Emperor Shunyuan and his party stayed the night at Wangxiang Temple, throwing the entire temple into a frenzy of activity.
To demonstrate his devotion, he decided to abstain from food for a day and spend a day listening to scripture.
With the Son of Heaven refusing meat, naturally no one else dared touch their bowls and chopsticks either. All the monks in the temple, along with the three imperial consorts and the sobbing little prince, had to go hungry with him.
Watching a monk bring over a cup of bitter tea, Shen Zheng could not resist complaining, “When someone at the top makes a spur-of-the-moment decision, everyone below has to suffer for it.”
Wen Zhuo glanced at him and added softly, “His Majesty is ‘someone at the top’ now, too.”
Shen Zheng laughed and reached out to cup his face, turning it toward him. “But I’d never do such a thing, would I, Empress?”
Wen Zhuo’s lashes trembled lightly as Shen Zheng turned his face toward him. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Shen Zheng’s, answering in a low voice, “Mm.”
Satisfied, Shen Zheng continued standing beside him as they watched the events unfolding in the illusion.
With the emperor present, no one had time to keep watch over Qinghe, and the plans to make him recite scriptures and confine him naturally came to nothing.
But how could he endure hunger? After sitting listlessly in the meditation room for half a day, he nimbly climbed over the wall and headed into the deep mountains in search of food.
Wen Zhuo instinctively chased after him for a few steps, but the figure vanished into the dense forest in an instant.
Standing where he was, Wen Zhuo suddenly experienced, with startling clarity, the dilemma Faji had faced all those years ago.
Ying Xingluo had originally been a being who existed outside the mundane world. Back then, Shen Zhaoxi had dragged him into the mortal realm, allowing him to experience the splendor of the capital, as well as love, hatred, joy, and sorrow. It had been brief, but burning with intensity.
Yet without that encounter, he would have remained trapped in the mountain temple for the rest of his life, ignorant and unaware, but also free of worldly cares.
Which life would have been better?
Even Ying Xingluo himself probably had no answer.
And yet this choice, heavy as a thousand catties, had fallen onto Faji’s shoulders. It had implicated the eminent monk throughout a lifetime of cultivation, leaving him unable to attain fulfillment in the end.
Wen Zhuo could not even bring himself to hope that Ying Xingluo and Lin Yingniang would be reunited.
The two siblings were both like drifting duckweed on the wind, condemned all their lives to being given alms, rescued, and pitied. Neither of them had ever been able to truly control their own fate.
Was that their fault?
It seemed it was not.
Had they been born in the modern age, perhaps they could have broken free from the shackles of fate like Qiu Ruoling and lived lives of ease and freedom—lives a hundred times better than this one.
Unfortunately, they had been born in the wrong era.
Emperor Shunyuan remained at the temple for only one day.
The mountains were cold, and sleeping too long on the hard meditation couch might harm the emperor’s health. Thus, early the next morning, he set off for Mianzhou City with Cao Xiruo, Li Rouzhen, and the imperial guards.
Ying Xingluo was still somewhere in the dense forest. The two of them missed each other, and for the rest of their lives, their paths never crossed again.
The innocent mountain boy and the mediocre emperor burdened with the weight of the world had no idea that they should have shared a love at first sight that would scar them both forever.
Shen Zhaoxi’s old feelings for Jun Mulan had not yet faded. He left five imperial guards and two maids behind to protect her and her child.
Jun Mulan entrusted the infant in her arms to Faji, then descended the mountain reluctantly and headed for Liangping County.
At the foot of the mountain, Wen Zhuo gazed toward the familiar direction and suddenly felt a touch of homesickness—and the hesitation that came with returning home.
Shen Zheng, however, simply took him by the hand. “Let’s go!”
When Consort Liang arrived in Liangping County, the local magistrate was so terrified that he brought all the runners from the county office to greet her.
Jun Mulan had not wished to trouble the wealthy families in the area, but the county office was cramped and shabby, unable to accommodate her entire party. The magistrate therefore took the initiative to recommend the local gentryman, Wen Yingjing.
Wen Yingjing wore a long gown and carried himself with dignified restraint. He was highly regarded throughout Liangping County, and Jun Mulan treated him with considerable courtesy as well.
The Wen family immediately vacated the grandest residence they had available for Jun Mulan to stay in for the month.
Jun Mulan was not a demanding woman. She had been accustomed to sleeping in military tents in her younger years, so this place was more than adequate. Besides, her thoughts were entirely occupied by her child. She only hoped that dawn would come quickly so she could hurry up the mountain to see the little prince.
“Wanshan, where do you live?” Shen Zheng asked quietly.
Wen Zhuo hesitated for a moment before answering in a low voice, “The side residence.”
The two of them left the spacious courtyard where Jun Mulan was staying and proceeded along the brick path through the Wen estate.
The Wen residence was truly magnificent. Dozens of courtyards stretched one after another, with several hundred rooms in total. The paths of blue brick ran in every direction, and even the thresholds had been scrubbed until they gleamed.
At last, they reached a side residence hung with red lanterns and swept so cleanly that not a speck of dust could be seen.
