Leaving Wangchen Pavilion, Xiao Nanhui felt heavy-hearted, her mind clouded by a strange sense of unease.
She understood the logic Yao Yi had laid out. Some past events were not impossible to trace; they were simply forbidden from being investigated. They were old scars—tearing them open would only lead to bloodshed.
Xiao Zhun likely knew this all too well, which was why he almost never mentioned those past events in her presence.
She believed she understood Xiao Zhun’s temperament. A man forged on the battlefield possessed an abundance of integrity but lacked suppleness. She was the same. She had been raised by Xiao Zhun, and he was much the same way.
Yet the imperial court was merely another kind of battlefield—one without blades or spears, where no techniques were visible to the eye. But when the round ended, someone would still be cut down from their horse. The result was always the same.
Xiao Zhun was not suited for that kind of battlefield. Xiao Nanhui understood this, but because she could not help him, she could only fret in silence.
In the blink of an eye, it was noon. For some reason, the sky that had been brilliantly sunny just a moment ago suddenly turned somber. Xiao Nanhui squinted toward the horizon, seeing a line of heavy, dark clouds drifting in from afar.
The April weather in Que City was truly as fickle as a person's whims.
Uncle Chen had not yet sent anyone to call for her, so Xiao Zhun likely wouldn't return to the manor for some time. If she wanted to go to Yongye Temple to pray, she had to leave the city now; otherwise, she wouldn't make it back before the gates closed.
Fine, she would go alone.
Her birthday wish this year was for Xiao Zhun’s safety and peace.
In truth, from the day she first arrived at the Marquis’s manor, every one of her birthdays had been dedicated to this single wish.
And in every year past, those wishes had come true.
Thus, she privately believed that the dilapidated temple in the mountains possessed some measure of divine efficacy. At least, it had been so until now.
The start of this year hadn't been great, but there would surely be a happy ending. Right?
***
Yongye Temple sat upon Mount Shuxi, thirty miles east of Que City. Though the temple was small, it drew many pilgrims.
Legend had it that when the temple was first built, its name was "Yongye," after the ancient name of the region.
However, ever since the temple’s completion, the region of Yongye had been plagued by disasters. First, months of flooding washed away the villages at the foot of the mountain; then came three years of parching drought. This was followed by years of chaos and war across Chizhou. A falling boulder struck the mountain gate of the temple, collapsing half of it. When the stone inscription of "Yongye" was damaged, only the characters for "Yongye"—meaning "Eternal Karma"—remained. The abbot felt this was the will of Heaven and did not have it restored, choosing only to rebuild the gate itself.
Thus, Yongye Temple became the Temple of Eternal Karma. Strangely enough, from that point on, the region suffered no more disasters. Though the temple lacked any renowned high monks, it was exceptionally efficacious—not for seeking blessings, but for averting calamity. In short, if someone felt a disaster was looming over them, they would come to Yongye Temple to pray for protection. With just three sticks of incense and a small donation, they could turn misfortune into luck and danger into safety.
Such a miraculous temple, even hidden deep in the mountains, saw a constant stream of pilgrims.
When offering incense, it was better to be early than late. Few people entered the mountains after noon as Xiao Nanhui did today.
A young monk sweeping the grounds helped her tether Jixiang to a post. Beside a few horses, a carriage was also parked there. Xiao Nanhui gave it a cursory glance but didn't pay it much mind, hurrying up the steps toward the temple interior.
The sky remained overcast. Clusters of golden camellias in the courtyard were in full bloom, yet they seemed to lose some of their luster without the sun's touch. Unlike other temples that favored pines and cypresses, this one had kept the golden camellias that were present when it was founded. Camellias were difficult to cultivate, and the golden variety was rarer still, but the soil and water of Yongye Temple were perfectly suited for them. They flourished year after year without much care, filling the garden with fragrance.
She looked around, her eyes reflecting a quiet joy, but the thought of Xiao Zhun’s absence dampened her spirits.
With a silent sigh, she walked straight toward the Great Hall.
The dark clouds drifting from the southwest seemed much closer now, pressing down upon the eaves of the hall, instilling an inexplicable sense of oppression. From a distance, Xiao Nanhui noticed someone standing by the hall doors. The figure was dressed in green, standing with hands behind their back. Her sharp eyes caught the person shifting slightly, moving a long blade at their waist to the other side of their body to hide it.
Withdrawing her gaze, she didn't think much of it. Que City was the imperial capital, home to many of high status. Some noble families preferred not to flaunt their identities when traveling, keeping a low profile and even avoiding items that might identify them. Given Yongye Temple's remote location, it wasn't strange for a cautious person to bring a guard.
