Chapter 20
The journey from the palace to the site of the stone Buddha would’ve taken no more than an hour on fast horses. But with their massive entourage—hundreds of people—it was a slow, winding procession that didn’t arrive until well into the wei hour (around 1 to 3 p.m.).
About two li from the temple, Fu Ye finally caught sight of the stone statue.
It stood right in the middle of a rundown old temple called Shanyuan Temple, perched on a high slope. The statue loomed tall enough to be visible for miles around—far larger than he had imagined.
The bigger the deity, the more intimidating it was to worshippers. But a statue of that size must have cost a fortune. Fu Ye couldn’t help wondering who was behind it—who would go to such lengths to make a spectacle like this?
The temple was located at the border between two provinces. There weren’t even any villagers nearby—just barren land, dry grasses, and a scattering of brush. And yet, this remote countryside was now filled with carriages and horses belonging to nobles and officials, and throngs of pilgrims stretched as far as the eye could see.
Fu Ye glanced behind them—the Empress Dowager’s phoenix carriage was shaded by layers of yellow parasols, her entourage tightly packed around her in ornate formation. Behind that came a stream of carriages belonging to aristocrats, their embroidered curtains glittering in the sun. In the middle of this desolate land, they looked like immortals descending from the heavens.
It truly was a fully immersive royal spectacle.
The local officials had already set up camp outside the temple in the open fields, kneeling in rows to await the imperial arrival. Fu Ye dismounted along with the Empress Dowager and the Emperor, first accepting the bows and kneels from the officials and commoners, then heading into a large tent to wash their hands and rest.
But Fu Ye couldn’t hold back his curiosity—he wanted to see the temple immediately.
Fu Huang had no intention of visiting the temple himself. Instead, he instructed Li Dun to escort Fu Ye. Standing at the entrance to the imperial tent, Fu Huang watched Fu Ye being surrounded by attendants as he made his way toward the temple.
The wind swept across the wilderness, whipping Fu Ye’s crimson robe as it fluttered dramatically. The golden tassels on his narrow waist glinted in the sunlight, and the gold crown on his head gleamed. There was nothing frail about him—surrounded by the black-armored guards, he finally began to look like a true prince, exuding a touch of the authority his rank demanded.
And that was exactly what he needed—more dignity. He was normally far too approachable.
Chief Eunuch Qin handed Fu Huang a warm towel. As he wiped his hands, Fu Huang glanced up and noticed that every pair of eyes along the road—men and women alike—was locked on Fu Ye. Some were curious, some filled with desire. A few young noblewomen shyly hid behind their silk fans, while some bold young men even followed behind him.
Inside the temple, the monks had already cleared the space for his arrival. A few elderly monks knelt in welcome. The statue of the Buddha was staggeringly tall, even more so due to its elevated placement, shrouded in incense smoke. It truly had an awe-inspiring presence. The stone had been recently cleaned and gilded, wrapped in a yellow veil, though the base still bore remnants of old mud, lending it the air of an ancient relic.
Fu Ye circled the statue once, craning his neck to gaze up. The Buddha’s expression was serene and dignified, eyes half-lidded, painted to a glossy shine that gave them a disturbingly lifelike appearance. In the haze of incense, it almost felt like a living being was silently watching him.
Before long, the Empress Dowager and others had arrived outside the temple.
Fu Ye personally helped her up the stairs and into the shrine, briefly glancing back toward Fu Huang’s tent.
As expected, Fu Huang hadn’t moved—he had no interest in worship.
The Empress Dowager entered with the Grand Lady and other court women. Fu Ye passed her the incense, then lit his own and made his offering, followed by the rest of the noblewomen. Once the incense was placed, the Empress Dowager knelt on a lotus-patterned cushion to pray.
The monks rang the temple bells and began chanting. Incense smoke thickened, and several nobles began tossing gold leaf and silver paper into the copper burner beneath the statue. The heat intensified, waves of warmth swirling upward.
After everyone had finished their prayers, Fu Ye stood first with help from Shuangfu. But then Shuangfu suddenly stepped back, his expression pale and panicked.
A cry rang out from the crowd:
“Look! The Buddha’s eyes!”
Fu Ye whipped around—blood-red tears were streaming from the statue’s eyes.
!!
The Empress Dowager gave a start and collapsed backward onto her cushion. Chief Eunuch Sun rushed to support her. All around, high-ranking nobles gasped and turned their eyes upward in shock.
Someone shouted, “The Buddha has shown a sign!”
