Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Master Who Turns Heaven and Earth in August

When Yue Qianling saw Xiao Lianshan and me return, she immediately jumped up from the sofa. Her face was full of exhaustion—she clearly hadn’t slept all night. She walked up to me, grabbed my face, and inspected me from side to side, finally breaking into a satisfied smile.

“Lianshan, did that woman surnamed Fang hit him?”

“No, I stood by him the whole time. Just like you told me: if she dared to lay a hand on him, I’d hit her right back!” Xiao Lianshan dashed off toward the kitchen to look for food.

“Good thing she knew her place. How dare she try to lay a hand on one of mine,” Yue Qianling said with a mischievous grin as she flopped back onto the sofa.

I paused, eyeing Yue Qianling in surprise. “When did I become one of yours?”

“Brother, Qianling said that as a man, you can’t just let a woman hit you for no reason. If that woman surnamed Fang doesn’t know her limits and tries something again, I’ll… I’ll…” Xiao Lianshan raised his hand, but the words caught in his throat.

“Oh, look at you now, getting bold enough to hit women. You’re really something,” I rolled my eyes at him, shaking my head in mock despair. “You know what they say—‘He who stays near vermilion gets stained red, he who stays near ink gets stained black.’ If you keep learning from her, soon you’ll be hitting me as well.”

“Heh, brother, no way! Qianling promised that as long as I protect you, she’ll cook me anything I want,” Xiao Lianshan replied, his mouth full of egg rolls, grinning foolishly.

“Ever heard the saying, ‘One who takes favors is beholden, one who takes food owes in return’?” I took a sip of water, chuckling wryly.

“In short, apart from me, no other woman is allowed to hit you!” Yue Qianling declared, tilting her head up proudly.

“Why?!” I nearly choked on my water, feeling wronged. “We were all born of our parents—why should I let you hit me?”

“You owe me—that’s a debt you’ll never repay in this lifetime,” Yue Qianling answered, her tone haughty and triumphant.

I sighed helplessly, falling silent. It seemed that whenever Yue Qianling brought up the past, I’d forever lose the ground to argue with her. After washing my face in the bathroom, I came out and said to Xiao Lianshan, “Lianshan, when you’re done eating, go find Anqi and tell her that I’ve figured out the meaning of the second line on the Golden Dragon-Tortoise scroll!”

Yue Qianling’s eyes lit up and she sat up on the sofa, grinning. “What does the second line mean?”

“Let me take you all somewhere first,” I replied, unable to hide my excitement.

…

I met up with Xiao Lianshan and Gu Anqi again at the entrance of Qingyang Palace. The artifacts inside had been cleared, and the palace was once again open to tourists. Streams of visitors came and went, a lively scene.

Yue Qianling looked up at me, puzzled. “Why bring us here all of a sudden?”

“Yan Hui,” Gu Anqi asked excitedly, “Lianshan said you deciphered the meaning of the second line on the scroll?”

I nodded and smiled. “We have Professor Jiang to thank for this. If he hadn’t invited me to Qingyang Palace, I wouldn’t have cracked the second line so quickly.”

“What does Professor Jiang have to do with it?” Yue Qianling asked, baffled.

“The second line on the Golden Dragon-Tortoise scroll reads, ‘The master overturns heaven and earth in the eighth month.’ I’d been mulling over it with no progress—until I saw the three characters for Qingyang Palace the other day, and a light went off in my head.”

Everyone looked up simultaneously. The bold characters for Qingyang Palace hung above the entrance. After staring for a while, no one saw anything unusual.

Suddenly, Gu Anqi burst out laughing, nodding slowly. “In the eighth month… Ah, I see! Yan Hui, you’re brilliant. I can’t believe you figured that out.”

“You’re the clever one, Anqi. You catch on quickly,” I said with a smile.

Yue Qianling looked displeased at my praise for Gu Anqi and said carelessly, “But it’s clearly May right now. Why does it become August?”

“Qianling, it’s not the month. Let me explain.” Gu Anqi pointed at the three characters above the gate. “‘The master overturns heaven and earth’—heaven and earth means sun and moon, which is one above, one below. If you write the character for ‘master’ once upright and once upside down, then add the two characters for ‘eight’ and ‘moon,’ what do you get?”

“Adding ‘eight’ and ‘moon’…,” Yue Qianling concentrated, mulling it over.

“‘Sheep… Qing!’” Xiao Lianshan suddenly shouted, unusually animated. “It’s the characters for ‘Qingyang’—meaning Qingyang Palace!”

I nodded, laughing as I clapped Xiao Lianshan’s shoulder. “See? That’s what comes from keeping good company. Stick with me and you’ll get sharper by the day.”

Yue Qianling knew I was teasing her for being slow—everyone else had understood except her—but though she was unwilling, she could only swallow her pride.

We entered Qingyang Palace, the excitement on Gu Anqi’s face slowly fading. “Yan Hui, we’ve found the place, but Qingyang Palace is huge, and there are no other clues. How are we supposed to find anything?”

