The following spring, Mo Qingbei entered the capital to serve as a tutor to the princes.
The youngest prince had just turned five—the perfect age to be easily misled. Every day, Mo Qingbei would cast a simple glamour in the study to fool the attendants, then take the boy up onto the glazed tile roofs to bask in the sun. While they lounged, they enjoyed the gossip drifting through the palace walls: which concubines were currently vying for favor, which official was lining his pockets, or whose head had rolled at the Caishikou execution grounds a few days prior. He even mentioned a priceless piece of ice-type jade seized from a disgraced minister’s estate, currently sitting on the study’s desk after being processed by the Imperial Household Department.
"So, Your Highness must remember not to study by lamplight," Mo Qingbei said with a deadpan expression. "The original owner of that jade just died; it might very well be haunted at night."
The little prince had originally taken his mother’s teachings to heart, intending to study with great diligence. Scared witless by Mo Qingbei, he now bolted from the study the moment lessons ended, refusing to stay a second longer. Consequently, Master Mo was spared the burden of working overtime to supervise his studies.
The prince was too young to have developed the precocious gravity of royalty; he believed whatever his teacher told him. If the teacher said to bask in the sun, they basked in the sun. If the teacher said that everything Lord Li said during the morning audience was nonsense, then it was nonsense. The teacher loved to drink, so the little prince hid jars of Taixi White—freshly brewed by the Imperial Buttery—under the table. The teacher owned a shop in the city, so the little prince sent people to support the business, ensuring the study was stocked daily with "Rolling Donkey" pastries.
The teacher also said that the Heavenly Kingdom’s philosophy of "valuing morality over machinery" was no longer viable. He spoke of purging the deep-seated ailments of the heart and learning the superior skills of the West to strengthen the nation.
However, the teacher warned that such things could not be spoken aloud. So, the prince kept his mouth shut, but he kept the words in his heart.
Master Mo enjoyed pairing the Imperial Buttery’s snacks with his wine, but after being served bean flour rolls for a month straight, he developed a psychological allergy to soybeans and began taking detours to avoid his own shop.
Occasionally, the Emperor would check the prince’s progress. Master Mo was an expert at handling anyone; he would summarize the great sages’ wisdom into small cheat sheets for the prince to memorize. During examinations, the boy could always muddle through, and if he performed particularly well, he might even win a few words of praise.
Later, the Emperor fell ill and ceased checking the prince’s lessons. The master and disciple found themselves with even more free time. Master Mo, in high spirits, plucked the tail feathers from his own white cranes to make a shuttlecock, bringing it into the palace for them to kick around.
Over several months, the little prince didn't learn much of the *Odes*, *History*, *Rites*, or *Changes*, but he memorized entire sets of flowery rhetoric, sounding like a professional storyteller. He even developed a cavity from eating too many sweets.
He did, however, become quite excellent at kicking the shuttlecock.
Watching from the sidelines of the illusion, Chai Shuxin remarked, "Impressive."
"It really is," Mu Gesheng agreed. "I never thought Shifu could produce such an honest, obedient student. By that age, the Second Disciple was already tearing roofs apart."
"That’s not what I meant," Chai Shuxin said. "He always brings the Master a lot of wine."
"I see your point." Mu Gesheng smiled. "My little Senior Brother must have realized that when Shifu drinks too much, he starts telling the truth."
Master Mo while drunk was different from Master Mo while sober. His drunken ramblings were far-reaching and profound, every word a gem of insight.
"The Master likely saw through his intentions. This student is worth teaching."
"Naturally," Mu Gesheng said. "Otherwise, he wouldn't have plucked his own cranes' feathers for the kid to play with."
One day, during his scheduled time off, Mo Qingbei was leisurely feeding fish and teasing birds in his courtyard when a servant announced a visitor.
Mo Qingbei’s eyelid twitched. He went to the door to find the little prince in civilian clothes.
"Why is Your Highness here?" Mo Qingbei asked. "If you want to buy pastries, the shop is just around the corner. 'Rolling Donkeys' are strictly prohibited in my residence."
The little prince had clearly snuck out of the palace; his expression was anxious. "The Imperial Study was full of shouting today. The whole palace is restless. I thought Master’s place would be quieter, so I took the liberty of intruding."