And just like that, the entire entourage dropped to their knees in alarm and awe.
Fu Ye was speechless, heart pounding as the incense heat seemed to close in on him from all sides.
The statue was weeping.
The scene erupted—people outside the temple clamored to see the miracle for themselves, pushing forward only to be stopped by guards. Voices shouted from the crowd:
“The Buddha has revealed a miracle!”
Beyond the temple, the gathered commoners dropped en masse to their knees like a wave.
And yet, Fu Ye was trembling—body and soul. He stared up at the Buddha statue, red tears falling onto the yellow veil draped over its body, splashing like fresh blood. The statue’s eyes—those eyes—looked sorrowful and terrifying, as if they held an unbearable grief.
Everyone in the temple had knelt—nobles, guards, servants—even Shuangfu. Only Fu Ye stood alone beneath the towering figure.
From the ancient locust trees beside the temple, crows cawed and spiraled through the air. The scene was so surreal, so drenched in eerie solemnity, that even Fu Ye—modern as he was—felt the hairs on his neck rise.
Xiao Ai (in his head): “What the hell?! What the actual hell is going on?!”
The Empress Dowager and her entourage all believed it to be a divine miracle. They immediately lit more incense and knelt again in reverence. As for everyone else—they scrambled to bow and pray, too. Those inside the temple refused to leave, while those outside pushed and shoved to get in. The so-called miracle made the crowd forget all worldly hierarchy, and they began shouting and jostling against the palace guards.
Fu Ye stayed at the Empress Dowager’s side, watching as the people grew nearly frenzied. A deep unease settled in his heart. He had once entertained the idea that the statue had perhaps been washed out of a riverbed by chance. But after witnessing all this—he was almost certain now that it had been staged.
But for what purpose?
To fabricate a new god and use it to extort donations?
Or was there something else behind it?
Around him, the whispers grew louder.
“The statue started crying blood as soon as Her Majesty came to pray… Could it be a warning from above?”
“Blood tears… that can’t be a good sign!”
“Didn’t the Sacred Ancestor Emperor supposedly come into the world in a Buddhist forest? They even say a white fox knelt at his birth…”
The conspiracy was rising to the surface.
In ancient times, it was common for emperors to have mythical origin stories—fabricated to legitimize their rule. And now someone seemed to be following that same script, this time aiming at the Fu family.
Fu Ye stared up at the weeping statue, lost in thought—until a voice came from outside the temple:
“His Majesty has arrived!”
He turned just in time to see Fu Huang entering the temple under countless watchful eyes.
Fu Huang wore a cold expression. Hands clasped behind his back, he looked up at the statue, clearly exhausted and irritated by this so-called divine event.
A nervous official whispered, trembling:
“Your Majesty… the statue… it’s shown a sign from heaven…”
Fu Huang turned and said coolly,
“Knock it down.”
“??!”
“Your Majesty, no—you mustn’t!”
“The statue has shown a miracle! You can’t risk angering the gods!”
But Fu Huang had clearly run out of patience for this charade. He turned and barked:
“Li Dun.”
Li Dun gave a signal. The black-armored guards moved in at once.
Fu Huang’s face darkened visibly.
He had finally taken the rare step of leaving the palace—just to accompany Fu Ye for a brief outing—and had ended up running into this absurd spectacle.
Everyone in the temple trembled. Empress Dowager Zhang called out in alarm,
“Your Majesty!”
Lady Zhang, a deeply devout woman, looked like she might faint on the spot.
Then came a heavy thud—the sound of the massive statue crashing to the ground. The incense burner tipped over, scattering ash and burning sticks across the floor.
A stunned silence followed. No one could find their voice.
Many collapsed flat against the floor, terrified of divine wrath. The tension in the air was suffocating.
Then, to everyone’s horror, Fu Ye suddenly leapt forward and stepped directly onto the fallen statue.
The Empress Dowager cried out in shock,
“Fu Ye!”
Her voice wasn’t just angry—it was filled with fear.
Everyone looked up in shock.
The wind whipped through Fu Ye’s robes as he stood atop the statue, the fine fabric fluttering around him. His golden boots were stained with mud and ash, treading step by step across the fallen idol. He reached out a pale, slender hand, as if to wipe away its tears.
What he touched was warm to the skin.
He brought it to his nose and sniffed, then turned back to Fu Huang and said calmly,
“Brother, it’s wax.”
Eunuch Qin quickly clambered up after him and ran a finger across the teardrops on the golden drapery.
