Tomorrow at the hour of Xu?

Tomorrow was the twenty-ninth day of the twelfth lunar month. It was not a day when titled ladies or noblemen could enter the palace to pay their respects.

How could Zhao Chu possibly be allowed into the palace?

Fang Linyuan’s brow twitched slightly, and just then, he noticed a patrolling guard passing in front of the corridor not far away, seemingly about to look in their direction.

Before the guard could turn his head, Fang Linyuan swiftly popped the candy — along with the slip of paper — into his mouth.

“Thanks for the candy,” he said to the girl with an air of nonchalance. “You must be the Ninth Princess who just returned to the palace, right? I haven’t met you before. I don’t even know your name.”

The girl nodded, then shook her head. “I don’t know my name either.”

Fang Linyuan was slightly taken aback.

Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the passing guard, who was now looking toward his window. Without changing expression, he asked evenly, “What was that?”

The Ninth Princess lifted her head. Her large, sparkling eyes gazed up at Fang Linyuan.

“The officials from the Directorate of Ceremonial and the Ministry of Rites are arguing,” she said. “They’re saying I should be called Zhao Yu (NT: 璵 (Yú), raw jade) or Zhao Bi (NT: 璧 (Bì) the ritual jade).”

Seeing the guard staring at them with scrutinizing eyes, Fang Linyuan pretended not to notice and continued his questioning. “Which name do you like better?”

The Ninth Princess shook her head. “I don’t like either,” she said. “Both characters mean ‘jade’.”

“You don’t like jade?”

“I don’t want to be jade. It breaks too easily.”

Even Fang Linyuan, whose attention was mostly drawn to the guard, paused slightly upon hearing that.

Those were a pair of clear, resilient, and luminous eyes.

A child who grew up like wild grass wouldn't understand how precious jade was. She only knew that things not sturdy enough were easily broken.

Just like how she used to be.

Not far off, the guard had already turned away, and soon after, the Ninth Princess’s attendant maids came hurrying over.

Their time to speak was running out.

Amidst the anxious cries of several palace maids and eunuchs, Fang Linyuan lowered his head.

“Do you like the character ‘Ying’ (NT: 莹 (yíng ))? It means the brilliance of jade,” he said. “Light is something that never breaks or gets destroyed.”

The Ninth Princess’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Before Fang Linyuan could answer, a maid at her side had already grabbed her arm, scolding hastily, “Your Highness, how could you run off like that? His Majesty does not like it when you behave this way...”

The Ninth Princess stumbled from being yanked, but didn’t speak. She only looked up at Fang Linyuan with blazing eyes and gave him a small nod.

She seemed to like the name — and she believed Fang Linyuan wasn’t lying to her.

Fang Linyuan also lifted his gaze and looked toward the group of palace maids and eunuchs who had hurried over.

At the lead was an older matron, who gave Fang Linyuan a formal bow and apologized with a contrite expression. “The Ninth Princess is overly mischievous and always running off. We hope Your Lordship will not take offense.”

Fang Linyuan glanced over her briefly, then replied calmly, “Mischievous? I think the Ninth Princess is a promising candidate for martial arts and horseback archery.”

“…What?” Several of the attendants around them were stunned.

“Otherwise, how could a child barely four or five years old leave all of you in the dust without a trace?” Fang Linyuan smiled as he looked at them. “Surely it can’t be because some of you have been shirking your duties?”

The sweat broke out on their backs immediately. They bowed again and again, repeatedly admitting their oversight.

“Why apologize to me?” Fang Linyuan said, still smiling. “The one you were pushing and scolding as you pleased wasn’t my child.”

The attendants exchanged uneasy glances. After a moment, the quickest among them dropped to their knees with a thud, pleading over and over, “Please forgive us, My Lord! Please show mercy and don’t report this to His Majesty!”

The others immediately followed suit and knelt as well.

What else could Fang Linyuan’s words mean? Even if this was the daughter His Majesty cared least about, it would take just a single word to punish a few negligent servants.

But Fang Linyuan said nothing more. He simply lowered his gaze and gave the Ninth Princess a gentle smile.

“Thanks for the candy.” He pointed to his mouth, made a quick motion with his finger across his lips as if sealing them. “It’s very sweet.”

The Ninth Princess also tilted her head up, eyes bright as she gave him a smile. She didn’t speak—just nodded twice.

This child had instantly understood that he was asking her to keep the candy incident a secret.

*

That night, snow fell over the entire capital without pause.

By dawn, the red silk and lanterns hanging from the eaves for the New Year had all iced over, covered in a thick blanket of snow.

