The Lady of Jing’an said bitterly, “I said it back then—the Gu family’s three generations of killing was bound to bring retribution down on the Gu clan. You should never have married a Gu!”
So long after marrying in, and she’d only produced one mute, and an inauspicious star at that, nearly cutting off the Qin family’s line.
“If it weren’t for me—” She stopped there, pressing her lips tight.
Qin Su rubbed at the space between his brows, some indescribable feeling spreading through his chest.
For one moment, Gu Liaoliao’s words echoed in his ears: once that feng shui array was set up, everything went smoothly for your Qin family—but my A-Man ran high fevers one after another, and it burned her voice away.
Could it really be that the feng shui array had suppressed A-Man, and that was why he’d gotten a son?
He swallowed, shook off the tangled thoughts, and said, “Mother, stop overthinking it. It’s just a coincidence.”
The Lady of Jing’an grew angrier still. “You’re still taking the Gu woman’s side. Your cousin is carrying your son in her belly!”
“A-Man is your granddaughter too.”
“A mute, a money-losing burden—who’d want her.”
“Mother!”
Seeing her son’s face go cold, the Lady of Jing’an picked up her handkerchief again and began sniffling.
Qin Su sighed. “Let’s do this—I’ll have the steward find a few more midwives and physicians to stay at the residence and watch over her. In a few days I’ll go with Young Master Chen to Taiqing Temple, and while I’m there, I’ll personally ask Immortal Qingping for a talisman to ensure a safe birth. That should set your mind at ease.”
At ease? Of course she wasn’t at ease. This was the precious grandson she’d waited all these years for—there could not be the slightest mishap. The Lady of Jing’an wiped her tears. “Su’er, your mother is counting on Yaoniang to give our Qin family a grandson. You’re nearly thirty, with nothing beneath your knee—don’t you long for one too?”
Qin Su said nothing. He did long for one. He’d longed for one for eight whole years!
The joy he’d felt when Gu Liaoliao was pregnant with A-Man—that was exactly how disappointed he’d been when she gave birth to A-Man.
“You must understand, your mother does all this for your sake. Our Qin family cannot let an inauspicious star cut off our line—”
Qin Su gave a few vague responses and rose. “Mother, I’ll go see Yaoniang.”
With that, he turned and headed toward the back of the house.
Sun Yaoniang was resting in the green gauze cabinet-bed. She was a woman soft and delicate to the bone, utterly unlike Gu Liaoliao, and it made Qin Su feel that she would surely wither away without him by her side.
He’d only meant to sit for a little while, but between her gentle, soft-spoken words, he lost track of time and stayed until dusk.
Only when he returned to the courtyard he and his wife shared did he find it empty in every direction, and the darkness that met his eyes looked exactly like the pitch-black depths of Gu Liaoliao’s eyes when she’d said the words “divide the property and live apart.”
Qin Su spent a restless, sleepless night, and the next day he still had to report for duty.
Xie Yingchen was to go to Taiqing Temple on the first day of the fifth month, and Qin Su was assigned to the escort detail.
Since returning to the capital, Xie Yingchen had been living in the palace.
He wasn’t an imperial prince, and he’d already come of age—living in the inner palace was clearly quite inconvenient. When he’d first returned, several old ministers had cited precedent after precedent, arguing that no dynasty in history had such an arrangement, and had petitioned the emperor to have a residence established for Xie Yingchen in the capital. But the emperor had refused, citing Xie Yingchen’s frail health as needing close watching, and in the end simply had him move into Xiyun Enclave.
Xiyun Enclave was bordered on the side nearest the inner palace by a lake, which served as a kind of barrier from the harem, and the emperor had even shown special favor by letting Xie Yingchen bring his own attendants.
Qin Su now served on duty at Xiyun Enclave.
This trip of Xie Yingchen’s, traveling incognito, required no small amount of preparation, big and small, and Qin Su was run ragged with it—as if he were trying to drown out the unspeakable restlessness in his heart with sheer busyness.
For several days running he slept in the palace’s duty room. The day of departure was one specially chosen by the Astronomical Bureau, with clear skies stretching for miles.
The warming sun of the fifth month left Qin Su, already changed into single-layer clothes, feeling a touch of heat—yet when Xie Yingchen emerged, he was still wrapped in a heavy cloak. · black lotus Novel Translation · Black Lotus Novel
“Eldest Young Master.”
Qin Su cupped his hands in greeting.
Ever since Chief Councilor Song had first used the address “Eldest Young Master,” the emperor had let it stand by default.
