So this was that Lady Cheng.
Han Chang couldn’t help but lift his head slightly to look.
“Rise and speak,” the Emperor said.
The girl bowed again to thank him, then rose and lifted her gaze.
Han Chang finally saw her face clearly – and his eyes lit up in surprise. She was young, so young she could almost still be called a child. Her brows were long and fine, her eyes dark and luminous; and when he met those eyes, a thunderclap went off in Han Chang’s mind.
“Ah!” The cry slipped from his lips before he could stop it.
Just then the Emperor was about to speak, but the sudden outburst cut him off. He too looked surprised.
Although this official had come from the provinces, he was no longer a youth – surely he should have known better than to lose composure before his sovereign.
Everyone in the hall turned to look at Han Chang, and one of the eunuchs even gave a discreet cough as a warning.
But Han Chang seemed not to notice at all – he just stared at the girl, his expression a mix of shock and excitement.
“You – you – it’s you,” he stammered. “You’re Lady Cheng?”
Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him.
“I am,” she said. “It’s me.”
Han Chang’s words left everyone in the hall momentarily stunned.
It seemed that this Lady Cheng had already become so famous that simply seeing her in person was enough to move someone to such excitement.
The Emperor’s expression had grown unpleasant.
For his minister to lose composure like this before the throne – how disgraceful.
It was enough for officials to bow to Heaven, to the sages, and to their sovereign; but to appear as though worshipping a mere young lady – what decorum was that?
The eunuchs naturally noticed the Emperor’s look and guessed his thoughts. Then, glancing at Han Chang – who was still standing there in a daze, oblivious to everything – they couldn’t help showing a trace of pity.
How unfortunate. He had come all the way here to be promoted and granted an audience, and now he might well have ruined his own prospects.
Still, none of them offered to remind this poor provincial official – there was neither friendship nor profit in it for them.
“It’s you – you’re Lady Cheng,” Han Chang repeated again.
The Emperor’s expression darkened even further, and just as he was about to speak, someone else spoke first.
“You two know each other?” Duke Jin’an asked with a faint smile.
Know each other?
The Emperor was momentarily taken aback.
“It’s you – you’re Lady Cheng.”
So that hadn’t been a single phrase after all – it wasn’t “You are Lady Cheng,” but “It’s you? You’re actually Lady Cheng?”
Ah, that explained why the woman’s earlier reply had also come in two parts: “I am. It’s me.”
“We met once,” Cheng Jiao-niang answered Duke Jin’an’s question.
“That one meeting – could it be…” Duke Jin’an looked at her, his gaze flickering as he spoke slowly.
“It’s her – it’s her!” Han Chang exclaimed, turning toward the Emperor and bowing deeply, his voice trembling. “Your Majesty, this is the very lady I spoke of just now – the traveler by the Panjiang who beheaded the bandit monk!”
Indeed! Unbelievable!
Duke Jin’an broke into a broad smile, while the Emperor looked startled – his mind spinning with thoughts that finally condensed into a single realization:
So she truly does know the art of reading geomancy and celestial patterns.
“Your Majesty, I told you – she never lies,” Duke Jin’an added cheerfully.
The Emperor cast him a warning glance.
Enough. There was no need to praise this girl again and again.
He opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated – unsure what to say anymore.
The questions he had intended to ask no longer seemed necessary; Han Chang’s outburst had revealed more than enough. It was all so unexpected that even he felt momentarily at a loss.
“Lady Cheng,” he finally said, “did your teacher also instruct you in the study of the heavens?”
“He did,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied. “I have some slight understanding.”
The Emperor pressed his lips together.
“You seem to have a ‘slight understanding’ of an awful lot of things,” he said.
Was there anywhere she didn’t have a hand in?
The Emperor looked around the hall – there was no need to ask anything more. He glanced at his royal kinsmen and his ministers: one beaming as if his face might split with a smile, another as agitated as the bewildered Master Cui; and here he was, the Emperor on the throne, who at this moment was less conspicuous than the young lady standing in the middle of the hall.
