DBB – Chapter 44: Hope

From Shian to Xicui Mountain, the post road meandered through verdant hills and crystal streams, lined with pastoral fields and tranquil villages. In the paddies, young rice shoots glistened green under the sun. Between the intersecting dikes and footpaths, one could spot willows trailing in the water and wild peach blossoms blanketing the land.

At the foot of Xicui Mountain, the carriages came to a halt. The ancestral family’s vehicle had already arrived. Second Madam Gu stood waiting solemnly outside the mausoleum gate. The young ladies of the Gu family alighted and bowed in greeting.

“Come now,” she said, motioning with composure. “Let’s head up. Second Master is already waiting above.”

During their last visit to the ancestral home, Jinchao and the others had only caught a glimpse of Second Master Gu from afar, never having the chance to formally pay respects.

With maids, matrons, and attendants in tow, the party began the climb up the mountain path, following the neatly laid stone steps.

Xicui Mountain was the site of the Gu family’s ancestral tombs. Nearby stood Lingbi Temple, constructed through the funding of the ancestral household to safeguard the family’s fortune and glory. The Gu family made regular pilgrimages here, ensuring the grounds were meticulously maintained year after year. The stone steps were immaculate, and every hundred paces there stood a resting pavilion. A small courtyard had even been built beside the tombs.

Local villagers coming to offer incense at Lingbi Temple would always retreat respectfully upon seeing the Gu family’s arrival. The ancestral family owned much of the land in the Xicui region—many villagers relied on them for their livelihoods.

The young ladies, raised within the inner chambers, quickly grew breathless from the ascent. The sun was high, and Jinchao herself felt faint. She turned to glance behind—Gu Xi and Gu Yi clung to one another, stumbling forward. Gu Lan was drenched in sweat. Gu Jinxian and Gu Jinxiao, however, looked as if they were merely out for a stroll.

Ye Xian, on the other hand, appeared truly unwell. His pale complexion now carried a bluish tint.

Second Madam turned back and, startled, asked, “Shizi Ye, do you need to rest?”

Ye Xian waved her off, about to speak, when his chest suddenly heaved, his breath caught—and before he could utter a word, his eyes fluttered shut, and he collapsed.

Panic rippled through the group.

“Clear the way!” barked Gu Deshao, his voice steady. He gestured for two attendants to carry Ye Xian to the nearest pavilion. There, they laid him flat and loosened his collar.

The young ladies quickly turned away out of decorum—but Jinchao, half-turned, kept a watchful eye.

Fifth Madam, in tears, fumbled with trembling hands to retrieve a porcelain vial from her sleeve. She shook out a few scarlet pills the size of rice grains and carefully fed them to Ye Xian with a sip of water.

Second Madam couldn’t help but scold, “Shizi Ye¹ hasn’t fully recovered? Why would you let him climb the mountain with us?”

“I didn’t know…” Fifth Madam wiped her eyes. Ye Xian’s breathing was still labored. She gently patted his chest to help him breathe. “He told me he was fine. If something truly happened to him, I—”

Their father stood nearby, his expression grim. He waved at the steward to go ahead and notify Second Master Gu.

Ye Xian coughed sharply, then again. And then, at last, his breath steadied, his chest no longer heaving.

Jinchao caught it clearly—there was a glint of tears in his eyes.

He slowly sat up. Fifth Madam immediately wrapped him in a gentle embrace, patting his back as if he were a child. But he softly pushed her away and rose to his feet. His face was bone-pale, glimmering faintly like polished jade. Without a word, he stepped out of the pavilion and resumed the climb up the mountain path.

Everyone looked to Fifth Madam.

She shook her head to indicate that he was fine now, and only then did the group continue on.

Gu Lan drew close to Fifth Madam and asked in a hushed tone, “Fifth Aunt, I had no idea Cousin Ye’s illness was this severe…”

Fifth Madam gave a faint, bitter smile. “This is nothing. There were times when his breath nearly stopped altogether. I was beside myself with fear. Because of this illness, he’s never been able to run or play with other boys. When the General of Fuyuan’s son would go riding, he could only stand and watch, envy written all over his face… And yet he’s always been proud—he hates nothing more than showing weakness in front of others.”

Gu Lan looked ahead. That slender, upright figure walked silently before them, the black trailing ribbon and ivory-white hem of his robe catching the wind and sunlight. His posture was straight as a blade of jade—but something in that proud, solitary silhouette tugged at her heart.

At the summit, they reached the courtyard. Jinchao and the others first paid their respects to Second Master Gu. Compared to Gu Deshao, he was even more imposing and stern.

Upon hearing that Ye Xian had fallen ill on the way up, he rebuked Second Madam with a few cold words, then instructed that Ye Xian be taken to rest. But Ye Xian merely shook his head. “I’d like to visit Lingbi Temple.”

Second Master gave a nod and assigned Gu Jinxian, two attendants, and a steward to accompany him.

The rest of the party headed to the burial grounds. Behind them, servants carried offerings—spirit money, paper ingots, and the traditional three sacrificial meats.

After the ancestral rites, Second Master personally trimmed the overgrown brush with pruning shears. The Fourth and Fifth Masters planted willows around the graves. Once the ritual was complete, they returned to the courtyard.

The young men began playing cuju, while the girls, having had little chance to enjoy the scenery thus far, yearned for a spring outing.

Gu Lan proposed, “Why don’t we visit Lingbi Temple? We can offer incense and enjoy the view.”

Gu Lian beamed and looped arms with her. “There’s a willow tree I planted there—I’ll take you to see it!”

