Chapter Fifty-One: A Youth Unlived Without Passion (Part One)

A rainbow appeared on the western side of Mount Qixia at the moment Master Hongdao passed into meditation and left this world.

Yang Yaozong gazed at the crowd below, their sincere tears and reverent prayers offered to the departed Master Hongdao’s corporeal body. Two lines of tears finally slipped down his cheeks; he could not hold them back.

Jing Yijun, always hidden and aloof, had watched everything unfold with cold eyes. Yet from the moment the conversation between Master Hongdao and Yang Yaozong began, her heart was subtly moved by Yang Yaozong’s demeanor and words. Now, seeing his tears, hers too spilled uncontrollably down her face. As if suddenly awakened, she hurriedly wiped away the tears from her cheeks, and continued to observe the situation at Daoen Temple.

The Crown Prince, unable to contain his curiosity, voiced the question that puzzled everyone. “Grand Tutor, you knew Master Hongdao’s monastic name. Why did you simply ask him what his name was, and upon hearing that, Master Hongdao seemed relieved and passed away so peacefully?”

Yang Yaozong wiped his tears with his sleeve, smiled, and looked at the silhouette of the departing master. “Master Hongdao did countless good deeds in his life, forged many bonds of kindness, and his reputation spread far and wide. Yet, it was precisely these deeds and connections that burdened him with fame and fortune, tethering his spirit and keeping him from transcending. As Master Hongdao said, people pursue wealth and reputation while alive, but once dead, such things are left behind; even one’s own body is not theirs after death. By removing Master Hongdao’s name from this world, I freed him from the fame and fortune of his lifetime. Thus, he found relief and was able to pass away in peace.”

The surrounding monks and devotees listened to Yang Yaozong’s explanation and suddenly understood, bowing gratefully to the Emperor, the Crown Prince, and Yang Yaozong.

Yang Yaozong felt awkward, overwhelmed by their gratitude.

The Emperor smiled kindly at Yang Yaozong. “Yang, Master Hongdao attained enlightenment thanks to your guidance. The good karma and fame he accumulated in life will likely be bestowed upon you now.”

Yang Yaozong looked at the Emperor with surprise, sensing the deep meaning behind his smile.

Sure enough, as the Emperor predicted, the story of Yang Yaozong enlightening the great Master Hongdao with a single sentence spread throughout the capital before their party even returned. Along with this tale, it was also widely rumored that Yang Yaozong was the pillar of the nation, as Master Hongdao had once declared.

With Jing Yijun’s help, Yang Yaozong returned to the general store. He sat on the low couch, poured two cups of cool tea, handed one to Jing Yijun, and downed his own in a single gulp, frowning. “This is getting troublesome.”

Jing Yijun took the cup, sat down slowly, her cheeks faintly flushed as she sipped the tea. “Tomorrow, even more people will pay attention to you. You could stay home for a while; if anything happens, I’ll let you know.”

Yang Yaozong shook his head. “That would inconvenience you too much.”

Jing Yijun shot him a sideways glance. “You don’t usually worry about troubling me. Now you’re being courteous?”

Yang Yaozong, seeing her slightly embarrassed demeanor, teased, “You’re becoming more like a goddess who’s descended to the mortal world. You’ve gained some humanity.”

She snorted coldly and resumed her lofty, aloof manner.

Yang Yaozong pursed his lips. “Fame is a double-edged sword. I’ll just leave early and come back late, as usual. All the intelligence I gather isn’t something I should carry around all day—one slip could be disastrous.”

Jing Yijun couldn’t help but laugh when he likened her to a pig. She gave him a reproachful look.

Yang Yaozong lifted his cup to drink, but was stunned by the charm in her glance, staring at her in a daze.

Jing Yijun, blushing under his gaze, retorted in embarrassment, “What are you looking at?”

Yang Yaozong snapped out of it, smiling sheepishly.

Knock, knock, knock—the sound of someone at the door.

Yang Yaozong returned to his desk. “Come in.”

It was Qin Haizhou. He was about to salute when Yang Yaozong interrupted, “Brother Qin, there are no outsiders here, no need for formalities.”

Qin Haizhou couldn’t see Jing Yijun behind the bookshelf, but hearing Yang Yaozong say there were no outsiders made Jing Yijun blush even deeper, her cheeks growing hot.

Qin Haizhou grinned. “Sir, you’ve truly earned my admiration today. I’m absolutely in awe.”

Yang Yaozong smiled modestly. “Sit down, Brother Qin. I doubt you came just to praise me.”

