As it turned out, the Heaven-Seer’s words were entirely accurate. In July of the following year, the Emperor fell critically ill at the Rehe Summer Palace and passed away shortly thereafter.
With the ascension of the new Emperor, Mo Qingbei was promoted as well, eventually rising to the rank of Grand Secretary of the Cabinet.
With more responsibilities came more worries, and he couldn't help but manifest a few extra wrinkles. Mo Qingbei simply threw away the mirror in his room—out of sight, out of mind.
On the day of the Great Cold, at the Sword Pavilion.
"My persona has utterly crumbled," Mo Qingbei grumbled, busying himself in the pavilion with a feather duster. "I only wanted to eat and wait for death, with no intention of serving the state. Alas, time waits for no man—this is truly a case of driving a duck onto a perch."
Hua Bucheng sat cross-legged on his sword, floating in mid-air as he sipped tea. "Master Mo has worked hard."
"If you know I’ve worked hard, why not lend a hand?"
The Sword Pavilion was filled with books from top to bottom, stacked in vast, sea-like layers reaching the ceiling. Mo Qingbei had two rags tucked into his waistband and was wielding his feather duster with the ferocity of a whirlwind, conducting a massive spring cleaning.
The *Complete Library in Four Sections* that he had smuggled out of the Wenyuan Pavilion had all been sent here. For over half a year, the entire family of white cranes had been dedicated to transporting the books. With heavy bundles constantly tied to their necks, they had all developed cervical spondylosis; now, they lay outside in the sun with their necks permanently crooked.
"Oh, my poor old back," Mo Qingbei groaned, rubbing his aching muscles. "I was writing memorials until midnight yesterday, and today I had to rush over here to do hard labor for you."
"To think there would come a day when you stayed up late to write memorials," Hua Bucheng chuckled. "That is indeed rare."
Mo Qingbei snapped a rag and began mopping the floor. "The court established the Peking School of Combined Learning this year under the Zongli Yamen. It’s a major affair."
"It seems you taught a good student. He’s barely ascended the throne and is already helping his teacher build a school."
"You have no idea how much I’ve been cursed for it. It was a dog-blood-drenched torrent of abuse," Mo Qingbei shook his head repeatedly. "This is the first modern school in the country. Those old fogies in the court are in an uproar, screaming about 'worshipping foreigners' and 'taking barbarians as teachers.' It’s sheer madness. My dear student just sits on his Dragon Throne and pushes this old bag of bones out to take the fall for him."
Hua Bucheng, enjoying the spectacle, added, "Isn't that perfect? Master Mo has a sharp tongue. Back at Penglai, even the senior sister who ran the kitchens couldn't out-talk you."
"Don't even mention it. A few days ago, I provoked an official so badly he coughed up blood on the spot and nearly kicked the bucket," Mo Qingbei waved his hand dismissively. "I only said a few words. Who knew his old limbs and lungs were so brittle? The Empress Dowager lectured me right after court, telling me to mind my speech and conduct."
"The world hastens one's aging," Mo Qingbei sighed. "Even a rebellious wretch like me has a day where I must act as a role model for a teacher. It’s truly absurd."
After venting his frustrations, he remembered something. He pulled an inkstone from his pocket and tossed it back to Hua Bucheng. "I didn't have time to go wandering this year, so I only brought you this."
Hua Bucheng caught it. It was a very ordinary stone inkstone, the carving unrefined, even a bit crude. "Did you carve this?"
"You actually noticed," Mo Qingbei said. "When the old Emperor fled in a panic, he stayed at the summer palace for a whole year. This year, when the new Emperor returned to the capital, the first thing he did was visit the Old Summer Palace."
"Wasn't that garden burned down?"
Mo Qingbei’s teeth ached at the mention of it. "Don't get me started. Since the new Emperor ascended, countless eyes have been on him. He couldn't sneak out, so he threw a tantrum—crying, screaming, threatening to hang himself—all because he wanted to see the Old Summer Palace. He forced me to sneak into the palace at midnight to kidnap a child."
He sighed. "Eunuchs get to accompany the Emperor through the inner palace at night; a minister only gets to accompany the Emperor through ruins at night."
That late night, he had taken the newly enthroned young Emperor out of the palace in secret, traveling under the stars toward the outskirts of the city.
As far as the eye could see, there were only broken walls and debris.
The young Emperor stood for a long time in the darkness. He finally understood why, on that day, he had asked his teacher what else he could do.
And Mo Qingbei had brought him to the Old Summer Palace.
*Upon these mossy green tiles, once lay a dream of elegance; now they have seen the fullness of rise and fall.*
*I saw him raise the vermilion tower, I saw him feast his guests, and I saw his tower crumble.*
"Little Highness, cry if you want to," Mo Qingbei said, holding a lantern and yawning. "There’s no one else here. You don't have to be the Emperor for a moment."
The young Emperor sniffled. "I cannot cry."
"Then you’ve likely forgotten who was throwing a tantrum with me earlier today," Mo Qingbei said calmly. "The Garden of Gardens is worthy of the tears of a Son of Heaven. It is no disgrace."
