Governing the country, enriching the people, an unparalleled imperial tutor

The next morning.

The Guandi Temple looks older than it does from a distance. The vermilion paint on the mountain gate has almost completely peeled off, revealing the grayish-brown wood grain underneath. There are tiny holes from insects at the joints of the door panels, which make a faint whistling sound when the wind blows.

Lin Yanzhou pushed open the door and entered, the hinges creaking. Several paving stones in the front yard were broken, and knee-high weeds grew in the cracks, with dew still clinging to the tips of the grass. There was a stone table and benches in the yard, the tabletops covered with a layer of dust, and a few withered locust leaves lay scattered on them.

Zhao Lingxi followed him into the courtyard, and after stopping, she looked around and said, "I came to this place three years ago, and it's pretty much the same as it is now."

"Was this the same when your father came?"

"Pretty much. Every time he comes, he says he'll be alone and doesn't want anyone to come with him." Zhao Lingxi glanced at the tightly closed door of the main hall. "I've never been inside."

Lin Yanzhou walked to the entrance of the main hall. As the door was pushed open, a whiff of old, dusty smell wafted out, and light rushed in, illuminating the outlines of the altar and statues. The altar was bare, with only a few broken incense sticks in the incense burner, the ash evenly distributed. He bent down to examine the seam between the base and the top of the altar, then walked to the entrances of the side halls and opened them to take a look. Inside the side halls were only a few old prayer cushions and a wooden box in the corner. The box lid was open, revealing several scrolls of scriptures brittle to the point of being like scraps of paper.

"There's nothing there?" Zhao Lingxi stood at the entrance of the main hall, not going inside.

"I've checked both the main hall and the side halls; there are no signs of disturbance." Lin Yanzhou dusted off his hands. "Let's go to the backyard."

The backyard was quieter than the front yard. The ground was paved with thick bluestone slabs, the soil between the slabs had been compacted, and there were no weeds. In the middle of the yard stood an old locust tree, its canopy covering most of the yard. A few steps to the right of the old locust tree was a well, its opening covered with a bluestone slab.

Lin Yanzhou walked to the well and squatted down, reaching out to touch the edge of the well. The ash on the edge of the stone slab was thinner than elsewhere, as if someone had touched it recently. He ran his fingers along the edge of the stone slab, stopping when he reached the side near the old locust tree. A warm sensation emanated from beneath the stone slab, the feeling growing stronger, as if something was slowly breathing below the well opening.

Zhao Lingxi stood beside the old locust tree, watching his actions: "What's wrong?"

"There's something down there." Lin Yanzhou stood up. "It's related to that jade pendant."

How did you know?

"Feel."

Zhao Lingxi glanced at him but didn't ask any more questions.

Lin Yanzhou had ropes and iron hooks brought over. A soldier tied the rope around his waist, strapped a torch to his chest, and climbed down the well. The rope was lowered coil by coil, the torchlight sinking along the well wall, growing dimmer and dimmer until it stopped. A short tremor came from the well opening—as if someone had bumped into something below. The people above began to pull in the rope, which was quickly pulled back, and the torch rose again from the depths.

After the soldier climbed out, he squatted by the well, panting for a while. His face was pale, and his palms were red from the rope knots. He looked up at Lin Yanzhou, his voice unsteady: "When I had gone down about a hundred zhang, I stepped on something soft. I tried to go down further, but that thing bounced up and lifted me up."

"Did you see anything?"

"No. It's pitch black; the torches can't reach the bottom."

Lin Yanzhou looked down at the well opening, then glanced at the silver ring at his waist. He walked to the well, extended a section of the rope, tied two knots, and handed the end to the person beside him: "I'm going down."

Zhao Lingxi took a step forward: "Are you alone?"

"It's convenient for one person."

"What if you can't get up there?"

"If you can't get up here, you'll be a widow."

"screw you!"

He finished speaking, climbed over the edge of the well, and stepped onto the first brick. The flashlight beam shone downwards, illuminating the moss covering the well wall and a deep vertical groove. He released his grip, and his body began to sink. The well wall transitioned from brick to rock, the temperature dropping rapidly, and the flashlight beam could only illuminate an area of ​​about ten steps in front of him.

When he had descended about 100 meters, his foot touched something elastic with a slightly arched surface. Before he could adjust his position, the thing suddenly bounced upwards, pushing him up a foot.

Before he returned to his original position, the sensation beneath his feet vanished. His body was sinking, not falling, but as if something below was pulling him down with a steady force. He looked up and saw the light from the well opening rapidly shrinking, disappearing like a pinhead at the edge of his vision. After the flashlight beam stabilized again, he found himself standing on a flat, stone surface.

The light from the wellhead was no longer visible overhead; all around were gray-white rock walls. Not far away stood a polished stone wall, its surface smooth, with a line of words carved in the center.

He took a step closer and shone his flashlight beam. The words were in clerical script, with thick and even strokes: "Those who enter from here must first know the way they came. Those who do not know the way they came, this is the end."

Lin Yanzhou stood before the stone wall, reading the inscription again. "Recognize the way you came." He didn't know how he had come down—whether he had fallen or been pulled down—what the soft layer was, and what the downward force was. A very faint sound came from behind him, like someone tapping a pebble with the tip of their shoe in the shadows. He turned around, his flashlight beam illuminating the entrance to a narrow passage. The rock walls on either side of the passage were smooth, as if repeatedly polished.

Zhao Lingxi's voice came from behind him: "How long have you been down here?"

He turned around. Zhao Lingxi stood a few steps behind him, holding a torch. Her clothes were stained with ash, as if she had just walked a long way.

"How did you get down?"

"I don't want to be a widow," Zhao Lingxi said. "After you left, Lingxi also came down."

"Did you step down that soft thing?"

"I stepped on it. But I didn't encounter any resistance when I got down; it was like it recognized me." She looked down at the ground beneath her feet. "Or rather, it recognized what was on me."

Lin Yanzhou's gaze fell on her waist. Hanging from her belt was the blood-red jade pendant—the one belonging to Prince An. He didn't know when she had taken it out and tied it around her waist.

"When did you take it?"

"I took this from the table in the side hall when you went down the well. I thought you might need it," Zhao Lingxi said. "If you want to trace the origin of this jade pendant, it should be at the scene."

Lin Yanzhou gave her a thumbs-up. He turned to face the passage, shining his flashlight inside. The passage ended abruptly, turning a corner, and he couldn't see any further. He glanced again at the inscription on the stone wall; each character in the clerical script looked as if it had been carved with force, the edges of the strokes showing no signs of weathering, as if it had only been carved recently. He shone the inscription again with his flashlight, took a half step back, and glanced at Zhao Lingxi: "This inscription, was it written by your father?"

Zhao Lingxi approached the stone wall, bent down, and examined the inscription. "I recognize his handwriting; it was written by him." She stood up. "I saw him practice calligraphy when I was little; his strokes were heavier than others. The ending of this character is consistent with his style." She paused. "But the meaning of this inscription is—if you don't know how you got here, don't go any further."

"Do you even know how you got here?"

Zhao Lingxi didn't answer. She raised the torch higher, the light falling on the stone wall at the entrance of the passage, the edges of the shadows trembling slightly with the flames. She stood in the shadows, her gaze fixed on the corner of the passage, as if waiting for an answer she herself was unsure whether to utter.

Lin Yanzhou stopped his flashlight beam on the stone door at the entrance of the passage, mentally rehearsing the words he had just spoken and the location of the jade pendant. Then he turned to the princess and asked, "Shall we go in with your husband?"

"Yes, no matter what lies ahead, I will always be with you..."