Chapter 34: What Kind of World Is This

Cui Yudong understood this reasoning well enough; he was never a man who sought out trouble. It was only that his mood had been foul, and he’d lost his composure for a moment—impulsiveness is a devil. Struck by that devil, he was left dazed, at a complete loss, standing there in a stupor until he caught sight of Shi Xiong, who, eyes downcast, was surreptitiously gesturing toward the door, beckoning urgently for him to run.

“Run! Quickly! As fast as you can!”

When people have played together for a long time, a certain tacit understanding forms—especially so for Liu Motong, Shi Xiong, and Cui Yudong, brothers sworn for years, who had faced life and death together. Many things went unsaid; a single glance or gesture sufficed.

Run! Cui Yudong bolted.

“Ah!” One of the two priestesses standing guard at the door was caught off guard and stumbled as he crashed past her, bursting through the doorway.

“Hurry, after him! He’s the one who threw the handkerchief!” Li Xu reminded the four dumbstruck priestesses. But Cui Yudong was already racing down the stairs. With his speed, there was no way those four could catch him. Beyond the Chongren Ward lay the imperial city itself—no matter how bold those priestesses were, they wouldn’t dare chase a man into the imperial precincts. They had some reputation to maintain, after all.

Li Xu’s shout was an attempt to protect himself and the others, lest the priestesses, failing to apprehend Cui Yudong, turn their wrath on the three of them instead. Li Laosan had fled, Shi Xiong had lost his nerve, and Cui Yudong, too, had escaped in panic—there was no doubt now: the priestesses of Xuanzhen Abbey were not to be trifled with.

“Hmph! Run, will you? The monk may escape, but the temple stays put!” The lead priestess planted her hands on her hips, glared murderously at the trio, and stormed out in a huff.

“The monk may escape, but the temple stays put.” Li Xu mulled over the phrase, finding its meaning ever deeper the more he turned it over in his mind. How fascinating.

“Oh, that scared me half to death,” Shi Xiong exhaled at last. Though the table had been overturned, he still had a chair to sit on. He leaned back, drained the dregs of his wine, and gazed at the mess around the room, suddenly feeling a loss of interest. “A perfectly good drinking session, ruined just like that.”

He shot Li Xu a disapproving look. “It’s all your fault. If you’re ill, go see a doctor! All your cackling and clowning—if Third Brother hadn’t taken the fall for us today, I’d have ratted you out myself.”

Li Xu shrugged it off. “Go ahead, do it. Just a few priestesses, what’s the worst they could do?”

Liu Motong, who had been silent until now, suddenly interjected, “Those are priestesses of Xuanzhen Abbey.”

“So? What’s so fearsome about that?” Li Xu’s bravado was only skin-deep; inwardly, he was growing uneasy. He wasn’t sure what backing Xuanzhen Abbey might have, but their bearing alone suggested they were not to be slighted. The Tang dynasty revered Daoism; becoming a priestess was fashionable, and many noblewomen seeking freedom or wishing to escape marriage had donned the Daoist garb. Among them were women of the highest birth—even princesses and duchesses. The abbey itself was splendidly built, standing so near the imperial city; who could guess what illustrious figures might be cloistered within?

With these thoughts, Li Xu began to worry for Cui Yudong. Was he shrewd enough to escape? Heaven forbid he fall into the clutches of those fierce women—the look in their eyes suggested they’d tear a man apart given the chance.

One must remember: not all priestesses are ascetics. Many used the title as a front, running brothels under the guise of Daoist sanctuaries. If Xuanzhen Abbey was, in fact, such an establishment...

An image abruptly flashed before Li Xu’s eyes: Cui Yudong cornered by four priestesses.

Damn it—speak of the devil. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than a shriek echoed up from below. Cui Yudong’s desperate cries rang out: “Big brother, second brother, fourth brother—save me!”

“It’s Third Brother!” The three of them rushed to the window. Down in the alley, a crowd had gathered to watch the spectacle. In their midst, a group of priestesses had pinned a young man in fine clothes to the ground and were binding him with rope. A middle-aged priestess, holding an embroidered handkerchief in one hand and a belt in the other, bellowed, “Tie him tight! And gag him! Throwing things at people and trying to run—no way! Today I, for one, will see justice done and teach you swaggering scoundrels a lesson!”