But Wen Zhuo did not enter. Instead, he walked a few steps farther and stopped outside a gray, nondescript room for servants.
The door creaked open, and a thin, undersized figure emerged, carrying a wooden bucket and swaying unsteadily.
The bucket was nearly rounder than his own body, and its handle was almost as thick as his arm. It was filled more than halfway with water, forcing him to hunch over slightly. He had both arms wrapped tightly around the sides just to keep it steady.
Wen Zhuo stood there, seeing his childhood self once again. A sharp ache welled up in his chest.
Young Wen Zhuo struggled to move the bucket into the sunlight in the courtyard and set it down. Then he squatted and rolled up his sleeves and trouser legs.
His arms and legs were covered in bruises of varying shades. The backs of his hands were red from being soaked in icy water. When he first touched the cold water, he shuddered involuntarily, and it took him a long while to gradually adjust.
He pressed his fingers together, scooped up the cold water, and carefully splashed it over his face and arms. The soft hair at his temples and forehead grew damp and clung to his smooth brow. The breathtaking beauty of his features was already beginning to emerge.
Wen Zhuo had long forgotten that he had once enjoyed such peaceful afternoons—afternoons when he could leisurely bathe in cold water just once.
Watching his fingertips redden from the cold, Shen Zheng could no longer restrain himself. He walked over and gently gathered the small, thin body into his arms.
But Young Wen Zhuo merely wiped the water from his face, picked up the wooden bucket, and walked straight through Shen Zheng’s embrace.
“Darling…” Wen Zhuo sighed helplessly.
He had discovered that Shen Zheng truly loved to cry. He was practically the most tearful emperor Wen Zhuo had ever known.
Nothing tragic had even happened yet. How could he already be reacting so dramatically?
Then Wen Zhuo recalled Young Shen Zheng, who had been crying nonstop at the temple. Perhaps the saying that a child’s nature could be seen at three really was true.
Wen Zhuo had no choice but to step forward and gently wipe away the tears streaming down Shen Zheng’s face. “It’s all over now.”
Shen Zheng suddenly pulled him into a tight embrace. His voice was choked with tears, full of fury and helplessness. “My wife was so young and frail. How did you suffer so many injuries…”
“Some of them really were from accidents,” Wen Zhuo explained, struggling to breathe as Shen Zheng held him tightly. “Candles were precious back then. Once it grew dark in the side residence, you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. Climbing in and out of bed and moving around the courtyard, it was inevitable that I’d bump into things.”
Over the following days, Faji devoted himself to reciting scriptures for the prince in the meditation room, searching for the fragments of his scattered soul.
Jun Mulan did not trouble Wen Yingjing with her meals or lodging. She returned to the Wen residence only to rest each day, spending the rest of her time on Mount Zhe, never leaving her young son’s side.
But on this particular day, one of the maids traveling with her accidentally ate something raw and cold. Her abdomen cramped with unbearable pain, and she curled up on the ground, drenched in a cold sweat.
Jun Mulan had no choice but to remain at the Wen residence while they waited for a physician to arrive and administer acupuncture. An entire hour was lost.
Once the maid’s pain had eased beneath the needles and her breathing had steadied somewhat, Jun Mulan immediately mounted her horse, seized the reins, and prepared to hurry to Mount Zhe.
As she passed the outer wall of the Wen family ancestral hall, she suddenly heard the sounds of a fight coming from inside. Jun Mulan’s brows drew together. On a strange impulse, she pulled back on the reins and glanced over the tall wall.
It was this day!
Wen Zhuo’s heart clenched. His fingers curled unconsciously, and his teeth pressed lightly together.
Another cry of pain came from within the walls. It sounded like a half-grown child.
Immediately afterward came a vicious shout:
“Useless!”
Jun Mulan immediately dismounted and strode into the ancestral hall.
Following the sound, she reached the covered corridor, where a spoiled young nobleman dressed in brocade and holding a smoking pipe was ordering another child to pin a thin, small boy to the ground and torment him.
With an evil grin on his face, the young nobleman slowly brought the glowing red pipe bowl closer, intending to press it against the boy.
Rage surged through Jun Mulan. Moving like lightning, she crossed the distance in an instant.
She lashed out with one leg and kicked Wen Ze squarely in the chest. “You vile wretch!”
Caught completely off guard, Wen Ze flew backward like a kite. His body skidded several yards along the corridor before slamming into a pillar with a loud crash, leaving him barely able to catch his breath.
The smoking pipe clattered to the ground, its glowing bowl landing on his thigh. It burned straight through the silk brocade in an instant, and the pain sent him howling like a soul in torment.
Wen Xu had always relied on the power of others to bully people. Now that he no longer had an adult backing him, he shrank his neck in terror and collapsed onto the floor, not daring to make a sound.
Jun Mulan’s fury had yet to subside. With one hand, she scooped up Young Wen Zhuo, who was still trembling in shock. She carefully straightened his clothes and held him protectively in her arms.
