Chapter Seventeen: A Midnight Intrusion into the Temple

Qingyang City was as bustling and prosperous as ever, just like any other day. The only difference was the arrival of three extraordinary strangers whose presence would not go unnoticed. But who, indeed, were they?

“Taiyi! Nian’er!” Liu Lingshuang and Ye Sansi walked through the city, calling out as they searched. After circling around without finding them, Liu Lingshuang stopped and said to Ye Sansi, “Where could Taiyi and Nian’er have gone? They’re so difficult to find.” Ye Sansi suggested, “Maybe they went to the marketplace?”

“You think everyone is like you, always thinking about food?” Liu Lingshuang considered for a moment and then said, “Actually, it’s possible. Maybe they thought you’d return there. Let’s go have a look.”

“Alright.”

As they approached a pavilion a hundred paces from the market, they spotted Li Taiyi. Ye Sansi ran over. Seeing that Sansi was unharmed, Taiyi smiled and said, “Thank goodness, Sansi, you had me worried sick.” Liu Lingshuang walked over and said, “Worried, worried, it’s easy to say. Yet I didn’t see you searching for Sansi. Why are you standing here, if not waiting for this lady to find you?”

Li Taiyi scratched his head in embarrassment, pointing into the pavilion. “Miss Nian’er twisted her ankle running to find Sansi, so I helped her into the pavilion to rest. Though she was anxious about Sansi and told me not to mind her and to go search, I couldn’t just leave her. I stayed here, where I could see anyone returning.”

Upon hearing that Lin Nian’er was injured, Liu Lingshuang and Ye Sansi hurried into the pavilion. Just as they entered and prepared to speak, Lin Nian’er, who at first looked startled to see them, noticed Sansi was safe and shot a glance at Lingshuang and Sansi, pressing her right index finger to her lips in a gesture for silence. Lingshuang crept closer to observe. Nian’er sat cross-legged, her head resting on her hand.

There was another young woman in the pavilion, seated with poise before a zither. Her hands moved gracefully over the strings, and as Taiyi entered, the woman plucked a fierce, thunderous note. The sound softened, her slender hands making the seven strings dance with fluid agility. Sometimes the melody flowed like water, gentle and soft; sometimes like a spring breeze, delicate and smooth; at other times, fierce and majestic like a startled swan or the surging river, alternately intricate and wild.

Each note struck deep into the heart, every chord echoing in the mind with a surge of emotion, expressing in music the ineffable turmoil within. It was just as the old verse described: “Each string’s muted voice is filled with longing, telling of life’s frustrations. With lowered eyes she plays on, pouring out the endless secrets of her heart.” As the piece drew to a close, there came a final flourish—“At the end, the pluck cuts the heart, a single string snaps like tearing silk.”

The music resonated with everyone present, stirring up buried sorrows. Ye Sansi, who had never heard such playing, found his own worries summoned forth; he squatted down, eyes brimming with tears. The woman rose and bowed to the group. Lin Nian’er addressed her: “Miss, I, too, have some understanding of music. The piece you played should have been a song of happiness and warmth, yet in your hands it became one of profound sorrow. Each note was wrenching, the pain nearly unbearable. Miss, if you have troubles on your mind, share them with us. If we can help in any way, we will do our best.”

The others chimed in as well: “Yes, we’d like to help.”

The woman replied, “These are family matters; how could I trouble you with them? But since you ask, I might as well tell you. It is better to share the burden than keep it bottled inside.”

She sat cross-legged in the pavilion, the four gathered around, listening intently to her tale:

“I was born into a prominent family here in Qingyang City. My surname is Zhao, given name Xiangru. I was close friends with Young Master Yang from the east of the city since childhood, and we pledged ourselves to each other in secret. In our leisure, I would play the zither here in this pavilion while he practiced swordsmanship nearby. When he grew tired, I would wipe his brow, and he would often bring me little gifts, all of which I loved dearly. He said... he said he loved to see me smile.

But happiness was short-lived. My parents, ruined by a failed business venture, were hounded to death by creditors. To repay the debt, I discussed with Yang Lang that he should marry me, and once the debt was paid, all would be well. He agreed, but his mother refused, calling me a wretch. Only after Yang Lang pleaded with her, even threatening his own life, did she relent and allow me to marry into the family. Once there, I washed and cooked, raised silkworms, and spun thread—staying up late, rising early—hoping to repay Yang Lang and his mother’s kindness. Yet no matter how hard I worked, my mother-in-law always found fault, scolding and berating me.”

“Though I married into the Yang family, I was Yang Lang’s lawful wife. After a year, I bore him a daughter named Ziyan. I thought my mother-in-law would soften, but upon learning the child was a girl, she accused me of uselessness, failing to produce a son. Things only worsened; she called me a demon, cursed me as inauspicious. I could bear anything for myself, but she even called my child a monster, a cursed being.

Unable to bear it, I—once a wealthy family’s daughter, now fallen on hard times and subjected to endless torment—perhaps out of stubborn pride, left behind a letter and took Ziyan away from Qingyang City.

A few days ago, I heard Yang Lang had passed away. I returned to pray for his spirit and offer blessings, only to find he had taken a concubine. That concubine barred me from entering Qingyang Temple, where Yang Lang’s memorial tablet is kept. So I came to this pavilion to play his favorite song, hoping he might hear it in paradise…”

“This is outrageous! She’s a concubine, you are the wife! How can a wife need the permission of a concubine to visit her husband?” Liu Lingshuang sprang to her feet, indignant.

