Denghuangtai

Mentioning Empress Lü intensified Ban Qing's fear. His voice trembled as he said, "But Empress Lü ultimately died from a dog-related illness..."

At this point, Ban Qing suddenly had a flash of inspiration, his eyes widening. "I know! Sick dog, celestial dog! These are warnings from Heaven. If we continue to be obstinate and persecute the reincarnations of stars, then Empress Lü's fate will be a lesson for us to learn from."

Upon hearing this, Feng Lingsu, taking advantage of Ban Qing's inattention, turned her back and rolled her eyes. Then, she said in a seemingly innocuous tone, "The Book of Sacrifices says: All living beings must die, and after death they must return to the earth; this is what is called a ghost. The bones and flesh perish below, becoming the earth in the wilderness. Their spirit rises above, becoming light and sorrow, like the withered grass, a poignant sight. This is the essence of all things, the manifestation of the spirit. From this, it can be seen that the so-called ghosts and spirits are nothing more than what people transform into after death."

She paused, then continued, "If that's the case, those who transform into ghosts and gods also have surviving relatives and friends in the world. If they could easily save their relatives and friends from crises, how would people experience the pain of separation and death? It's clear that even if ghosts and gods truly exist, humans still have their own humanity, and ghosts and gods have their own ways of doing things. They cannot interfere with each other."

After his erudite and well-researched speech, although Ban Qing still had some doubts in his heart, the chill that had been creeping into his bones gradually began to fade away.

Feng Lingsu pressed on, not letting this rare opportunity to lecture her husband slip by. She said, "Since ancient times, the reincarnation of stars has been a common occurrence among the common people. Instead of resisting it, monarchs of past dynasties secretly encouraged it, ultimately to consolidate imperial power and make the people believe that Heaven was on the side of the dynasty. Otherwise, why have we only heard of virtuous generals and ministers being reincarnations of stars that govern war and ward off evil, and not a single one being a reincarnation of the Ziwei star?"

Upon hearing this, Ban Qing immediately retorted, "The Ziwei Star governs all stars and controls human fortune and misfortune; it is the mandate of heaven for emperors."

His tone rose slightly, his brow furrowed, clearly displeased with Feng Lingsu's comparison of Ziwei Star to other constellations.

Feng Lingsu remained unperturbed by the rebuttal and patiently explained, "That's the crux of the problem..."

"What's the problem?" Ban Qing blurted out before she could finish speaking.

"If all emperors in the world were reincarnations of the Purple Star, wouldn't all emperors over thousands of years have been incarnations of the same person? What then is the meaning of the change of imperial power and the rise and fall of dynasties?"

Ban Qing remained silent and slowly sat down, Feng Lingsu's words echoing in his mind.

Yes, if the reincarnation of the Purple Star is true, wouldn't the centuries-long cycle of imperial power be a joke? If it really is the same person, why would there be a need to rise up in rebellion?

Seeing Ban Qing's thoughtful expression, Feng Lingsu knew that the other party had taken her words to heart, and a smile of satisfaction appeared on her lips.

In Feng Lingsu's eyes, Ban Qing was good in every way, except that he took matters of the gods and spirits too seriously and wanted to consult divination for everything he did.

Feng Lingsu could tolerate the mundane daily matters to some extent, but she could not tolerate Ban Qing's timid and hesitant attitude when it came to important decisions.

What is there to fear about gods, ghosts, or clay figures in this world? What should be feared is the scheming and plotting of the human heart.

The Grand Minister's Residence.

Yun Zheng was sitting at his desk in his study, wearing a crimson robe, intently studying chess scores.

Outside the door, someone gently knocked.

Yun Zheng placed a piece on the chessboard and said calmly, "Go."

The person outside responded and pushed open the door, entering the room.

It was Yun Zheng's chief secretary, who walked up to Yun Zheng carrying white silk and other items.

"My lord, it's time to change the medicine."