Fu Ye’s blood was burning hot in his veins. Standing tall atop the statue, he declared:
“Someone used wax to deceive the people. Guards! Arrest all local officials and temple monks—every last one of them!”
The black-armored guards moved fast, fanning out at once. Those kneeling on the ground slowly began to rise, all turning toward Fu Ye with wide-eyed disbelief and fear.
Fu Ye leapt down from the statue. Fu Huang was watching him closely.
He said,
“Brother, this wasn’t some divine sign. Someone’s playing tricks.”
Fu Huang took his hand and looked down at the crimson wax still smeared on his fingertips. It had likely been mixed with something else to achieve that deep, blood-red hue. The sight of it reminded him of that same jarring shade from the New Year’s banquet.
Though the weather was still cold, the temple had been sealed off in preparation for the Empress Dowager’s visit. But with incense burning so heavily, the heat could easily have softened the wax. Ancient people held gods and Buddhas in deep reverence, and this particular statue had already been hyped into a legendary artifact. So when it appeared to weep blood, no one dared get close enough to question it.
Whoever was behind it was clever, that much was clear.
If the statue had “wept” on a regular day, maybe it could be chalked up to a hoax. But choosing the exact day the royal family came to pray—it was clearly aimed at them.
All suspects were brought to Fu Huang’s main tent under guard.
The local officials and monks were pale and shaking.
Fu Ye stood at his brother’s side, solemn and composed, personally taking part in the questioning.
But none of them confessed. All wept and swore they knew nothing. The artisan who had gilded the statue was nowhere to be found.
Fu Huang ordered them all detained.
And just like that, the so-called “miraculous statue” that had stirred so much excitement for days unraveled into nothing more than a well-planned conspiracy. The fervor that had accompanied their arrival was replaced by eerie silence on their return.
They made it back far later than expected. Dusk had settled in, the horizon bathed in a pale, melancholy gray. The spring air felt colder now—bare branches clawing at the sky, the landscape bleak and forlorn.
Inside the imperial carriage, the curtains were drawn. Eunuch Qin lit the lanterns and carefully placed one on the tray.
The emperor’s face was grim.
The Prince of Huan had been summoned by the Empress Dowager and hadn’t returned yet. Qin said softly,
“Thank goodness His Highness the Prince was there today. He saw through the trick right away. When he jumped on that statue, this old servant’s heart nearly stopped.”
Had Fu Ye not been there, perhaps they might’ve uncovered the truth eventually—but no one expected him to act so boldly, or so fast. He hadn’t hesitated for a second.
Just thinking about it filled Qin with pride.
He added,
“I used to think His Highness the Prince was too delicate. But in that moment—he and Your Majesty truly looked like brothers. The way you both act… it’s almost exactly the same.”
The imperial carriage began to slow. Outside, one of the accompanying eunuchs called in,
“Your Majesty, His Highness the Prince of Huan has arrived.”
Eunuch Qin immediately lifted the curtain. The carriage came to a full stop, and Fu Ye stepped in, using the small stool to climb aboard.
“Your Highness,” Qin greeted.
Fu Ye nodded and said,
“It’s getting dark. Mother is worried the road at night might not be safe. She asked whether Your Majesty would prefer to stay at the Lihua Palace for the night.”
Fu Huang turned to Qin and said,
“Go make the arrangements.”
Qin acknowledged the order and left to prepare.
By the candlelight, Fu Ye looked over at Fu Huang.
Fu Huang, however, just kept looking at him—wordless and steady.
“Why are you looking at me like that, brother?” Fu Ye asked.
Fu Huang beckoned him closer.
Fu Ye sat down beside him.
His robes were smudged, speckled with incense ash and mud. He was usually fastidious—almost vain—when it came to cleanliness and appearances. But now, he looked like he’d just come back from a battlefield.
“You always look so delicate and fragile,” Fu Huang said, “but today your movements were pretty sharp.”
“Is that a compliment, Your Majesty?” Fu Ye replied with a grin. “If you can push, I can climb. Naturally, I follow wherever you lead.”
He was quick-witted as always, sweet-talking with ease. Fu Huang didn’t answer, only reached out and brushed a bit of ash from Fu Ye’s cheek.
By the time they arrived at the Lihua Palace, the palace attendants were already waiting respectfully inside the south gate.
Empress Dowager Zhang said,
“Ye’er, come with me.”
But before Fu Ye could respond, Eunuch Qin came running over and bowed.
