The Observatory’s Tower of Communication with Heaven.
The top floor, apart from numerous intricate astronomical instruments, also served as a library. Three walls of towering bookshelves required several specialized ladders for accessing books. It was now deep into the night, and only an old man and his young apprentice remained here. The old man, having read too much, had damaged his eyesight. Holding an ancient book under his arm, he shuffled out of the inner chamber and onto the Star-Plucking Path—a corridor protruding from a hollowed-out wall. This pathway jutted out six zhang from the pavilion, constructed from eighty-one massive blocks of white jade, each gleaming and translucent. To walk upon it was daunting; a timid soul would tremble at the sight below. From this vantage point, one could gaze upon the entire imperial palace—an act of exceeding protocol. Hence, the Tower of Communication with Heaven was absent from any geographical records or official documents of the current dynasty.
The old man reached the end of the jade path and looked up to the sky. The young apprentice hurried over to drape a robe over the Chief Astronomer’s shoulders. The boy, with rosy lips and bright teeth, exuding liveliness and unafraid of heights, sat beside the elder, legs dangling, gazing alongside him into the vast night sky, his chin resting on his hands, entranced.
The apprentice asked softly, “Grandpa Chief Astronomer, can you really see anything? I heard Master Qi Hu say he once saw eight massive pillars of energy rising into the sky from the maps of the Eight Kingdoms, each collapsing one by one with a thunderous crash. Now only our Liyang Dynasty’s pillar remains, stretching all the way to the celestial court.”
Since he was addressed as the Chief Astronomer, he must naturally be Nan Huayu of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau. The old man adjusted his robe and chuckled lightly, “I’m old now, my eyesight has worsened. I can’t see things clearly anymore.”
The young boy was unconvinced. “But Grandpa, you have the Celestial Eye. How could you not see clearly?”
The old man smiled bitterly. “Celestial Eye? You actually believe what Huang Sanjia says? Little Bookshelf, that old villain just wants me to help him set up his strategy by sitting in my position. Don’t take it seriously. If we’re talking about Celestial Eyes, he’s the one who truly possesses it. My skill in observing auras pales in comparison.”
The apprentice protested on his behalf, “That can’t be right! Didn’t you play two games of chess with that old demon? You lost the first, then won the second. How could you be worse than him? If you had continued playing, he would’ve had to call himself Huang Erjia!”
The Chief Astronomer shook his head. “I didn’t really win. We just stopped halfway through the second game. Although I had the advantage on the board, if he had continued for another ten moves, I would have collapsed. Back then, I thought we were evenly matched. Ten years later, I realized I would have lost in twenty moves. Now, thinking back, I realize I would have lost in just ten moves. Who knows—maybe in a few days, I’ll realize I would’ve lost in only five moves. Perhaps only on my deathbed will I understand that Huang Sanjia could have turned the game around with just one move. That’s the true depth of his skill. The court established the Imperial Chess Academy, with Wang Jixin leading the Southern School and Song Shutong heading the Northern School. Their skills are comparable to mine, but both are far inferior to Huang Sanjia’s. Wang Jixin once said Huang Longshi plays chess like General Huaiyin commanding troops—invincible in every attack. But that’s clearly the opinion of someone who only studies game records without ever facing him directly. It should be said that Huaiyin commanded troops like a master craftsman, the more the better. Huang Sanjia’s true strength isn’t in the middle game—it’s in the endgame where his skill shines. Unfortunately, no one in the world can play with him until the end of the game. I suppose that’s why he instigated the Great War of the Spring and Autumn Periods. After all, a mere three-foot chessboard is far too small for him.”
Nan Huayu, who was treated as a national teacher by the Emperor, affectionately called the boy “Little Bookshelf.” The apprentice exclaimed, “Then this demon really is unbeatable? Has no one ever managed to defeat him?”
The old man pondered for a moment and smiled. “No one has truly defeated him. But there have been draws.”
The apprentice’s eyes lit up. He tugged at the old man’s sleeve and eagerly asked, “Who was it?”
The old man, worried the little one might catch a chill, first helped him sit up straight and then placed a book under the child’s bottom before speaking slowly, “Back then, the late Emperor personally came out to greet him, and hundreds of thousands of citizens of Taian lined the streets in welcome. Little Bookshelf, tell me—who was it?”
