WBSGVS Chapter 201 V1

Some people who pray daily to the gods may, in reality, be the ones who believe in them the least.

Prince Duan — or Qing Li’s imperial uncle — was exactly such a person.

He was a prince of the previous dynasty’s ruling clan, a man who lived a leisurely lifestyle yet held military power in his hands. Still, nobody tried to take it away from him, because he had no son.

In this era, only a son could be an heir. Without a son, even if a man were to become king, it would be a fruitless reign.

Of course, there was a chance it was all a disguise — a mask to conceal his true ambitions — and perhaps, once a moment of opportunity arose, he’d unveil his true face, just as Zhou Xing had.

But in his whole life, there was only his late wife. After she died in childbirth, although the clan pressed him repeatedly to remarry, or at least take a concubine, he remained alone. Instead, against all opposition, he adopted the son of a fallen soldier, adding him to the clan register and naming him heir — this adopted son was none other than the “Imperial Uncle” Sima Qinghe, whom many say holds the other half of the army’s power today.

The soldiers were under the command of this adopted prince, but what Zhou Xing truly feared was not him — it was the prince himself.

Prince Duan devoted himself to praying to the gods, not in a grab for power, but simply in the hope that his wife might find peace and happiness in the next life and not suffer an early death again.

He was so devoted that nearly all the famous priests and monks in the capital were invited to perform ceremonies for his late wife. Furthermore, in his deep sorrow, the prince avoided court, ignoring political affairs altogether.

The soldiers were a legacy from his past achievements — a power that the late Emperor had entrusted him with.

To avoid letting all the power become concentrated in Zhou Xing’s hands, the prince kept a firm grip on it, yet avoided involving himself in other matters. So much so that people barely noticed him; in daily court life, he seemed invisible.

Qing Li felt a rush of relief when she received the invitation from Duan’s palace.

To her, this man was the guardian of the Sima clan. Without his control over part of the army, Zhou Xing might already have openly revolted.

For a major incident in court, the ministers would sometimes ask him to come forward. Once the crisis was resolved, he would withdraw back into his palace. Zhou Xing had tried numerous times to undermine him, but all to no avail.

He invited nearly all the well-known priests and monks to perform ceremonies for his late wife. So it seemed reasonable to Qing Li — who was quickly gaining fame in the capital — that she would be invited, too.

And now the invitation had arrived.

Because she was going to meet an imperial elder, Qing Li dressed more demurely than usual. She boarded her carriage and left the palace, where servants from Prince Duan’s manor were already waiting at the gate to lead the way in place of the palace servants.

The person who came to meet her was none other than the prince’s grandson, Lu Pingyuan.

He was about eighteen, tall and strong, with piercing eyebrows and a firm gaze — a strikingly handsome young man.

Dressed neatly, a sword at his side, and sitting upright on his horse, Lu Pingyuan nodded in greeting. According to their family ties, they were cousins. Qing Li responded with a small smile and glanced at him a little more carefully.

Something seemed strange.

The curtain fell back into place, and the carriage pressed forward. Shortly afterwards, it arrived at Duan Palace.

Walking down a long corridor, Qing Li soon came face to face with the man rumored to be the stabilizing force of the Jin dynasty — Prince Duan. He was a man in his fifties, his hair a mixture of black and silver, yet his face was healthy and vigorous. There were no signs of a mind weighed down by years of regret; instead, his expression was broad and peaceful, reflecting a generosity of spirit.

“Leyi greets Imperial Uncle.” Qing Li dipped in a respectful curtsy.

The prince nodded warmly from his seat. “Rise quickly — no need for so much formality.”

Qing Li stood and was led to a nearby seat. She raised her eyes to look at the prince, blinked, and then glanced briefly toward Lu Pingyuan.

The young man, not understanding her motives, turned his clear, piercing gaze back toward her.

Prince Duan noticed the exchange, fell silent for a moment, then casually asked, “You must have guessed the purpose of this invitation. Will you perform ceremonies to bring peace to the soul of the deceased?”

“Of course.” Qing Li nodded with a smile.

“That settles it.” The prince stood up first and led the way.

Qing Li fell into step immediately, and Lu Pingyuan unconsciously followed.

A few paces in, the prince seemed to remember something and turned back. “Pingyuan, Leyi will stay for lunch today. Go and make sure everything is prepared.”

“Yes.” Lu Pingyuan halted, nodded respectfully, and walked off in another direction.

Prince Duan then led Qing Li toward a small Buddha hall filled with the rich smell of sandalwood.

He stopped at the entrance and asked casually, “Leyi was kept in the Cold Palace for ten years, starting when you were just a child of five. How did you learn these skills?”

Qing Li smiled. “My mother left me many books. I must have a bit of talent in these things — I understood them just by reading.”

The prince snorted quietly. “Mystical arts aren’t something you simply learn by reading a few books. The Prime Minister, Elder Zhao, and many ministers all speak on your behalf. Tell me, little girl, what benefits did you give them in return?”

So it seemed the prince remained unconvinced of her ability.

Qing Li remained unfazed. She’d already guessed this. His wife’s death, nearly forty years past, seemed a convenient excuse. Whatever may have been true in the beginning, it was a habit now — a way to keep a careful watch on her and make sure she wasn’t a danger to the dynasty.

She turned to him and said sweetly, “If you don’t believe me, Your Highness, then allow me to show you.”

The prince crossed his arms casually. “Interesting. All right, tell me — do you need my birth date and time?”

Qing Li shook her head. “Not necessary. I can see it in your face.” She paused briefly, then smiled mischievously. “Your Highness… Cousin Lu isn’t your biological grandson, is he?”

The prince’s face tightened; the amusement fell away, and a piercing gaze fell upon her.