“His Majesty asks the Prince to stay in the Zhengyang Hall. He wishes to speak with him.”
Fu Ye glanced at the Empress Dowager. She simply waved him off and told Shuangfu and the others,
“Take good care of the Prince.”
The palace grounds were vast, and the candlelight at night didn’t reach far. Shadows loomed everywhere, and the mountain wind was strong, rustling the trees with a low roar. It was bitterly cold.
Fu Ye arrived at Zhengyang Hall, but Fu Huang wasn’t there yet. Word was that Prime Minister Zhou, the Chief Justice of the Grand Court, and several officials from the Ministry of Justice had all rushed in—likely still discussing the case.
Zhengyang Hall was the emperor’s residence—immaculate and orderly—but its size and emptiness made it feel cold and lonely.
Fu Ye waited a long time. Exhaustion set in hard.
His health still wasn’t great.
Once the attendants lit a fire, the room slowly warmed. But sleep soon overtook him, and he dozed off before Fu Huang returned. Half-asleep, he stirred awake to see Fu Huang sitting at his bedside, watching him.
“Brother…”
“Go back to sleep,” Fu Huang said softly.
The attendants had all left. A screen had been set around the bed, keeping in the warmth, though the wind outside still howled coldly through the trees. This wasn’t even Fu Huang’s sleeping quarters—there was another bed nearby, separated from this one by a folding screen. But Fu Ye was too tired to think and soon drifted off again.
His hair lay loosely on the pillow. His face was still pale and thin, his chin slightly pointed. But his brows were strong and arched—there was a quiet sharpness to his features now, a glimpse of strength.
Always composed and proper in front of the Empress Dowager and the ministers, today he had shown something different—something admirable. Like elder brother, like younger.
The emperor’s side had long been empty—no one willing or able to stand there. But now, Fu Ye had stepped up.
Fu Huang thought, If Fu Ye truly meant what he said—that he would follow wherever I lead, no matter what I do—then that would be enough to stir any man’s blood.
He reached out again to touch Fu Ye’s face. After brushing lightly, he realized his own fingers felt rough and calloused. Deliberately, he used the slightly hardened pads of his fingers to graze Fu Ye’s cheek again.
The next morning, Fu Ye woke to find a set of clean robes laid out beside his bed.
“These are His Majesty’s everyday robes,” a servant said.
Even though they were technically casual wear, the difference was unmistakable. The dragon embroidered on a prince’s robe had four claws—technically not a true dragon, but a “mang.” But the dragon on these robes had five claws: the symbol of the emperor. The design was far more imposing and regal.
Fu Huang was being bold. Giving his own clothes to someone else—emperor’s robes, no less.
Fu Ye didn’t dare wear them. Instead, he kept on the slightly dirtied robe from yesterday and stepped out.
The morning was thick with fog, the sky still dim. After paying his respects to the Empress Dowager, he returned—only to find Fu Huang standing at the entrance to Zhengyang Hall, hands clasped behind his back, waiting.
Fu Ye bowed.
“Still so proper,” Fu Huang said.
Thinking it was about his manners, Fu Ye smiled.
“If Your Majesty doesn’t want me to bow, I can stop being proper.”
Fu Huang replied,
“Go change out of that dirty robe. It’s an eyesore.”
“I didn’t bring any other clothes. I can’t wear yours—what if the Empress Dowager or the court officials see me?”
Fu Huang said, “I’ve spoiled you too much. Now you dare defy a royal decree.”
Mist curled in the air around them. He looked tired and aloof—it was hard to tell if he was joking or not. Fu Ye returned to the palace and changed into Fu Huang’s robes.
Fu Huang was a fair bit taller than him. Fortunately, Qingxi tightened the robes and secured them with a belt, so they fit—more or less.
The fabric was exquisite, but the design was plain.
Not Fu Ye’s style at all.
He dressed and showed himself to Fu Huang, who stared for a long moment—then, unexpectedly, seemed pleased.
“From now on,” Fu Huang said, “just wear my clothes in the palace.”
Fu Ye immediately protested, “I just solved a huge problem for you, brother, and instead of rewarding me, you want to punish me?”
Fu Huang’s lips twitched, as if he was about to smile, but didn’t. His mouth always seemed to tug downward, giving him a stern, brooding look—like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. His entire being seemed to merge with the chill of the early spring morning: solemn and cold.
His voice, though, was surprisingly indulgent. “As long as I’m here, what are you afraid of?”
