At Li Yu’s request, the Young Elder opened the memorial. It began with nothing more than the recent increase of Song troops stationed around Shengzhou and the need for Jiangnan to make early preparations along the river. The long discussion of advantages, dangers, and strategic necessities was extremely well reasoned, worthy of language jointly agreed upon by the ministers. The Young Elder read it slowly to him, but when his eyes reached the final page, his voice stopped.
Li Yu nodded faintly. “What this memorial says is reasonable. Beginning tomorrow, troops are to be stationed secretly at the key points along the lower Yangtze. I have been considering the same matter. Since the memorial has already been submitted, approve it.”
The Young Elder answered yes, but his eyes remained on the writing on the final page. It was unquestionably the ministers’ proposal concerning Lin Renzhao. Whoever had devised the plan had considered every level of the matter. Because General Lin had rendered great service to the state, they proposed secretly poisoning him to eliminate future danger. In this way Song’s dignity would be preserved and Zhao Kuangyin would not accuse Jiangnan of becoming wary the moment Li Congshan was released. They need only say that Lin Renzhao had heard the rumors and taken his own life. The Ruler too would be spared from bearing the reputation of having carried the matter to its cruelest end.
The Young Elder saw everything clearly but said not a word. Looking at the empty, pale color of Li Yu’s eyes, he smiled faintly.
Li Yu pondered for a moment. “Congshan did not mention Lin Renzhao again? I have been inconvenienced in recent days and cannot go out to order a thorough investigation myself. Otherwise this matter would never have dragged on for so long.”
The Young Elder snapped the memorial shut. “The Duke understands the larger situation. He must have discussed the matter with the ministers and understood the advantages and dangers, which is why he did not mention it again.”
Li Yu closed his eyes. “It is already deep autumn. I suppose… he cannot wait much longer either.”
Knowing that he was still worried, the Young Elder picked up the approval seal. “Does the Ruler approve what is written in this memorial?”
“Approved.”
He approached the man in white, his gold-threaded sleeve falling across the white robes. “It would be improper for this monk to apply the seal, and the Ruler cannot see. Forgive this monk’s discourtesy.” He gently reached out and took the thin wrist before him, his fingers falling directly over an old scar. Both men paused for an instant. Li Yu smiled. “I will trouble the Elder.”
The Young Elder kept hold of his wrist and guided his hand to where the seal lay, leading him to press it down himself.
When he went out to report to the Duke of Zheng, the Young Elder noticed several younger monks nearby who had come out as usual to sweep the fallen leaves. Concerned about being overheard, he led Li Congshan into a secluded meditation room nearby. After first performing a Buddhist salute, he spoke quietly and deliberately lowered his voice. “The Ruler places great importance on the defenses, but they cannot be arranged openly. They must be deployed in secret. Once the Duke leaves the temple, you may proceed discreetly and instruct the ministers that nothing is to be revealed.”
Li Congshan nodded, looking at the seal upon the final page. “The Ruler actually approved the matter of Lin Renzhao?”
The Young Elder raised a finger for silence, signaling him to lower his voice. “The Ruler has considered this matter for a long time and agreed today. But after Lin Renzhao dies, it may only be said that he took his own life out of fear of punishment. The true facts must never be spoken aloud. The Duke may make the arrangements yourself.”
Li Congshan clutched the memorial tightly, nodded, and left.
Inside the Buddhist hall, Li Yu remained as detached as ever. With his eyes failing and nothing to relieve the strain, his face looked even paler behind layer after layer of black gauze. Zhao Kuangyin had already ordered troops stationed at Shengzhou, and the intention behind that move was far too obvious. At a time like this Li Yu absolutely could not let word spread that the color of his pupils had dispersed and he could no longer see.
Hearing someone enter, he assumed the Young Elder had returned. Something suddenly occurred to him, and he sighed almost absently. “It truly is fate. The coughing of blood has finally improved somewhat, and now another problem has appeared.” He gave a mocking laugh and propped himself up before leaning lazily back. “I have been thinking about it too. My eyes worsened so suddenly these past few days. Perhaps there was some particular cause.”
There was no response from inside the room, so Li Yu simply continued. “Elder, there is nothing between you and me that cannot be said. I am only voicing a suspicion. It seems these eyes… began changing after the Empress sent that medicine…”
A sudden crash sounded. Something had overturned and shattered on the ground. From the crisp breaking noise, it seemed to be some vessel of jade or glass. Li Yu immediately sensed something was wrong. “You… are?”
Nüying stared blankly at the bowl of honeyed osmanthus congee she had been carrying, now spilled at her feet. “Ruler…”
Li Yu’s fingertips tightened slightly, though his expression did not change. “Nüying… why did you come in without having yourself announced?”
