Chapter Sixty-Seven: A Different Princess Taiping
By mid-November, with the first heavy snow, winter had truly arrived in Fangzhou.
During autumn, Wu Ning had spent a considerable sum to transport dozens of wintersweet trees, four or five years old, from Xiangyang. Back then, the Old Ancestor had loudly accused Wu Ning of squandering money—over one hundred strings of coins wasted on something so useless. But now, the old man had changed his tune.
“I told you Ninth Brother had foresight!”
As soon as winter’s snow fell, all the inns and the roadside were lined with wintersweet buds ready to bloom. The scenery was magnificent, attracting countless guests to Xia Shankao. Not only those staying at the inns flocked there; many came solely to see the plum blossoms on Changluo Mountain.
Wu Ning’s inn was already booked out long-term, and even the rooms of Old Fifth and Old Sixth were reserved until after the New Year. The Old Ancestor thought to himself that raising this child was certainly not in vain—Wu Ning was a treasure of Xia Shankao. Not only had the inns prospered, but soon with new charcoal from the kilns, another season of prosperity was about to begin.
...
“I say, Old Ancestor!”
Wu Ning felt he had to temper the old man’s pride. “Now you’re the father of the dignitary, shouldn’t you act with a bit more restraint? You must maintain Fourth Uncle’s reputation.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” The old man glared at him. “Reputation? Even if he ascends to heaven, he’s still my son!”
“Alright, alright.” Wu Ning thought to himself that the old man’s temper was getting worse. If Fourth Uncle really ascended, would you not flatten all of Fangzhou?
He waved his hand. “I’m off.”
“Where are you going?” The Old Ancestor demanded. “Hurry to the charcoal kilns and keep watch. Tomorrow we’re selling charcoal in town!”
“No rush,” Wu Ning replied carelessly. “I have some business at the Temple of Seeking Immortals with Meng Cangsheng.”
“Come back soon.”
“I know!”
Wu Ning replied as he stepped out of the ancestor’s courtyard, treading through the snow toward the mountain.
...
He had just reached the mountain, not yet entered the temple, when he saw Old Daoist Xiao standing alone at the gate. Wu Ning was curious. “Such cold weather, why are you standing here?”
“Waiting for someone.”
“Oh.” Wu Ning nodded and paid him no mind, heading straight into the temple.
But after a few steps, he stopped. Something wasn’t right.
Suspicious, he glanced back at Old Daoist Xiao. Having known him for years, it was the first time he’d seen him so serious and concise.
“Who are you waiting for?”
“A distinguished guest.”
“Which distinguished guest?”
“Don’t ask what you shouldn’t.”
“Tch.” Wu Ning curled his lip, deciding not to press further.
He entered the temple and hardly had time to settle before Meng Cangsheng pulled him into a corner.
“What’s wrong with you and your master today? Neither of you are acting normal.”
“Shh!” Meng Cangsheng gestured for silence, stepping onto a stone at the base of the temple wall and craning his neck to peek outside.
“Don’t make a sound, they’re here.”
Wu Ning wondered what was happening and climbed onto the stone to look as well.
He saw a procession just arriving at the foot of the mountain, preparing to ascend. The sight was intimidating—a hundred horsemen led the way, followed by attendants escorting a grand sedan chair, flanked by guards bearing swords and axes.
“That’s the distinguished guest your master is waiting for?”
“Who is it? That’s quite the display.”
Meng Cangsheng uttered a name that nearly made Wu Ning fall off the stone in shock.
“Princess Taiping.”
“Who?” Wu Ning thought he’d misheard. “Princess Taiping, coming to the Temple of Seeking Immortals?”
For what? Fortune-telling?
There were countless remarkable Daoists in the capital, all more mystical than Old Daoist Xiao. Why seek him for divination?
Smacking his lips, Wu Ning mused, “This Princess Taiping must not be very clever, coming to give Old Daoist Xiao undeserved money.”
It made sense now—why the old Daoist stood obediently at the gate in such cold. A wealthy patron was coming.
“Are you watching or not?” Meng Cangsheng grumbled impatiently. “If not, get out of the way.”
Both stood on a single stone—not exactly comfortable.
“Why wouldn’t I watch?” Wu Ning shrugged. “I want to see how your master hoodwinks Princess Taiping!”
He’d seen Old Daoist Xiao swindle many, but he was more curious about this legendary Princess Taiping herself.
...
Gradually, the procession reached the gate. Guards lined up on either side, the sedan chair was set down.
A palace attendant lifted the curtain, and Wu Ning held his breath, eyes fixed on the interior.
And then...
And then, a Daoist woman slowly emerged, surprising Wu Ning.
Well, “Taiping” was in fact her Daoist name—she’d taken vows as a child when Emperor Gaozong had her enter the Daoist order to escape an unwanted marriage.
Later, she married Xue Shao, son of Princess Chengyang, and returned to secular life.
And later, during the upheaval Wu Ning often recalled—Li Zhong’s rebellion—Xue Shao was implicated, starved to death in prison by Lady Wu, and Princess Taiping became a widow overnight.
Returning to the Daoist path? That made sense.
“Not quite what I imagined,” Wu Ning muttered.
He’d pictured the famous Princess Taiping as a ravishing beauty, not a Daoist nun.
Looking at her face, well, she lacked the seductive allure, and wasn’t quite a beauty either.
...
How to describe her?
Princess Taiping should have been twenty-four or twenty-five, yet she looked barely eighteen or nineteen.
She wasn’t the kind of woman, like Qin Miaoniang, whose beauty stunned at first glance; but one couldn’t say she wasn’t beautiful. In fact, she was lovely—enduringly so, and full of quiet charm.
If Wu Ning had to describe her, she was the sort one might not clearly remember after seeing once, but the impression lingered, a vague shadow impossible to shake off.
You might not recall her features, but you’d remember her beauty.
Yes, beauty! Not merely prettiness.
Even clad in plain Daoist robes, she stood out from the crowd.
The only thing that troubled Wu Ning was this: she was Princess Taiping, the scheming, ruthless femme fatale famed for wielding power. Shouldn’t she be an enchanting woman whose mere glance could captivate souls?
Why was there such a stark contrast?
Wu Ning felt disappointed, unable to accept that such an ethereal woman would eventually become one obsessed with power, only to perish beneath its weight.
“Sigh!” He heaved a long breath. “Let’s go, this isn’t interesting at all!”
He was about to sneak down the mountain via the back wall when two sentences exchanged outside the gate made him stagger and bump into a tree.
...
By rights, Princess Taiping was such a big “star.” Old Daoist Xiao had waited at the gate for ages, and Wu Ning imagined the old fox would surely fawn over her.
Something like, “Blessings upon the Princess! It is my fortune to have you grace this humble temple. Please, Your Highness, come inside; I have prepared fragrant tea for your pleasure...” and so on.
Then, Princess Taiping, pleased by the hospitality, would lavish Old Daoist Xiao with a generous fortune.
But Wu Ning never expected that the first to speak outside would be Princess Taiping herself, and her words stunned him.
“Daoist Taiping greets her uncle!”
...
“What’s going on?” Wu Ning clung to the tree, thinking, Old Daoist Xiao, that old miser...
Uncle?
Taiping’s?