Xie Yingchen smiled and gestured for him to forgo the formalities. His dark hair was bound up with a jade coronet, his gait unhurried, every gesture carrying an air of noble ease, composed and unruffled.
They walked out through the palace gates on foot, and only once Xie Yingchen had climbed into the carriage did Qin Chen lower the curtain, then step over and say, strictly business, “Commander Qin, we may depart.”
Qin Su’s gaze fell on the strip of white bandage wrapped around his neck.
That the Fifth Young Master had been injured was, in the end, because of Qin Chen.
Their mother, unable to touch Gu Zhizhuo, had vented her anger instead on Consort Zhao, who had given birth to Qin Chen—only for the palace to inexplicably send down a reward, specifying it was for Consort Zhao, citing Qin Chen’s years of meritorious service. It wasn’t hard to guess that this must have been the imperial favor Young Master Chen had gone and requested. With that reward in hand, their mother, however furious, could only swallow it.
That Young Master Chen would go this far for him—it made Qin Chen seem like no ordinary guard at all, but more like a trusted confidant.
Qin Su’s face was heavy, without a trace of a smile.
“Qin Chen—”
“Eldest Young Master!”
A shrill voice cut him off. A palace attendant came hurrying over and called out to stop them. “Eldest Young Master, please wait a moment. His Majesty will be accompanying you.”
The emperor was coming too? Qin Su startled, swallowing back the words he hadn’t yet spoken.
Xie Yingchen climbed down from the carriage to receive the emperor.
After about the time it takes an incense stick to burn, the imperial procession arrived.
The emperor was a man in his forties, dressed in a stone-blue brocade robe, his brows and eyes bearing a strong resemblance to Xie Jing’s, though carrying an added air of quiet, unspoken authority.
He raised a hand, signaling them to forgo formalities, and said to Xie Yingchen in good spirits, “I happened to have some leisure today, so I thought I’d come along and take a walk with you. No need for ceremony, Chen’er. Get back in the carriage—the wind’s strong out here, don’t catch a chill.”
Aside from the guards, the emperor had brought along only three imperial princes and a few close ministers, all dressed like ordinary wealthy gentlemen out for a stroll.
Taiqing Temple lay on the outskirts of the capital; the procession of carriages and horses took just over an hour to arrive.
Qin Su had sent word ahead several days prior, and the abbot, knowing distinguished guests would arrive that day, had a young acolyte waiting outside the mountain gate early. The moment they arrived, he came out to receive them.
Taiqing Temple had a history of over a hundred years, and even through the storms of the previous dynasty, its incense had never stopped burning—it carried a certain transcendence, standing apart from the mundane world.
Catching sight of the emperor, the abbot was startled for only an instant before smiling, neither servile nor arrogant. “Master Xie, please, this way.”
“Last time I—” the emperor cleared his throat, “—last time I came to Taiqing Temple was three years ago,” the emperor said leisurely, waving his fan. “The abbot’s bearing is just as fine as it was then.”
The abbot, with the bearing of an immortal and eyes full of gentle warmth, smiled. “Three years apart, and Master Xie, the purple aura about you has only grown stronger.”
Purple aura signified nobility—on the emperor, that naturally meant the aura of a dragon.
These words put the emperor in an excellent mood, and he laughed heartily, stepping first into Taiqing Temple.
The incense at Taiqing Temple burned exceptionally strong, and the abbot, being approachable, was recognized by no small number of the faithful, who paused now and again to greet him; the abbot returned each greeting in turn.
The emperor didn’t mind, his pace neither hurried nor slow, asking as he walked, “I’ve heard there’s an Immortal Qingping at the temple. I wonder if he’s in today.”
The emperor had heard mention of this Immortal Qingping even within the palace.
Especially in recent days, there had been rumors circulating through the capital, claiming that strange celestial phenomena had appeared over Taiqing Temple, that the secluded Immortal Qingping had sensed heaven’s will, and so on, told with great vivid detail.
“Qingping only just came out of seclusion the day before yesterday. He hasn’t gone out these past two days,” the abbot said, and had a young acolyte go pass word to Immortal Qingping.
“This way, please!” BLACK LOTUS NOVEL Translations | Black Lotus Novel
The main hall of Taiqing Temple was the Hall of the Three Purities. The emperor had just stepped onto a stair, about to ask the abbot about the “strange celestial phenomena,” when a young woman in a rouge-colored silk skirt came walking out from inside, coming face to face with him.