The apprentice gasped, “I know, I know! The White-Robed Monk—the immortal from Liangchan Temple who advocated for Sudden Enlightenment! Grandpa, is it really possible to become a Buddha in an instant? Like, if I stand here long enough, will I turn into a Buddha too? If that’s true, I want to become a monk!”
The Chief Astronomer spoke gravely, “Whether Sudden Enlightenment is real or not, I cannot say. After all, I am not a Buddhist, and even though I’ve read some sutras, I dare not make reckless claims. But I do know that cultivating Daoism dissipates wealth, and practicing Zen scatters fortune. That much is certain. If a monarch becomes obsessed with Buddhism or Daoism, it is certainly not a good omen for the nation. If they merely follow the quiet teachings of Huang-Lao philosophy, it’s acceptable. Though it may drain the nation’s wealth, it can still be seen as taking from the people and giving back to them. But if they embrace Buddhism, it’s a different matter. Once the national fortune disperses, it’s nearly impossible to gather it again. When Buddhism first entered the Central Plains, it faced resistance and condemnation—not merely due to the surface-level conflicts between the three teachings of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism, but because the Confucian and Daoist schools, both of which emphasize cultivating vital energy, feared that Buddhism would disrupt the spiritual vitality of the Central Plains.”
The apprentice frowned and said, “Then I guess I won’t become a monk.”
The old man smiled and patted the boy’s head gently.
The apprentice looked up and asked, “Grandpa, why were all the others so terrified when the Prince of Beiliang came to the Astronomical Bureau today? I wasn’t scared at all.”
The Chief Astronomer stood up and said, “Good, good. Don’t be afraid. Well then, we’ve slacked off enough. We should return to work. Once we finish revising this new calendar, I’ll be ready to close my eyes for good. If that White-Robed Monk gets there first, it’ll bring another unimaginable calamity. Fortunately, this old man with failing eyesight and nearing death has you, Little Bookshelf, to help me. Heh, I suppose in my next life, I won’t be reborn as a human. That’s the fate of one who reveals the secrets of Heaven.”
The apprentice looked deeply sorrowful.
Nan Huayu squinted with some difficulty, turned his gaze toward Beiliang, pointed in that direction, and whispered, “Little Bookshelf, after I’m gone, it’ll be up to you to suppress that giant serpent.”
※※※
There were two large campfires. One was occupied by Master Wei and several other unusual attendants, along with the “ladies” Yu Youwei and Jiang Ni. The other was surrounded by the Fengzi Cavalry. The two groups were kept at a respectful distance, maintaining proper decorum. Even though she was a fallen phoenix, Pei Nanwei still did her best to maintain the dignified bearing of the Princess of Jing’an. With nothing better to do, she observed the Fengzi Cavalry’s activities. She could see the lightly armored riders taking turns on night patrol, moving in perfect order. After the great battle, both generals had sustained serious injuries, but whether officers or soldiers, none of them showed signs of despair. Judging from their lip movements, they seemed to be talking about the young master of the estate, each one speaking with great enthusiasm.
The more united the Fengzi Cavalry seemed, the more uneasy Princess Pei became. Her earlier desire to escape gradually faded. Compared to being a prisoner reduced to cleaning carriages, wasn’t she better off as the unparalleled Princess of Jing’an in Qingzhou? Pei Nanwei, feeling disheartened, reached her hand closer to the fire to warm herself slightly. She glanced to her left, where the plump and beautiful woman held a white cat and had accompanied her to find a pond. A few brief words during their walk revealed the woman’s refined conversation. On her right sat a strangely dressed young woman of extraordinary beauty. Even though Pei Nanwei herself was a peerless beauty listed among the “Top Beauties of the Age,” she couldn’t be sure she would still surpass this simply dressed girl in a few years’ time. Saying she was a servant didn’t fit—what servant could dare to confront the young master of Beiliang with such boldness? But if she were a noble lady, that didn’t fit either—her hands were rough and calloused, clearly belonging to someone from a poor background. Indeed, the people of Beiliang were full of mysteries, impossible to fully understand.
Pei Nanwei couldn’t help but glance toward the direction where the young master had disappeared. What indecent scoundrel was he up to now?
In the Pavilion of Listening to the Tides at the Beiliang Mansion.
This night, the Fox-Faced Man, now without his twin blades, ascended to the third floor.
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