The Abbot Assembly at Shaolin Temple had concluded, and under the guidance of his senior uncles, Puzhu Shangshi completed the ceremonial rites to officially become the new abbot of Shaolin Temple.
Tonight, the moon was bright, and the autumn night was clear and silent, devoid of cicada songs, with only the faint rustling of a breeze through the treetops, soft and indistinct, like the sound of rain.
Puzhu pushed open the door to his monk’s quarters. After tomorrow, he would move to the abbot’s meditation room, and this would no longer be his dwelling.
The cool wind and bright moonlight streamed through the half-open window, casting a gentle, crystalline glow into the room. He saw the floor bathed in frost-like radiance, and when he looked up, he noticed the chessboard on the table had been set up—black and white pieces locked in mid-battle, the game seemingly intense. Two cups of clear tea still wafted a delicate fragrance.
Yet, there was no one there.
Puzhu paused slightly. The room was utterly silent, devoid of any human presence, save for the unfinished game of chess. It was as though someone had waited here for a long time, grown weary of solitude, and played half a match against themselves. He did not see the person who had waited, and a vague sense of disappointment stirred within him. His gaze was soon drawn to the unfinished game on the table.
The black and white pieces were evenly matched, locked in fierce combat, each side holding potential victory. Yet, two white pieces and three black ones had fallen to the floor, leaving gaps on the board. Puzhu picked up the scattered pieces, holding them between his fingers, and pondered for a moment before placing a black stone on the board. But after a long pause, he picked it up again, hesitating to make the move. The game’s complexity was such that even his skill could not determine where the missing pieces had originally belonged. Lost in thought, he took a sip of the tea on the table. After a full half-hour, he placed one white and one black piece, but the rest remained unresolved.
Gradually, the night air seemed to grow still. Before him, everything but the chessboard blurred into obscurity. A faint sound seemed to reach his ears, yet his mind could not confirm it. In this dazed state, a delicate, slender hand reached out and took a white piece from his grasp, placing it on the center of the board. Puzhu picked up a black stone and set it beside it. The woman placed another piece... Unbeknownst to him, they exchanged dozens of moves until she placed the final white stone and said softly, "You lose."
I... Puzhu lifted his gaze, but his vision was hazy. Even the once-familiar chessboard blurred before him. The woman’s voice was familiar, melodious, yet distant... He felt himself tilting, as though about to fall from his seat, and instinctively reached out to steady himself—his hand grasped a warm, delicate palm. Before him, everything dissolved into emptiness, leaving only a vast, white void...
In Puzhu’s quarters, a woman clad in peach robes smiled gracefully as she lifted the unconscious monk into her arms. With a flick of her sleeve, the window shut, sealing the moonlight outside. The bed’s curtains fell, and the lamp extinguished. Apart from the disordered chessboard on the table, nothing seemed particularly amiss.
The autumn night was heavy with dew, the bright moon illuminating the lotus pond.
In the garden of the Imperial Father-in-Law’s residence, Tang Lici had set up a qin platform, upon which rested an ancient and elegant guqin. It was not a particularly fine instrument—merely an old piece Tang Weiqian had carried from his hometown to Bianjing in his youth. Its tone was neither the best nor the worst. Tang Lici rarely played the qin at home, but after visiting Yunfei today, he returned in the evening and suddenly announced he would set up the platform, much to the surprise of the household.The young master carried the scent of alcohol. Yuan'er prepared the incense and set up the qin for Tang Lici, watching his flushed face from drunkenness with silent concern. Everyone in the household knew Tang Lici had an immense capacity for liquor—for him to be drunk, one could only imagine how much he had consumed. Tonight, judging by the young master's demeanor, he was truly inebriated, different from his usual self.
"Young master, the qin is ready." Yuan'er stepped aside as Tang Lici sat on a smooth boulder in the courtyard, his fingers lightly plucking the strings. A clear, resonant note rang out, ethereal as the glow of the bright moon. Yuan'er listened intently. The young master was skilled in music, adept at any instrument, yet in the past, though the melodies were beautiful, they had always seemed to lack a soul—unable to make one laugh or cry. But tonight, the moment the qin sounded, Yuan'er suddenly understood what it meant to be slightly intoxicated.
The young master played a short piece, then fell silent. After a while, he raised his hand and played it again, then paused once more. After another stretch of quiet, he repeated it... Yuan'er listened in silence as Tang Lici played the same three-to-five-phrase melody over and over until, deep into the night, he slowly slumped over the qin and fell asleep. Aside from playing, he had not spoken a single word.
Yuan'er rarely attended to the young master, so he didn’t know if he was often in low spirits, but at the very least, he knew Tang Lici seldom got drunk. Seeing him asleep on the qin, Yuan'er hesitated for a long while before timidly reaching out to touch his forehead. Relieved, he let out a soft sigh and gently draped a pale purple outer robe over Tang Lici’s shoulders.