The Young Elder had taken the Duke of Zheng to a meditation room to discuss urgent matters. What did the young monks sweeping outside understand? Seeing the Queen personally carrying food to visit the Ruler, they had not dared ask a single question and simply opened the door for her.
Nüying looked at his eyes. Though his hair covered them slightly, she could still see how badly they had worsened, the color growing paler still. “If I had been announced, would I have been unable to hear the Ruler’s heartfelt words?”
A smile suddenly appeared on Li Yu’s lips. “Even if you heard them, it does not matter. I have indeed wondered whether my present condition might have something to do with that medicine.”
Nüying slowly stepped back twice and braced herself against the wooden table behind her. He could not see her expression, which was plainly devastated. “You think I wanted to harm you?”
He said nothing. Nüying’s voice abruptly rose. “Why would I harm you?”
Li Yu did not become angry. “I was merely idle and thought the matter through carefully enough to become concerned. If you speak so loudly that others hear you, what are we supposed to make of that?”
Nüying fell silent. He was the one who could not see her, yet in that instant she wished she were the one who could not see. Neither of them spoke for a moment. Then she said, “The Ruler’s concern is reasonable. Nothing I say in my own defense now will be useful. Better that the Ruler find someone trustworthy and summon an imperial physician to examine the prescription.”
Before she finished, a voice sounded behind her. The Young Elder lifted the black gauze and first saw the congee scattered everywhere, still giving off wisps of warmth, while a faint sweet fragrance of osmanthus filled the air. “Greetings to the Queen. This is…” He too froze. Li Yu seemed no different, but Nüying’s complexion was unmistakably terrible and both her eyes had reddened.
Li Yu spoke mildly. “It is nothing. The Queen saw no one outside and came in.”
The Young Elder bowed. “Amitabha. The Ruler’s eyes have shown no improvement recently. The Queen should indeed offer him some comfort. This monk will withdraw.”
He turned to leave, but Li Yu spoke. “Elder, wait. I have something to entrust to you.”
The Young Elder looked at the woman in magnificent gold robes standing in the center of the room. Nüying came back to herself and looked at him as well. The monk appeared troubled but eventually returned and stood beside Li Yu. “The Ruler may speak plainly.”
“To tell the truth, both the Queen and I are somewhat concerned that something may have gone wrong with the prescription used to treat my coughing of blood. I would like to trouble the Elder to investigate it for us.”
Nüying considered for a moment as well. “Tomorrow I will come to the temple to pray for blessings and bring a cautious imperial physician to take my pulse. Outwardly, everything will proceed as usual. Elder, please question him secretly. Word of the Ruler’s present condition absolutely must not leak. Simply say that one of your disciples has developed an unusual illness and ask whether there is anything harmful in this prescription.”
The Young Elder looked uneasy. “The Queen’s person is precious to the state. If this monk uses tomorrow’s visit as cover for an investigation and the slightest accident occurs, I fear it would damage the dignity of the realm.”
Li Yu shook his head. “Things have already come to this. Only these few people know about my eyes. We cannot draw anyone else into it. At present there is no one we can safely trust. This is the only way.”
The Young Elder appeared to have no choice. He released a long sigh and bowed. “Amitabha. This monk will be exceedingly careful.”
Seeing him agree, Nüying said, “In a little while I will personally give the prescription to Liuzhu. She can still be trusted. Let her deliver it.”
“All right.” Li Yu answered and remained leaning against the plain wooden couch as before. Nüying, however, seemed to have more to say. The Young Elder asked nothing further and slowly withdrew beyond the gauze.
Hearing the movement, Li Yu knew she had not yet left. A faint smile rested at his lips, as elegant and unruffled as ever. “What did Nüying bring today? I can smell the sweet fragrance of osmanthus.”
Bitterness churned inside her, but those words gradually calmed her. Releasing a breath, she answered, “You have been unable to leave the temple for so many days, so I specially made some throat-soothing congee.”
“What a pity…” This time he genuinely looked regretful. Nüying’s eyes had already reddened, but at those words her heart immediately softened again. “Do not worry…” She had meant to comfort him, then remembered that in his mind she might be the culprit, and the rest of the sentence died.
Li Yu shook his head. “Are you disappointed now?”
“I became accustomed to it long ago… I suppose if Elder Sister had been the one who brewed the medicine for you today, you would never have suspected her.”
Li Yu suddenly remembered the past and sighed faintly. “I truly would not have. Yet even she once deceived me.”
Nüying had long since forgotten the petulant temperament she had possessed back then. Hearing him say this, she frowned. “Elder Sister, she…”
“She only delayed something important. She did not want me to go out.” He plainly had no desire to discuss it further and passed over everything in a few words. Right and wrong had ceased to matter. The result was already before everyone’s eyes. Shengding House had burned completely to the ground, and no one could recover what was lost.