As it turned out, Mo Qingbei was not at all good at comforting children.
Watching the young Emperor wailing by the water, he felt a wave of melancholy: *Why did I have to make him cry?*
*Now look at this. I can't even take a nap if I wanted to.*
The young Emperor cried until his legs went weak, and Master Mo had to carry him on his back for the slow walk back to the palace. The night was dark and the wind high; the young Emperor was afraid of ghosts. Mo Qingbei coaxed him, "You are the Lord of Ten Thousand Years, protected by the Purple Tenuity Star. Neither gods nor ghosts can harm you."
The young Emperor, his face covered in tears and snot, rubbed his face against Mo Qingbei’s clothes. "Really?"
Mo Qingbei lied through his teeth. "When has your servant ever lied to you?"
"But they all say the Imperial Star is waning and the national fortune is failing."
It was indeed a dark night; not even the shadow of a star could be seen overhead.
Mo Qingbei sighed, thinking that he had never taught astrology in his lessons, and wondered what sort of nonsense the young Emperor had been reading. "Stop looking at the stars. The Star-Constellation Disciple doesn't come out in times of chaos; he won't bother with you."
The young Emperor didn't understand, but he felt the situation was grave. He sobbed, "Then what should be done?"
Mo Qingbei thought for a moment and said, "You are the Son of Heaven; there must be immortals by your side."
He spoke a subtle truth: "The immortals will take care of it. You can sleep in peace."
The next day, a blue brick appeared on the desk in the Imperial Study.
Calling it a blue brick was generous; it was just a tattered piece of stone. The young Emperor refused to let anyone throw it away, leading to much gossip among the palace staff, who assumed it was some rare treasure the Emperor cherished so dearly.
Mo Qingbei understood as soon as he saw it. It was likely something picked up from the Old Summer Palace the night before.
No wonder it had felt so heavy on his back.
Having a broken stone on the study desk was truly an eyesore. When Mo Qingbei went to give his lessons, he brought a hammer. While supervising the young Emperor’s schoolwork, he hammered away. By the end of the day, he had chiseled it into two inkstones.
However, their appearance left much to be desired. He even pocketed one of them as his "labor fee."
Mo Qingbei, having calculated his plans perfectly, tilted his chin toward Hua Bucheng. "Keep it here for now. In a few decades, when the value goes up, it’ll be my capital for my next life."
By "next life," he meant his next identity. Hua Bucheng said, "If you’re going to do a job, love it. Since you’ve entered the court, at least be professional. Don't just think about shedding your skin like a golden cicada."
"I’ve already planned it out. The Emperor is still young. Once he takes the reins of government personally, I’ll 'ride the crane' back to the west," Mo Qingbei said. "By the way, let me ask you something—do those white-feathered beasts outside ever get lost?"
This question actually stumped Hua Bucheng. "As far as I know, the white cranes of Penglai have never lost their way." He looked puzzled. "Why do you ask?"
Mo Qingbei wrung out his rag and clapped his hands. "There might be diplomatic missions going abroad in the future. It’ll involve crossing the vast oceans. If the cranes don't know the way, I’ll have to find another way to send you letters."
"That’s easy," Hua Bucheng said. "I remember there’s an Elder at the Fanghu Grotto-Heaven who is skilled in talismans. Just ask for a few Pathfinding Talismans and attach them to the letters."
Mo Qingbei shook his head. "I don't think that will work."
"Why not?"
"The Fanghu Scenic Area is next to the Jade Terrace; it’s the liveliest place in Penglai," Mo Qingbei said. "I am an exile, and you never leave this pavilion. Who is going to go ask for the talismans?"
It was a rare moment where he managed to stump the other man.
In the end, Mo Qingbei found a way to obtain the Pathfinding Talismans. As political affairs grew more complex, Master Mo became busier, and the letters he sent back to Penglai increased in frequency.
Logically, with a mountain of official business, Master Mo should have had no time for letters, but the reality was the opposite—the more work there was, the more he wanted to slack off.