Yun Zheng hummed in agreement, placed his left arm on the table, and kept his gaze fixed on the chessboard, his hands moving the pieces at a steady pace.

The chief clerk knelt down and carefully treated his wound. Just as he was about to get up, he suddenly noticed Yun Zheng's hand and frowned.

Yun Zheng's hand holding the chess piece hovered in mid-air on the chessboard. This situation, where the piece remained untouched for a long time, usually occurred when the game was deadlocked and the player had no other options. Therefore, the player usually either had a solemn expression or trembling fingers and a frustrated look.

Few people are as calm and composed as Yun Zheng.

In addition, his fingers are long and slender with distinct knuckles, making his hand holding the chess pieces particularly pleasing to the eye when it hovers in the air.

The reason the chief clerk reacted so strongly was because of the hideous wound on his palm.

"My lord."

Yun Zheng's attention was entirely focused on the chess game. Hearing the chief clerk's voice, he impatiently waved his hand and said, "Apply the medicine and then leave."

"Your palms haven't been treated yet."

Upon hearing this, Yun Zheng was taken aback. He flipped his wrist so that his palm was facing up. His once smooth palm now had four curved wounds.

He frowned, not remembering the origin of the wound. After thinking for a while, he suddenly remembered that it was this morning at Jianzhang Palace when he heard the Empress Dowager order the execution of Pei Qingyan. In order to control his emotions, he had clenched his palm tightly.

Unexpectedly, the force caused the fingernail to dig into the flesh, creating four neat wounds.

Thinking of Jianzhang Palace, Yun Zheng suddenly remembered something else he had almost forgotten.

As Bai Riyun Zheng received the imperial decree and left the palace, he kept thinking about how to get Pei Qingyan out of trouble. He had been thinking about it all the way, and as they were about to reach the imperial prison, Yun Zheng was planning that if he couldn't think of a way, he would send someone to break into the prison and send Pei Qingyan to the north.

Just as he was about to go all out, the carriage suddenly stopped.

Yun Zheng lifted the carriage curtain and saw a funeral procession approaching from the front of the carriage.

Before the New Year, Empress Dowager Yun consulted a diviner to predict Yun Zheng's fate, who was told that he was prone to bloodshed this year. The only way to avert this was to avoid funerals.

Fearing that Yun Zheng might not take it seriously, Empress Dowager Yun specifically ordered someone to give the coachman instructions and admonitions.

Yun Zheng stared at the funeral procession as they passed by the carriage, and suddenly had an idea to help Pei Qingyan out of her predicament.

The collapse of that imperial tomb was his doing.

"The arrangements for the imperial mausoleum today were well done. Go to the treasury and collect your six-month salary."

Yun Zheng's voice was calm, but it immediately excited the chief clerk, who repeatedly bowed to Yun Zheng in gratitude.

"Let's apply the medicine."

Yun Zheng put the chess piece back into the melon-shaped white jade jar, gestured with his chin to the chief secretary, and said.

"Yes."

The chief clerk circled around to Yun Zheng's right.

The ointment was cool and gently landed in Yun Zheng's palm.

cold……

Inside the imperial prison, Pei Qingyan lay on a haystack.

Her once bloodless face turned crimson, and beads of sweat streamed down her forehead. She frowned, and even though she was deep in a dream, the pain still clung to her.

pain.

His whole body ached, and Pei Qingyan curled up, groaning.

The scenes in her dream kept changing, and the faces of her father, her brother, and the soldiers from the north who had fought alongside her on the battlefield and died there appeared before her one by one.

"sorry……"

Pei Qingyan murmured softly, tears slowly sliding down his cheeks.

Suddenly, the brass lock outside the door made a crisp sound. A masked man dressed in night clothes carefully removed the lock, pushed open the cell door, and tiptoed to Pei Qingyan.

The newcomer drew a short knife from his waist and stabbed it fiercely into Pei Qingyan's heart.