The snow continued falling heavily until noon. The number of eunuchs on duty had increased by twenty percent, all assigned to clear the snow outside the palace halls, fearing that the heavy buildup might obstruct the flourishing New Year festivities.

Two palace maids were quietly conversing under the corridor.

“I passed by the Imperial Infirmary last night—inside was a complete mess,” one said.

“You didn’t hear?” the other replied. “It’s because Consort Yu’s pregnancy isn’t stable. She had a flare-up last night.”

“But if it was only fetal movement, why would it cause such chaos?” The first maid thought for a moment. “And I didn’t hear anything about her miscarrying today.”

“The child was saved,” the other whispered mysteriously, lowering her voice. “Because of His Majesty.”

“What?”

“Keep your voice down!” The second maid quickly hushed her. “Don’t alarm the Marquis.”

Unbeknownst to them, Fang Linyuan—inside the room—had trained his senses on the battlefield. His hearing was sharp; even through the closed door, their conversation fell entirely into his ears.

But Fang Linyuan’s mind was already restless, fixated on the note Zhao Chu had passed to him.

Outside, the sky was growing darker. Palace eunuchs came and went delivering meals—it was not far from the hour of tXu.

He didn’t respond, pretending not to have heard anything.

But the palace maids' voices drifted in again.

“Last night, His Majesty went to see her and discovered that Consort Yu hadn’t been taking the medicine prescribed by the Imperial Physician to stabilize her pregnancy. He got furious—probably out of concern for the child—and in the middle of the argument, somehow... he got bitten by the consort. Badly. His hand was bleeding terribly. I heard it was quite terrifying.”

Even Fang Linyuan, distracted as he was, paused slightly at those words.

Saihan bit Emperor Hongyou?

Outside, the murmuring had not yet ceased.

“You’re saying the chaos in the Imperial Infirmary last night—was it because they were treating the emperor?”

“Yes… This year the palace is just full of bad omens. Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve already. They should hold an exorcism ritual to drive away all this misfortune…”

“Shh! Stop talking—someone’s coming…”

Fang Linyuan looked up.

At the door, a eunuch clad in ornate robes strode in with an air of arrogance, leading several others behind him.

“Someone, go summon the Marquis of Anping,” the eunuch drawled, lifting his chin. “His Majesty wishes to see him.”

*

Fang Linyuan was led straight to the Qinzheng Hall.

He had only gone a short distance when he saw that lanterns had already been lit throughout the palace.

Unlike the usual red lanterns for the New Year, tonight’s lanterns came in every color. From afar, they shone in multicolored splendor, casting an eerie brilliance across the night.

The eunuchs and palace maids passing by were all dressed in splendid attire. The eunuch leading him was clearly high-ranking, even wearing a golden flower ornament on his black gauze cap today.

Just then, a group came out from a side corridor and collided directly with the eunuch.

Fang Linyuan turned his head—and the sight under the glow of multicolored lanterns startled him.

The group was wearing the motley robes of the previous dynasty, with decorative wooden swords tucked at their waists. Their faces were painted, making their features indistinguishable. Under the glow of colored lanterns, their demonic faces looked as if they'd stepped straight out of the underworld—like emissaries and judges from the realm of the dead.

The eunuch in front, however, was unfazed, clearly used to such things.

“How careless!” he barked after being knocked back two steps. Seeing the group bow in apology, he frowned and scolded them, “You’re from the Imperial City Guard? It’s not even time yet—what are you doing wandering around the palace?”

The leader quickly responded—it was a man’s voice. “Forgive us, Gonggong (NT: honorific title for an eunuch). We’re from the music and dance troupe. It’s our first time serving inside the palace and we lost our way…”

The eunuch gave them a tongue-lashing.

Meanwhile, Fang Linyuan was closely observing them.

He had heard before that every year on New Year’s Eve, the palace would hold a grand exorcism ritual—the Great Nuo Ceremony—meant to purge evil from the imperial grounds.

(NT: The Great Nuo Ceremony (大傩, Dà Nuó) is an ancient sacred and highly symbolic ritual of exorcism and purification in Chinese tradition. Masked performers were dressed as gods, ghosts, warriors, or animals)

Because it happened only once a year, it was an extravagant affair. Nearly all the guards from the Imperial City Department and the dancers and musicians from the Entertainment Bureau would participate.

They would dress as gods, demons, and mythical beasts, beating drums and playing flutes as they processed from the rear palace to the gates—symbolically expelling all evil spirits from the imperial city.

Fang Linyuan’s eyes swept over the group—and then paused at their feet.

The Entertainment Bureau?

But just now, when they came by, their footsteps were so light that even he hadn’t noticed a sound.

