Most of the peonies at Baoguo Temple had already passed their blooming season. The grand spectacle of the imperial-grade Yao Huang and Wei Zi peonies competing in splendor was gone, leaving only some relatively ordinary varieties still in bloom, such as the Mo Kui, whose blossoms hidden among the leaves diminished its charm. Yet even a camel at death’s door remains taller than a horse. Compared to the mansion of the Northern Liang Prince, Baoguo’s peonies could still be described as magnificent. Just wandering through the temple grounds admiring the flowers consumed an hour and a half. With lunch still some time away, the group retired to an elegant meditation chamber to partake in tea. Surprisingly, though it was a temple, the tea was prepared by a graceful Daoist nun. In both previous and current dynasties, emperors had revered Daoism, and thus followed the trend. The philosophies of Laozi and Zhuangzi were central topics among the Jiangnan literati, and many noblewomen of aristocratic families had developed a refined habit of studying Daoist teachings. Yet it was still somewhat strange to see a Daoist nun in a Buddhist meditation chamber. She appeared to be about thirty years old, with rosy cheeks and long, arched eyebrows, exuding the serene aura of a true cultivator. Through conversation with the eldest sister, Xu Wei Xiong, it became known that this woman, originally named Xu Hui Pu, hailed from the direct lineage branch of the Gu Mu Xu family. Otherwise, she would not have been able to possess several private acres of tea plantation behind Baoguo Temple, a place where only the most prominent figures gathered.
Xu Hui Pu was something of a close confidante of Xu Zhi Hu, likely due to both being widows, and over the years they had grown quite close. This Daoist nun, perhaps out of affection for her friend, was also quite courteous toward Xu Feng Nian. Though she spoke little while preparing the tea, mostly conversing with Xu Wei Xiong, she occasionally met the Prince’s gaze with a smile in her eyes. The tea jar was a delicate tin bottle, prized for its tight seal, as tin harmonized well with tea. Before use, large bottles stored water while small ones were blown into to test for leaks. Clearly, she was an expert in the art of tea; outsiders would never concern themselves with such details, only thinking about how to make the tea as luxurious as possible. The teapot was an antique “Going to Winter” style.
Noticing Xu Feng Nian’s gaze fixed on the teapot, she explained: “This was a chance creation of my father when he visited Liang Chan Temple in his youth to hear a senior monk’s teachings. He obtained the clay from the bottom of a basin used by a monk who worked the fields daily to wash his hands. He shaped it into a teapot resembling the burl of a ginkgo tree there, carving tree patterns into it. Later, for reasons unknown, the style became popular. The name of the teapot comes from the phrase ‘Fingertips’ hidden lines can welcome spring.’ However, in general, the clay used in Yangzhou’s Going to Winter teapots is dug from Yangxian Stream.”
Xu Zhi Hu was trying hard to stick a peony blossom into Xu Feng Nian’s hair, but he stubbornly refused. The two siblings exchanged playful jabs, but Xu Zhi Hu, still unsuccessful, finally gasped with laughter: “That old monk was the head abbot of Liang Chan Temple. I heard he lived to be around one hundred and fifty or sixty years old. Perhaps only Song Zhi Ming, the master alchemist of Wudang Mountain in Northern Liang, could rival him in longevity. My late father would visit Liang Chan Temple every ten years, not only to hear Buddhist sermons and scriptures but also to ask the old monk for some of the hand-washing clay. Thus, while a pound of clay from Yangxian Stream is worth a pound of gold, it still cannot compare to my father’s handmade teapots in terms of Buddhist aura.”
Xu Feng Nian had just accepted a green jade tea cup from her when he heard the teapot was made from clay scraped from the bottom of an old monk’s hand-washing basin. His expression turned slightly awkward. He couldn’t taste any Buddhist aura, nor did he really want to. But now that he was on the boat, there was no turning back. He steeled himself and took a sip. Though he couldn’t discern any subtleties in the tea, the leaves and spring water used were naturally of the highest quality. Yet the thought of “hand-washing clay” kept dampening his mood.
