Chapter Twenty-Two: Superstition

Pan Yun was momentarily stunned. Having spent over a thousand years focusing on cultivation, she had paid little attention to history. She knew the Ming Dynasty practiced the ritual of human sacrifice upon death, but she had no idea the scale was so vast.

Pan Yun asked, "The Princess Consort is the primary wife; is she also required to be sacrificed?"

Xuan Miao lowered her eyes and replied, "She had no biological sons, so according to the regulations, she would be. But she has an adopted heir now, and an adopted son is still a son."

Pan Yun understood instantly. No wonder the Princess Consort had been so supportive of petitioning for Zhu Zijin’s status. Their former maternal bond was one part of it, but the fear of being sacrificed must have been another.

Pan Yun’s eyes grew brighter. Seeing this, Xuan Miao knew exactly what she was plotting, and suspected she would be even less willing to leave now.

Xuan Miao turned to Tao Ji. "Let’s vote. The minority must yield to the majority."

Pan Yun also turned, staring intently at Tao Ji. "Brother Tao, you were the one who asserted that the Prince of Zhou would recover. If you leave now and something goes wrong, wouldn't that ruin your own reputation?"

Tao Ji shot her a sidelong glance. "You are of my grand-nephew's generation at Sanqing Mountain. Even if you won’t take me as your master, you should at least address me as your uncle."

He then turned to Xuan Miao. "Junior Sister, I’m not afraid of ruining my reputation, but the lineage of the Prince of Zhou has been kind to our alchemy tradition. Now that his descendants are in trouble, I cannot just turn a blind eye and walk away."

The late Prince of Zhou, Zhu Su, was a rare, virtuous, and technically gifted man among Zhu Yuanzhang’s many sons. He was both a physician and a botanist who had organized and edited numerous medical works. The Taoist alchemical tradition had benefited greatly from his efforts. Furthermore, Sanqing Mountain had once had dealings with him and had been recipients of his generosity. Of course, he might not remember, but Sanqing Mountain remembered the favor.

If Tao Ji were incapable, he would let it go, but since he had the ability to keep the Prince of Zhou alive for a while longer, he had to do his best.

Once Xuan Miao heard this, she pondered for a moment, nodded in agreement, and then looked at Pan Yun.

Pan Yun leaned back. "Why look at me?"

"The Prince of Zhou’s residence is very close to the imperial court and the Embroidered Uniform Guard. You had better be careful while staying there."

Pan Yun smirked. "Do you think the Embroidered Uniform Guard would believe that the daughter of an incriminated official would dare to show up at the Prince of Zhou’s estate? Besides, the daughter of Pan Hong is already dead. I am now a novice from Sanqing Mountain."

Tao Ji remarked, "Oh, so now you’re a novice from Sanqing Mountain again?"

Pan Yun ignored him, keeping her eyes fixed on Xuan Miao. "Is there truly no way to save the others who are slated for sacrifice?"

Xuan Miao replied, "You want to find the Prince of Zhou? As far as I know, ever since he fell ill in the third year of the Zhengtong era, he has been continuously petitioning the Emperor to exempt the childless consorts and ladies of the estate from the sacrifice. For the past two years, he has begun arranging his own funeral rites, insisting on extreme simplicity, hoping there will be no human sacrifices and no excessive burial goods."

Xuan Miao’s gaze was indifferent as she added coldly, "The court offered many words of consolation, but they never agreed."

Pan Yun frowned.

Pan Xiaohei, rummaging through a vast sea of fragmented information, found a scattered record, let out a meow, and signaled her to look into the spirit realm.

"Consort Gong, wife of Zhu Youdun, and his six concubines to be sacrificed..."

Pan Yun hummed, stood up, and said, "If the Princess Consort can escape this fate, it means the other ladies can too. If the Princess Consort and the ladies are not sacrificed, the others naturally need not follow. The Heavenly Dao always leaves a path for survival; I don't believe it's impossible."

