Lin Jing acted as swiftly as he spoke, his years as a Wuhou making him adept at restraining others. He drew out the coarse hemp rope from behind him, and with a deft twist of his nimble fingers, fashioned a noose which he promptly slipped over Wang Qianshan's neck.
"Ah! Ah!" Wang Qianshan, flustered and panicked, clutched at the rope and cried out in alarm, "Let's talk this through! What are you doing? To humiliate a monk is to invite damnation!"
"I fear not the fires of Hell," Lin Jing stood in the snow and asked coolly, "Are you returning to the capital or not?"
"Why so anxious?" Wang Qianshan coughed, fumbling to remove the noose as he leapt from the mule. "I was planning to return anyway. It's nearly dark; I'll rest at the post station tonight. Your master is exactly like my teacher—equally troublesome."
Lin Jing eyed him with suspicion, doubting whether he would try to flee.
"No need to rush," Wang Qianshan glanced northward, toward the capital, patting his bulging sleeves. "If we make it back by New Year's Day, we'll still be on time."
"Why not return by New Year's Eve?" Lin Jing asked.
"Because no one gives me lucky money then," Wang Qianshan declared as he strode toward the post station. "Bring wine and meat! I want the best room and two buckets of hot water! The Wuhou will settle the bill!"
With the empty rope in one hand and the mule's reins in the other, Lin Jing inhaled the fresh scent of manure and silently calculated his remaining silver. A pleasure-seeking priest like this—how could he ever attain immortality?
Only seven days remained until New Year's Eve, and the renovation of the Circular Mound Altar was entering its final stage. At that very time, Prince Wei, Li Chen, fell ill.
Struck with a high fever, he stood in the open wilderness, caught by a cold wind, and stumbled into Li Ce's arms. While it was no trouble for Li Ce to hold Ye Jiao, cradling Li Chen proved much more difficult. He could only let him slide from his arms, half his body slumping to the ground.
Li Chen shivered and grasped Li Ce's sleeve, whispering, "Help me up. I'm fine... just a headache... too painful to move."
"Go back," Li Ce picked up the blueprint that had fallen from Li Chen's hands. "I can handle things here."
"If Father asks..." Li Chen's eyes were filled with worry.
"Tell him I'm in charge," Li Ce replied.
Except for the fan-shaped wooden canopy, all else had been completed. These last days were spent verifying the blueprints alongside the Ministry of Works, ensuring no detail had been overlooked. In three days, once verification was complete, the area would be sealed off, awaiting the Emperor's inspection on New Year's Day.
Hearing this, Li Chen no longer protested. He lay on the ground until the attendants swarmed over, lifting him into the carriage. He still managed to lift the curtain and called back to Li Ce, "Brother Chu, this matter is of great importance. You must not let anything go awry!"
Li Ce stood in the wind, waving as the carriage sped off. A dull thud echoed from within—it was Li Chen's head striking the interior. This time, the pain rendered him completely helpless.
The measuring tape extended, its plumb bob twirling to the ground. Over the unfurled blueprint, officials from the Ministry of Works performed a final inspection. Every height, dimension, and the twenty-four supporting pillars of the canopy had been meticulously verified.
Built beneath the Circular Mound, the wooden canopy stood like a protective arch, gazing upward toward the summit. At its pinnacle sat the intricate eaves adorned with the sculpture of nine dragons—exquisitely carved, the crowning glory of the entire structure.
The Circular Mound, located on the southern edge of the Great Tang's capital, was about to host the most solemn ceremony of the year. Civil and military officials would attend. Monks and Taoists would offer prayers. A select few commoners would be honored with the chance to witness the rite.
"Well?" Vice Minister Zou Jin of the Ministry of Rites stood proudly beneath the canopy, asking Li Ce.
"It is magnificent," Li Ce nodded.
"In that case…" Zou Jin raised his arms and declared, "Clear the site and seal it off! Await the appointed hour!"
The craftsmen withdrew in an orderly fashion. The Imperial Guards took position. Li Ce and Zou Jin stepped outside, handing the blueprint to a nearby official.
He had run the calculations countless times. The Ministry's construction was solid, able to withstand even the fiercest gales. The only concern had been the weight of the ornate eaves, but Li Ce had verified the load-bearing—it would hold.