Before he could react, Xu Zhi Hu had successfully stuck the peony in his hair. He didn’t bother removing it, and absentmindedly recalled the girl named Li Zi who claimed to live at the temple, and the little monk, Ben Nan Bei. He drifted into a daze, then thought of the rumors surrounding the old abbot of Liang Chan Temple. Said to be a holy monk destined to be revered as a patriarch after his passing, the old monk was quite an interesting figure. Though barely literate in his youth, he had spent his days chopping firewood and making charcoal to support his mother. The families who bought his firewood were Buddhist and often recited the Diamond Sutra. As a boy, he gradually gained some understanding from listening. After his mother’s death, he entered the mountain and received the robe and bowl of the Liang Chan lineage, taking vows and becoming a monk, then delivering sermons—all in one seamless transition. It was said that he gave sermons, not recitations, which was partly due to his humble origins and limited literacy, but undoubtedly, his insight was on par with the great Buddhas. He had understood all the teachings merely from hearing the Diamond Sutra. How many scriptures had the monks of Liang Chan Temple recited? Yet when they discussed the scriptures with him, the monk would straightforwardly say, “I haven’t read your sutras,” and ask them to recite instead. Often, halfway through their recitation, he would say, “Stop,” and then explain the meaning to them, leaving everyone convinced. Once, the abbot of the most prestigious temple in the South, Fahua Temple, a man over a hundred years old, had asked the monk—who was then only forty—why he could not understand the Lotus Sutra despite reciting it ten thousand times. The old abbot had barely recited a few passages before the young monk began to explain the sutra’s meaning in great detail. The abbot left deeply enlightened and grateful. To the common people, it sounded almost miraculous, unimaginable that a monk who couldn’t even read the scriptures could enlighten others. Even Qi Xianren of Longhu Mountain would bow in respect to him. The two greatest figures of Buddhism and Daoism once appeared together in a Lotus debate sixty years ago, but the outcome left everyone puzzled: the two simply sat facing each other in silence for the entire night.
That was the last time Qi Xuan Zhen appeared in the mortal world before ascending.
As the monk grew older and older, he never sought to learn to read or study the scriptures. Yet when his disciple, the white-robed monk Li Dang Xin, returned after fifteen years of wandering, the old monk listened to him recite the sutras for three full days and nights, nodding all the while. Finally, in a move that shocked the world, he allowed the white-robed monk to drink alcohol and marry, leading to the emergence of the radical doctrine of sudden enlightenment.
Xu Feng Nian suddenly jolted, spilling tea all over the floor. He muttered to himself: “The white-robed monk Li Dang Xin, the girl Li Zi who lives in the temple…”
Daoist nun Xu Hui Pu had already noticed Xu Feng Nian’s lack of enthusiasm for the tea. This spill only made him seem even more impolite, no different from a commoner. She thus wore a slight frown but said nothing. She no longer had any intention of pouring him a second cup. It seemed the rumors about the Northern Liang Prince being all glitter and no substance were not exaggerated after all. With her elder sister, Lady Xu Shu Fei, suddenly falling from favor and imprisoned, the entire Xu family was in an uproar. But as a widow and a Daoist nun, she did not share the family’s anger toward Xu Zhi Hu. She had heard rumors about the Prince’s recent troubles in two provinces the previous night but merely laughed them off. Even the family’s suggestion that she use Xu Zhi Hu to get close to the Prince and assess his true nature had not gained her agreement. Now, having seen him in person, she was deeply disappointed. He was nothing more than a spoiled brat relying on his father’s power and status, no different from the useless descendants of the four great clans of Yangzhou. Xu Hui Pu glanced at Xu Zhi Hu, who had once been so perceptive, and sighed inwardly. The tea had not yet cooled, but the atmosphere had turned icy, beyond what a few more pieces of charcoal could warm. Xu Zhi Hu, seemingly influenced by his company, was no longer as sharp as before, merely saying she would take her brother for another walk around Baoguo Temple before leaving the chamber.
After a moment of quiet sitting, Xu Hui Pu waited until the group had departed before slowly rising. She exited through the back gate of the courtyard and made her way up the tea mountain. After walking for the time it took to burn a stick of incense, she finally reached a bamboo pavilion. Under its eaves sat an old man with snow-white eyebrows and hair, a snow-white lion cat perched on his knees. The old man gently stroked the cat’s head, sitting quietly and gazing at the distant mountains.