Qin Haizhou smiled, then grew serious. “Our secret investigation teams have been inspecting the city gates, following your instructions to check the merchants and laborers who enter and exit daily. We found one particularly suspicious person.”

Yang Yaozong frowned. “Oh? Tell me.”

Qin Haizhou nodded. “Most regulars at the city gate are well known to the guards—ordinary folk, living the same way for years. Among the new faces, we found a man named Meng Kuo, now living in Wuzhuang, north of the city. He’s about my build, with a dialect from western Hunan. He drives a donkey cart every day, carrying four large barrels as tall as a person, collecting leftovers from several businesses to feed his pigs. At first, nothing seemed odd, but our agent kept watch and noticed Meng Kuo is unusually strong and agile—he can lift a full barrel in one hand without effort. He’s likely trained in martial arts. He enters the city precisely at dusk, leaves before the gates close.”

Yang Yaozong nodded. “Which businesses does he collect leftovers from?”

Qin Haizhou replied, “Several near our tavern—Yuelai Tavern, Xiangheng Tavern, Guangyuan Tavern, and the Drunken Red Dust brothel.”

Hearing the name “Drunken Red Dust,” and recalling Qin Haizhou’s mention of western Hunan dialect, Yang Yaozong narrowed his eyes in contemplation. “Has he interacted with anyone notable?”

Qin Haizhou said, “He only deals with kitchen staff and maids—nothing suspicious.”

Yang Yaozong instructed, “Have the agents continue observing him, but don’t probe or test him. If discovered, halt the investigation immediately.”

Qin Haizhou nodded. “Yes, sir. One more thing—about the imperial exams starting on August eighth. Recently, the eldest prince has been meeting many scholars from the north, treating them well. Usually, before the exams, southern and northern scholars compete in poetry and learning. This year, that hasn’t happened—perhaps the prince is mediating. There are also a few people selling exam questions, but they’re just swindlers taking advantage—few believe them. Rumor has it the chief examiner for this year’s imperial exams hasn’t been chosen, and it might fall to you. I suspect the Emperor will select you, given your current fame. Oh, and the eldest prince is hosting a banquet for northern scholars at Drunken Red Dust.”

Yang Yaozong raised an eyebrow, glanced out the window toward Drunken Red Dust, and said, “With the Prince in the capital and northern scholars here for the exams, it’s fitting he should look after them. As for those selling exam questions, report them to the magistrate—have them all arrested. Whether true or false, this must be stopped.”

He paused and raised his voice slightly. “As for the chief examiner, I’d rather not be chosen. I dread dealing with scholars—too troublesome. Besides, no one can guess the Emperor’s mind.” He said this for Jing Yijun’s benefit; he had no desire to be chief examiner.

Jing Yijun understood, and quietly scoffed.

“Brother Qin, go to the basement and change clothes. Take me to Drunken Red Dust—we should join the fun. A man without romance is no true youth, and I’ve never been to a brothel.” Yang Yaozong grinned at Qin Haizhou.

Jing Yijun’s gaze grew icy as she squinted through the blinds at the opposite building, her delicate fist unconsciously clenched. “A man without romance is no true youth!” she thought. “Excuses!”

Qin Haizhou laughed heartily, his eyes bright. “Excellent! I’ve been to Drunken Red Dust a few times—the ladies there are truly lovely, each with their own charm. If they know you’re coming, they’ll rush to serve you.”

Yang Yaozong chuckled. “I didn’t expect you to be so devoted at home, yet so lively outside.”

Qin Haizhou blushed. “Well, as you said—men should enjoy their youth!”

Yang Yaozong laughed inwardly, thinking Qin was still young at heart. In truth, Yang Yaozong was curious about brothels in this era—places where elegance mingled with pleasure. Now, with his reputation, visiting such establishments would only enhance his image as a cultured gentleman; no one would dare gossip about his status as a son-in-law. He also knew that as soon as he appeared at Drunken Red Dust, Yin Ruoxin would surely come to see him—the woman he dreamed of day and night. And he wanted to see Meng Kuo in person, to judge whether he truly was just collecting leftovers.

Qin Haizhou went out to change clothes. Yang Yaozong moved behind the bookshelf to find Jing Yijun, meeting her cool gaze. He felt a little uneasy and smiled awkwardly. “Uh… I’ll be going across the street soon.”

Jing Yijun ignored him, just stared.

Yang Yaozong pursed his lips. “I’m off. You… should go back and keep the Emperor company.”

With that, he turned and left.

Watching him truly leave, Jing Yijun’s heart filled with anger and confusion, her delicate fists clenched and unclenched, again and again.