Their excitement was contagious. Fifth Madam took charge of the group, leading the girls with maids and guards in tow.

To reach Lingbi Temple, they had to walk a mountain path bordered on one side by cliffs and on the other by walls of tangled vines. Below lay an expanse of rice paddies and farming villages. In the far distance, the canals of Tongzhou and Baodi shimmered like silver threads—an awe-inspiring view.

Though not a grand temple, Lingbi was the most renowned in Xicui. Its incense offerings were abundant, and ancient cypresses towered all around. The abbot himself came out to welcome them.

Gu Lian, bright-eyed with excitement, pulled Gu Lan along to admire the willow tree she had planted.

Jinchao cast a glance at the temple—and happened to notice Gu Jinxian standing beside the bell tower.

Fifth Madam approached him. “I brought your cousins to offer incense. None of us have eaten yet—why not have a vegetarian meal here? Do you know where your uncle went?”

Gu Jinxian replied, “I’m not sure. Perhaps the Hall of Heavenly Kings.”

Fifth Madam instructed the girls to explore the temple grounds—but only under the watchful eyes of their maids and guards—then went to speak with the guest steward to arrange the meal.

Jinchao, wanting to light incense for her mother, took Qingpu and made her way toward the Mahavira Hall.

Outside the Mahavira Hall, temple pines and flattened bonsai pines stood in solemn rows. Within, the golden statue of Shakyamuni sat cloaked in gold leaf, its expression serene and compassionate, bathed in the flickering glow of votive candles—resplendent and radiant.

Jinchao knelt on a woven cushion, palms pressed together in earnest prayer. The hem of her snow-white embroidered skirt spread softly across the wooden floor, as pristine as a blooming lotus.

Ye Xian stepped inside just then. Qingpu was about to speak when he raised a finger to his lips, signaling for silence.

Jinchao finished her silent recitation and took the incense sticks Qingpu handed her. When she turned to place them on the altar, she was startled to see Ye Xian standing quietly, hands clasped behind his back, watching her in silence. She had hoped to avoid him—and instead, had run straight into him.

“You came to offer incense too, Cousin?” she asked with a bright smile. “Qingpu, give the incense to Cousin Ye.”

Ye Xian gazed at her for a long moment. His eyes were cool, almost frosted with distance. Then, he asked softly, “Do you pity me?”

Jinchao blinked, confused. “What is there to pity? You’re the heir to the Marquis of Changxing. Your grandfather is the esteemed Grand Tutor Gao, President of the Hanlin Academy, revered by all and surrounded by brilliant disciples. You were granted a hereditary title the day you were born, favored by the late emperor himself. Most people envy you.”

Not to mention, she thought, you’ll one day hold power that overshadows all others—killing without consequence, feared by the court. Who would dare pity you, unless they had a death wish?

Ye Xian looked at her. She was stunning—breathtaking, even—and the temple’s golden light only magnified that beauty. And yet, she wore such plain mourning white, her eyes cool and calm, her demeanor untouched by vanity, as though unaware of her own allure.

His expression softened. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “What did you just ask of the Buddha?” he asked.

He’s trying to have a conversation with me? Jinchao had hoped to avoid any interactions with him. She wasn’t trying to win his favor—she only prayed he would someday forget her existence.

Still, on second thought, there was nothing wrong with her response just now. Composed once more, Jinchao answered, “My mother is gravely ill. I only prayed for her recovery.”

She wanted to ask for so much more—but that would be greedy, wouldn’t it? The Buddha might scorn her for wanting too much. So she offered a single wish: Let Mother live. That alone would be enough. Everything else could come in time.

Ye Xian paused. “Your mother is seriously ill?”

Jinchao nodded. “You didn’t know? Fifth Aunt came this time precisely to see her.”

His brow furrowed deeply. “And you didn’t think to tell me sooner?”

Jinchao’s brow twitched. As if everyone doesn’t already know! Why did she need to report it personally to the Marquis’s heir?

In a quiet voice, she said, “You’re right. I should have told you first.”

Ye Xian caught the edge of her tone—it sounded faintly like sarcasm—but he let it pass. “You really should have,” he said seriously. “Half a year ago, my mentor, Master Xiao Qishan, was still in Yanjing. If he had seen your mother then, she might already be recovering.”

Jinchao froze. “What did you say?”

It was rare for Ye Xian to see her so visibly shaken. His smile deepened. “Xiao Qishan, a physician from Puding County in Guizhou. A master of his craft. He shuns worldly fame and prefers seclusion in the mountains.”

Xiao Qishan? She had never heard of him before—but that didn’t matter. If he could save her mother, nothing else did.

“Is he really that skilled? Could he cure my mother? Where is he now?”

Ye Xian gently tapped her shoulder. “Listen to me.”

“When I was two, I nearly died from illness. The palace physicians said I wouldn’t live another six months. My grandfather personally traveled to Guizhou to find him. Years ago, he had once saved Master Xiao’s life, so the man agreed to treat me. That’s the only reason I’m alive today.”

“I can’t promise he’ll cure your mother. But I believe he can prolong her life, at the very least. The thing is, he’s currently deep in the mountains of Guizhou. I’ll need to send someone to bring him here—the mountain paths are treacherous, and even at the fastest pace, a round trip will take at least a month.”

1. Shizi Ye – A respectful form of address for the heir apparent to a noble title, in this case, the Marquis of Changxing. Shizi denotes the legitimate successor to a hereditary peerage. ↩︎