Chapter 16

The conflict between Li Wang and his son Li Shan erupted violently. Li Wang flew into a rage, and Li Shan left the family estate injured, parting on bitter terms. The news spread swiftly, passing through the layers of Bingzhou society.

At the Shangdang County Office’s residence, the décor carried Bingzhou’s usual austere style, with sparse vegetation and a solemn, classical air. Past the third watch of the night, candles still flickered. A maid hurried through the corridor and entered the chamber. Madam Guo was kneeling on a meditation mat, silently turning her prayer beads as she recited her prayers.

The maid leaned close to whisper something in her ear. Madam Guo opened her eyes and squeezed the bead between her fingers.

The maid said, “If the Prefect doesn’t approve, the general might back down…”

Madam Guo replied, “It’s been a day already. Has he backed down?”

The maid fell silent. There was no backing down. Since leaving the Li residence, Li Shan had thrown himself even more fiercely into raiding temples and monasteries—his pace only accelerating.

Madam Guo’s heart grew heavy. She had heard earlier that Li Wang, overwhelmed by anger, had taken to bed with illness. At this rate, was Li Shan now the one effectively controlling Bingzhou?

She nearly forgot—Li Shan’s wife was from the Xie family, and his mother came from the Lu clan, with whom the Guo family shared distant ties.

She still remembered her first impression of Xie Yaoyao—striking and unforgettable. Though she’d heard that Li Shan treated his wife indifferently, this was the only route left to try.

Madam Guo glanced at the water clock and said, “Get things ready. At daybreak, I’ll visit Madam Qian.”

…

That same day, the Li estate was far from peaceful. Li Wang suspended his duties and took to bed. The Bingzhou county officials insisted on seeing him. They were met with a pale-faced Li Wang, lips drained of color, coughing endlessly, seemingly genuinely ill. He repeatedly assured them that he would protect the interests of the aristocratic families. Reactions varied among the officials, and we’ll leave those unexplored for now.

…

In her room, Yaoyao was flipping through a zither manual when Nanny Zheng leaned against the doorway to enter. Yaoyao set the score down and asked, “Nanny? Why are you here?”

“The injury is already healed,” Nanny Zheng said, grasping Yaoyao’s hand. “Besides, after something like this happens, even a serious wound wouldn’t keep me in bed.”

Yaoyao recalled the confrontation between the father and son of the Li family. Her instinct told her—despite Li Wang’s fury—Li Shan was by no means in a weakened position. A truly vulnerable man wouldn’t possess eyes that burned with such wild intensity, fierce yet never frantic.

Nanny Zheng disapproved of the Li family’s shouting and harsh punishments. “No matter the reason, the senior marquis shouldn’t be beating the younger one. It’s crude, unbecoming. That didn’t frighten you, did it?”

Yaoyao slowly shook her head. “It was alright.”

She had been startled at first, but Li Shan had swiftly stopped Li Wang—his reflexes and strength were far from ordinary. He had even snatched the belt from Li Wang’s grip.

There hadn’t been time to see his injuries clearly; Li Shan had left right afterward.

Then Nanny Zheng added, “The marquis is being too aggressive in rooting out Taoist and Buddhist institutions. Someone may soon turn to you for intervention.”

Yaoyao replied, “If they come to me, how could I possibly refuse?”

She had harbored suspicions before; now she felt certain—Li Shan had ambitions of seizing power.

After years of unrest in Da Qi, local warlords had sprung up everywhere, like the Chen family in Jizhou and the Xiao family in Jiangnan. So if the Li family harbored ambition, it wasn’t surprising. As long as the emperor remained, true chaos would not descend. But step out prematurely, and they’d be attacked from all sides. Li Shan’s strike against temples and monasteries was a move to eliminate entrenched rot.

Just then, Xin Zhu knocked on the door from outside. “Young Madam, Madam Qian says Madam Guo has arrived and asks you to come to the East Hall.”
…

Madam Guo’s visit, as Madam Qian suspected, was clearly about the crackdown on the temple. She didn’t know all the details—only that Li Wang had suddenly taken to his bed “sick,” and no one was talking. Now, both women sat staring at one another, unsure of what to say until Yaoyao arrived. She was dressed in a flowing peony-pink robe patterned with water swirls, paired with a moon-white cross-collar garment. A light gauze sash was tied at her waist. Her crane-shaped bun was adorned with delicate butterfly-wing hairpins that swayed with each graceful step, making her look soft and delicate.

She greeted the two women respectfully: “Mother, Madam Guo.”

It was Madam Guo’s second time seeing Yaoyao, and she was once again struck by her beauty. With such elegance, if she could persuade Yaoyao to sway Li Shan’s decisions even slightly, how could it not succeed?