The young woman’s face was covered with a thin veil, a pair of phoenix eyes clear as water.
She blinked, showing a flicker of surprise, then stepped forward with a bright smile and greeted him properly. “Uncle Xie.”
The form of address left the emperor briefly stunned, but then he laughed, all the more pleased. “Little Zhuo, what brings you here?”
Gu Zhizhuo put on a look of pure innocence.
In her past life, she had properly taken a master here—she counted as a lay disciple of the Daoist school. Coming to this temple, she really ought to pay her respects to the founding patriarch, shouldn’t she?
Besides, she hadn’t heard anything about the emperor coming! And yet here they were, crossing paths.
She glanced first at Xie Yingchen standing behind the emperor. The moment their eyes met, the corner of Xie Yingchen’s long, narrow eyes lifted slightly, and he gave her an almost imperceptible shake of his head before lowering his lashes again.
Gu Zhizhuo lowered her gaze slightly and noticed that she was gripping the fold of her skirt, her fingertips gone a little pale from the force of it. Master had told her, in her past life, that in front of anyone she couldn’t fully trust, small tells like this should be avoided wherever possible, lest they give away one’s true thoughts.
She quietly smoothed her skirt, covering the slip, and said lightly on the surface, “I came to ask for a safety talisman for my little cousin.”
She lifted the talisman in her hand. “I was just about to go hang it up when I saw you’d arrived.”
Not far from the Hall of the Three Purities was a pond, and beside the pond stood an ancient cypress a thousand years old. No one quite remembered when it started, but the faithful would hang the safety talismans they’d drawn upon its branches. With so many talismans hanging there, the red threads swayed in the wind like rippling crimson waves—a rather striking sight.
“Go on then, no need to stay with us.”
The emperor thoughtfully dismissed her, and Gu Zhizhuo happily bowed and, taking her two maidservants with her, headed off toward the ancient cypress.
The emperor turned his gaze back and climbed a few more steps. The abbot said with a smile, “Master Xie, there are rather a lot of the faithful here today. I’m afraid the Hall of the Three Purities may not hold so many people.”
The emperor considered this a moment, then nodded.
Qin Su cupped his hands in acknowledgment of the order and left most of the guards waiting outside.
Gu Zhizhuo, facing the Hall of the Three Purities, tied the talisman’s cord slowly and unhurriedly. Seeing that Qin Chen hadn’t followed the others inside, she hooked her little finger and left a slipknot in it.
So, no sooner had it been hung than a gust of wind blew past, and the talisman was carried off.
“Ah!”
Gu Zhizhuo let out a soft cry.
Qin Chen darted over nimbly, picked it up, and scurried back with it, all eager to please.
“Eldest Miss Gu, your safety talisman.”
“Much obliged.” Gu Zhizhuo reached out to take it, then lowered her voice and asked quietly, “Why is he here?” She meant the emperor.
“I don’t know,” Qin Chen said, equally puzzled. “It was decided all of a sudden, right before we set out.”
He turned his back to block the others’ line of sight, his voice dropping lower. “That business last time—did I get you caught up in it? I heard your aunt’s gone to stay at her natal family’s to avoid trouble.”
“It’s got nothing to do with you.” Gu Zhizhuo made a show of straightening the red thread, and seeing Qin Su glaring over with an unpleasant expression, a cold snort escaped her lips. “The Qin family just doesn’t know a good thing when they see it.”
Qin Chen heard her but didn’t understand.
Gu Zhizhuo crooked a finger, signaling him to lean closer. “Young Master Qin’s Palace of Children and Grandchildren is struck by clashing and piercing influences—he’s fated to have no heir.”
Qin Chen was stunned, his mouth slowly falling open into a half-circle.
Gu Zhizhuo wore a look halfway between a smile and not. “Him? He used up eight lifetimes’ worth of luck marrying my aunt. The Duke Protector of the Nation’s household carries a heavy killing aura, and my aunt’s fate carries a touch of that same ill-boding force, which suppressed the inauspicious star in Qin Su’s Palace of Children and Grandchildren—and by sheer luck, that’s how A-Man came to be.”
A-Man was the only blood of his that existed in this lifetime.
So, to put it precisely, it wasn’t that Gu Liaoliao had struggled to conceive for eight years of marriage.
It was that Qin Su was the reason Gu Liaoliao had struggled to conceive for eight years of marriage!
Qin Chen was left speechless.
Oh—right, he’d heard that Qin Su’s Concubine Sun was due to give birth any day now. So then, whose child was Concubine Sun actually carrying?