As she spoke, she pulled out the pin from her hair, disheveled her coiffure, and loosened her robes so that her bosom was half-exposed. Once prepared, she tucked away the handkerchief and picked up a brick from the ground.

By now, the crowd had formed a tight circle, pointing and muttering about the trussed-up Cui Yudong.

The priestess, brandishing half a brick, launched into a righteous tirade: “Today, my sisters and I were passing by, and this scoundrel started throwing bricks down at us for sport. I—this humble Daoist—rebuked him, and he… he tried to assault me! Thought he could take liberties with me! Not a chance! Today I’ll see justice done and teach you swaggering scoundrels a lesson!”

Her fervent speech won thunderous applause from the onlookers.

Savoring her triumph, the priestess paraded around, displaying her “evidence” of assault: the hairpin yanked from her hair, her long tresses tumbling down, her half-open robe, her nearly bare chest.

Exhibit complete, she began a new round of lamentation: “This little runt—barely grown his whiskers—dares lay hands on me? Blind fool! Does he not know who I am? Does he think I’m easy prey?”

An old man chimed in, “Well said, Daoist! These pampered brats need a proper lesson. No respect for law or decorum—back in Emperor Taizong’s day, even a prince or minister would be executed for harassing a woman in the street. Times have changed for the worse! The world’s gone to the dogs—is Heaven bent on destroying our Great Tang?”

Before the old man finished, a young man rushed up, took the elder by the hand, and said, “Father, you’re wandering off again. Come, let’s go home and take your medicine.” Leading the old man away through the crowd, he explained, “The old fellow’s senile, talks nonsense when his illness flares up. Don’t mind him, folks.”

Father and son made their exit to the laughter of the crowd.

“What do we do? What do we do?” Shi Xiong, usually resourceful, now clutched his head and paced in circles, muttering to himself in a state of near-madness.

Soon after, Cui Yudong had been transformed into a human rice dumpling, his mouth gagged with a silk ribbon, even his right to call for help stripped away. A bound man, a disheveled woman wielding a belt, and a crowd of indifferent onlookers—this tableau seemed oddly familiar. “Where have I seen this before? Where?” Li Xu tapped his head, feeling a headache coming on.

“What are you two standing there for? Go get the guards at the Wuhou Station!”

Liu Motong, exasperated, shoved the dazed Shi Xiong and the daydreaming Li Xu.

“Ah! Now I remember…” Thanks to Liu Motong’s push, the memory finally surfaced. Such scenes frequently appeared in certain low-budget, high-concept romantic “action films” produced in a distant island nation a thousand years hence.

“Third Brother, don’t be afraid! She won’t really beat you!” Li Xu yelled out the window, only to sense danger at his back as Liu Motong’s kick came flying.

“Move it!” Liu Motong was truly angry now. Li Xu, new to Chang’an, didn’t understand the depths of the city’s waters. Worse, Shi Xiong was still pacing in circles, his mind as small as an almond, unlikely to yield any brilliant ideas.

Irritated, Liu Motong sent a kick at Shi Xiong.

“Ow!” Shi Xiong grunted as he stumbled out the door.

“All right, Wuhou Station, on it.” Seeing Liu Motong’s fury, Li Xu left of his own accord, but after a few steps, he reconsidered, turned back, and called out, “Isn’t Zhuge Wuhou dead for years? Does Chang’an have a shrine for him?”

“Aaaargh—” Liu Motong, in his fury, could only roar, his pent-up energy surging to his throat, his mouth wide as he bellowed the strongest word of his life: “Get—out!”

Even after running far away, the echo of “out” still rang in Li Xu’s ears.

Chang’an’s wards each had their own Wuhou Station, garrisoned by guards to patrol the streets and maintain order.

The story of eight women abducting a man in broad daylight so angered the six guards that they stripped off their outer garments, baring their ribs, gathered their chains and whips, and marched out behind Li Xu. At the next corner stood the grand gate of Xuanzhen Abbey.