So young, and she could predict an eclipse? She must be well versed in astronomy and calendrics… or perhaps not entirely.
“You don’t only know how to calculate eclipses, do you?” the Emperor asked.
“No,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied. “I know a good deal more about it.”
The Emperor made an approving sound.
“Why did you cut down that monk back then?” he asked.
“Studying the heavens and charting the stars is for calendars and agriculture, so the people can know the seasons and arrange their lives – not for pronouncing omens of fortune or disaster, and certainly not to mislead the populace,” Cheng Jiao-niang said. “To use astronomy for spurious predictions of luck or calamity merits execution under law, and it is also contrary to the moral teachings of the Way. I dare not adjudicate for the magistrates – I only, for the sake of astronomy and moral learning, root out charlatans.”
Those words pleased the Emperor. Yes – exactly so. Those scoundrels at the Bureau of Astronomy were always brandishing heavenly signs to accuse him of failing in benevolent rule, always demanding he perform acts of contrition. Ugh – if they dared ply the heavens for omens again, he’d have them cut down… well, of course he could not actually do that; as the Son of Heaven he could not so lightly wield the axe.
Still, it seemed this girl truly had placed herself in peril to come forward. What a pity –she was a woman. If she had been a man, he would at once appoint him to the Bureau of Astronomy or the Imperial Observatory. What a pity – if only her master were still alive.
The Emperor fell briefly into a reverie.
“Your Majesty, may I go and cultivate my flower fields now?” Duke Jin’an stepped forward and asked.
The words brought the Emperor back to himself.
“It’s your own residence – tear it down if you like, I won’t interfere,” he said irritably.
“How could I bear to, Your Majesty? It was Your Majesty’s gift to me,” Duke Jin’an replied with a grin, bowing with exaggerated courtesy.
There was nothing more to ask; the matter was done. The courtiers in the hall took the opportunity to withdraw one by one.
As the three departed in succession, a eunuch hurried forward with tea.
“It’s gone cold,” the Emperor snapped, slamming the cup down heavily on the table. “Do you even know how to do your job?”
The eunuch dropped to his knees with a thud, knocking his head repeatedly on the floor.
“Get out!” the Emperor barked, face dark.
The eunuch didn’t dare say another word – he backed out with a miserable expression, nearly in tears.
“Truly useless at his post,” an old eunuch remarked coolly from outside the door.
He had tried to frame Duke Jin’an – and failed. Instead, he’d left His Majesty flustered and embarrassed.
Serves him right.
“His Majesty is still in the prime of his years – what’s the rush?” the old eunuch murmured to himself.
The younger eunuch following behind hesitated for a moment.
“But… there really isn’t any other choice,” he said softly.
Any other choice?
The old eunuch said nothing. Hands tucked into his sleeves, he gazed toward the layered roofs of the palace. Heavy clouds had gathered, blotting out the sunlight.
Snow was coming.
“It’s going to snow soon – you’d better head back,” said Duke Jin’an.
“It won’t snow until evening,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
Duke Jin’an laughed.
“Yes, yes – you’re right, of course,” he said.
Walking a few paces behind them, Han Chang watched the young man and woman strolling ahead, listening to their light, casual exchange. His heart was a jumble of feelings.
So this Lady Cheng was actually that traveler he had long kept in mind – and that traveler turned out to be the now-famous Lady Cheng: the one whose kin took pride in her name, the one whom Emperor, Empress Dowager, and princes alike welcomed and revered.
He lifted his gaze toward her.
Revered?
Even when bowing before the Emperor, her back had not once bent; nor had there been on her face that familiar, servile smile of those seeking favor.
Her composure was not the stiff, deliberate uprightness of self-righteous officials and scholars – it was calm and natural, an inborn grace, a genuine ease of spirit that neither humbled nor flattered.
