Chapter 5: Heaven Is Watching

North of Luoyang lies the Mang Mountains, a site chosen as the royal burial ground by emperors and nobles since the Han dynasty. Here, a few shovels of earth might uncover the tomb of some prince or marquis from bygone eras.

Perhaps because of his arrogance and misdeeds in life, fearing his grave would be disturbed, Sima Yi and Sima Shi’s tombs are remarkably modest, even smaller than those of some Han nobles. The cramped burial grounds, simple earthen mounds, and the absence of the typical tomb chambers common among Tang aristocrats reveal just how unadorned their interment was.

Surprisingly, Sima Shi’s tomb had become overrun with weeds, neglected and poorly maintained, while Sima Yi’s resting place was kept meticulously clean. Such subtle distinctions invite endless speculation.

Shi Shouxin silently reproached Sima Zhao, beginning to understand the reasons behind these discrepancies. The Grand General, eager to consolidate power, meticulously grasped at every opportunity. Deliberately neglecting Sima Shi’s tomb was a ploy to erase from public memory the bitter succession dispute that divided the brothers—an unacknowledged rift in legitimacy.

Without the conferral of royal title, the transmission of power lacked a veneer of orthodoxy. The office of Grand General was appointed by the Cao Wei court; how then could Sima Zhao pass it to his heir, Sima Yan, rather than to Sima Shi’s adopted son, Sima You?

Sima Zhao had repeatedly professed that his grip on power was temporary, promising to return authority to his elder brother’s line. Yet, those words now seemed forgotten by the very speaker. Ostensibly, the usurpation appeared unhurried, but in truth, it was an urgent blaze at his doorstep.

Shi Shouxin reaffirmed Sima Zhao’s resolute ambition to conquer Shu; even with only thirty percent confidence, he would dare to try.

Yang Huiyu summoned a maid to fetch writing materials and, with graceful strokes, inscribed a memorial text on a smooth stone beside Sima Shi’s tomb. Her calligraphy was vivid and elegant.

As Shi Shouxin watched, a strange sensation stirred within him. This “Lady Sima’s” eulogy made no mention of her deep longing for her late husband or their once affectionate bond. Instead, her pen sliced like a blade, meticulously enumerating Sima Shi’s “remarkable achievements.”

She spoke of the righteous slaughter of the original wife, the self-sacrifice for family over personal love, the campaign against the Huainan rebels, the massacre of those sympathetic to the Cao clan—the narrative from the Sima family’s perspective, these were deeds of merit. Yet to outsiders, these were damning proofs of betrayal and cruelty.

Yang Hu, standing nearby, shifted uneasily, about to intervene, but then paused. Let her vent, he thought. Sima Zhao wouldn’t mind anyway.

In recent years, their sister had suffered immensely. Her life’s flavors had faded, save for bitterness, which clung to her like a second skin. Even strangers could sense that acrid taste from afar.

She knew she must remain silent, endure desire, and accept blame without defense.

Who could fathom the depths of her torment?

Yang Hu sighed softly, quietly observing Yang Huiyu’s recital without a word.

When the memorial was complete, Yang Huiyu seemed relieved, a mischievous smile playing on her lips, tinged with subtle cunning.

Shi Shouxin found this absurd scene surreal. Beneath the composed exterior of this noble widow was the spirit of a mischievous child, perhaps eight or nine years old—one who had tamed the fierce dog that often barked at her, hiding in the courtyard to mock it with a teasing face.

The relationship between Sima Shi and his wife must have been utterly estranged—more akin to foes than lovers.

Shi Shouxin chuckled inwardly at Sima Shi’s failure to appreciate a woman of such incomparable grace, who appeared scarcely aged, and surely could have been enchanting in her youth.

“I want to speak with my late husband,” Yang Huiyu said, pointing toward a nearby pavilion where mourners rested. She gestured to Yang Hu and Shi Shouxin, who exchanged a glance, bowed, and withdrew.

Once alone, Yang Huiyu approached the tombstone, gently caressing its surface.

“Before you poisoned Xiahou Hui, Sima Shi’s original wife, she foresaw this day and confided in me—though she never believed you would truly do it. She was too naive, or perhaps you were just too adept at deceit.

“You are ruthless indeed. You killed her despite bearing you five daughters—without hesitation or remorse.”