In recent years, wars had been constant. With a major battle looming as summer began, the Emperor was wavering between war and peace. Sometimes, when Mo Qingbei took the prince to the rooftops to listen to the morning audience, the ministers sounded like a coop of panicked hens, squawking incessantly.
"Your Highness has been working hard lately; you truly deserve a rest. Balance is key." Mo Qingbei nodded and led him to the backyard, thrusting a crane into his arms. "Here, play with this."
The prince wasn't even as tall as the crane. A few large white birds circled him, looking down as if debating whether the human was playing with the cranes or the cranes were playing with the human.
"Your Highness doesn't like them?" Mo Qingbei asked. "In that case, pick whichever one you like best, and I’ll have the kitchen cook it for your dinner."
The cranes immediately bolted. The startled prince waved his hands frantically, insisting it wasn't necessary.
"No playing, no eating... isn't this trip out of the palace a waste?" Mo Qingbei fanned himself. "Or does Your Highness actually have something else on your mind?"
Clearly hit where it hurt, the little prince hesitated for a long time before speaking. "...I wanted to ask Master’s opinion on the war."
Mo Qingbei often listened to the morning audiences with him, but he only drank wine and critiqued the ministers—Lord Wang had gained weight, Lord Zhao had taken a new concubine. He picked apart every trivial detail but never breathed a word about the war.
Mo Qingbei smiled. "What is Your Highness’s own opinion?"
The prince thought for a moment. "Imperial Father says the foundation of the world lies not in the coastal ports, but in the Capital. But Master has a map of our empire hanging in the study. The ports and the Capital are so close; if the lips are gone, the teeth will be cold."
He weighed his words, gathering courage. "Though the court is undecided, the worst thing in war is delay. We should act with decisiveness now."
This was essentially criticizing his own father and siding with external logic. It seemed Mo Qingbei’s "education" had been very successful.
"Since Your Highness thinks so," Mo Qingbei rubbed his chin, "you should say so directly to His Majesty."
The prince immediately shrank back, clearly terrified.
The power structures in court were tangled and complex. Young as he was, the prince understood the gravity of the situation. One wrong word could lead to unthinkable consequences.
Mo Qingbei tapped his folding fan against his palm. After a moment, he said, "In that case, allow me to do it on your behalf."
Master Mo had no relatives, belonged to no faction, possessed great learning but no ambition, and had always been on good terms with everyone—a rare "clean stream" who navigated the court with ease. When his memorial was submitted, it indeed caused a significant stir.
The Emperor tested the prince’s lessons, then summoned Mo Qingbei to the Imperial Study and praised him thoroughly. Finally, with a wave of his hand, he granted Mo Qingbei a month of leave as a reward for his teaching.
It was a classic case of "praising while demoting." Though called a reward, it was no different from being ordered to reflect behind closed doors. The Emperor’s words carried a sharp warning: Mo Qingbei was merely a tutor; as a subject, he should know his place.
In over a decade of trimming his sails to the wind, this was the first time Master Mo had overstepped.
The little prince only half-understood the situation. After his father left, he asked Mo Qingbei hesitantly if he had done something wrong.
"Your Highness is not wrong," Mo Qingbei sighed. "It is simply that you are still young. There are some things that are not yet for you to do."
"Then what should I do?"
"A few days ago, I taught Your Highness a lesson on the *I Ching*," Mo Qingbei said, crouching down to meet the boy’s eyes. "What is the line for the first hexagram, Qian?"
The prince whispered, "Hidden dragon, do not act."
"While I am away, Your Highness should stop climbing onto the roofs to eavesdrop. Be careful not to break a leg." Mo Qingbei ruffled the prince’s hair. "When you have time, come to my house to play. I’ll cook a crane for you."
During Mo Qingbei’s month of leave, enemy forces invaded Beitang. Because the court could not decide between war and peace, they lost the golden opportunity to annihilate the enemy. Dagu fell.
The following month, Tianjin was breached. The Capital was in imminent danger.
Though the court was in a state of panic, Mo Qingbei returned to the palace to resume his duties the moment his leave ended. When master and disciple met, they spoke simultaneously:
The Prince: "Master, what can I do now?"