At last, it was over.
He walked away from the Circular Mound with a light step.
He could return to the capital, see Jiao Jiao, and after the ancestral and heavenly rites were complete, visit his mother in the palace.
Seasonal visits among family and friends were indispensable this time of year. The Duke of Anguo's household had received many festive gifts, and per Ye Jiao's instructions, regardless of the sender's status, they responded with equal gifts—plus a box of the household's homemade pastries.
She specifically instructed the steward to send an extra box to the Bai family.
"Little Yu loves the pastries I make," Ye Jiao told Ye Rou.
Ye Rou was flicking the abacus beads and smiled faintly at her words. "It's nothing special. Give him another box. You've taken his job as Chief Wuhou, and he still works so diligently—quite admirable."
Ye Jiao cracked melon seeds, smiling. "Sister, you've never met him. How do you know he's diligent? Though, to be fair, he's been rather well-behaved lately. He's even been delivering the city pass logs personally."
Though recently, he'd slacked off again and had gone missing.
"After the New Year," Ye Jiao mused, "I'll ask His Majesty to give me a new post. This Chief Wuhou position—I'll return it to him."
"Now that's more like it," Ye Rou closed the ledger. "After New Year's, you should begin preparing for your wedding. That's the real business for us women."
Ye Jiao squinted, tossing another seed into her mouth, her smile blooming like a flower.
Prince Zhao's residence, where Li Jing lived, had also received a considerable number of gifts—because Prince Chu, Li Ce, resided there. Conveniently—or rather, helplessly—Li Jing had ended up accepting all the gifts on his brother's behalf.
After all, the gatekeeper and steward were his men. If he wanted to skim a few items, it was as easy as turning over his hand.
"Accept the calling cards. Send the gifts to the storeroom."
"Yes, yes. No need to separate which are for Prince Chu. Send them all. Brothers don't split hairs!"
Looking at the gift lists and the ever-growing storeroom, Li Jing finally felt satisfied. After a whole year, he had at last managed to glean some benefit from Li Ce.
Housing his younger brother for a year hadn't been easy.
Thus, each day, while Li Ce went to oversee construction, Li Jing stayed at home receiving gifts. And when Li Ce returned at night, he would discuss with him what gifts to send to imperial relatives and friends, using the opportunity to ask for more silver.
Since Li Ce had no time to go visiting, wasn't it only natural that his elder brother handle it?
Yet one thing puzzled Li Jing—he and Li Ce had the same salary, so why was Li Ce always flush with funds, while he himself was perpetually broke?
It must be the size of his estate, the number of guards and servants he supported. Yes, that had to be it. Certainly not the concubines and consorts—those women barely ate a thing. They were very frugal.
Meanwhile, Ye Changgen was also making his rounds.
As the sole remaining male of the Ye family, he was responsible for paying respects to kin and colleagues before the New Year, fulfilling the rites of courtesy.
Besides visiting his own superiors, he made a special trip to Liu Yan's residence.
Liu Yan, still as reticent as ever, tried to shoo him away when he saw the gift-laden guest. After much back-and-forth, he finally accepted a basket of eggs.
"Don't bring anything next time!" he declared with righteous indignation.
Leaving Liu Yan's residence, Ye Changgen next visited the Minister of Rites, delivering gifts and a name card. There, he heard a familiar voice.
"General Ye."
The voice was soft and clear, spoken in refined Tang diction.
Ye Changgen turned and saw Gesang Meiduo across the street, accompanied only by a maid. She wore a gown of sapphire blue, a golden choker gleaming at her chest. Imitating Tang women, her hair was tied in a bun, and she wore fluffy rabbit-fur earmuffs that made her look adorably playful.
With smiling eyes, she gave Ye Changgen a graceful bow.
"Your Highness," Ye Changgen nodded in greeting.
Gesang Meiduo walked toward him, stopping only when she was quite near. Rising on tiptoe, she whispered, "Is the General delivering gifts?"
Ye Changgen laughed heartily, expressing his upright character.
"These are New Year's offerings—nothing the censors would reprimand."
Though, in truth...