The old man stretched out his hand, and Xu Hui Pu respectfully sat on a small stool beside the bamboo chair. Before she could speak, the elderly man, with a warm smile, said: “You came so early, surely greatly disappointed.”
Xu Hui Pu softly replied: “My old ancestor sees through all worldly matters.”
The old man chuckled: “Well then, since this Prince cannot be propped up, let him inherit the title as he is. We old folks can finally take it easy.”
Xu Hui Pu knew that her opinion might affect the future plans of the four great clans of Yangzhou, and she was extremely nervous: “Perhaps my old ancestor could have someone test him again. I fear I might have misjudged.”
The old man gave her a slight glance, and the already distinguished Daoist nun was so frightened that her body trembled slightly. He gently patted the lion cat’s head and smiled: “What are you afraid of? Can such a heavy burden really fall on a young woman like you? That would be too much of an insult to people like Yu Lian, Xu Gong, and Lu Dao Lin. Yangzhou isn’t so destitute that it would come to that.”
Xu Hui Pu’s face turned pale, and she dared not speak.
Yu Lian, the Minister of Personnel, was the head of the Jiangxin Yu family. Lu Dao Lin was the head of the Huting Lu family. General Xu Gong, though not the head of the Gumu Xu family, was a powerful general of the empire. These Yangzhou elites, each a brilliant figure in their own right, would still stand respectfully before this old ancestor, even if they didn’t tremble like Xu Hui Pu. The reason Xu Hui Pu was allowed to sit was not only because she was a woman but also because she was the daughter-in-law of this old Yangzhou patriarch. The depth and power of the Jiangnan literati group could not be matched by the Qing Party, which had only existed for a century. The great migration northward during the Hongjia era was orchestrated by this old ancestor. He was also one of the nine people who participated in compiling the “Family Rankings” of the empire. His rank was even higher than that of the current Chief Minister Zhang Ju Lu! Because in his youth, he had studied under the same master as the late Chief Minister and the former Grand Chancellor of Xichu, Sun Xi Ji. No matter how powerful Zhang Ju Lu became, he still had to regard him as his senior.
The old man gazed into the distance, “Today’s debate between Kingly Virtue and Hegemonic Power will probably just repeat others’ words again.”
Xu Hui Pu hesitated for a moment but finally said nothing. The greatest debate on Kingly Virtue and Hegemonic Power in the past fifty years had been presided over by this old ancestor himself, so he naturally had the right to say that.
The old man sighed: “The old Chief Minister was lucky to have Zhang Ju Lu, who surpassed even his teacher. Otherwise, with his abilities, he would have only been a patchwork artisan for the empire, mending wherever there was a draft or a leak. After the Spring and Autumn Wars, he was bound to become obsolete. It was better that he died, or else he would have lost his honor in the end. As for old Sun from Xichu, he’s worse off. Back then, in terms of reputation, the two of us combined couldn’t match him. Now, among the literati, his infamy is second only to Xu Ren Tu. It’s better that he’s dead.”
Xu Hui Pu listened humbly.
Hearing the lion cat meow, the old man looked down and smiled: “That Prince may not be worth propping up, but in the short term, it’s a good thing. In the long run, we old fellows, who have been stubbornly clinging to life and being scolded by the Tangxi Sword Immortal as ‘old men who won’t die,’ wouldn’t we have lived in vain?”
Xu Hui Pu knelt down with a thud.
The old man murmured: “What happened between you and Lu Bai Jie back then was nothing. Get up. The ground is cold, and catching a chill isn’t good. One should stay grounded, but not like this.”
Xu Hui Pu shakily stood up and sat down again.
The old man narrowed his eyes: “Go. Arrange a meeting between that young man from a humble background and the Prince. If he plans for Northern Liang, it will be no worse than Zhao Guang Ling’s counsel to Xu Ren Tu. This stagnant water will come alive.”
Xu Hui Pu rose quietly. The old man said in a calm tone: “Go and offer yourself to the Prince. Only then will you truly sever ties with Lu Bai Jie.”
The nun, who had long lived a life of simplicity and studied only Laozi and Zhuangzi, did not refuse. As she left, she bit her lip until it bled.
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