Lost in thought, Xiao Nanhui brushed past the person.
The banners hanging inside the hall blocked the light, and the surroundings dimmed as a chill swept through. Perhaps the fragrance of the flowers outside was too sweet, making the damp, pre-rain air inside the hall seem to carry a hint of bitterness.
Adjusting to the dim light, she walked straight to a weathered prayer mat. She wiped her hands with a plain handkerchief and lit three sticks of incense.
The scent of the ancient incense, infused with musk and snow lotus, was pungent and warm, neutralizing the previous odor. Xiao Nanhui took a deep breath and whispered her prayers for safety.
The intermittent sound of a wooden fish being struck in a distant side room ceased, leaving only her low murmurs in the silent hall.
She began her prayers with the war, then moved to the generals under Xiao Zhun’s command, and finally to the Marquis’s manor and Xiao Zhun himself. After an unknown amount of time, the hand holding the incense trembled. A bit of ash from the half-burnt sticks fell onto her hand, stinging slightly. She thought carefully and, feeling she hadn't missed anyone, bowed three times with respect. She inserted the incense into the burner and prostrated herself.
Having finished, she stood up. Her eyes inadvertently fell upon the fortune-telling cylinder sitting by the altar, and she paused.
In this day and age, few worshipped the gods, while many paid homage to the Buddha. As for how much she truly believed, Xiao Nanhui couldn't say for sure. But before every campaign, Xiao Zhun would always pray for the soldiers. Over time, she had come to feel it was a necessary ritual.
However, she had never once sought a fortune or asked for a divination.
She did not understand destiny or heavenly principles; she only knew that everyone had their own lot in life. Moreover, she felt that the more one tried to calculate their fate, the thinner it became. She considered herself a person of meager fortune, unable to withstand the weight of such a calculation.
But today, for some reason, Yao Yi’s words kept echoing in her mind, resurfacing the moment she saw the cylinder.
*“If he knew now, would those people let him go?”*
The Xiao Zhun of today was no longer the helpless, lonely youth of the past. But the world was fickle, and everything that had happened to the Xiao family was a living warning. If one could foresee the unpredictable, could they avoid it?
Xiao Nanhui didn't know, but by the time she realized what she was doing, the cylinder was already in her hands.
The octagonal wooden vessel was polished smooth from use, feeling heavy with a hundred bamboo slips inside.
She closed her eyes, chanting silently as she shook the cylinder.
*Clatter, clatter.*
A slender bamboo slip began to emerge from the top. She didn't notice and continued to shake it vigorously. By the time she realized and opened her eyes, the slip had already flown out with a *whoosh*.
She sighed, caught between a laugh and a frown.
Huge banners hung on either side of the Buddha statue, reaching from the floor to the ornate ceiling. The banners hung a few inches above the ground, leaving a small gap. Her slip had slid right through that gap, landing not far away.
This was the Great Hall of Yongye Temple; the sutra-chanting platform behind the Buddha statue was strictly off-limits to outsiders. Xiao Nanhui stretched her arm to reach the slip, but it remained just out of her grasp.
Suddenly, a very light sound of footsteps came from deep within the hall.
Her movements stiffened. She hadn't expected anyone else to be in the hall.
Could it be the Abbot, Master Yikong? Or a monk guarding the hall? Usually, if a monk was present, they would step forward to help a pilgrim by chanting a few verses.
Perhaps it was just a young novice?
She lowered herself slightly, peering through the gap beneath the banners.
In the gloom, she could faintly see a pair of boots approaching. They stopped a few paces away. Then, a slender hand wearing a string of prayer beads picked up the bamboo slip.
Those boots were definitely not the footwear of a monastic. But those prayer beads possessed a rare quality found only among those of high spiritual standing.
Suppressing her confusion, Xiao Nanhui spoke politely. "I did not know a Master was here. My apologies for the intrusion."
After a moment, a voice sounded from behind the curtain.
"It is no matter."
The four short words made her start.
The voice was far too young; it was impossible to associate it with the elderly monks who spent their lives in seated meditation. Yet, despite its youth, the voice carried a sense of being devoid of both sorrow and joy—calm and rippleless like a high monk who had attained the Way, making it impossible to discern any emotion.
Before she could react, the voice spoke again. "What matter does the benefactor seek to know through this fortune?"
She hesitated for a moment before answering truthfully. "I ask if my family will remain safe and at peace."
There was a moment of silence behind the banners.
"Since you have already prayed for peace, there is no need to ask further. To pray and then ask is, in truth, a lack of faith."