Mo Qingbei: "Your Highness, is there any wine today?"
The palace was under martial law, and the prince couldn't sneak out. Even Mo Qingbei had to jump through hoops to get in. Having gone a month without stealing wine from the Imperial Buttery, he was genuinely missing it.
The prince pulled a jar of Taixi White from under the desk and held it to his chest, staring at Mo Qingbei. It was clear he wouldn't let go until he got an answer.
Mo Qingbei sighed, thinking that the palace truly changed people. In just one month, his student had learned to threaten his teacher.
He ruefully rubbed his belly and lifted the prince from his seat.
"Your Highness, please come with me."
Mo Qingbei didn't take the prince anywhere specific. Instead, they spent the entire day wandering through the imperial gardens usually reserved for summer retreats.
The prince didn't understand, but the wine had already been taken by Mo Qingbei. The man drank it all and fell asleep by the lake. The cicadas buzzed in his ears, and no matter how the prince called, he wouldn't wake.
*Lotus Breeze at the Crooked Courtyard, Spring Colors of Wuling, Fairyland of the Square Pot, Peace in All Directions.*
The garden was filled with legendary sights. The prince walked alone for a long time before eventually falling asleep by the lake. When he woke, he found himself slumped over the desk in the study, his robes smelling of wine.
In October, the war reached a crisis. The Capital fell, and the Emperor fled in haste.
The allied forces occupied the Old Summer Palace, Yuanmingyuan. After looting and pillaging, the century-old garden was put to the torch.
On the night the Capital fell, Mo Qingbei drove all the cranes in his backyard into the sky. Changing into simple civilian clothes, he bought a jar of wine in the suburbs and walked into the burning Yuanmingyuan amidst the thunder of artillery.
He went straight into the Wenyuan Pavilion, climbed to the top floor, and took a book from a shelf.
A voice spoke from behind him. "Master Mo."
Mo Qingbei froze, then turned. "Tiansuanzi."
"It is a fated meeting to see Master Mo today." A young monk stood at the top of the stairs, clad in a green kasaya, holding a scroll. "May I ask why Master Mo has come?"
"The cannons are too loud; I couldn't sleep. I came to read some light literature." Mo Qingbei gestured with the book box in his hand. "And you?"
"This monk came to retrieve a piece of calligraphy by Zhao Mengfu." The young monk pressed his palms together. "I have long heard of the Wenyuan Pavilion’s fame and came to see it."
The Wenyuan Pavilion housed one of the seven copies of the *Siku Quanshu*, totaling 36,300 volumes—a grand treasury of literature.
The monk looked around. "Emperor Qianlong ordered this built in the style of Ningbo’s Tianyi Pavilion to serve as the imperial library, naming it Wenyuan. The books are bound in soft silk, tied with silk ribbons, and kept in nanmu boxes. The first page bears the seals of 'Treasure of Wenyuan Pavilion' and 'Emperor at Seventy,' while the last page bears 'Treasure of Yuanmingyuan' and 'Master of Believing in Heaven.'"
Mo Qingbei arched an eyebrow. "What are you getting at?"
"I mean to say that these replicas are excellently made." The monk smiled. "Master Mo’s 'crossing the sea under a camouflage' is impressive. In less than a year in the Capital, you have swapped out all thirty thousand volumes in this pavilion."
He looked at the box in Mo Qingbei’s hand. "If I am not mistaken, that should be the last original volume in the pavilion?"
"It takes one to know one." Mo Qingbei shrugged. "You steal your paintings; I’ll take my books."
The young monk bowed slightly. "It is a great fortune that the nation’s treasures have been saved by Master Mo."
"You flatter me. By my strength alone, it is but a drop in the bucket." Mo Qingbei tilted his head, studying the monk. "Tiansuanzi, I have a question."
"Please, Master Mo."
"The Anglo-French forces have entered the city. This garden will likely be burned soon. And yet, you only came for a single piece of Zhao Mengfu’s calligraphy?" Mo Qingbei asked. "The Seven Houses are said to hold the helm for all living beings, to save the mansion as it collapses. Now that the Garden of Gardens is about to be reduced to ashes, you aren't going to do anything?"