“Qingyang Palace dates back to the Zhou dynasty, originally named ‘Qingyang Market.’ Research shows that during the Three Kingdoms period, it became known as ‘Qingyang Temple.’ In the Tang dynasty, it was renamed ‘Xuan Zhong Temple,’ and during Emperor Xizong’s reign, ‘Temple’ became ‘Palace.’ It switched back and forth several times, flourishing most during the Tang and Song dynasties. Unfortunately, the Tang-era buildings were largely destroyed in disasters and wars during the Ming period, and only the Qing dynasty reconstructions remain. The present buildings date to the Kangxi period, with further repairs in later years. If there ever was a clue here, it’s probably long gone.” Yue Qianling, an archaeology student, explained the history with practiced ease.

I held a visitor’s map of Qingyang Palace, studying the introduction carefully. “The second line on the Golden Dragon-Tortoise scroll points to Qingyang Palace—meaning there’s a clue here about the Ming Tombs. The Golden Dragon-Tortoise was commissioned by Yuan Chonghuan in the late Ming, so any changes to Qingyang Palace before the late Ming can be disregarded.”

“That’s not quite right,” Yue Qianling replied seriously. “Even if we ignore changes before the late Ming, the palace underwent extensive renovations in the early and late Qing, spanning two hundred years, not to mention all the repairs after the founding of the Republic. That’s over three centuries of change—do you have any idea how much the palace has transformed?”

“Qianling, are you saying the current Qingyang Palace is nothing like the original?” Gu Anqi asked, a trace of worry in her voice.

“Not at all,” Yue Qianling replied calmly. “Many ancient structures in Qingyang Palace were built in the Middle Tang period, covering six hundred square meters. The west side of the main gate featured a twenty-meter-long, four-meter-high wall topped with glazed tiles, bordered by lotus petals in white and red. To the right stood statues of the Earth God and the Azure Dragon, and the Imperial Grace Nine-Dragon Stele from the twelfth year of the Zhengde reign. There was also a White Tiger statue, the Seven-Star Posts with Taoist inscriptions arranged after the Northern Dipper, Dragon and Phoenix posts, a pair of stone lions, and a Dragon King Well. All these were demolished later because of urban development.”

Gu Anqi’s face fell at Yue Qianling’s words. They had finally located Qingyang Palace, but now she wondered whether any clues to the Ming Tombs still existed.

I smiled lightly, my tone relaxed. “Put yourself in their shoes. If you wanted to hide a clue to a world-shaking treasure in Qingyang Palace, you’d have to assume that future generations might accidentally destroy it. So where would you hide it to ensure the clue would survive?”

“Can you stop talking in riddles?” Yue Qianling complained, now dreading the mental leaps my reasoning required. “Just say what you mean.”

I chuckled. “If it were me, I’d hide the clue somewhere no one would ever notice, and where it wouldn’t be damaged. Even if it were, and later restored, the secret would remain.”

Yue Qianling rolled her eyes at me and sneered, “I thought you were so clever and had really found a clue. Anyone could say that. But where in Qingyang Palace fits your criteria? Show me a single place.”

I ignored her, dividing the maps among everyone. “No point in talking more—Qingyang Palace isn’t that big. Let’s split up and look around. Maybe we’ll find something.”

All morning, I followed the map, searching every corner of Qingyang Palace but found nothing related to the Ming Tombs.

I reached the Hall of the Three Pure Ones and saw Gu Anqi crouched outside, intent on examining the two bronze sheep standing by the entrance.

“Yan Hui, come quickly! See if there’s a clue on these two bronze sheep,” she called out to me, excitement in her voice.

“What’s got you so fascinated with these sheep?” I asked, grinning.

“I just heard the Taoist priest explaining that these are the palace’s greatest treasures. They’re both made of brass, brought from Beijing in the first year of the Yongzheng reign by the Grand Secretary Zhang Penghe, and presented to Qingyang Palace because of its name. It’s said that the strange beast was originally from Song dynasty Kaifeng, from the Jingmei Pavilion.”

I examined the two bronze sheep. Their craftsmanship was exquisite, glowing with a golden sheen. The one on the left was especially peculiar, sporting the features of all twelve zodiac animals: a sheep’s beard, an ox’s body, chicken’s eyes, mouse’s ears, dragon’s horn, monkey’s head, rabbit’s back, snake’s tail, pig’s rump, dog’s belly, tiger’s paw, and horse’s mouth.

“The priest said these two sheep have stood here ever since and have never been moved,” Gu Anqi explained as she searched them carefully for clues.

I smiled faintly, about to speak, when Yue Qianling’s voice sounded behind me.

“Anqi, you said yourself these sheep are from the Qing dynasty. Yuan Chonghuan left the Golden Dragon-Tortoise in the late Ming. Unless he could travel through time, there’s no way clues to the Ming Tombs could be hidden on these two bronze sheep.”