Li Xu pointed furiously. “It’s the priestesses inside—they grabbed our Third Brother! Tied him up in the street, whipped him bloody—why are you leaving?”

Before Li Xu finished, the six guards turned as one and marched off without a word.

“It’s cold—we need to go put on warmer clothes.” Their tone was unanimous and, apparently, reasonable.

“When will you be back?”

The squad leader waved a hand and hurried his men away, disappearing in an instant.

“Don’t bother, even if you begged them with a palanquin, they wouldn’t return,” Liu Motong said darkly, arms folded as he approached. Shi Xiong followed, face gloomy, the muscles in his cheeks twitching now and then. His right forefinger kept gouging at his philtrum until it bled.

“Second Brother, think of something!” Li Xu pleaded.

“I am thinking!” Shi Xiong’s cheek twitched again as he continued to gouge his upper lip, but inspiration didn’t come.

Li Xu thought, even if he sliced his lips off, he probably wouldn’t come up with a good idea.

“Big Brother, I have a plan to rescue Third Brother!” Li Xu whispered in Liu Motong’s ear. Liu Motong’s eyes, usually narrow slits, suddenly widened to perfect circles—then, just as quickly, dulled again, shrinking back to slits. Shi Xiong, annoyed at Li Xu’s interference, was about to object, but seeing Liu Motong’s reaction, he realized Li Xu’s idea had been rejected and felt much better for it. He sneered, “Don’t go giving Big Brother foolish ideas. Do you even know whose ground Xuanzhen Abbey is? It’s the sanctuary of the illustrious Master Wuyou. And do you know who she is? She’s…”

Shi Xiong glanced furtively around and, seeing no outsiders, beckoned Li Xu close and whispered, “Wuyou’s secular surname is Guo—she’s the younger sister of Consort Guo, now a Daoist by imperial decree. Understand?”

“Got it, got it.” Li Xu nodded, thinking, No wonder they wield such power—even the guards don’t dare interfere. The emperor’s sister-in-law, eh? Such tales of brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law…

“Ahem. Her guests are all high-born and wealthy. Be careful, Fourth Brother—don’t be reckless.”

Shi Xiong, fearing Liu Motong would blame him for gossiping, tacked on a hasty disclaimer.

“Understood. Thank you, Second Brother, for the lesson.” Li Xu found himself warming to Shi Xiong. He glanced at Liu Motong, who was frowning, eyes narrowed in thought.

Shi Xiong and Li Xu might not know the full story, but Liu Motong did. Master Wuyou’s secular name was Guo Yuan, full sister to Consort Guo. At twenty-three, she’d been summoned to the palace at seventeen as a female scholar, spent two years there, then suddenly took vows as a Daoist by imperial order, occupying the most auspicious spot in Chang’an for her Abbey of Pure Cultivation.

She was not a woman content with solitude; in recent years, her name had become legendary in Chang’an. The title “Master Wuyou” had been bestowed by a coterie of sycophantic flatterers.

Perhaps Master Wuyou truly lived without cares now—her abbey was a gathering place for scholars, beauties, and high officials, with even provincial governors coming to pay respects. Her spirit might have transcended the world, but her flesh remained firmly rooted in the arena of fame and fortune. Such a person was no easy foe.

Whether or not Cui Yudong’s abduction by the priestesses was her own doing was unclear. But the longer he remained, the greater the peril. Even if she herself was a true ascetic, what of her disciples? Those who dared kidnap a man in broad daylight were not to be underestimated.

“Cui Yudong is still a very naïve young man—he’s never even set foot in Pingkang Lane. What if…” The thought made Liu Motong shudder.

“What now, Big Brother? Or maybe…” Li Xu’s mind spun with a new, perhaps unsavory, idea.

“Maybe what? Speak!” Liu Motong snapped, impatience written all over him.

“Maybe we should inform the princess—she might be able to help.” Li Xu reasoned that since Tang princesses were famously spirited, surely they would intervene if their betrothed were abducted by priestesses.