She felt a flush of embarrassment, realizing the person had heard her earlier mutterings, but she also felt he had a point.
A hand reached out from beneath the banner, holding the slip and accurately tossing it back into the cylinder—so fast she didn't have time to see what it was.
"The benefactor has visited the mountain gate in person. Why ask only of others and not of yourself?"
She thought for a moment and answered honestly, "I do not know what to ask."
Xiao Nanhui had lived for twenty years. Before the age of six, she only sought to stay alive. After six, her peace had been provided by Xiao Zhun, so she sought peace for him. As for herself? She didn't know what else she needed.
The person behind the banners did not seem surprised, merely saying tonelessly, "Merchants ask of fortune, the ill ask of the passing years, officials ask of their careers, and women ask of their marriage fate."
Marriage fate. Her fate... would it be Xiao Zhun? Today was her birthday. She had never dared to hope for anything special before, but today felt different.
People were always like this—seeking answers from gods and Buddhas for questions they could not answer themselves.
Xiao Nanhui hesitated, then picked up the cylinder again and shook it carefully. After a long while, a single slip fell out.
She glanced at it.
Forty-nine.
The ninth day of the fourth month—her birthday.
She tossed the divination blocks; one face up, one face down.
The fortune was set.
The hand behind the banner picked up the bamboo slip and seemed to examine it for a moment. Her heart beat a little faster.
A moment later, a thin slip of paper was passed out from under the banner.
Xiao Nanhui took it, and her heart sank. In the center were three words: "Lower-Lower Fortune." Below them were four lines of verse:
*A lone lamp glimmers amidst the distant peaks,*
*Hemmed by abysses, the path is hard to see.*
*To find the soul the shadow’s lantern seeks,*
*The wind arises, and clouds shroud the moon’s decree.*
Her fingertips turned white, and the soft rice paper crumpled in her grip.
"May I ask what the benefactor sought just now?"
She spoke hoarsely. "Marriage fate."
"The benefactor’s path in love is fraught with obstacles."
*Don't I know it?* A surge of irritation welled up in her chest.
If this person hadn't goaded her, perhaps she wouldn't have sought this fortune at all.
Xiao Nanhui suddenly lost all desire to deal with the person behind the banners, her reverence for the Buddha completely forgotten. She stood up, straightened her clothes, returned the prayer mat to its place, and left a small donation, intending to leave.
Unexpectedly, the voice behind the banners spoke again, this time carrying a hint of a smile. "Does the benefactor understand the principle of finding life at the end of a dead end?"
The voice, previously as still as an ancient well, finally had a touch of human warmth, but she didn't feel the least bit happy. "What is the Master’s insight? Please, speak plainly for once."
The voice returned to its calm state. "In the past, Yongye Temple lacked blessings yet insisted on seeking them, eventually falling into a desperate situation. Once it awakened and changed its purpose to 'extinguishing karma,' it found rebirth. The benefactor’s marriage fate is the same."
She didn't respond. She crumpled the fortune into a ball, stuffed it haphazardly into her sleeve, and strode out.
The man with the blade at the hall door was leaning against a pillar, watching her. Xiao Nanhui walked like the wind, not bothering to spare him a glance. The golden camellias in the courtyard swayed in the wake of her hurried steps, dropping tiny petals like a soft sigh.
As she galloped away from the mountain gate, she couldn't help but look back at the dilapidated plaque on the stone beam.
Yongye.
*Ye.* Karma. A karmic hindrance.
She hadn't felt it before, but now, the more she looked at it, the more ill-omened it seemed.
She quickly patted Jixiang’s flank, telling herself to relax. Then, she pulled the crumpled fortune from her sleeve, tore it into pieces with a vengeance, and threw them into the tall grass.
***
**Glossary**
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 永业寺 | Yongye Temple | Formerly Yongye (永邺). "Ye" (业) can mean industry, deeds, or karma. |
| 枢夕山 | Mount Shuxi | The mountain where the temple is located. |
| 吉祥 | Jixiang | Xiao Nanhui's horse; the name means "Auspicious." |
| 金茶梅 | Golden Camellia | A rare flower variety mentioned as a feature of the temple. |
| 下下签 | Lower-Lower Fortune | The worst possible grade in a temple fortune-telling slip. |
| 姻缘 | Marriage fate | Predestined relationship or romantic destiny. |
| 业 | Karma / Ye | In a Buddhist context, refers to the sum of a person's actions and their consequences. |
| 茭杯 | Divination blocks | Crescent-shaped wooden blocks used to confirm a fortune's validity. |
