Chapter 46

The capital's suburbs, Snapped Willow Pavilion.

The mountain flora was vividly colored, the leaves of poplars and willows swaying in the breeze. What a pity that there was only a small amount of passers-by departing the Pavilion. Among them was a haggard- looking old man with completely white hair and bristles, who was precisely the man that had just been released from the royal prison a few days prior, Zeng Guang.

Supported by his student, Gu Shanlu, he faced the man sitting in the wheelchair, trembling as he bowed towards him with clasped hands.

Fu Shen shifted to the side in a lack of acceptance, lifting a hand to modestly straighten the other back up. "No need for this, Mr. Zeng."

"Had you not undertaken the upholding of justice, Sir, this commoner's old bones would likely be rotting in the royal prison now. Your life-saving kindness must be respected with thanks," Zeng Guang replied.

"You must not, by all means." Fu Shen smiled. "Heaven aids worthy ones like you, and you have a student as good as Gu Shanlu. This Marquis merely moved his lips; it's the one at home who put in the real work. This Fu honestly does not dare to take credit for it."

The Kuangshan College legal incident was something Fu Shen had heard about a while back, and he knew a little thing or two about Zeng Guang. In the man's youth, he became famous in his hometown for being a child prodigy. He was assigned to be a local official after testing for it, but he was disallowed a promotion due to his superior's repression. Fierce as fire by nature, Zeng Guang hung up his cap and left, returning to his hometown to live as a hermit and no longer stepping foot in Court from that point on. He set his heart upon scholarly research for many years, his writings becoming world-famous, but his words were intense. He critiqued contemporary problems, often becoming labelled as asserting to act in unorthodox. Last winter, due to his opinion piece of writing 'the world belongs to all those living in it' in the Essays of the Snowplum Hut, a person of interest accused him of disturbing the Court. Zeng Guang was thus convicted and sent to jail on basis of 'excess comment on the Dynasty' and 'deluding the masses with lies'.

Those of Kuangshan had always been more about kicking up a baby fuss and less for actually doing anything. Following Zeng Guang's imprisonment, its several hundred students went and scattered like birds and rodents, and close friends avoided him like a venomous pest. Only Gu Shanlu had run about, beseeching on his behalf, but with how apathetic people were, the results were minimal.

Yet, perhaps Zeng Guang's fate was not to be cut short, or he mysteriously possessed Heaven's will. His work suited Fu Shen's tastes, so the latter had something of an impression of him. When the Kuangshan case happened, it coincided with the New Year, thus getting dragged on all the way to the current one. The turn of the year was followed up by the Vast Longevity Festival, where Fu Shen and Gu Shanlu talked, and only then did he find out that Zeng Guang was actually his teacher. Fu Shen had learned the truth of the Jin Yunfeng case from years ago – right when he was trying

to think of a pretext to get Yan Xiaohan to talk about it, he just so happened to stumble across the Kuangshan one.

To say that Fu Shen and Yan Xiaohan were his lucky stars would be no exaggeration. If it weren't for those two wanting to screw around, old Mr. Zeng wouldn't know how long he'd be squatting in that cell for.

After Yan Xiaohan acquiesced to Fu Shen, he had formerly planned to fake Zeng Guang's death for his escape. Unexpectedly, on the fourth of April, the capital underwent sudden onset, heavy snowfall. The inside of city was blanketed in silvery white, alarming even the Yuantai Emperor deep inside the palace.

Ever since he had fainted at the Vast Longevity Festival, he had been ill, Court assembly had been modified to be once every three days, and the nation's affairs were left to the Hall of Exalted Glory to assist with management. The imperial hospice was taking care of him every which way, but no improvement was seen from beginning to end. It wasn't until this snow that everyone had a eureka moment: could it be that the Emperor's deeds defied Heaven, drawing out a warning from up above to make him look inside himself and reflect on his actions?

Not only did the Court officials think so, but the Emperor believed it himself, and he dragged his sick body to personally kneel in respect in the imperial ancestral hall. Yan Xiaohan struck while the iron was hot, finding an opportunity to bring up the Kuangshan College incident to him. Sure enough, the Emperor was moved by what he said, and the following day, he issued a decree of grace and granted amnesty.

Now that the man had gone South with the Prince of Qi, Fu Shen had specially come to see Zeng Guang off. It was not only to say his farewells, but to intentionally show off the other's accomplishment in front of a bunch of scholars.

