You'an Temple
Chapter Sixty-Three, You'an Temple
On the day of departure, the sky was gloomy, and thick clouds seemed to press down on us, making it hard to breathe.
Lan Feiyu, Mr. Tao, and I changed into plain clothes, and carrying the luggage prepared by my older brother, we boarded a blue cloth carriage through the side gate behind the side hall. The wheels rolled over the stone-paved road, heading towards Yousheng Temple in the direction of Qingcheng Mountain.
The twenty elite guards that my older brother sent should have been following behind, but when I looked out the car window, the streets were bustling with people in the early morning, carrying loads, going to the early market, sweeping... There wasn't a trace of guards.
Lan Feiyu sat down next to me, her gaze sweeping over the increasingly dense crowd outside the window. Suddenly, she sighed softly, "Xi'er, your older brother... is truly amazing."
"Huh?" I was taken aback, not expecting her to say that.
Mr. Tao across from him chimed in, “The curator is right. It’s rare to see the capital’s streets so orderly and the people’s faces so calm after just a few days of war, with no sign of panic.”
Outside the car window, steam rose from the breakfast stalls, and a boy in shorts chased after a ball that had rolled to the ground. Looking at this ordinary scene, I suddenly understood the meaning behind their words—the most important skill is ensuring the continuation of peace in this chaotic world.
Then Mr. Tao said in a low voice, "Now that the master has seen it with his own eyes, he knows that I did not misjudge King Xinan."
Lan Feiyu was silent for a moment, then smiled and said, "Mr. Tao, what are you saying? I never doubted that you would misjudge me... It's just that we've tried our best, but we still... we still can't defy fate. Although Feiyu has no resentment, there are still some regrets." She paused, her eyes shining like morning stars, "Also, please stop calling me 'subordinate' in front of me. We're not master and servant to begin with, and now you're someone King Xinan relies on. Sooner or later you'll be following him to achieve great things. This humble address just sounds awkward."
"Your subordinate... I will obey the master's orders." Mr. Tao lowered his eyes.
I didn't want to interrupt, after all, as a daughter of Dongchu, I really didn't know how to behave in front of these two "remnants" of Bozhou. But when I heard Lan Feiyu say that Mr. Tao was already my older brother's subordinate, I couldn't help but glance at him a few more times. Before I could sort out my thoughts, Lan Feiyu grabbed my hand and squeezed it hard.
“Don’t be sad,” I said, looking at her profile. “Yu’er, Bozhou won’t disappear, nor will it get worse. It has become part of Dongchu, and it will only get better.”
Lan Feiyu rested her head on my shoulder and gave a soft "hmm".
A thought struck me, and I couldn't help but lower my head and kiss her black hair.
The carriage quickly left the city gate and headed towards the deep mountains in the suburbs.
Early summer should have been the most pleasant time of year, with roadside vegetation growing wildly and dazzlingly green, but none of the three of us were in the mood to look at it. Only at Lan Feiyu's request would Mr. Tao talk about the customs and traditions of various countries and regions in the southwest, as well as anecdotes and interesting stories, which did help alleviate much of our boredom.
After traveling for a day, as evening approached, the official road became increasingly rugged, and we turned onto a long-abandoned mountain post road. The surrounding forests grew denser, blocking out the sunlight and leaving only dappled shadows, while the air was filled with the damp smell of decaying leaves.
"Before dark, there should be an abandoned post station ahead. We'll rest there tonight," Mr. Tao said, reining in his horse and pointing ahead. "Tomorrow, when we enter the mountains, we can't travel by carriage or horse; we'll have to walk."
The three of us got off the carriage, and the coachman who had accompanied us—a taciturn, robust man who looked to be in his forties or fifties, whom my older brother called "Uncle Zhang"—skillfully drove the carriage to an old stable covered with vines behind the post station, cleverly concealing it with hay and rags.
Mr. Tao, carrying a lantern, carefully inspected the dilapidated post station. The post station was small, covered with a thick layer of dust and cobwebs, but a few fresh footprints in the corner and a pile of embers from a campfire that had not yet completely cooled clearly told us that someone had indeed stayed here not long ago.
“It seems we are not the first guests to arrive.” Mr. Tao’s voice was low. He picked up a bit of ash and rubbed it between his fingers. “We have been gone for no more than an hour.”
Lan Feiyu's expression also turned serious: "Are they Xie Kun's men?"
“Most likely.” Mr. Tao’s gaze swept over the mess on the ground. “They left in a hurry, they didn’t even put out the fire completely. It doesn’t seem like they were traveling, it seems like they were… running for their lives.”
His words made my heart tighten. I subconsciously looked into the depths of the forest, where the night was as dark as ink, as if some ferocious beast was lurking there, ready to devour me.
"Uncle Zhang, please keep watch on the perimeter. If there's any unusual activity, sound three bird calls to warn us." Mr. Tao handed a short knife to the driver. Uncle Zhang silently took it, nodded, and disappeared into the darkness.
In the lobby of the inn, we quickly lit a small campfire. The flickering firelight illuminated our faces and dispelled some of the night's chill.
I sat down next to Lan Feiyu and laid a clean blanket on her lap. She glanced at me, her eyes still filled with worry. I knew what she was worried about, so I spoke up to reassure her: "Yu'er, don't worry. The people Big Brother sent are definitely nearby, we'll be fine."
Lan Feiyu shook her head gently, her voice tinged with weariness: "That's not what I'm worried about. Xi'er, I'm just thinking... Mr. Tao said they seem to be hiding from something... I'm afraid that there are other dangers in Qingcheng Mountain besides Xie Kun."