The eunuch gave Fang Linyuan no chance to take a closer look. After a few curt reprimands, he strode off with Fang Linyuan in tow.

Fang Linyuan calmly withdrew his gaze.

But just before leaving, his eyes once again, imperceptibly, paused on those men’s faces.

*

Emperor Hongyou was seated in the Qinzheng Hall.

His right hand was wrapped in a layer of snow-white silk cloth. Even with his sleeve covering it, a corner of the white fabric still peeked out.

It seemed the palace maids’ gossip had been true.

Fang Linyuan’s eyes didn’t linger—he acted as though he hadn’t seen anything and knelt before the emperor to pay respects.

Yet Hongyou Emperor appeared to be in good spirits.

“Rise, Lord Fang,” he said, lifting a memorial from the desk awkwardly with his left hand and tossing it to Fang Linyuan. “Take a look at this.”

Fang Linyuan caught it but did not open it.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” he said. “Memorials submitted to the imperial desk are not for this subject to look at.”

But Emperor Hongyou seemed unbothered by his caution. “Go on and open it,” he said. “I give you permission.”

His tone was casual, light as a feather—yet laced with the kind of indifference that could determine a man’s fate.

After all, such an overstep—granted so freely today—could just as easily be turned into a charge of treason tomorrow and send the recipient to the execution block.

Fang Linyuan was silent for a moment, then obeyed and unfolded the memorial as commanded.

No wonder Emperor Hongyou was in a good mood. The moment Fang Linyuan saw the familiar handwriting, his eyes lit up.

The memorial was written by Zhuo Fangyou.

It reported that the defenses at Yumen Pass were solid and secure, and that the soldiers, trained day and night, were brave and formidable. On the very first day the Tujue attacked, they were encircled and wiped out by the garrison at Yumen Pass. Several of their generals had even been captured alive and were now imprisoned for interrogation.

As for Zhuo Fangyou himself, he had led a cavalry unit of two thousand in pursuit of the fleeing Tujue, chasing them for fifty li. Not only had they inflicted heavy damage on a large enemy contingent waiting to launch another assault, but they had also seized several thousand shi of provisions and over a hundred head of cattle and sheep, all of which were added to their supply stores.

Fang Linyuan’s eyes grew hot.

The defense and counterattack had been summarized in only a few lines in the memorial. But within those few lines, Fang Linyuan saw many familiar shadows.

The city’s defense formation had been laid out by him in his Dingbian Strategy, which he had written in detail for Zhuo Fangyou. The interrogation tactics used to extract intelligence from captured enemies were the same methods his father often recorded in his letters—techniques that had allowed them to repeatedly win unexpected victories by grasping the enemy’s tactics.

The flanking maneuver used in the ambush outside the city, attacking from both wings, had been pioneered by his elder brother. The method was meticulously recorded in his brother’s writings and was particularly suited for wiping out large, unprepared enemy forces.

Zhuo Fangyou had studied them all—and adapted them with precision and skill.

Their shadows seemed as though they had truly been built into the very walls of Yumen Pass, stretching for dozens of li, making the fortress all the more impregnable.

His father and brother were buried there.

Even though he hadn't witnessed it in person, their spirits standing atop the walls of Hulao Pass must have seen it all.

Fang Linyuan’s hands trembled slightly as he held the memorial. After a moment, he suppressed the emotions surging within him, slowly closed it, and returned it with both hands (NT: in show of respect) to the imperial desk.

“This newly appointed commander of Yumen Pass seems to have real ability,” Emperor Hongyou said, clearly pleased. “I hadn’t paid him much attention before. He’s one of yours, isn’t he?”

Fang Linyuan merely tucked his trembling hands into a blind spot out of the emperor’s view. His expression remained composed as he replied evenly, “He earned a couple of minor merits under my command before. At the time, I thought it might’ve been luck.”

“Perhaps so,” Emperor Hongyou replied. “Let’s observe him for another year or two.”

There was joy on his face.

After all, the fact that Yumen Pass remained impregnable even without Fang Linyuan was already, to him, something worth celebrating.

“Lin Zizhuo will be returning in a few days. You should go home as well and reunite with Huining,” Emperor Hongyou said with a smile.

Fang Linyuan smiled in response and was just about to answer when Huang Wei entered the hall. “Your Majesty, it’s time. The imperial consorts are all waiting outside.”

Emperor Hongyou gave a brief acknowledgment and stood up.

“Since you’re here, Lord Fang, join Us upstairs to observe the ceremony,” he said. “The Grand Nuo Ritual has always been a grace bestowed solely upon those within the palace.”