The four words 'the one at home' smashed into Censor Gu's face and made him see stars, his mouth twitching like his teeth hurt.

"In any case, it's thanks to the Marquis and Sir Yan's rescue attempt that my teacher was able to escape mortal peril." He also bowed while facing Fu Shen. "Both of you are greatly honorable and righteous. This official's gratitude is undying, and I will certainly repay your kindness up until my death."

"Before my wife left, he heard that I wanted to give Mr. Zeng a parting meal, and specifically entrusted me with passing this on: you don't actually need to repay him. He only hopes that in future days, those mouths of yours will have mercy and chide him as the 'Court lackey' less often. He'd be satisfied with just that," Fu Shen jested.

The scholars of the realm had perpetual condemnation towards the Flying Dragon Guard, horribly detesting them – an old teacher like Zeng Guang particularly so. He had believed, at first, that Fu Shen had noticed the injustice, dealt with Flying Dragon Guards coming from all sides in a battle of wits and bravery, and only after that did he save him from going into the afterlife. However, he absolutely hadn't anticipated that the Marquis of Jing Ning wouldn't go three sentences without talking about the Court's bloodhound, to the extent that he'd incline the entirety of the good deed towards him; how have the times changed since he'd been in prison? Dedicating oneself to benevolence and not murder… could that still be called a Flying Dragon Guard?

Censor Gu was keener than he. Upon seeing his teacher still in utter shock, he gave Fu Shen a helpless smile. "Then, on our behalf as a master and disciple, please give many thanks to Sir Yan for his assistance."

Fu Shen could tell that he properly understood the way of things, and nodded in satisfaction. "Well said."

Not long after, Gu Shanlu helped Zeng Guang onto his carriage, and waved him farewell. Watching him leave, he then said goodbye to Fu Shen and rode his horse back into the city. Fu Shen thereupon got on his own carriage and went in the other direction, heading towards the villa in Eversong Mountain.

The spring's radiance was just right, the fragrance of warm, damp green grass carried on the wind. The Cold Food Festival was underway. It was just the right time to go take a stroll in the spring scenery.

Such a shame…

The flowers were here, but the one who pitied their picking was not.

Yan Xiaohan had gone to Jingchu. Fu Shen had no interest in staying at the capital Estate by himself, so he was simply going to recuperate in the villa. Yu Qiaoting and Xiao Xun had long since taken their folk back to the Northern Yan, leaving only a scant few rough subordinates. He was happy to idle by, merely floating through life as his days passed without difficulty. Yet, on that very evening, a thickly curtained carriage suddenly came to a stop in front of the villa's entrance.

The curtain lifted, revealing a large box. Under the illumination of firelight, a cold glint of black iron seemed to flash by one of its corners.

A few days later, outside Jing Prefecture.

Their current spot was about two days' travel from Jing Prefecture. The Prince of Qi and his party left Crane Cliff Post early that morning and were scheduled to reach the next post that night, but, to their surprise, a heavy downpour fell from the sky. The river surged and submerged their original path, forcing them to re-route. In the end, the rain came down ever the harder, and it got almost to the point that they were hard-pressed to go on even a single step.

With the fog of the water and the noise of the rain throughout their entire field of view, they narrowly lost their way. By luck, they ended up finding a dilapidated temple in the countryside that could still provide shelter from the elements. Yan Xiaohan escorted the drowned-chicken-like Prince as he burst into the main hall. He noted that the idol was in ruin with dust and cobwebs coating the place, but the building would still hold up, in any case. He sighed in relief.

The chamberlains cut through the rain, discovered a half-busted down door in the rear courtyard for use as dry firewood, and started up a fire.

With hot water and a bonfire going, the panic from fleeing the rain progressively weakened. Yan Xiaohan methodically had people divvy up rations in preparation for their overnight stay and made arrangements for night watch, his backlit figure standing in front of the door giving one an inexplicable sense of safety. Though the Prince was a royal spawn that had been pampered all his life, he was still quite able to withstand hardships; following a change out of his wet clothes, he had the state of mind to get up close and inspect the dust-covered idol as he clasped a cup of hot water.

In response, Yan Xiaohan came over to him. "Your Highness?"

"Do you know which deity this temple worships, Mister Yan?" the Prince asked.

Yan Xiaohan slightly narrowed his eyes as he looked it over, but all he could discern was that the clay statue was tall with its hair in a pinned bun, and it was embellished with eyebrows and long, oval eyes. It looked to be a female immortal. "Please bestow Your wisdom," he answered modestly.