Xiangru replied, “Thank you, miss, for understanding. There is only the concubine left in the Yang household. The abbot of the temple, entrusted by my late mother-in-law, now leaves everything to the concubine. Now that Yang Lang has passed, I can no longer even see my husband’s memorial.”

Lin Nian’er waved her sleeve and declared, “This is intolerable! What harm is there in a wife seeing her husband’s memorial? Such heartlessness! I’ll go to my father and ask him to send soldiers to surround Qingyang Temple—I’d like to see the abbot dare to refuse us!”

Xiangru bowed and said, “So the young lady is the magistrate’s daughter. Please do not send soldiers; the temple is sacred ground, and if the Buddha should take offense, I fear it would bring harm to Yang Lang. Thank you for your kindness, but this must not be done.”

Ye Sansi suggested, “Why don’t we sneak in tonight? After paying our respects, we’ll leave quietly—no one will ever know! Haha.”

Liu Lingshuang laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “I didn’t expect you’d learn such tricks so quickly after leaving the mountain, Sansi!”

Ye Sansi scratched his head. “Grandpa Tree calls this strategy, haha.”

Xiangru nodded. “That’s a good idea—let’s do it tonight! But I’m still afraid—”

Liu Lingshuang reassured her, “With us here to help, there’s nothing to fear, Sister Xiangru.”

Xiangru nodded, bowing again. “I can never repay such kindness.”

Ye Sansi waved her off. “No need for thanks, that’s what heroes do!”

“You learn quickly, wild man! Haha.”

“It’s all just a little knowledge!” (Heh, another compliment—seems learning new things does pay off!)

The four lingered in the pavilion, listening to Xiangru’s music and tales of happier days with her husband, completely absorbed. As dusk fell, they realized none had eaten lunch and their stomachs were empty. Taiyi suggested they rest at the inn until nightfall, when everyone would be asleep and it would be easier to enter the temple.

Lin Nian’er said, “I’ll go home first to tell my father, so he doesn’t worry.” Taiyi replied, “It’s dangerous to go alone—I’ll go with you.” Nian’er agreed, and the two departed.

Ye Sansi and the others went to the inn. The innkeeper greeted them, set a table, and served food. Taiyi and Nian’er soon returned. After their meal and some conversation, the night grew late; only the five of them remained in the inn’s courtyard. The innkeeper approached and asked, “Are you heading to the Lin residence, or will you stay here tonight? We’re about to close.”

Li Taiyi checked the time. “It’s about time. We should go.” He reached for money, but Xiangru stopped him. “Let me, young sir.” Respecting her insistence, Taiyi nodded.

The five made their way to Qingyang Temple. From outside, they could hear monks still cleaning the Hall of Heavenly Kings. Xiangru said, “Yang Lang’s memorial is in the easternmost hall, second floor. The first floor isn’t guarded. If we bypass the main hall and go straight to the east hall, we’ll be fine.”

“Alright,” Li Taiyi said. “Lingshuang, Nian’er, you two wait here. Sansi and I will take Miss Zhao inside.” Liu Lingshuang protested, “No, I’m coming too! If we’re discovered, I can help.” Lin Nian’er agreed, “Me too! If there’s trouble, I’ll tell them I’m the magistrate’s daughter—they won’t dare cause trouble.”

Li Taiyi scratched his head helplessly. “Alright, since you all insist, there’s nothing I can do. Lingshuang, you take Nian’er, I’ll help Miss Zhao. Remember, be quiet.” “Understood.”

Taiyi carefully supported Xiangru, mindful of propriety, so he used his sword to hook her arm instead. With a step, he leapt gracefully into the air, as light as a feather, landing silently on the other side. Lingshuang, carrying Nian’er, made several leaps before landing safely and setting Nian’er down.

Only Ye Sansi remained outside. Taiyi whispered, “Will Sansi be alright on his own? Should I go back for him?” Lingshuang stopped him. “No need, Sansi can handle it. Just watch.” Taiyi looked up and saw Sansi leap effortlessly and land without a sound. Taiyi was astonished and about to ask, but Lingshuang said, “I’ll explain later—let’s focus on the task at hand.”

The five crept silently past the Hall of Heavenly Kings and made their way to the east hall.

Inside, the room was filled with ancestral tablets. Qingyang Temple, famed throughout the surrounding cities for its spiritual power, was where families placed memorial tablets for deceased relatives, hoping to bring peace to their souls and a better next life. The Yang family’s ancestors had contributed greatly to the temple’s founding, so their deceased could be honored on the second floor, with family permitted to keep vigil.

Xiangru whispered, “Today is the ninth day after Yang Lang’s passing. The concubine should have left by now. Let’s hurry. I’ll light a few sticks of incense, offer prayers, and we’ll leave.”

They climbed the stairs. The second floor was eerily empty—apart from a bed, a curtain, and a table with a single memorial tablet and incense burner. Xiangru approached, reading her husband’s name on the tablet. Her knees buckled and she collapsed to the floor, overcome with grief. Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to suppress her sobs, fearful of drawing attention. She pressed a handkerchief tightly to her mouth, but it could not stifle the pain in her heart. She screamed and cried silently, her anguish, helplessness, anger, and regret all welling up inside.

The others watched with deep sympathy. Liu Lingshuang knelt beside her and comforted her: “Don’t be sad, Sister Xiangru. Your husband is gone. Instead of mourning, light more incense and pray to the Buddha, do good deeds for him, and wish him a better life in the next world.”

Xiangru composed herself, nodded, wiped away her tears, and took out the incense she had prepared. Kneeling, she was about to light it when a voice interrupted—

“So, you’ve finally come…”