Nüying’s gaze changed. Still holding the gold-lacquered tray, she bent down slightly and began picking up the broken pieces of the glass bowl. Li Yu heard it clearly. “Leave servants’ work to the servants. Do not hurt your hands. Go back.”
But Nüying said, “Actually, that day… I was the one who put the calming wood into Elder Sister’s medicine. Do not blame her.” When she finished, she looked up at the man on the couch. Slowly, such profound grief appeared on his face that she could hardly bear it.
“Nüying, what else have you done?”
“Nothing. This time, whether you believe me or not, I will only say it was not me.” Nüying slowly gathered the shards onto the tray and quietly stood. “At this point there is no need to hide anything anymore. Back then I was jealous. I wanted to see whether, if she was not as perfect as you believed, you would still treat her exactly the same. Now I have seen the answer. If the Ruler wishes to punish me, Nüying will kneel and accept it.”
He heard the rustle as she knelt before him.
Nüying raised her eyes. Only a few steps separated them. That pale-white figure stood only a few steps away, yet his face was full of grief. He was so sorrowful over this, so terribly sorrowful.
So far away. When would she ever truly be able to stand beside him?
She was grieving too, but he could not see it.
“Nüying. The second time, and you are still kneeling before me.”
She discovered she no longer had the strength even for pain. “Yes.”
“Do you know… I once told you that the difference between you and your elder sister is that she can always stand shoulder to shoulder with me, while you…” He shook his head slightly and turned aside against the couch. “Get up. Return to Fengque Palace.”
Yes. She would forever be kneeling before him. He was her god, not her husband.
Carrying the tray filled with the room’s broken pieces, Nüying raised a hand and prepared to leave. The man on the couch behind her suddenly spoke. “Perhaps one day you will understand that the consequences of what you did are not merely a matter between you and me.”
Nüying assumed he meant the problem with his eyes. Her fingers tightened around the hanging gauze, but in the end she suppressed the anger in her heart and left.
Li Yu thought of that bowl of medicine which had made him sleep for so long that day, and how today its accumulated consequence had become tens of thousands of troops stationed at Shengzhou.
How many more people would die because of that bowl of medicine?
Everyone had once been young and reckless, but the price was far too great.
He pressed a hand to his forehead and felt only exhaustion. Amid all this turmoil, perhaps there was no one to blame.
The Young Elder stepped out from behind the gauze and summoned someone to clean the spilled congee from the floor. “Is the Ruler tired?”
Li Yu sat upright. “Summon Xu Xuan outside the hall to take down my dictation. I will submit another memorial to Song.”
The Young Elder acknowledged the order and prepared to send for him, then asked with some uncertainty, “For what matter does the Ruler submit this memorial?”
The sorrow between Li Yu’s brows did not fade. “Long remembrance cannot be dispelled; alone I grieve and sigh in pain. Deep rain makes autumn desolate; sorrow only deepens illness.”
“Choked by grief, I think before the wind; dim and blurred, flowers swim before my eyes. May the Empty King remember me; this poor son has lost his way home.”
Elio’s Notes: These eight lines are from Li Yu’s historical Mourning Poem, traditionally associated with the death of his young son Zhongxuan while Empress Zhaohui was gravely ill. The closing couplet uses Buddhist imagery: “Empty King” is an epithet for the Buddha, while the “poor son” evokes a Lotus Sutra parable of someone spiritually lost from his true inheritance.
The Young Elder glanced toward him. “The Buddha teaches that all things in this world are empty. Thus the name Empty King. The Ruler’s understanding of this grows deeper.”
Li Yu merely smiled faintly. “The Buddha Great Universal Wisdom Excellence had a jewel sewn into his son’s clothing so that it might sustain him later. The Buddha is compassionate. Yet now I cannot find that jewel, and even if I did, I imagine it would be useless. Outsiders could never understand this. The entanglement within it can no longer be explained in a few brief words.”
The Young Elder said nothing further. Li Yu’s reputation for poetry truly was not undeserved. But Li Yu spoke again. “I imagine if others heard these lines, they would once more call them the foolish ramblings of a man at the end of his road, dreaming of the Buddha’s salvation. They would not be entirely wrong.”
Zhao Kuangyin once again received a memorial from the Ruler of Jiangnan. This time it was not written in Li Yu’s own hand.
He had not even wanted to look at it, but Zhao Pu persuaded him otherwise and read it aloud carefully. The language was already deeply earnest. Li Yu was asking Zhao Kuangyin to spare the people of Jiangnan.
A trace of disdain colored Zhao Pu’s voice, yet Zhao Kuangyin listened with nothing but melancholy in his heart. If that man truly stood before him saying these words, softening his manner and speaking in that clear, restrained voice, would Zhao Kuangyin yield?
