushed up his glasses, his brows drawn tightly together. “Everything you revised earlier is fine. You have a solid foundation, your perspective is bold enough, and your analysis of the Shunyuan Dynasty is fairly thorough. There’s only one issue. What is the meaning of your acknowledgments?”
Shen Zheng put on an innocent expression. “What’s wrong with them?”
His advisor tapped his fingers against the desk, his tone one of utter disbelief. “You thanked your teachers, your friends, and your parents. You could even have thanked the Sichuan cuisine chef in the cafeteria, and I wouldn’t care. But you thanked ‘my beloved Wen Zhuo’?”
Shen Zheng remained perfectly composed. “After researching the Grand Chancellor of Da Qian for so long, I’ve developed increasingly strong feelings for him. I yearn for him and wish I could transform into Emperor Hongyu, so I could stay by his side day and night, never parting from him for the rest of our lives.”
Wen Zhuo had been wandering back and forth behind Shen Zheng’s chair with a book in his arms. At those words, he stopped and shot Shen Zheng a sidelong glance.
His advisor said, “...You certainly live up to your name! But jokes aren’t allowed in the dissertation. And don’t covet historical figures. If you absolutely must thank him, write ‘Lord Wen.’”
Shen Zheng refused to back down. “Wen Zhuo himself doesn’t object, so why don’t you let me have this one?”
His advisor laughed in exasperation. “Who told you he doesn’t object? Did he say so?”
Wen Zhuo slowly moved into the edge of the camera frame and said calmly, “I don’t object.”
His advisor froze. Only then did he notice the slender man of extraordinary bearing standing behind Shen Zheng’s chair.
“Who was that?”
Wen Zhuo decided to show a little more patience toward His Majesty’s teacher in the modern world. He answered evenly, “Wen Zhuo, Grand Chancellor of Da Qian.”
His advisor fell silent.
Shen Zheng could no longer hold back his laughter. He hurriedly said, “All right, Professor. That settles it. Have a great weekend!”
Then, with astonishing speed, he ended the video call.