*The court won a great victory against the Yue Rebels, and the rewards were handed out in abundance. You should have seen the grand banquet for the meritorious officials; if you didn't know better, you’d think the foreigners had all been driven out of China.*
*But the Little Highness has made progress lately; he remembered to save a few good dishes for his teacher.*
*The Sweet and Sour Cherry Pork from the imperial banquet was quite delicious.*
*The Yue Rebels caused chaos for years, leaving the court in a frantic mess. Now that they’ve won, my student can finally get a good night’s sleep. He worries too much for his age; he wears that big hat to court every day—I fear he’ll never grow tall.*
*Though it’s rebellious, the Yue Rebels had a few battles a few years ago that were actually worth looking at. I wanted to use them as examples for his lessons, but I was afraid he’d throw a fit.*
*HSBC opened a branch in Shanghai. Silver has been flowing out of the country for years; this is not a good sign.*
*However, I actually ran into a Mr. Wu at the bank. He holds a high position. I wonder if it’s a coincidence. If he’s from the School of Yin-Yang, it saves me a lot of trouble. Let the Masters of the Seven Schools deal with any headaches.*
*I stayed in Shanghai for a month, and my arithmetic skills have improved by leaps and bounds. Now I can use an abacus to play a folk tune.*
*The Jiangnan Arsenal was established this year; that matter is finally settled. When I went to inspect the factory, I saw four bronze explosive cannons. The Director-General keeps a Pekingese dog; it’s a fine specimen with a clear bark—likely worth quite a bit.*
*When I checked the accounts, I saw the cost of testing the cannons. There seems to be a lot of "water" in the budget. I wonder exactly how many Pekingese dogs one cannon is worth.*
*There’s also a question I’ve been pondering lately: does the blast of one of these cannons carry the same might as one of your sword strikes?*
*The court sent a diplomatic mission abroad. This is the first time the various ministers have personally stepped foot outside the country. It should earn a mention in the history books.*
*To tell you the truth, when I first descended the mountain, I once crossed the South Sea on my sword.*
*But because I got lost, I eventually had to sneak back on a boat.*
*I was gifted a pair of spectacles in Prussia, though they seem to be for the elderly. I’m considering whether to send them back to the mountain for Shifu or to manifest a pair of presbyopic eyes for myself.*
*By the way, I recently discovered that these stupid birds at home don't understand Western languages. I can use English to curse at them from now on.*
*I decided to keep the glasses for myself. You were right; Shifu probably doesn't have presbyopia. Giving them to him would just be asking for a scolding.*
*My student saw me wearing the glasses and got all excited. Lately, he’s started sending me all sorts of walking sticks and supplements.*
*I nearly threw him onto the roof out of habit.*
*A while ago, the Empress Dowager sent him to pray for rain. If he goes and it doesn't rain, the kid’s heart will probably break. I have to think of a way to help him.*
*By the way, do you know the address of the Dragon King’s house?*
*I expect the Little Highness will have his grand wedding this year. It makes me think back to the years when we climbed onto the roof together to eavesdrop. The wheel of fortune turns; now the Three Palaces and Six Courtyards are all his.*
*After watching the father’s gossip, I’m watching the son’s. Living long truly has its perks.*
*A mortal’s marriage is a major event, even for an imperial family. The two Empresses Dowager disagree on the choice of Empress, and the whole of Beijing is being turned upside down. I asked him which bride he liked—he’s truly grown up; I couldn't pry the truth out of him.*
*Once he takes full control of the government, perhaps I really should call him "Your Majesty."*
*I remember the year I went to clean the Sword Pavilion for you. I said that once His Majesty took the reins, I would "ride the crane" back to the west.*
*But you said if I’m going to do a job, I should love it. Since I’m in the position, I should be professional.*
*Sometimes, I really shouldn't listen to you.*
*I don't know what nerve His Majesty has struck, but only a few months after taking power, he actually wants to rebuild the Old Summer Palace—rebuilding the garden costs a fortune; where would the national treasury get the money?*
*I shouldn't have carved that inkstone for him. I wanted him to have a memento to inspire him to work hard, not to turn a childhood shadow into a dream to be fulfilled as an adult.*
*I was so angry I rode a crane in a circle through the sky. His Majesty won't listen to advice, and even this white-feathered beast is rebelling—it actually bucked me off.*
*I broke my leg. I can't fly my sword. My return to the west is postponed.*
*In the end, His Majesty decided to issue the edict to rebuild the garden, despite my wasted efforts standing guard at his door for a day and a night.*
*I can't control him anymore. It just so happens I’m being transferred out of the capital this year. Out of sight, out of mind.*
*His Majesty has only been in power for a year; he has a long road ahead of him. This old minister is aged; I cannot shield him from the wind and rain forever.*
*Fine, maybe I can. After all, people from Penglai are like tortoises; we live forever.*
*But being a teacher isn't the same as being a mother. His mother is strict enough; as his teacher, I should let him breathe. Just like how Shifu didn't hesitate much when he kicked me down the mountain.*
*A child only grows up once they are independent.*
During the year Mo Qingbei was transferred away, his duties were light, and his opportunities to slack off decreased. Consequently, the letters he sent back to Penglai also dwindled.
Mu Gesheng sighed as he read. "A worker's soul... Shifu’s soul has truly left his body."
Chai Shuxin suddenly asked, "How many years did this generation's Emperor reign?"
Mu Gesheng thought for a moment, then was struck by a sudden shock.
On the thirtieth day of the tenth month, during the Hour of the Sheep, the young Emperor caught a slight chill and fell ill.
In the twelfth month of the same year, the Emperor suddenly contracted smallpox and could not attend court.
On the fifth day of the twelfth month, during the Hour of the Rooster, he passed away.
He had reigned for thirteen years and was nineteen years old.
That year, during the Great Cold, Mo Qingbei did not return to the Sword Pavilion.
Hua Bucheng sat alone fishing in the lake. The snow fell in flurries, and the white cranes cried out.
He suddenly remembered the warning the Heaven-Seer had given Mo Qingbei all those years ago.
*When an immortal enters the mortal world too deeply, it bodes ill.*
***