Zhao Pu closed the memorial and presented it, cutting through all his thoughts.
“Your Majesty, matters have now reached the critical point…”
Zhao Kuangyin raised a hand to stop him. “The Chancellor need not say more. This style indeed resembles the Ruler’s hand. Unfortunately, he still has not learned. When have I ever accepted a memorial drafted for him by someone else?”
At that very moment, Li Yu stood before a window as night deepened. His heart was too burdened with worry. At night he could faintly make out the dark shadows of trees, though even those images had become extremely blurred. During the day he could no longer hold a brush at all.
A useless method still had to be tried if it was the only method left. Even setting aside the fact that Jiangnan’s soldiers had once been defeated by the Zhou armies under his father, their temperament was simply not as fierce as Song’s troops. It was a difference born from land, water, and upbringing. The gentle dream of Jiangnan, with spring water upon the river and drifting blossoms, had never encountered the iron cavalry and spears in Zhao Kuangyin’s hand. The reality lay plainly before him.
He had known it from the beginning. Perhaps paying the greatest possible price could preserve some fragment of a good name. But was such a name truly worth that price, worth turning the Qinhuai River red with blood from that day onward?
Was it worth gambling on? The white gauze robes had begun to feel cold beneath the autumn wind. Liuzhu had just brought him a warmer white-brocade cloak. After living at Guangliang Temple for so long, he already knew the approximate arrangement of the room by heart. He slowly went over, found the cloak, and wrapped it around himself before feeling somewhat warmer.
Complaints filled court and countryside alike: while the northern bank pressed closer and closer, the Ruler had buried himself in a Buddhist temple and refused to emerge day after day.
Going out would only cause more trouble. Let them say what they wished.
Li Yu leaned against the wooden window. Recently he had spent every night secluded in this quiet meditation room. Every other part of the temple kept candles burning through the night, except this room alone.
His hand was still rubbing the scar at his wrist. It had long since become habit. He was waiting.
Could that man spare these lives?
A river wind suddenly rose, rolling forward with a force that seemed able to overwhelm the heavens.
Zhao Kuangyin stared at the terrain map around Caishiji. After a long while he spoke a single sentence as his answer to the memorial. “How can I allow another man to sleep soundly beside my own bed?”
Zhao Pu understood the imperial intention.
The wind abruptly strengthened, lifting Li Yu’s hair.
For him there was already no difference between day and night. Standing here looking into darkness was only a result of the unease in his heart. If no one else spoke of what was happening, then whenever he was alone he could only think it through by himself.
The wooden window suddenly slammed shut in the wind and struck his shoulder without warning. The man in white frowned slightly, then raised that incomparably graceful wrist and secured the window properly. On this day, the wind had filled the tower before the mountain storm even arrived.
A storm rising from level ground was never a good omen.
As his sight dimmed, his hearing became extraordinarily clear.
He wanted to let himself rest properly and lay down with his eyes closed. Outside the window, dead branches snapped in the wind with a sound that made the heart seize. In an instant it no longer felt like a Buddhist temple, but an Asura battlefield, where what broke were bloodlines, the spirit of grass and trees, and the goodness of human hearts. Once, with flowers held between all ten fingers, he had earnestly told that man, “Who gave you permission to hurt the flowers?”
Fine. He would not hurt the flowers. Now he intended to overturn even the soil beneath them.
Zhao Kuangyin spent the entire night in Wende Hall discussing recent affairs. In Zichen Palace, Yunjie developed a fever. At first she only felt unusually exhausted, but as night deepened she grew steadily worse. Ling’er saw that she looked unlike usual. Even when Yunjie had been depressed before, she had never appeared this weary. Forgetting everything else, Ling’er hurried over, touched her forehead, and cried out, “Your Majesty!”
Yunjie glared at her. “Again with this. When will you learn? It is only a fever. I probably caught a chill a few days ago.”
Bitterness immediately rose in Ling’er’s heart. “Has Your Majesty felt unwell since this afternoon? And only now has the fever become worse? If you had said something earlier, we could have summoned an imperial physician earlier…” As she spoke, she hurried toward the door.
Yunjie called after her. “It is so late. Wait until tomorrow.”
Ling’er thought that Yunjie still possessed the same gentle temperament. Back at the residence there had at least been moments of willfulness. Now everything had changed. The Military Governor and his wife were both gone, and the Empress had begun forcing herself to suppress everything.
“No. The Empress is ill. This cannot be delayed.” Ling’er ran out anyway.
The imperial physician worked for half the night and in the end prescribed nothing more than medicine for wind-cold. Her heart-fire had already been excessive, and one brush of cold wind had immediately made her ill. As for the cause of that fire in her heart, no medicine or stone could cure it.
The lamps in Wende Hall burned through the entire night.