Young Wen Zhuo was shaking all over, his little face deathly pale. Both hands clutched tightly at her robes, and he was so frightened that he could not even cry.
Jun Mulan stepped past Wen Xu and came before Wen Ze. “Who are you? How dare you bully the weak in the ancestral hall and commit such a brutal act! You have no regard for the law whatsoever. It is utterly outrageous!”
Wen Ze’s thigh was horribly burned, and tears and mucus streamed down his face from the pain. He did not recognize Jun Mulan, but he knew exactly who she was. He had never imagined that Consort Liang herself would catch him in such disgraceful behavior, and his heart sank with despair.
Wen Zhuo was stunned.
“So… this is how it happened.”
A tiny change could turn the world upside down. In Faji’s other choice, he had met Consort Liang several years earlier than he otherwise would have.
Shen Zheng had once heard Wen Zhuo casually mention this episode from the past, but witnessing it firsthand was an entirely different matter. The moment he thought of the scar on Wen Zhuo’s leg—burned into him like this—his heart twisted as though cut by a knife. Even being flayed alive would not have been enough to satisfy him. He wished he could carve Wen Ze apart piece by piece!
Wen Ze would never dare confront an imperial consort. All he could do was clutch his burned thigh, howl in pain, and pretend to be an idiot.
Jun Mulan had never been one to show mercy to scoundrels. A cold light flashed in her eyes as she raised her leg and swept it across Wen Ze’s left cheek. “I asked you a question, yet you dare pretend to be deaf and mute!”
Wen Ze had never endured such force. He spat out a mouthful of blood, his vision going black as he nearly lost consciousness.
The commotion drew the members of the Wen family out from the ancestral hall.
The clan elders and relatives all sucked in a sharp breath when they saw how miserably Wen Ze had been beaten.
Throughout Liangping County, the only person who dared strike Wen Yingjing’s legitimate son so brutally was the exalted imperial consort.
Wen Yingjing’s heart ached, but he could only force himself forward. He bowed and knelt, putting on a fawning smile as he begged forgiveness. “I wonder how my worthless son offended Consort Liang. This commoner has failed to discipline him properly. I beg Your Ladyship to forgive him!”
Jun Mulan turned to Wen Yingjing. Just then, she felt the child in her arms begin trembling even more violently at the sound of his voice, and she understood everything at once.
If this widely renowned and highly respected gentleman of Liangping County truly possessed compassion, he would never have allowed his legitimate son to behave this way.
“He did not offend me. But you are right about one thing—his vile behavior is entirely the result of your failure to discipline him!” Jun Mulan could not tolerate injustice. “Even the son of a servant is still a human life, not a toy for wealthy families to mistreat at will. As a gentleman trusted by the imperial court and respected by the people of this region, is this truly the example you set?”
Terrified, Wen Yingjing repeatedly knocked his head against the ground. “This commoner knows his guilt! This commoner knows his guilt!”
“Who are this child’s parents? Call them here to take him home. Since I have witnessed this matter, I cannot simply stand by and do nothing. If you dare make trouble for their family in the future, do not blame me for showing you no mercy!” Remembering that she was temporarily staying with the Wen family, Jun Mulan ultimately left them a measure of dignity.
At her words, Wen Yingjing’s expression became difficult to read, and he stammered, unable to answer.
Not long afterward, Lin Yingniang was hurriedly summoned.
She rarely ventured beyond the inner chambers and had never seen a noble from the imperial palace. The moment she entered the ancestral hall, she instinctively dropped to her knees, lowered her head, and hurriedly pleaded guilty. “My lord, First Madam, it was my failure to discipline Zhuo’er properly. He offended the ancestors’ hall…”
For a long while, no one answered. Only then did she timidly raise her eyes—and meet Jun Mulan’s inscrutable gaze.
The moment Jun Mulan saw Lin Yingniang’s face, she guessed her identity.
She had assumed the child was merely the son of a Wen family servant. If that were the case, she could have given them some silver and arranged for them to move somewhere they could live in peace.
But who could have known that the child was actually Wen Yingjing’s illegitimate son?
Jun Mulan found herself in a difficult position. She could reprimand Wen Ze and scold Wen Yingjing, but she could not forcibly interfere in another family’s domestic affairs, much less take a concubine away from her master’s household.
Seeing Wen Yingjing and the clan elders kneeling with grim expressions, then looking at the richly dressed woman holding Zhuo’er in her arms, Lin Yingniang also guessed Jun Mulan’s identity.
She was bewildered, yet instinctively began apologizing. “Zhuo’er is still young and ignorant. He offended Your Ladyship. I beg you to show mercy…”
Lin Yingniang was delicate and frail, her face filled with fear. Compassion stirred in Jun Mulan, and her expression softened as she prepared to return Young Wen Zhuo to her.
But Young Wen Zhuo only tightened his little hands around her and buried his face even more deeply against her shoulder, as though desperately clinging to this hard-won refuge.
Jun Mulan paused, her heart filled with conflicting emotions.
Shen Zheng, watching from the side, was frantic with anxiety. Unable to hold back, he blurted out, “Mother! Take him with us! I want him!”