Revered? Han Chang shook his head softly and sighed.
The carriage wheels began to turn. Han Chang looked up, coming back to his senses, and saw Duke Jin’an’s coach departing. The lady too was turning to board her own carriage, and he quickly stepped forward.
“Lady Cheng,” he called, bowing deeply.
Cheng Jiao-niang turned and returned the salute.
“Today, I owe everything to the help you gave me that day,” Han Chang said.
“My lord jests,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied. “I already told you – your affairs are your own and have nothing to do with me. Words are spoken without intent, yet the listener may take them to heart. If I spoke and you ignored it, it would have come to nothing; if I spoke and you heeded it, you gained what was yours to gain. So tell me – what has that to do with me?”
Han Chang was taken aback, then smiled.
“You are truly magnanimous,” he said, bowing again, though his tone carried a hint of embarrassment. “My son Yuanchao once misunderstood you. I shall return home at once and bring him to apologize to you in person.”
“What did he misunderstand about me?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked.
“He thought you were a wicked woman,” Han Chang said.
“No,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied. “He doesn’t see me as wicked.” She paused, then added calmly, “Master Han, you know that in your heart.”
Yes – Han Yuanchao did not think her evil. He saw her as good, even kind… yet still not someone he could accept or truly acknowledge.
Han Chang fell silent and let out a long, heavy sigh.
“Miss,” he said at last, bowing once more, “you have shown great kindness to my son and me.”
“You’re mistaken, Master Han,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied, returning the salute. “It is your son who has shown kindness to me.”
Yuanchao has shown kindness to her?
Han Chang was momentarily stunned. Just as he was about to ask further, a eunuch appeared ahead, leading a man who walked with measured steps. The man’s face looked vaguely familiar – Han Chang blinked, then suddenly recognized him.
“Master Feng!” he blurted out.
The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them, and his gaze instinctively shifted toward Cheng Jiao-niang.
Was this… what they called a fated encounter?
Feng Lin, noticing Han Chang stop, also recognized him as the official he had briefly met at the roadside post station. He raised his hand in greeting – but Han Chang seemed distracted, his eyes unfocused, not returning the salute nor even looking at him. His gaze was fixed instead on a lady who stood with her back to him.
A family member, perhaps? But why would a woman of the household be here, following him to such a place?
Feng Lin frowned slightly but said nothing. He lifted his foot to continue on – just as the lady turned around.
His eyes passed over her casually as he walked by.
Before him stood a carriage. Inside, a girl sat upright – her face pale, yet her eyes bright and clear.
“In truth,” she said, “if one must put it that way, then it wasn’t I who saved you, my lord. The one you should thank is not me.”
Feng Lin stopped dead in his tracks.
“It’s you!” he shouted, his voice rising as he turned around.
Han Chang’s heart gave a jolt; he instinctively stepped in front of Cheng Jiao-niang -but at once felt a flush of shame for the gesture.
Even if Feng Lin was known as the Ghost Judge, he was not the sort of man who would strike a woman.
From behind him came Cheng Jiao-niang’s calm voice.
“It was I,” she said.
Feng Lin took a step forward, as if to push Han Chang aside, but halfway through the motion he suddenly stopped himself, pulled his hand back, and instead straightened and bowed deeply.
“Feng Lin pays his respects to the lady,” he said, his voice trembling.
Han Chang was startled. What – what was this? Was it sarcasm?
He stepped aside and turned to look at Cheng Jiao-niang. The girl returned the bow with perfect composure.
“Master Han, I take my leave,” she said after completing the salute, turning slightly toward him.
Han Chang hurriedly gestured for her to go. “Please.”
Feng Lin stepped forward as if to speak, but stopped again, and instead bowed low once more.
“Feng Lin respectfully sees the lady off,” he said.
Watching the carriage roll away down the Imperial Avenue, Feng Lin finally withdrew his gaze, his expression unable to hide his excitement. He turned to Han Chang.
