There was no heated floor fire burning in the Buddhist hall.
The robe on Xue Yan had already been changed. It was dry and clean, trimmed with thick fur. Jinbao was not attending him at his side. He was alone, kneeling beside the table before the Buddha, copying scriptures.
The candle flame before the Buddha statue burned quietly, illuminating the serene and benevolent face of the golden Buddha. Faintly, the sound of a wooden fish came from outside the window, one beat after another, quiet and ethereal, as though the commotion in the palace tonight had nothing to do with this place.
A candle was placed on Xue Yan’s desk.
Xue Yan raised his eyes and saw a young monk standing beside the table. He looked young, no more than ten-something years old.
This young monk was the same little monk who had been keeping watch here on the night of the Qianqiu Banquet, when Jun Huailang had come to deliver robes to him.
Seeing that Xue Yan recognized him, the little monk smiled slightly, pressed his palms together, and performed a Buddhist salute.
“Benefactor, there is no need to worry. As long as your heart is sincere, the benefactor you wish to protect will surely turn danger into safety.”
His voice was calm and peaceful. Accompanied by the repeated sound of the wooden fish, it seemed almost like a Buddhist verse drifting down from the distant heavens.
Hearing this, Xue Yan gave a disdainful scoff.
“You think I’m copying scriptures here to pray for blessings?”
His tone was cold and heavy, not concealing the contempt within it at all.
The little monk was startled and said, “Amitabha.”
“Are you not doing this to dispel that benefactor’s misfortune?” he asked. “There truly is an evil spirit causing trouble in the palace right now. Although this evil spirit is not on the benefactor himself, it threatens his person. Could it be that the benefactor is copying scriptures and reciting Buddhist prayers for some other reason?”
Hearing this, Xue Yan tossed down his brush, folded his arms, leaned back slightly, and looked up at the Buddha statue before him.
“Can the Buddha take care of this?”
The little monk said, “As long as the benefactor’s heart is sincere, there will surely be a reward.”
Xue Yan glanced at him, then leisurely picked up the brush again.
“The Buddha can’t handle it,” he said. “If he could, these people would have died long ago.”
He was indeed copying scriptures here, but he certainly was not truly trying to suppress some kind of baleful energy within himself.
His baleful energy had been with him from birth. If copying a few scriptures could cure it, then what kind of Calamity Star Descended to Earth would he be?
He merely knew how to distinguish between natural disasters and man-made disasters.
If it truly were an inescapable mandate of Heaven, then it would only concern himself and could not harm anyone else.
But when it came to man-made disasters, he had plenty of ways to make sure every one of those people died a horrible death.
It was just that when dealing with man-made disasters, he needed to put on a little appearance of piety and superstition.
He raised his head and looked toward the solemn and dignified Buddha statue.
“The Buddha can’t manage it, but I can,” Xue Yan said. “There is no need to pray to Buddha. I can protect him myself. If the Buddha cannot slay the evil, then I will.”
He spoke each word slowly and distinctly.
Reflected in his eyes was the Buddha, filled with compassion.
But hidden in the depths of his eyes was a fierce killing intent, its sharpness completely exposed.
He had never experienced such bone-deep pain in his heart as he did tonight.
Nor had he ever had such a powerful urge to make blood pay for blood.
——
A Morning Star hung in the deep-black sky.
A thin stack of scriptures had accumulated beside Xue Yan’s hand, while the lamp on his desk was gradually burning itself out.
He quietly lowered his head and continued copying the scriptures, faintly hearing footsteps coming from behind him.
“Fifth Highness!”
Xue Yan turned around and saw a eunuch kneeling outside the hall, reporting:
“The Heir Apparent has already broken his fever. His Majesty, grateful for Your Highness’s merit in copying the scriptures, asks you to return to Yongle Palace to report back.”
The hand holding the brush loosened imperceptibly.
Through the gap between his fingers and the brush shaft, one could see the pads of his fingers, slightly reddened from being rubbed by the brush.
It was a mark left by gripping the brush with tremendous force.
Yet Xue Yan did not get up.
He turned back, and the brush beneath his hand once again fell onto the xuan paper.
“Thank Father Emperor for his kindness,” he said without turning his head. “Go report to Father Emperor that today I made a vow to copy the scriptures one hundred times. I have only copied them twenty-three times so far, and I dare not break my promise. Once I finish copying them one hundred times, I will go report back to Father Emperor.”
The eunuch froze and raised his head.