They simply hadn't found the right timing or the right method yet.

Xuan Miao did not stop her and let her go.

Tao Ji, sitting to the side, opened his mouth, then hurriedly turned to Xuan Miao. "Are we just going to let her go? What if she stirs up trouble..."

"If we have to run, we’ll just run," Xuan Miao said. "Is it as if we haven't caused enough trouble already?"

That was a very reasonable point; Tao Ji was left speechless.

Pan Yun walked out of the courtyard, pondered for a moment, and headed toward the Prince of Zhou’s main residence.

The Prince of Zhou’s estate seemed sparsely populated; she didn't encounter many people along the way until she reached the main residence, where an elderly woman was guarding the gate.

The woman hurried to stop Pan Yun. "Little Daoist, have you lost your way back to the guest quarters? I shall call someone to lead you there."

Pan Yun said, "I am here to see the Prince of Zhou."

The woman’s eyes widened. At Pan Yun’s insistence, she hesitated, but considering she was the young master’s benefactor, she went inside to report.

Inside the room were the Prince’s servants and a personal attendant who was always by his side. Ever since the Prince had become unable to rise, he had been served by male servants, as their strength was needed to move him. However, these men were not meticulous enough. The Princess Consort had wanted to assign some maidservants to attend to him, or even do it herself, but the Prince, after falling gravely ill, disliked using maids and would often lose his temper.

The six months since Zhu Zijin had returned were the most comfortable days the Prince had experienced during his illness.

The gatekeeper could not enter the room and only delivered the message from outside the door. Beyond a screen, the servants inside were sitting in a slouched, relaxed manner. Looking across the spacious courtyard, Pan Yun caught a glimpse of the scene through the open door.

A faint smile touched her lips. It was no wonder the superstitious Prince of Zhou hadn’t sent Zhu Zijin away despite rumors that their fates clashed; perhaps these servants had made him realize the filial piety and importance of his adopted son.

Hearing that a guest had arrived, the servants inside stood up lazily, looking slightly displeased, but still squeezed out smiles to go in and report. "Your Highness, the little Daoist who brought the young master back requests an audience."

The Prince of Zhou on the bed opened his eyes. After a moment, he said calmly, "Invite her in."

The attendant beside him immediately helped the Prince sit up, propping him against the pillows.

Pan Yun walked around the screen and into the inner chamber. Meeting the Prince’s gaze, she smiled slightly and bowed. "Prince of Zhou."

The Prince signaled for his attendant to bring a stool, his demeanor gentle. "Please, sit, little Daoist."

The attendant placed the stool behind Pan Yun, glanced at the Prince, and then retreated, leading the waiting servants out of the room as well.

Suddenly, only the old man and the young girl were left in the room.

The Prince smiled. "Little Daoist, say what you wish; they have all left."

Pan Yun was purely curious. "Since your word still carries weight, Prince, why not clear out those who have ulterior motives?"

The Prince was slightly surprised. He hadn't expected this child to come to him for this; he thought it was about Jie’er. He couldn't help but laugh. "Little Daoist, how did you discern that they have ulterior motives?"

"If they didn't, how could Jie’er have gone missing, and how could the Prince of Xiangfu have arrived so conveniently today?"

The Prince’s face darkened, carrying an innate air of authority. "Is the little Daoist here to sow discord between brothers?"

"No," Pan Yun shook her head. "I am here to save you, the Princess Consort, and your ladies."

Pan Yun was about to engage in matters of the spirit, so she naturally wouldn't beat around the bush. Besides, given her age, circumlocution would only be a waste of time.

So, she looked straight into the Prince’s eyes and said, "It is rare to walk this earth once. Do you want to leave with regrets and bitterness, Prince? Among the many grandsons of the Founding Emperor, your talent and character rank first. Yet, you can only petition and beg on behalf of your own Princess Consort and ladies. Is it because you have been ill for too long, or because you have been biding your time for so long that you have grown rusty in the ways of the court?"