Madam Guo got straight to the point: “To be honest, I came today to speak with Madam and the Young Madam about the temples and monasteries in Bingzhou.”

Just as Nanny Zheng had warned, someone had already come seeking help. Yaoyao quietly held her teacup, her expression unreadable.

Madam Qian was just about to mention Li Wang’s illness as a way to decline the conversation, but Madam Guo anticipated this. Turning to Yaoyao, she said, “I hope the Young Madam might pass on a message to the general.”

Yaoyao’s beautiful eyes flickered slightly. “This…”

Madam Guo continued, “We’re not asking him to cease entirely. The matter is far-reaching and can’t be resolved in one swift stroke. If he could spare a few temples and monasteries, it would give us time to adjust.”

Yaoyao replied calmly, “I have no reason to ignore your request, Madam, but this is my husband’s decision.”

Madam Guo added, “Our families have long-standing ties. Your mother is a capable woman—I imagine, if she were here in Shangdang, she would hope you’d persuade him, even just a little.”

Yaoyao had resolved not to interfere, knowing that if anyone could sway Li Shan, it wouldn’t be her—a mere wife—especially when he had many advisors.

But at the mention of her mother, Madam Lu, Yaoyao’s heart wavered. She slowly placed the teacup down, her thoughts spinning—if Li Shan truly harbored ambitions of seizing power, then her mother and sister back in Luoyang could be at risk.

The Guo family could bring her family from Luoyang to Bingzhou—that alone was a strategic lifeline. And after the assassination attempt, Yaoyao had realized that Li Shan wasn’t entirely unreasonable.

Her nature was steady and unhurried. She often approached life one step at a time—but if a chance for early preparation presented itself, she couldn’t afford to turn away.

So, even with countless uncertainties, Yaoyao quietly drew a breath and said, “I’ll try. But if it yields nothing, I hope you’ll understand there’s nothing more I can do.”

Madam Guo, feeling the matter already half resolved, thanked her warmly: “Much obliged, Young Madam.”

The purge of Taoism and Buddhism had officially begun—unstoppable, like withered trees swept away in a storm.

That very day, Li Shan encountered an assassin. The attempt failed, and the assassin was captured alive. Li Shan tossed the dagger to the ground, a glint of cold fury in his eyes, and said to Du Ming, “Well then—delivered straight to my doorstep, a perfect excuse.”

Before the aristocrats had a chance to rally against him, Li Shan sent a memorial to Luoyang, striking first. In it, he condemned the temples and monasteries for harboring traitors, claiming he was eliminating hidden threats for the emperor, with loyalty that Heaven and Earth could witness.

The other noble families couldn’t say much. First, the Li family’s army had driven out the Hu invaders, earning immense prestige. Second, the flames hadn’t spread beyond Bingzhou, and many were quietly hoping to benefit from the chaos.

Only places like Jizhou and Youzhou—regions dominated by powerful clans—had long harbored distaste for temple influence. However, their own governors were members of the aristocracy, making it inconvenient for them to act, and they couldn’t stomach how swiftly Li Shan had succeeded. Thus, the Chen family of Jizhou and the Situ family of Youzhou jointly filed a formal accusation, claiming Li Shan had violated the laws of Da Qi and harmed monks and priests.

Upon hearing this, Li Shan simply chuckled. “Perfect,” he said. Bingzhou had its share of monks who refused to renounce their vows and now had nowhere to go.

With mock compassion, he told them, “If Bingzhou can’t support you, I can have you sent to Jizhou or Youzhou. Pursue your spiritual path there.”

When the Chen and Situ families learned of this, they exploded in a fury, denouncing Li Shan as brazen beyond shame.

But for the moment, no one could stop him.

Someone even approached Xin Zhi, wondering if he might persuade Li Shan to ease off. After all, though the army was under Li family command, if they pushed too far, even a rabbit would bite when cornered.

Du Ming said bluntly, “The lord is pretending to be sick and hiding away. Do you really think your words carry more weight than his?”

Xin Zhi scratched his head in frustration. “Then who else can rein him in?”

Du Ming remarked, “If Master Fan were here, perhaps he could talk the general down.”

But Fan Zhanxian was still in Luoyang and hadn’t set out for Bingzhou. Du Ming suspected he had anticipated Li Shan’s drastic moves and deliberately delayed his return to avoid the mess. After all, trying to reason with Li Shan when he was riding a wave of emotion required real courage.

Xin Zhi sighed, “Honestly, escorting Tuoba Cong would’ve been easier.”

…

That night, Li Shan returned to the western residence near the end of the Hai hour, almost midnight.

Usually, at this hour, the room held no more than a single candle, dim and shadowy, just enough to make out his surroundings. He would simply rinse off, lie down, close his eyes, and wake to another day of sweeping temple purges. But tonight, the room was aglow—bright and steady, like a pin of red heat burned through the incense paper.