"The signboard at the entryway is greatly damaged, but one can still barely make it out." The Prince pointed it out for him to see. "It's 'Fanxian'." [1]

Yan Xiaohan had been raised in Buddhism, so he had never heard of a 'Fanxian' and couldn't help but be puzzled. "And which immortal entity is this?"

The Prince grinned. "'Fanxian' is another name for a fox immortal.

This temple is actually an offering to a huli jing."

Yan Xiaohan mentally commented that instead of offering it to the Buddha or Bodhisattvas, it was offered to a rural monster. He wasn't worried or anything, but his mouth went: "Then the fox likely once manifested here, inciting the people to build a temple in worship of it."

"In the words that the ancients had penned, 'without a fox demon, there would be no village'. It's a common occurrence among the citizenry to enshrine a fox immortal, and since this is a temple for one, there has to be a village not too far away."

Yan Xiaohan nodded, then said to him, "Your Highness is a child of the true dragon, so evil spirits and monsters will avoid you. All you need to do is rest and not worry about this."

Due to the marvel of the heavy snowfall from a few days ago, the Prince currently held a lot of conviction towards this talk of the supernatural. Based on Yan Xiaohan's attitude, however, he didn't actually believe in any of it himself, despite using that series of phrases to comfort someone else.

It was merely that this bit of courageousness made him feel like this decrepit temple wasn't so difficult to put up with. Compared with this double-crosser that could barely be considered his brother-in-law, there were few metaphysical things that were scarier.

Because of the screen of heavy rain, it was too dark outside to make anything out when the fall of night approached. They had brought plenty of dry goods and drinking water, so there was no fear of spending the night. What Yan Xiaohan was most worried about was a not-too-small lake that was not-too-far from the temple; the place was set in high-up terrain, but he was afraid of the storm elevating the water levels and flooding it in the middle of night.

As his mind wandered, a burst of watery noises suddenly came from the distance, as if something was treading through the stuff in a mad rush. The sound drew nearer and nearer. Yan Xiaohan listened close with all his attention. As expected, a short while later, a figure donning a conical hat came speeding out of the rain and straight towards the worn-out temple they were in.

In a split second, the person came up right before his eyes. Their hat concealed their features, and they wore long black robes with no pattern or decorations. There was a long cloth wrapping secured to their back, the contents of which seemed to be a sword, and he perched upon a thin horse

that was pretty much just skin and bones. "Good brother, this rainy day makes the road slippery and hard to traverse, so I'll be borrowing your place to avoid it for the time being. Many thanks, many thanks!" he shouted wetly in his direction.

With a shing, the sabre he wore at his waist was unsheathed, obstructing the other's horse as it gleamed with icy light. The man reined in his steed at once in fright, nearly falling off of it backwards. Yan Xiaohan's slightly cold-sounding voice came in through the sound of rainfall, somewhat difficult to hear. "Sorry to disappoint. You can't borrow it."

The man startled, shouting with disbelief a short time later. "What did you say?"

"I said, you need to go elsewhere." Yan Xiaohan didn't budge from his spot. "There's no spot for you to lodge here."

The Prince of Qi was inside, and who knew where this guy had come from. Even if he was innocent and got drenched to death outside, he still couldn't be allowed in.

The man tried to talk sense with him. "Big brother, we're both people who've fallen into a dire situation. Where exactly are you thinking that I'd find another place to take shelter in this desolate wilderness? Be a little accommodating. I won't do anything, and when the rain stops I'll go away. Or I can give you money, if that's okay…"

He made to grab his coin purse, but Yan Xiaohan was still not bowing to reason. "It's not."

"Why're you still being absurd?" The man was angry, having not even fished out his money yet. "Did your family build this temple? Or did the Great Immortal in there hire you to be their guard dog? How much is your monthly wage? I'll give you double that, alright?!"

Yan Xiaohan: "..."

His cursing had accidentally hit the mark.

Yan Xiaohan's eyes glinted with faint cold, fingers clenched tight around the sabre's hilt, wrist leveled out. The rain overlapped with the light at the tip of his blade, looking like threads of silver…

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Translators note:

[1] 梵 仙 – "immortal of fan". The character fan doesn't have any meaning on its own, being used as onomatopoeia, or in reference to some aspects of Buddhism, Hindism, and Brahmanism.