The Prince paused, looked at the child, and couldn't help but laugh softly. "You child... truly full of youthful spirit, a newborn calf unafraid of the tiger. What do you know?"

"When the late Prince of Zhou was alive, father and son turned against each other, and brothers killed one another in the struggle for the title. You, Prince, have achieved success in both literature and martial arts. Is it really just because of a single Zhu Youxun that you have become despondent and obsessed with zaju opera?"

Pan Yun stood up and took a step forward. "Is it not because the struggle among the princes remained intense after the Jingnan Campaign, making it a necessary choice?"

The smile on the Prince’s face gradually faded as he looked at Pan Yun with a heavy expression.

He had once been one of Zhu Yuanzhang’s favorite grandsons, excelling in both studies and martial arts in his youth. While studying in Beijing, his imperial grandfather had sent him and other princes’ heirs to the north for training. They had commanded troops and fought in battles. He had even been to the borderlands of Yunnan, where he had also commanded troops and fought.

Unlike the second prince, who only knew how to frame and report others, the Prince of Zhou had always looked down upon him from a place of superiority. In his eyes, Zhu Youxun was never a threat; he was just annoying, and the Prince despised him. He did not fear being framed for treason by Zhu Youxun, because he had always been cautious in his words and actions—if they truly investigated, no one could find any evidence of treason.

What he feared was the Emperor’s desire to weaken the power of the princes, and that other princes would want to replace him, thus declaring him a traitor. So, he bided his time.

There were many ways to bide one's time: either ruin one's own reputation through debauchery and idleness, or find an insignificant hobby, immerse oneself in it, and show no interest in state affairs. He chose the latter.

Yet, he seemed to harbor some lingering resentment, so he incorporated some of those feelings into his plays. Was it through those works that the people behind this child saw through him?

Meeting his suspicious gaze, Pan Yun felt a bit disappointed. She was so capable, yet he was still doubting her.

She simply took the black cat off her shoulder and made its dark, shiny eyes meet his. "Prince, you don't need to suspect that someone is pulling my strings. I know these things because I can communicate with spirits and see things that are different."

The Prince looked skeptical.

Pan Yun thought: *...Isn't this man superstitious? Why is he not superstitious now? Is it just because I look young?*

Pan Yun didn't show it on her face and continued, "If not for my senior brother, you would already be dead, Prince."

The Prince did not deny this. Not only had the estate physician issued a warning, but he himself had felt it. Waking up this morning, he had felt his time was near. It was then that he decided to leave a will, bequeathing his title to Zhu Youjue, and begging the Emperor to register Zhu Zijin under his and his wife’s names so that he might serve the Princess Consort until the end of her days.

When he brought Zhu Zijin back, he had wanted to leave the title to him, but Zhu Tongjie had gone missing. He believed Zhu Tongjie’s disappearance was due to their conflicting fates, but he also suspected his fourth brother had a hand in it. Regardless, Zhu Zijin was currently in a weak position; inheriting the title would not be a blessing, as he wouldn't be able to hold onto it. Thus, he decided to use the title to buy peace for himself and the Princess Consort.

If Zhu Youjue obtained the title, he would likely no longer harass the mother and son.

The surprise was that Zhu Tongjie had returned. In that moment, he felt death move a little further away, giving him time to plan again. Because of the incident with Zhu Tongjie, he did not trust Zhu Youjue as much as before, so when a second option arose, he immediately chose that path.

Only if the Princess Consort had a son under her name could she avoid being sacrificed. He was afraid, too—afraid that Zhu Youjue would not spare the Princess Consort after inheriting the title. After all, Zhu Zijin was not her biological son; there was too much room for manipulation. With a single word from Zhu Youjue—claiming the imperial records hadn't been changed and that he was following ancestral rituals—he could have the Princess Consort killed.