The little girl had long said she was leaving, but on the first day, she complained of a stomachache and stayed. On the second day, she insisted on buying New Year’s goods for her parents, dragging the Crown Prince around the city all day. On the third day, she burrowed under the covers, refusing to get up, her eyes darting about as she struggled to come up with another excuse. Fortunately, Xu Fengnian played along, claiming the almanac deemed the day unfit for travel. Then she made him accompany her up and down Qingliang Mountain a few more times. By the fourth day, she was out of ideas, and even the little monk, Ben Nanbei, was nearly driven mad. With a long sigh, she finally climbed into the carriage Xu Fengnian had prepared for her, its interior piled high with her favorite snacks, fruits, and even cosmetics—all of which she’d put on his tab, insisting he’d have to pay her back next time they met. Whether the copper coins in her father’s begging bowl under the bed would suffice was none of her concern.
Noticing Xu Fengnian wasn’t boarding the carriage, she felt something was missing and cried out anxiously, “Xu Fengnian, aren’t you seeing me off?”
Xu Fengnian looked up gently and said, “No. I’m afraid if I leave the city, I won’t be able to resist stealing you back.”
The little girl brightened immediately. See? Xu Fengnian still cared deeply for her as a confidant. If he couldn’t see her off now, so be it. They were both young—there’d be plenty of chances to meet again. Besides, he’d promised to visit her home within two years at the latest. In her excitement, she forgot she’d never told him where she lived or the name of her temple. With countless temples in the world, how would the Crown Prince ever find her, no matter how resourceful he was?
Settling into the carriage, she fiddled with a string of sandalwood prayer beads in her hand—108 in total, symbolizing the destruction of the 108 afflictions spanning the three realms of past, present, and future. This sacred Buddhist relic had been devoutly obtained by Xu Fengnian from an eminent monk on Jiuhua Mountain. The monk’s teacher had passed away at the age of 108, having chanted countless sutras while holding these beads, imbuing them with an ineffable spiritual merit.
It was clear that the seemingly carefree Crown Prince genuinely cherished this little girl.
That night, when the solemn *Zhenling Song* of Northern Liang stirred the emotions of the city’s old soldiers, the little girl had inexplicably found herself at Xu Fengnian’s bedside. He pulled her into his arms, and she, unashamed, listened to the song and breathed in the scent of wine, feeling utterly at peace.
Before boarding the carriage, the little monk clasped his hands in gratitude toward Xu Fengnian, who returned the gesture with a smile. More worldly than the girl, the monk expressed heartfelt thanks, having never harbored any dislike for the notorious Northern Liang playboy. From the start, he’d heard Li Zi speak of Xu Fengnian’s kindness and brilliance, forming a favorable impression. Over the days, he’d only seen the Crown Prince humbly indulging Li Zi’s whims, never witnessing any arrogance or cruelty. Moreover, Xu Fengnian had gifted him several rare Buddhist texts missing from their temple’s collection. The little monk simply couldn’t bring himself to dislike him.
As the carriage began moving, the little girl flung open the curtain and waved vigorously.
Xu Fengnian smiled and waved back.
Only when his tall figure vanished from sight did she plop back onto the embroidered cushion, suddenly feeling hollow and regretful.
The little monk asked, “Li Zi, where’s that coachman Lao Huang you mentioned?”
Instantly perking up, the girl grinned. “Oh, Lao Huang! He’s the funniest—when he smiles, you can see his missing front teeth. He treasures this ivory comb, always hiding it so Xu Fengnian won’t sell it for money. But he lets *me* use it to comb my hair! We’re the best of friends!”
As long as Li Zi was happy, the little monk was happy too.
Even if her joy came from Lao Huang—or even Xu Fengnian—it didn’t matter. After all, he was Ben Nanbei, the simpleton.
Suddenly, the girl rapped the little monk’s head with her finger. “Who said you could call me Li Zi?!”
The monk cowered. “But Xu Fengnian calls you that.”
Flushing with anger, she snapped, “Are you him?! Should you do the same?”
Timidly, he tried, “Alright… Dong Xi?”
Gnashing her teeth, she hissed, “And don’t call me Dong Xi either! Wu Nanbei, you idiot!”
The little monk wisely shut his mouth. She was truly angry now—otherwise, she wouldn’t have used his full name, Wu Nanbei. Their master had often tugged Li Zi’s braids, admonishing her that monks should not be addressed by their secular names. Sigh. If their master had any redeeming quality, this was it.