She paced before the grave, speaking as though addressing a living person.

“Not only I know this, but Wang Yuanji, Sima Zhao’s wife and someone very close to him, knows as well. Her mother, Lady Yang, is a relative of mine; we have always been close, even before she married Sima Zhao.

“After I married you, Wang Yuanji once warned me that you were merciless and cold-hearted, more venomous than a snake, advising me to be cautious and circumspect.

“Truth be told, I always thought the Grand General’s reputation was poor, but when it comes to cruelty, he’s not even worthy to tie your shoes.”

Her tone was detached, hardly like one speaking to her husband.

“This life of mine, it was destroyed by you. Do you know how I’ve endured these years?

“You think that once you’re dead, I’ll forgive you? Never. I will never forgive you!

“I didn’t come here to complain today, only to tell you one thing.”

Her voice brimmed with venom as she leaned close to the tombstone, lowering her voice while smiling:

“Here’s a secret—on that night, I truly soared to the heavens, so joyful, especially to humiliate you. It made me tremble with excitement.

“Hahahahaha!

“Sima Shi, you hypocrite! Executioner!

“Do you know? I could have resisted, but I chose instead to lie down and enjoy it. I only regretted that the night was too short.

“Do you understand? That wife, who seemed to others as virtuous and prudent, in the bed of a wild man was utterly shameless and seductive! Even now, she feels no shame, only pride! Not a trace of regret!

“Are you angry? Do you want to come back as a vengeful spirit tonight?

“If you dare come, the wronged souls you slaughtered will stand behind me, and they have a great reckoning with you!

“I’m waiting for you!”

Yang Huiyu laughed wildly, cursing, waving her hands and stamping her feet, tears streaming from her eyes.

No matter how much she vented, the hatred in her heart could not be erased, though it gave her a fleeting thrill of revenge.

After her impromptu dance at Sima Shi’s tomb, Yang Huiyu composed herself, wiping tears from her cheeks.

The madness vanished; she resumed her dignified, elegant demeanor, an aura of noble aloofness that forbade intrusion.

From afar, Yang Hu and Shi Shouxin exchanged uneasy glances, witnessing her relentless muttering before the grave.

“Lord Yang, perhaps our lady is too grief-stricken. Would it be wise to find a physician within Luoyang?” Shi Shouxin suggested cautiously, knowing he was an outsider but genuinely concerned about her fragile mental state—bordering on madness.

“No, that won’t be necessary. Let’s just observe,” Yang Hu replied with a bitter smile. There were things he could never disclose to Shi Shouxin—unspeakable truths that explained her turmoil.

The two stepped forward; Yang Huiyu ignored Yang Hu, instead scrutinizing Shi Shouxin, making him uneasy.

“Shi Gandang, I remember you—weren’t you once the sword-bearer guarding the emperor’s carriage?” she asked coldly, barely concealing her hostility.

Yang Hu’s face paled; a cold chill ran through him.

His sister hated Sima Shi deeply but bore no grudge against Sima Zhao. In fact, she was grateful for Sima Zhao’s covert protection over the years.

Yang Huiyu’s adopted son was Sima Zhao’s second son, Sima You, also Wang Yuanji’s child.

Shi Shouxin had once harshly criticized Sima Zhao.

“Indeed, that would be me. Madam, please forgive my impertinence,” Shi Shouxin bowed, nervous. He was well aware of this “Lady Sima’s” close ties with Sima Zhao, and that his past actions had effectively slapped Sima Zhao’s face.

He owed his life to Sima Zhao’s mercy.

“Uncle, please wait over there. I have questions for Shi Gandang,” Yang Huiyu said sternly, her expression darkening.

Yang Hu wanted to protest—Shi Shouxin was his friend who had come to help voluntarily, and he wished to spare him this embarrassment.

But Shi Shouxin shook his head.

“Then, Sister, I’ll be brief. Shi Gandang must depart for Hedong today; he cannot stay,” Yang Hu reminded her, then withdrew, averting his gaze.

Once alone, Yang Huiyu pointed to Sima Shi’s tomb and fixed her gaze on Shi Shouxin. “What is your opinion of this man?”

She probed while discreetly admiring Shi Shouxin’s upright figure, secretly pleased but showing no sign.

How to answer? This was her husband, after all.