“Master Han, so that lady is a relative of yours? I have been presumptuous – but I would very much like to pay a visit and offer my respects,” he said.
Han Chang looked at him, his expression somewhat strange.
“Master Feng, she is not a relative of mine,” he replied.
Feng Lin paused, taken aback.
“Then… a friend’s family member?” he asked, bowing again. “I would still ask you for an introduction. That lady has shown me a great kindness.”
Han Chang looked utterly astonished.
“What did you say?” he asked.
“This lady once saved my life – she is my benefactor,” Feng Lin said. He no longer held to his usual reserve with strangers; by now he was treating Han Chang almost as an old acquaintance. “I have long wished to meet her again and offer my formal thanks, but could never find the chance. I did not expect that wish to be fulfilled today. I must thank you, my lord, and ask that you introduce us.”
When he finished speaking, he lifted his head – only to find Han Chang staring at him with an increasingly peculiar expression.
“You’re saying she is your lifesaver?” Han Chang asked, as though he’d just heard the most absurd thing in the world.
Feng Lin straightened, his tone sharpening.
“Do you look down on women,” he asked, “or do you think I, Feng Lin, speak lightly of such matters?”
Han Chang quickly shook his head.
Look down on that woman? He had already been discourteous enough – he would never even dare harbor such a thought.
He looked at Feng Lin, making sure that this so-called “Ghost Judge” hadn’t lost his mind or drunk himself senseless. But no – everything he’d heard was true.
“She has shown great kindness to you as well…” Han Chang murmured.
As well? Feng Lin caught that single word and pricked up his ears, giving Han Chang another searching look.
“Then… could it be, Lord Han, that you and she–” he began.
Han Chang met his gaze and nodded.
“She has shown kindness not only to me, but also to my son,” he said. “We are both in her debt.”
“I see,” Feng Lin said, nodding slowly. “Then may I ask, my lord – where might I find this benefactress of ours? I would go to pay my respects at once.”
Han Chang looked at him with a strange smile – one that carried both pity and sorrow.
“Master Feng, do you truly wish to know?” he asked.
Feng Lin was taken aback once more, his brows knitting together. This Han Chang, who had seemed perfectly reasonable when they met on the road, now spoke and looked at him in such a peculiar way.
“To know kindness and not repay it is the mark of a base man,” Feng Lin said solemnly.
Han Chang’s lips twitched faintly.
“And if one not only fails to repay it, but instead brings harm upon the benefactor?” he asked.
This Master Han! Feng Lin’s brows furrowed even tighter.
“Then such a man is worse than a beast,” he said.
Han Chang looked at him and sighed.
“My lord… accept fate’s sorrow,” he said quietly.
“Master Han, what do you mean by that?” Feng Lin took a step forward, anger rising in his voice.
“Nothing,” Han Chang replied with another sigh. “Only that Heaven toys with us mortals.”
“You–” Feng Lin began, but Han Chang spoke first.
“Master Feng, this lady is no stranger to you. In fact, you know her quite well,” he said, raising his hand and pointing down the Imperial Avenue in the direction Cheng Jiao-niang’s carriage had gone.
“Her surname is Cheng. She is from Jiangz-hou.”
Cheng… from Jiang–zhou.
At first, Feng Lin’s heart leapt with joy – he hurriedly memorized the words. But the next instant, he drew a sharp breath, eyes widening as he looked up at Han Chang in disbelief.
Her surname is Cheng? From Jiang–zhou?!
How could that be? Impossible – utterly impossible!
Feng Lin lurched forward, seizing Han Chang by the arm. His face flushed scarlet, veins standing out on his hands. He opened his mouth to speak – but the world suddenly spun around him. His body swayed, then pitched forward.
“Master Feng! Master Feng!”
“Master Feng, what’s wrong?”
“Quick – someone, come here!”
Another well-deserving stroke victim!
Ikr 🤣