"Other dangers?" I couldn't help but think of the "drug people," but I swallowed the words back, not wanting to trouble her with them anymore.
Mr. Tao seemed to read our minds. He added a dry branch to the fire, causing sparks to crackle. He said, "Ladies, there's no need to worry. Now that Xie Kun and Yuanzi have escaped, they will surely try to get there first. They're in such a hurry; they must be eager to retrieve that treasure. As for the dangers in the mountains..." He paused, his gaze as deep as the night, "I'll take care of everything."
His simple four words had a reassuring power.
Nothing was said that night.
Perhaps it was because the elite guards sent by the elder brother were protecting them secretly, or perhaps Xie Kun's men had already gone far away, but the night was unusually quiet, and not even a single roar of a beast could be heard.
As dawn broke, a thin veil of morning mist still hung over the forest. We packed our bags and stood before the mountain path leading deep into Qingcheng Mountain—the path had long been swallowed up by overgrown weeds, leaving only a faint trace.
Just as they were about to set off, Uncle Zhang came around from the stable where the carriages and horses were stored, carrying a heavy cloth bag. He handed the bag to Mr. Tao and whispered, "Sir, Princess, Miss Lan, there are three days' worth of dry rations and medicine in the bag, and this too." As he spoke, he took out a small copper tube from his pocket, the tube engraved with fine patterns. "This is a signal flare specially prepared by the Prince. Red smoke means you need to respond, white smoke means you're encountering a strong enemy and need to call for help. Just pull the ring at the bottom and throw it into the air."
He pointed to a corner of the post station: "I will be guarding the carriages and horses around here. If there is no movement for three days, or if I see a signal, I will immediately send a message to the brothers in the shadows."
Mr. Tao took the cloth bag and signal flare, nodded and said, "Thank you for your hard work, please be careful."
The coachman cupped his hands in greeting, turned and disappeared into the vines behind the stable, vanishing in the blink of an eye.
Mr. Tao carefully tucked the copper tube containing the signal flare into his pocket, then divided the heavy cloth bag into three parts, which we each carried on our backs. He turned to look at the path—the path wound its way uphill, disappearing into the misty forest, as if half of it had been swallowed by the mountain.
His voice was as steady as the stone slabs beneath his feet, yet it carried a deep strength: "Let's go. From here on, we'll have to walk our own paths, and if anything happens, the three of us will have to rely on each other."
At first, the mountain path was fairly clear, with towering trees on both sides, their branches and leaves intertwining like a canopy, and sunlight filtering through, weaving shimmering golden spots on the ground. The air was filled with the fresh scent of grass, trees, and new earth, and occasionally a mountain sparrow would flutter by, its chirping as crisp as shattered jade—the vitality of this quiet mountain forest quietly eased my anxiety about the road ahead.
The deeper we went, the steeper the mountain became. The original path had long been swallowed up by overgrown bushes, and we had to climb using both hands and feet—fingertips digging into the crevices of the rocks, soles of our feet treading on slippery tree roots, our trousers torn by thorns. An eerie silence enveloped us; even the birdsong had vanished, leaving only our heavy breathing and the rustling of fallen leaves beneath our feet. The canopy overhead, interwoven like a dense net, filtered the sunlight down to a few scattered glimmers, casting a twilight-like shadow over the forest, and an invisible sense of oppression crept up our spines.
Just as I was so tired that my tongue was burning and I was about to say that I needed to rest, Lan Feiyu, who was at the front, suddenly stopped and raised her hand to signal me to be quiet.
My heart skipped a beat, and I followed her gaze through the layers of branches and leaves—deep in the dense forest, the gray-blue glazed tiles gleamed with a somber light in the dim light, and a corner of the upturned eaves peeked out from the shadows of the trees, like a lurking beast, silently looking down at us.
The three of us exchanged glances, our eyes burning with excitement mixed with a touch of nervousness. When we pushed aside the last obstruction of bushes, the sight before us made us all hold our breath.
What a magnificent temple it was!
It wasn't built on a mountaintop, but rather seemed to be carved into a vast mountain valley by divine craftsmanship—backed by sheer cliffs, and surrounded on three sides by endless primeval forests, as if it were born to be hidden in this secluded place. Layer upon layer of palaces unfolded along the mountainside, pavilions scattered like scales, and although the vermilion walls had been eroded by wind and rain, they still exuded a solemn and dignified air, far exceeding expectations in scale.
The most striking feature is the Mahavira Hall at the end of the central axis. Nearly twice the height of ordinary temple halls, its double-eaved hip roof covered with golden glazed tiles, gleaming faintly even in the dim forest, like scattered gold dust. Its grandeur belies its status as a place of worship; it is clearly a majestic fortress hidden deep in the mountains, its foundations embedded in rock crevices, its halls towering like a city wall, inspiring awe in anyone who beholds it.
This is Yousheng Temple. Xie Lian's immense wealth, enough to rival that of a nation, was hidden within these impregnable walls.
We stood in the shadows at the edge of the forest, gazing at the colossal structure lying silently in the mountain hollow. It was right in front of us, yet it seemed as if we were looking through an invisible mist. The entire temple was so quiet that there wasn't a trace of incense smoke, and even the sound of bells could not be heard when the wind rustled through the eaves—this deathly silence carried an indescribable eeriness.
"Looks like... I've found the right place." I heard myself murmur in a breathy voice, and without realizing it, I found myself clenching my fists tightly.
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