Li Dong Xi.
Wu Nan Bei.
Though his face remained solemn, the little monk’s heart swelled with joy: *You are Dong Xi (East-West), I am Nan Bei (South-North). As long as we’re together, that’s enough.*
—
Poor Xu Xiao only dared emerge in his own palace after the girl and the little monk had left the city. Seated with Xu Fengnian in the lakeside pavilion, just the two of them—not even Chen Zhibao was present.
Among the Grand Pillar of State’s six adopted sons—Chen Zhibao, Yuan Zuozong, Ye Xizhen, Yao Jian, Qi Dangguo, and Chu Lushan—each had distinct personalities, and the Crown Prince’s relationships with them varied subtly. Xu Fengnian had clashed with Chen Zhibao since childhood and initially disliked the fearless warriors Yuan Zuozong and Qi Dangguo, though their rapport had improved over the past year after sharing drinks. The scholarly Ye Xizhen remained indifferent, while Yao Jian, skilled in geomancy, had always gotten along with Xu Fengnian, who’d loved watching him analyze terrain as a child. As for the rotund Chu Lushan, his obsequiousness made him seem like Xu Fengnian’s own son—no one doubted he’d kill his own family if the Crown Prince ordered it.
Xu Xiao gloated, “I ran into your second sister near the city gates. She didn’t scold me this time—impressive, eh?”
Xu Fengnian grumbled, “That’s because she’s mad at *me*. She doesn’t even acknowledge you.”
The mighty Grand Pillar of State pouted like a country bumpkin. “Don’t care.”
“Couldn’t you at least have stopped her so she’d stay for New Year’s?!”
Xu Xiao scoffed. “And get yelled at? No thanks.”
Sighing, Xu Fengnian took a deep breath and changed the subject. “That extravagant song-and-dance I arranged the other day—any repercussions?”
Xu Xiao waved it off. “None. It’s not like the emperor dies every time.”
Xu Fengnian snorted.
Xu Xiao chuckled nervously.
When Xu Fengnian was fourteen, the late emperor had died suddenly. During the national mourning period, the Crown Prince had staged a lavish performance beneath Yellow Crane Tower, shocking all of Northern Liang. Xu Xiao had rushed back, covered in dust, ready to beat his wayward son—only to relent at the last moment, executing the entire troupe of 200 instead. The newly enthroned emperor had shown remarkable leniency, dismissing it as youthful folly and quelling the outcry from court officials and scholars. Three years later, he’d even proposed making the unruly Northern Liang heir his son-in-law, baffling the entire realm.
“How’s Second Sister’s swordsmanship these days?” Xu Fengnian asked.
The Grand Pillar beamed. “Half a step behind that Nangong fellow you brought here.”
Xu Fengnian’s eyebrows shot up. “I knew she was skilled, but *that* good?”
“Wei Xiong’s the type who must be first in everything,” Xu Xiao said proudly. “That bastard who calls himself ‘Yellow Dragon Scholar’? One day, your sister’ll crush him underfoot.”
Resting his head against a lacquered pillar adorned with golden dragons, Xu Fengnian mused, “What if we paired Second Sister with Bai Hu’er Lian? Honestly, they’d make a perfect match.”
Xu Xiao rolled his eyes. “Say that to either of them, and you’ll regret it. Between her Red Chi and his Spring Thunder, you’d be minced meat.”
Xu Fengnian sighed. “Yeah, I’d stand no chance.”
Lowering his voice, Xu Xiao said, “I’ve got a master up my sleeve—if you can win him over.”
Xu Fengnian frowned. “How masterful?”
Xu Xiao spread both hands. “Top ten in the world. Forty years ago, top three. Twenty years ago, easily top five.”
Xu Fengnian laughed bitterly. “Even better than Lao Huang?”
Xu Xiao smirked.
“Where’ve you hidden him?”
Pointing at the Listening Tide Pavilion, Xu Xiao whispered, “Sealed beneath it. That’s why I built the pavilion—and why your master stays here. All for that once-in-a-century monster.”
Xu Fengnian shook his head. “With my amateur skills? I’d be suicide.”
“No rush,” Xu Xiao said. “His malice hasn’t been worn down yet. Anyone who goes now *would* be suicide.”
“Then I’m never setting foot in that pavilion again.”
Xu Xiao grinned. “You can go.”
Xu Fengnian crossed his arms. “Over my dead body!”
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