The closer he walked, the warmer that light became. His steps slowed. As he pushed the door open, a soft scent of osmanthus wafted toward him. At the table sat a girl with long, black hair cascading over her shoulders, tied loosely at the ends with a plain ribbon. A few strands fell from behind her ear as she turned, framing her snow-pale skin and delicate features. She raised her brows slightly, eyes bright with surprise. “Husband, you’re back.”

Li Shan responded with a quiet “Mm,” then sat on the bed and removed his outer robe.

Yaoyao took a slow, silent breath to steel herself, then approached with a small jar of skin balm. “Husband… is your wound still alright?”

It had already been two days—his injury had scabbed over. Any later, and new skin would’ve formed. Was she really staying up so late only to ask about his wound?

Something about it struck Li Shan as strange, a little difficult to define. He stared directly at her and asked, “Why are you asking?”

Yaoyao showed him the jar in her hand. “It’s a skin balm. I thought you might find it helpful.”

He was about to refuse—it was clearly something women used. Then he looked closer at the label, and an image flashed through his mind: warm candlelight, Yaoyao holding a small round mirror, dabbing a milky balm onto the faint red marks across her collarbone. His brows twitched. So that was the ointment she’d used.

Tonight, she wasn’t dressed as lightly as she was that day. She wore a subdued, sleepwear robe with woven patterns—a little loose-fitting, which wrapped around her flawless, fair skin and slender waist.

No matter what, Yaoyao had promised Madam Guo. That night, she spent hours thinking about how to bring it up, finally deciding to start with his injury. Suddenly, Li Shan cast her a quiet sidelong glance. Her breath tightened, heart uneasy, as if he had already seen through her thoughts.

She was about to give up when Li Shan suddenly lowered his gaze and shrugged off his outer robe. He rolled up his sleeve, revealing the scabbed wound, and rested his arm on the edge of the bed that hadn’t yet been cleared.

Yaoyao understood he had tacitly agreed. She sat on the other side, dipped her fingertip into the balm, and paused just above his scar.

Li Shan’s body radiated warmth like a hidden furnace. As her fingers drew near, she could feel a steady heat rising from him, especially noticeable on this cool night.

With a gentle motion, she began applying the balm, speaking softly as she did: “I’ve heard, husband, about your purge of Taoist and Buddhist institutions… I know when you burned Tianyang Temple, it wasn’t for me. You don’t believe in ghosts and gods—that is the strength of a true man.”

Li Shan seemed to furrow his elegant brows but closed his eyes in silence.

Yaoyao waited, and seeing no sign of rejection, continued in a low tone:
“Still, just as Emperor Qin burned books and killed scholars, and Xiang Yu reduced the palace at Xianyang to ashes, none were remembered favorably. Husband, you’re not unreasonable. Temples and monasteries have been carefully built—burning every single one, isn’t that a loss?”

“Some abandoned children were even raised in those places. Not all temples abuse the people. Not all are beyond salvation.”

She gently worked the balm into his skin, the soft pads of her fingers tracing the faint scar’s path along his arm.

Yaoyao added: “So, I humbly offer this: spare one out of every ten. Give the noble clans a breath of reprieve. And allow the remaining temples to fulfill their proper roles…”

But before she could finish, Li Shan suddenly seized her hand. Her heart pounded fiercely, like a warning bell. She glanced up cautiously. He was staring at her hand, his gaze shadowed and inscrutable. She grew uneasy and tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. His rough fingertips brushed over the back of her hand, lingering. Her skin was soft as snow and tender like a blossom in early spring—smoother than the finest silk. His fingers clung instinctively.

Li Shan frowned. How strange! Let me feel it again.

The next moment, the girl’s voice trembled: “H-husband?”

Her lips quivered, gaze shifting shyly. A light flush bloomed across her cheeks, delicate and tender, like someone wronged, carrying a hint of pleading charm.

Li Shan suddenly realized he was gripping her too tightly. His palm completely enveloped hers, leaving only her slender fingertips visible, limp and quietly nestled like she’d been bullied. He came back to himself and let go quickly.

Yaoyao discreetly withdrew her hand, tucking it under the edge of the table. The warmth lingered across the fingers he’d grasped.

A beat of stillness passed.

Li Shan, faintly annoyed, muttered, “Mm,” as if to say he hadn’t meant for her to keep applying balm—nothing more.

Yaoyao suppressed her fluttering nerves. She understood: he didn’t want her treating the wound. Still, she’d already achieved her goal. Her eyes softened, and her voice carried a gentle sweetness: “Then… husband has agreed? Husband truly is a man of towering strength and honor!”

Li Shan: “…”