Fang Linyuan didn’t see it as any sort of grace.

He saw only that, through the open palace doors, the multicolored and ghostly glow outside was already faintly visible.

If he were to leave now, he’d likely disrupt Emperor Hongyou’s exorcism ritual.

So he said nothing. As he gave his formal assent, he raised his eyes to the Western-style clock not far away.

*

One quarter past the hour of Xu.

There was only half an hour left until the time noted on Zhao Chu’s slip of paper. Could Zhao Chu’s plan be unfolding during this exorcism ritual?

Before Fang Linyuan could think it through, a swarm of palace maids and eunuchs had already surrounded him, following in Emperor Hongyou’s wake as they ascended the high terrace on the second floor of the Qinzheng Hall.

The very moment he stepped past the threshold, Fang Linyuan was stunned by the scene before him.

Beneath a sky full of stars, the five-colored lanterns spread across the palace grounds lit up half the heavens in a fantastical riot of color.

Silken banners fluttered in the wind, palace towers glowed with splendor. Attendants robed in brocade stood with ceremonial implements beneath the five-colored lanterns, forming a circle around the palace square, which was dozens of zhang wide.

Emperor Hongyou looked exhilarated.

Behind him, his splendidly dressed consorts filed in one after another. Naturally, this did not include Saihan, who had been ordered to remain in the palace to nurture her pregnancy.

The women chatted and laughed, clustering around Emperor Hongyou—one moment recalling how grand last year’s Nuo ritual had been, the next declaring they would pray during the ceremony for a year of peace and abundant harvests.

Fang Linyuan stood off to the side, feeling as if he were merely a spectator to a performance in a celestial court made of jade and gold.

Emperor Hongyou was smiling and appeared pleased, but his gaze toward the people around him was cold and inscrutable. And the consorts surrounding him, though they laughed and bantered back and forth, were each harboring schemes behind seven layers of thought—every word they spoke had been turned over in their minds a thousand times before being delivered with such seemingly effortless ease.

How was this any different from a play onstage?

Just then, one of the consorts exclaimed joyfully, “Your Majesty, this concubine hears music!”

At her words, everyone turned in the direction she indicated.

Up on the high platform, the wind was stronger. Amid the faint breeze, the sounds of drums and music began to drift in. Soon after, a grand and dazzling procession appeared before their eyes.

At the head were the chief musicians from the Entertainment Bureau, dressed in round-collared official robes.

A grand troop of seventy or eighty people marched forth, accompanied by palace attendants holding lanterns. At a glance, there seemed to be more than twenty types of instruments in use.

The majestic exorcism music was truly overwhelming—like celestial sounds descending from the clouds above, sweeping across the square in front of the palace. The music echoed between the grand palace halls.

Then came a continuous stream of palace attendants in colorful robes and masks.

Some held weapons forged of gold and silver—swords, spears, halberds, and pikes—imitating the appearance of heavenly soldiers. Others carried painted wooden blades, their Taoist robes a riot of vibrant hues.

Even more were hundreds, perhaps thousands, dressed as spirits and deities, holding candles and five-colored flags that fluttered fiercely in the cold wind.

To the rhythm of ritual music, these costumed palace attendants poured into the square from all the side gates, soon lighting up the vast black expanse of white jade flagstones with their torches.

In an instant, hundreds and thousands of flag-wielding “divine soldiers and ghost generals” ran to and fro—five colors swirling, lights dazzling.

The music surged up to the heavens. Palace attendants chanted scripture for exorcism, spreading out into formations across the square. They leapt and brandished their blades in the air.

Suddenly, dragons and fish danced—an illusion of hundreds of celestial and beings from the underworld descending to drive out evil, cleanse corruption, and pacify the year, all amid chaotic light and earthshaking drums.

Emperor Hongyou and many of the surrounding consorts had closed their eyes, palms pressed together, murmuring prayers.

But off to the side, Fang Linyuan’s brow twitched faintly.

These performers were too agile—their movements far too swift and precise, much like those Entertainment Bureau palace attendants he had passed earlier, who’d moved without making a sound.

He couldn’t help but look more closely. Then he saw a figure slowly stepping into the center of the massed ranks of spirits and deities.

Trailing long, elaborate robes… dark black woven with gold… the entire figure glittered with clinking gemstones and precious metals.

The person was tall and upright. As the night wind lifted the hem of their robe, it revealed the ghostly mask covering their face.

Zhong Kui, eyes wide and glaring with fury. (NT: legendary figure revered as the Ghost Catcher)

The moment Fang Linyuan saw the mask clearly, his heart gave a hard jolt.