The monk smiled. "Once there was the Epang Palace, now there is Yuanmingyuan. The changing of dynasties is nothing strange."
"But this isn't just a simple change of dynasties, is it?" Mo Qingbei said. "I think 'the destruction of the nation and the race' is a more fitting term. I recently learned a new word: 'colony.'"
The monk thought for a moment. "Master Mo, you have entered the world; you are already within the game. There are many things I cannot speak of directly."
"Then please, speak of them indirectly."
The monk’s smile was somewhat helpless. "Since you know the Seven Houses care for the common people, have you ever wondered why the Master of Longevity drove you down the mountain?"
Mo Qingbei was momentarily stunned.
"To pull back against the raging tide—you are already the one at the helm."
It took Mo Qingbei a long time to squeeze out a sentence. "But when I said I wanted to enter the court, you didn't seem very supportive."
"I only wanted to see your resolve." The monk tilted his head. "I didn't expect Master Mo to not only be a good official but also an excellent teacher."
"Are you praising me or insulting me?"
"It is encouragement," the monk said. "Master Mo bears the Mandate of Heaven; your path is long and your burden heavy."
"Can I quit?" Mo Qingbei’s first instinct was to refuse. "I’ll go back to Penglai tomorrow and focus on my cultivation."
"The Mandate has descended. Master Mo is now the key person; you must not decline." The monk slowly rotated a string of copper coins in his hand. "Penglai already rejected the Mandate once, missing the opportunity, which led to the current chaos of the world."
"Penglai rejected the Mandate? When?"
"Over two hundred years ago, the previous Tiansuanzi divined a hexagram and asked Penglai to send a disciple down the mountain to serve in the court. Had the Qing forces failed to pass the Shanhai Pass then, the world might be a different place today."
Mo Qingbei was silent for a while. "Tiansuanzi, I think you have the wrong person. I only became an official for a bit of fun. I have no influence; I was almost fired recently. I can't help."
"One must fulfill the duties of the position one holds," the monk laughed. "If it were truly just for fun, why submit that memorial?"
"How do you know everything?" Mo Qingbei frowned. "I really don't like looking after kids. I’m only a hundred years old myself."
"The Emperor’s time is up, and he has only one son. Your student will soon no longer be a child." The monk bowed. "Congratulations, Master Mo. When the new Emperor ascends, you will be the Junior Preceptor to the Crown Prince. From then on, your official path will be smooth, and you shall rise to the heights."
Mo Qingbei was so shocked he nearly tumbled down the stairs.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 琉璃瓦 | Glazed tiles | Traditional yellow or green tiles used on imperial palace roofs. |
| 障眼法 | Glamour / Sleight of hand | A deceptive technique or illusion. |
| 冰种翡翠 | Ice-type jade | A high-quality, translucent variety of jadeite. |
| 太禧白 | Taixi White | A specific type of imperial wine mentioned in the text. |
| 豆面卷子 | Bean flour rolls | Another name for "Rolling Donkey" (Lǘ dǎgǔn). |
| 潜龙勿用 | Hidden dragon, do not act | The first line of the first hexagram (Qian) in the I Ching. |
| 奏折 | Memorial | An official report or petition submitted to the Emperor. |
| 休沐 | Leave / Recess | Historically, a period where officials were granted time off. |
| 敲打 | Knocking / Warning | Metaphorical term for giving someone a warning or reprimand. |
| 圆明园 | Yuanmingyuan / Old Summer Palace | The imperial garden complex destroyed in 1860. |
| 文渊阁 | Wenyuan Pavilion | The imperial library within the Forbidden City/Yuanmingyuan. |
| 四库全书 | Siku Quanshu | The Complete Library in Four Sections; a massive collection of Chinese literature. |
| 楠木 | Nanmu | A precious wood often used for imperial furniture and book boxes. |
| 赵孟頫 | Zhao Mengfu | A famous Chinese calligrapher and painter of the Yuan Dynasty. |
| 掌舵 | At the helm / Helmsman | Metaphor for leading or controlling the direction of events. |
| 太子少傅 | Junior Preceptor to the Crown Prince | A high-ranking official title, often translated as Grand Tutor or Junior Tutor. |