The young master had cured the master’s illness—an ailment the physicians had declared incurable—yet he had healed it effortlessly. Was he truly a fox spirit? Yuan'er peeked to see if Tang Lici had a tail, then carefully examined his nose before lifting his hand to check for claws. Tang Lici’s palm was warm and smooth, no different from an ordinary person’s. Yuan'er gently placed his hand back on the qin, suddenly struck by a thought—if the young master wasn’t actually a fox spirit, and the master treated him this way... would his heart... be very hurt? Gazing at Tang Lici’s flushed, drunken face, Yuan'er reconsidered—hurt? The young master wouldn’t feel hurt, would he? He was someone who never faced difficulties, never felt sorrow, never grieved, never worried—there was nothing he couldn’t accomplish, like an immortal.
Tang Lici lay on the qin for a while before slowly lifting his head, pressing a hand to his forehead. A few strands of silver hair slipped through his fingers, fluttering faintly in the breeze, his posture languid and elegant. "Yuan'er, you may go back first."
"The young master hasn’t returned to his chambers to rest—how could Yuan'er leave first?" Yuan'er replied respectfully. "If the young master wishes to sit in the courtyard, Yuan'er will stand behind the corridor. I won’t hear or see anything." Tang Lici’s brows curved slightly. "Dawn is near. You serve the master during the day as well... Go back. There’s nothing more for you to do here—go and rest." Yuan'er hesitated for a moment before softly excusing himself and returning to his quarters.The moonlight had reached its brightest moment. Tang Lici raised his head and glanced at the luminous moon. Many outsiders of unknown origins had suddenly appeared between the eastern and western capitals, and someone had infiltrated the palace to force Yunfei to steal "Green Charm." What was their ultimate goal? The Emperor harbored murderous intentions toward him, but since he doted on Yunfei and trusted his adoptive father, he wouldn’t act for now. However, if Tang Lici tested the Emperor’s patience at this moment, the consequences would be unpredictable. Moreover, how long could Plum Blossom Numerology, Raging Orchid No Trace, and Fu Zhumei—all poisoned—hold on? And... during his absence, had Xifang Tao truly taken no action? Liu Yan had been missing for a long time, and the abbot of Shaolin Temple was about to appear. Were the rumors of three kowtows true or false? Where was Liu Yan now?
One complex issue after another pressed upon him. The slightest misstep could lead to... unimaginable consequences... Tang Lici abandoned his qin and stood up, sleeves hanging as he walked toward his room. The problems that needed solving within a day or two were—Yunfei’s poisoned injury and securing Green Charm properly. Stepping over the threshold, he drew Little Peach Red from his bosom with his right hand and swung it in one smooth motion. Blood gushed from his left wrist. Taking another step forward, he pressed the wound against a thin-walled silver cup placed on the table. Serum... He didn’t know if his serum could neutralize the Exotic Bloom Poison, but it was worth a try. If the serum failed, then the plan for Green Charm would have to be accelerated.
Obtaining Green Charm was but a trivial matter. Tang Lici gazed at his blood in the silver cup, the corners of his lips curling slightly into a faint smile.
The next day, Tang Lici once again rode to the palace, bringing the serum for Yunfei and personally administering it into her bloodstream. After sitting with her for a while in Ciyuan Hall and observing no adverse reactions, he took his leave. Taizong, uneasy about Tang Lici treating Yunfei, dispatched imperial physicians to investigate immediately after court adjourned and even went to see her himself. Yet Yunfei’s complexion had improved, and the "medicine" Tang Lici brought seemed remarkably effective, showing no abnormalities. After taking her pulse, the imperial physician reported that Her Highness’s condition had slightly improved, though the root cause remained. She still needed rest, and if the medicine provided by Imperial Uncle Tang was indeed correct, perhaps another ten days to half a month would see her fully recovered. Taizong was torn between joy and anger—joy that Yunfei had finally improved, and anger that Tang Lici, the fox demon, had succeeded where imperial physicians had failed. What kind of medicine had he used on Yunfei to produce such miraculous effects?
Not long after, Taizong emerged from Ciyuan Hall, followed by several eunuchs, and hurried toward Chuigong Hall. The imperial garden, a masterpiece of ingenuity, was a delightful autumn sight, yet Taizong paid it no heed as he strode ahead. Suddenly, a faint "whoosh" sounded, and a long arrow shot past Taizong’s side. Startled, he turned to see a figure dressed in eunuch attire atop the corridor’s roof, bow drawn and aimed directly at him in broad daylight. Fortunately, his reflexes, honed from years of military life, were sharp. He dodged swiftly to the side as a second arrow whizzed past, missing him.
"Assassin! Protect His Majesty—" The eunuchs behind Taizong immediately shrieked. Two of them shielded Taizong while another screamed for help, "Guards! Assassin! Guards—"Several guards in the imperial garden rushed to the scene upon hearing the commotion. Arrows rained down from the assassin on the roof like a swarm of locusts, and cries of pain rose as several guards were struck and wounded. Taizong hastily fled toward the courtyard ahead. Not far in front of him, beneath a flowering tree, a figure was walking and had just turned around upon hearing the noise.
As Taizong dashed forward, a long arrow shot toward him like a meteor chasing the moon, nearly piercing his back. The person beneath the tree flicked their sleeve in response, their right wrist pulling Taizong behind them with a swift motion. With a sharp thud , the arrow clattered to the ground.
The assassin on the roof, still holding his bow, froze in shock. He had poured all his True Power into that shot—enough to pierce even a tiger in a single strike. Yet this person had merely flicked their sleeve, causing his arrow to fall harmlessly.
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