Chapter 10: Lamps of the Past

                                

After Li Ying escorted Cui Xun back to his residence, the Lantern Festival ended. Wang Ranxi returned home and did not appear again. Though Li Ying felt frustrated, she had no regrets. If given another chance, she would still have chosen not to abandon Cui Xun alone in the plum grove merely to chase the truth.

The next day was the fifteenth of the first lunar month. Chang’an glowed with lanterns lit to honor Buddha. The Empress Dowager ordered eternal lamps in temples across the empire for Li Ying, and hundreds of thousands of monks chanted rebirth prayers for the princess. Though she had not been reborn, the incense and prayers allowed her to walk in daylight without an umbrella. Yet in the bustling crowds, unseen by all, she felt utterly alone.

At Ximing Temple, Li Ying gazed at the plaque inscribed with its name. Few knew those characters, attributed to her father, had been written by her at eight years old. Gravely ill, her father had asked her to imitate his hand so no one would suspect weakness. She remembered asking, “Father is ill, why not let others know?”

Her father had stroked her hair and sighed: “There are too many bad people outside. Father cannot fall, nor let them know he might fall.”

She had asked innocently, “Isn’t Father the Emperor? Can’t you kill all the bad people?”

He had replied: “Dynasties change, emperors change, but bad people remain. The last emperor tried to kill them, but was killed first.”

She hadn’t understood then. He had smiled: “Better if my precious pearl never understands.”

Now, decades later, she finally did.

Inside the temple, she recognized her father’s spirit tablet—his temple name “Heroic,” downgraded from “Sage” by aristocrats who opposed him. Despite his achievements—imperial examinations, reforms, prosperity—they had branded him ruthless for the blood he spilled. Yet even they could not deny his enlightenment.

Li Ying tried to step closer, but golden light from the Buddha statue pushed her back. As a wandering soul, even honoring her father was denied. She knelt at the threshold, bowing three times. Father, you were the best emperor and the best father. Your pearl misses you.

Rising, she prepared to leave—until she saw the pipa player Cui Xun had saved.

The girl pleaded with the abbot, offering five hundred coins to light an eternal lamp for her brother. The abbot refused: her brother had died branded a criminal, forbidden burial.

The pipa player cried: “Is losing a battle a crime? He fought to the death against the Turks. He should be a hero!”

The abbot shook his head. “It was the Emperor’s decree. I am helpless.”

She fell to her knees, sobbing. Just as the abbot moved to dismiss her, a cold voice intervened: “Abbot, please wait.”

Cui Xun, in crimson robes, approached. “She is my acquaintance. Let me handle this.”

The abbot recognized him and withdrew.

Cui Xun helped the girl up. She shoved him away. “Don’t touch me! You disgust me!”

Her eyes blazed. “Cui Xun, why are they all dead while you live? Fifty thousand men died at Luoyan Ridge—including my brother. They fought bravely, yet the court called them criminals, confiscated their homes, forbade their burials. And you—the sole survivor, spared because the Turkic princess liked your face, promoted because the Empress Dowager favors you—you live in wealth and honor. Heaven, are you blind?”

She staggered off, clutching her coins. “If Ximing Temple won’t light a lamp, another temple will. My brother will be reborn. As for you, don’t appear before me again.”

Cui Xun watched her retreat, then turned to Li Ying. “Seen enough?”

Li Ying stammered, “I didn’t mean to watch. I only came to see my father. I didn’t expect…”

He sighed. “It doesn’t matter. Every time I’m in a predicament, you happen to be there. I’m used to it.”

Li Ying scratched her head awkwardly. She wanted to comfort him. “Don’t take her words to heart.”

Cui Xun asked, “Will you say again that those things might not be true?”

She remembered the scars on his body. “Well… they might not be true.”

He smiled gently. His beauty, softened by that smile, was like blossoms in spring.

Li Ying brightened. “Deputy Minister Cui, let me tell you a secret. The plaque of Ximing Temple—it was written by me.”

“By you?”

“Yes, when I was eight.”

Cui Xun thought back. That year, Emperor Taichang had vanished from court for three months, sparking rumors of rebellion. Few knew he had truly been ill, his decrees penned by his daughter’s hand.

Li Ying said proudly, “Everyone thought those characters were Father’s. But they were mine. You see, things everyone believes aren’t always true. Deputy Minister Cui, don’t you agree?”

Cui Xun gazed at her radiant face. After a long silence, he nodded slightly. “Hmm.”

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