Shi Shouxin was caught off guard by the question but quickly gathered his thoughts.

Before he could speak, Yang Huiyu warned sharply, “Three feet above your head are the gods! Think carefully before you speak! Do not offer me empty flattery!”

Her sudden intensity confused him, yet he feared provoking her.

Shi Shouxin now had a wife and children who depended on him. If Yang Huiyu sought to undermine him, it could set off a chain of troubles. There was no need to quarrel with a woman over pride.

He considered her behavior and, summoning courage, replied:

“The deadliest venom is the gu poison.

“What is gu? A vessel containing insects—poisonous creatures that feed on each other in a small, enclosed world. The large devour the small, the venomous consume the tender, the strong prey on the weak.

“In the end, the survivor is the gu.

“Combining the strengths and poisons of many, it is the most ruthless and merciless.

“When you ask me about Sima Shi, madam, I can only say he was gu incarnate.

“He was the cruelest, most toxic, most cunning, cold and unfeeling, relentless and unscrupulous.

“The Grand General’s current power exists only because Sima Shi was so formidable that heaven itself had to remove him. If not, the Grand General would never have had his chance.

“I do not know how you felt back then or what you think now. To speak such words over a grave may be disrespectful. These are only my personal thoughts; please take them as you will.”

Shi Shouxin’s measured appraisal seemed fair to him, though the Sima family would never accept it.

Yang Huiyu said nothing, her demeanor grave, the atmosphere thick with solemnity.

“Alas!” she sighed, her hand brushing the tombstone. “Have you heard how others judge you? Your life was filled with evil deeds, and look where it has brought you.”

Rarity of fairness made her glance at Shi Shouxin, nodding slightly in approval.

Before the scandal, she had harbored resentment but preferred to avoid further turmoil. Remarriage was impossible—no one dared take her on. Seeking a lover was unthinkable—she had too much to lose, and no one dared approach her. Exposing Sima Shi’s disgrace was unnecessary and dangerous.

She treated her adopted son, Sima You, as her own, choosing to forget selectively and let time erode her hatred, striving for a “complete merit” in life.

Yang Huiyu had long been acting, uncertain whether her words and deeds were genuine or merely a mask. Having performed so long, she resolved to continue the charade.

That was her plan—until that fateful night, when the man before her shattered her resolve.

Even self-deception could not deny the truth of those events.

She could no longer fool herself; many feelings were sincere, raw, and unavoidable.

No longer a saintly noble widow or Sima Shi’s spouse, she was just an ordinary woman—a pitiful one.

The bitterness accumulated over years erupted uncontrollably, causing her to lose composure and descend into madness.

From her waist, Yang Huiyu produced a milky white mutton-fat jade pendant and offered it to Shi Shouxin.

“To accompany the emperor to death is loyalty to the state. How could there be no reward? This jade is my gift to you.”

Shi Shouxin hesitated, unwilling to accept. Yang Huiyu scolded, “This was part of my dowry, cherished for many years. If you don’t take it, I’ll truly be angry!”

A hint of youthful coquettishness appeared on her face.

Shi Shouxin had no choice but to pocket the pendant and salute. He could not fathom why Yang Hu’s sister regarded him so highly—if she had feelings for him, he was far from narcissistic enough to realize it.

With the pendant accepted, Yang Huiyu’s anger shifted to joy. Composed, she said, “This matter must not be mentioned to anyone, including Uncle.”

“Rest assured, madam,” Shi Shouxin pledged solemnly.

“You may call me Huiyu, or Lady Yu. But never ‘madam’ again—I never want to hear those words, in any circumstance,” she warned gravely.

Shi Shouxin nodded, thinking to himself: This woman must truly despise Sima Shi to do such a thing.

Soon, Yang Hu returned from afar. Though he did not see the pendant, he sensed a strange tension between his sister and Shi Shouxin.

An inexplicable... unease.

“Go to Hedong. You’re no longer needed here,” Yang Huiyu said coldly to Shi Shouxin. Once he departed, she mounted a carriage with Yang Hu, not accompanying Shi Shouxin.

After some hesitation, Yang Hu cautiously inquired, “What does Sister think of Shi Shouxin?”

“Indifferent. I don’t care what he’s like,” she replied insincerely, though inwardly she pondered how to engage more with Shi Shouxin in the future.