The illness had already been cured, and the matter could be considered over. Why wasn’t the Fifth Prince hurrying back to receive his reward? Why was he still insisting on copying scriptures here?
Xue Yan did not turn around.
“You may go deliver the message.”
The eunuch received the order and could only answer yes before withdrawing from the Buddhist hall.
Xue Yan lowered his head and continued copying the scriptures silently.
There was no one beside him now.
Had someone knowledgeable been there, they would certainly have noticed that the handwriting at the beginning and end of this page differed slightly.
The first half of the page was filled with sharpness. Even between the strokes, there was a faint aura of cold killing intent, like a general deploying troops before a battle, thousands of iron cavalry fully armed and ready to set out.
But in the second half of the page, there was a trace of relief within the strokes.
The killing intent, however, had not diminished in the slightest.
It was like the executioner’s blade hanging above a condemned man’s head after autumn had arrived.
And the character that separated the beginning from the end was precisely the final character he had written when the eunuch came to deliver the report.
The night was exceptionally long.
Before dawn, the sky grew increasingly dark and heavy, yet a pale white light had begun to spread along the horizon.
In the distance, palace attendants keeping watch through the night began striking the watchman’s clappers, one sound after another echoing throughout the imperial city.
The lamp on Xue Yan’s desk also dimmed, seemingly about to burn through its oil.
The little monk usually kept watch in the Buddhist hall and lit the lamps, so at this moment he skillfully hurried over and replenished the lamp oil for him.
“Benefactor seems to be waiting for something.”
Seeing that Xue Yan was still copying scriptures and had not stopped for the entire night, the little monk could not help speaking.
Xue Yan glanced at him.
“You guessed correctly again.”
His hand did not stop as he spoke.
The little monk pressed his palms together and said another “Amitabha.”
It was not really that he had guessed.
Rather, after spending so many years practicing meditation and reciting Buddhist scriptures, one could also glimpse a thing or two about the human heart.
“You’ll be waiting for it soon,” Xue Yan said indifferently.
“I just don’t know what the benefactor is waiting for,” the little monk asked. “Someone already came to report that the other benefactor has turned the corner and escaped danger. What else are you hoping for?”
“It’s not that I’m hoping for something,” Xue Yan said lightly. “I’m waiting for a result.”
The little monk looked at him.
He saw Xue Yan smile at him—a completely undisguised, vicious and sinister smile.
Although he was smiling, it was extremely cold, hiding hatred that had been suppressed for a very long time.
“The people who deserve to die aren’t dead yet,” he said. “I’m waiting for them to throw themselves onto my blade.”
As he spoke, his two canine teeth reflected a cold, eerie gleam beneath the candlelight.
His amber-colored eyes were already pale in color. Now that he made no attempt to conceal the killing intent within them, he looked quite like a vicious beast gathering strength, ready to pounce.
The little monk was startled and instinctively turned the Buddhist beads in his hand, murmuring a Buddhist invocation.
Xue Yan laughed once, turned his face away, and put away his expression.
Everything Xue Yan had calculated step by step tonight was not merely to wait for Jun Huailang to recover.
He was waiting for Consort Yi to walk into the trap herself.
He intended both to ensure that Jun Huailang remained completely unharmed and to make those people pay their blood debt with blood.
The Imperial Astronomical Bureau, the Imperial Medical Academy, and the dogs raised beside the Emperor—what they had wanted to accomplish tonight was to kill two birds with one stone.
They wanted to harm Jun Huailang, while also taking the opportunity to frame him.
All of Consort Yi’s people were deep within the palace and understood the palace’s relationships like the backs of their hands.
If she had sent someone to follow Jun Huailang and push him into the water, then regardless of whether Jun Huailang died, it would prove the prophecy spoken by the Imperial Astronomical Bureau.
They could eliminate a member of the Jun family, drive a wedge between the Emperor and Duke Yongning, and help the Imperial Astronomical Bureau regain the Emperor’s trust.
If Jun Huailang died, there would be no witness left to contradict them, and it would become an unsolved case of accidental drowning.
If Jun Huailang survived, then they had another plan.
The imperial physician would first say that Jun Huailang was not seriously ill, then tamper with his medicine to make his fever remain high, leading the Emperor to believe that he had been afflicted by an evil spirit.
Then the Imperial Astronomical Bureau would diagnose him.
Once Jun Huailang fell into the hands of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau, there would naturally be no possibility of him surviving.