“Absurd! That’s utterly absurd,” Liu Motong waved the idea away.

“I think it’s worth a try—if she’s indifferent, so are we,” Shi Xiong unexpectedly agreed, giving Li Xu a rare thumbs-up, which made Li Xu like him all the more.

“Well…” Liu Motong stroked his chin in imitation of Li Laosan, though his was clean-shaven.

He continued to ponder, unable to come to a decision.

Urging a niece to battle her aunt—such a scandalous plot could only have been hatched by Li Xu, a man from another time. Credit, of course, must go to the scriptwriters of those ridiculous melodramas of his previous life, for their boundless imagination and shameless nonsense had inspired him.

Li Laosan returned, panting. He’d seen his handkerchief fall from the window into the alley, only for a gust of wind to blow it into the face of a priestess—most likely one from Xuanzhen Abbey. Realizing disaster was imminent, he’d fled several blocks before guilt overtook him. He couldn’t simply abandon his brothers without a word, so he’d turned back.

From their expressions, he could guess what had happened: Cui Yudong was gone, doubtless scooped up by those female bandits. Li Laosan had once accompanied the Duke Jing’s eldest son to Xuanzhen Abbey; that night, the young master had returned in high spirits, his face covered in lipstick prints and his arms full of women’s undergarments.

From then on, Li Laosan knew full well what kind of place Xuanzhen Abbey was. They say monks are lustful fiends—are Daoists any different? At least monks try to keep up appearances; Daoists openly extolled the wonders of dual cultivation. Cui Yudong, so fair and tender, in the hands of a pack of lustful Daoists—he wouldn’t come out unscathed.

No one bothered to blame Li Laosan; he, feeling sheepish, offered a plan:

“Let’s go fetch the princess. I heard that just recently, Princess Changlin, incensed that her consort Zhao was having tea with a young nun at Miaofu Convent, summoned the family guards and surrounded the place, causing an uproar that drew hundreds of onlookers. If not for the county magistrate’s intervention, they would have burned the convent to the ground. Once they found the consort, she dragged him by the ear straight to Daming Palace to see the Emperor, who scolded him and docked half a year’s pay.”

He hadn’t finished when six pairs of eyes flashed toward him. Li Xu, Liu Motong, and Shi Xiong exclaimed in unison, “Is that really true?!”

“It’s… it’s true,” Li Laosan stammered, unsure what he’d said wrong.

“Seems there’s no harm in kicking up a fuss,” Li Xu and Shi Xiong said, emboldened by Princess Changlin’s example, urging Liu Motong to act.

Li Xu analyzed the situation: Even if Princess Taihe was not as forceful as Changlin, surely she could, at the very least, bring a few maids and eunuchs to Xuanzhen Abbey to make a scene. If she, of all people, didn’t care, then perhaps they shouldn’t either. Let Third Brother endure a little hardship—he was nearly married and still ignorant of the ways of love. Better he lose his innocence now.

As Li Xu was about to conclude, Shi Xiong cut in, “If the princess doesn’t care, neither will we. Leave Third Brother in there—at worst, he’ll suffer a beating. Dying isn’t so easy.”

Shi Xiong’s final words were laced with spite, sending a chill through Li Xu. Even Liu Motong was swayed, finally making up his mind. He told Li Laosan, “Go to Taiji Palace and find Liu Ye. Have him make sure the news of Third Brother’s capture at Xuanzhen Abbey reaches Palace Attendant Chen in the princess’s apartments. She’s the princess’s wet nurse—if she knows, the princess will know.”

Li Laosan assented and was about to leave when Shi Xiong stopped him. “Make sure the princess knows what Xuanzhen Abbey really is—not a place for incense and prayer, but… that is…”

Shi Xiong wanted to say the word, but pride caught in his throat, and the word stuck, leaving his face flushed and neck bulging.

“Xuanzhen Abbey is a den of vice. Understood.” Li Laosan, though somewhat sleazy, was a man of action. He took his leave at once.

Shi Xiong breathed a long sigh of relief; Li Laosan had voiced what he’d been too ashamed to say himself, and his opinion of the man improved greatly.

———