That person’s build, bearing—even the wildly flying long hair—were exactly the same as Zhao Chu’s!

At that moment, Emperor Hongyou also opened his eyes.

Ah, it was the high shaman of the Grand Nuo Ritual, leading the costumed palace attendants in performing the exorcism rite for him. The scene before him was one he saw every year, so naturally, he found nothing unusual about it.

Except—this year’s high shaman dressed as Zhong Kui, after taking his place on the ritual ground, stood motionless for quite some time.

The drums and music did not stop, continuing to resound with overwhelming grandeur. The ghosts and spirit soldiers danced and spun in formation, causing the lanterns and flames all around to sway and flicker, like a sea of fire ignited within the palace walls.

Emperor Hongyou frowned.

What was wrong with this year’s shaman?

The next moment, the shaman under his gaze raised a hand.

But instead of the usual ringing of ritual bells, the shaman pulled a colorful wooden bow from behind his back and drew it taut.

In an instant, a flash of cold light burst forth.

Amid the startled cries of the concubines, the costumed palace attendants running across the field abruptly froze in place—and then suddenly transformed into entirely different beings.

The colorful, seemingly decorative weapons in their hands, which had appeared to be merely carved wooden props, now glinted with a deadly metallic sheen.

The crisp, weighty clang of blades rang out all around. The ritual formation meant to drive out evil now scattered and surged in a strange, ominous way—like a military array, or a living sorcerous formation.

“Purge the evil! Kill the tyrant!”

A tidal wave of shouts erupted from all directions.

The concubines on the high platform screamed and scattered. A group of eunuchs quickly formed a circle around Emperor Hongyou.

“Assassins! Guards—protect His Majesty!!”

Huang Wei, standing at the emperor’s side, shouted himself hoarse.

But before he could finish the sentence, an arrow whistled through the air and pierced straight through his throat.

Eyes wide open, the eunuch collapsed lifelessly onto the emperor.

Emperor Hongyou cried out in terror and shoved him to the ground.

From the direction the arrow had come, the "Zhong Kui" in long flowing robes and fluttering sashes was already gripping the bow one-handed and soaring toward the platform as if treading on clouds.

His voluminous robes snapped in the wind, the fearsome beast mask and its fanged mouth lunging straight toward the emperor.

He truly resembled a terrifying underworld god sent to capture ghosts and punish the wicked.

As he stepped across the golden glazed tiles, he drew his bow again. Without even taking aim, another arrow streaked through the air like lightning.

Emperor Hongyou scrambled to dodge—but the arrow only grazed the air above his head, as if it had missed.

Just as he exhaled in relief—

CRASH.

The massive palace lantern above him came crashing down.

The arrow had severed the lantern's suspension rope.

The lantern, over five or six feet tall, contained more than ten catties of lamp oil.

It ignited instantly and came down with a thunderous crash in front of Emperor Hongyou, setting his dragon robes aflame amid the screams and fleeing of everyone around him.

This time, even the eunuchs shielding him fled in all directions.

The sudden heat seared his body, and Emperor Hongyou shrieked in agony.

He spun around, flailing wildly, but his servants and concubines had already scattered—nothing remained but the panicked shadows of people running for their lives.

He slapped at the flames on his body desperately, but when he turned around—

That Zhong Kui was already standing on the platform’s eaves, the fearsome mask looming before him.

The demon stared him down, tossed aside the bow, and drew a gleaming sword from his waist.

He couldn’t die—not here!

The cold gleam flashed into Emperor Hongyou’s round eyes. He turned and lunged toward Fang Linyuan, who stood just a few paces away and had not moved.

To die for the emperor is the highest honor of a subject!

But before he could even touch the hem of Fang Linyuan’s robe, a powerful force slammed into him, flinging him three feet away.

He fell headlong, the flames on his body still raging, and crashed heavily into a giant red lacquer pillar.

His head spun. He nearly coughed up blood.

In the chaos, he struggled to lift his head.

And saw—amid firelight and blades, beneath five-colored lanterns casting a riot of ghostly hues across the sky—

That demon had landed beside Fang Linyuan.

One hand gripped the sword, its tip just two inches from the emperor’s round eyes.

The other arm was wrapped tightly around Fang Linyuan.

The wide sleeves nearly enveloped him completely.

“You...” Emperor Hongyou was so stunned he couldn’t speak.

“You dare touch him again?” From beneath the mask came a voice—cold as ice, and utterly unfamiliar.

 

--

Author’s note:

Emperor Hongyou: Oh, I see. So I was the evil spirit being exorcised this whole time... orz

 

Translator : DarNan