And the Imperial Astronomical Bureau naturally had a thousand and one explanations for escaping the death penalty.
In the end, they would pin the blame on him.
Xue Yan knew that ever since Emperor Qingping’s attitude toward him had softened that day, Consort Yi had been unable to sit still.
He had firmly grasped her weakness and prepared himself to fight her.
But he had never expected that she would actually dare set her sights on Jun Huailang.
Before this, Xue Yan had had no weakness.
This was the first time he had ever had such a powerful urge to kill someone.
He turned his head and glanced at the sky.
The Buddhist hall faced directly east. From where he sat, he could see a patch of pale morning light spreading across the horizon.
According to his plan, when the imperial physician reported back, he had first instructed Baiji, who understood medicine, to replace the prescription given by the imperial physician when she prepared the medicine, instead boiling an ordinary medicine for dispelling wind-cold.
Afterward, he had asked Emperor Qingping for permission to come personally to the Buddhist hall and copy scriptures to suppress the baleful energy.
Once Jun Huailang’s fever subsided, the other group’s plan would be disrupted.
They would certainly become anxious and immediately report to Consort Yi.
And since this matter concerned the Imperial Astronomical Bureau’s written approval, Consort Yi would certainly go to find the Lingtai Lang immediately to discuss a countermeasure, so they could deal with Emperor Qingping’s questioning.
Neither of them knew that the place where they secretly met had already become known to Xue Yan.
He had Jinbao guard the place, pretending to deliver food to him and accidentally stumbling upon them.
The two of them would then be suspected of secretly meeting privately in the palace.
The palace’s greatest taboos, besides witchcraft and sorcery, were the imperial consorts secretly meeting with unrelated men.
“…You really can keep your composure.”
Xue Yan looked at the sky and laughed quietly to himself.
Just then, he saw a little eunuch climbing the stairs all the way toward the Buddhist hall.
The faint morning light fell upon him, stretching an extremely long shadow behind him.
From those hurried footsteps alone, it was obvious that something urgent had happened.
Xue Yan thought:
Here they come.
He slowly put down his brush and raised his head toward the great Buddha before him.
“I don’t believe in Buddha, nor do I believe in karma,” he said indifferently. “But I can create karma myself and teach every one of them that evil will be repaid with evil, leaving them unable to sleep at night until they have no choice but to pray to the gods and worship Buddha.”
As he spoke, he raised his head and looked at the little monk.
His smile was arrogant and sharp.
“In that case, in your Buddhist teachings, would this count as a merit?”
The little monk had entered the Buddhist path for more than ten years, but he had never seen such an unreasonable person.
So wild and arrogant.
Knowing no reverence.
Even the words he spoke were reckless boasts, completely unaware of the limits of Heaven and Earth.
Yet there was something strange.
From this person, he could not see the greed and filth of an ordinary worldly person.
It was very strange.
Then he saw Xue Yan raise his head and meet the gaze of the golden Buddha statue.
“If it counts as merit, then please record it under the name of Jun Huailang of the Duke Yongning Residence.”
His tone was slow, carrying two parts of the languor of someone who had gone without sleep all night, yet it was unusually solemn.
“…If it is killing karma,” Xue Yan said, looking at the Buddha as he curled his lips into a faint smile, “then count all of it as mine.”
Beside him, the little monk held one hand upright in a Buddhist gesture while his other hand moved the prayer beads.
Sure enough.
Sure enough, what his master had said was correct.
When ordinary people lived in this world, they would inevitably have something they could not let go of, something they believed in.
Even if they did not believe in gods or Buddha, there would certainly be something that firmly tied them to the mortal world.
That attachment was the thing that held onto a mortal’s soul, preventing them from entering the empty gate and becoming Buddha.
As Xue Yan’s voice fell, he heard the footsteps behind him growing closer.
He turned around and saw the little eunuch cross the threshold, stumble, and kneel behind him.
“Fifth Highness, something terrible has happened!”
The little eunuch said:
“His Majesty urgently summons you. He commands you to go to Yongle Palace immediately!”
At that exact moment, the Golden Crow rose.
The first sliver of sunlight leaped above the horizon.
Countless rays of sunlight suddenly burst through the sky, enveloping the entire imperial city in a golden-red dawn.
The sunlight passed through the doors of the hall and warmly illuminated the Buddhist hall, falling upon the Duer Extermination Sutra on the table, whose ink had not yet dried.
The sky was completely bright.