Chapter 1

May, the evil month. Yin and yang contended, life and death parted ways, venomous creatures ran rampant, and evil spirits prowled-a month of dire ill omen.

Chang'an City lay trapped in muggy heat and the countless taboos of the evil month, leaving everyone restless and oppressed. Then a shocking announcement suddenly emerged from Daming Palace: Princess Wanshou had died of illness, aged only seventeen.

The princess was born to Consort Xue, His Majesty's most favored consort. The empress's seat stood vacant, and although Lady Xue held only the rank of consort, she received all the honors of an empress within the palace. From the moment the princess was born, the sovereign had cherished her as a treasure, showering her with favor known throughout the realm. Before she was out of swaddling clothes, she had been granted a fief yielding the revenues of fifteen hundred households. Upon reaching marriageable age, this had increased to three thousand, far surpassing the grants bestowed on princesses born to the other consorts.

Several years earlier, Consort Xue had died in childbirth. His Majesty had been devastated and lavished even greater affection on the two sons and one daughter she left behind. "Wanshou"-ten thousand years of life-had been her parents' heartfelt blessing that their daughter might live to a ripe old age. The princess had always been lively and healthy, yet just as she reached the flower of her youth, ready to choose a husband and marry, she had inexplicably fallen ill and died suddenly in the palace less than two days later. It was truly bewildering.

Overcome with grief, the emperor ignored his ministers' objections and posthumously elevated her to Grand Princess, granting her the posthumous title Si, "Remembrance." He suspended court for seven days in mourning and ordered the Court of State Ceremonial and the Court of Imperial Sacrifices to oversee the funeral together. By imperial decree, music and banquets were forbidden throughout the realm for six months, officials and commoners alike were barred from marrying for a hundred days, and the people of Chang'an were to wear mourning and abstain from meat for a month. With the summer heat upon them, everyone feared her precious body would decay. After lying in state in the palace for only three days, she was sealed in a golden coffin and taken to an auspicious burial site at the foot of Zhongnan Mountain.

The tomb had originally been painstakingly prepared years earlier by an elderly imperial prince for his own eventual passing. But after committing an offense, he had been reduced to commoner status and was no longer entitled to use it. The princess's untimely death had caught everyone unprepared, so the tomb was commandeered for her burial.

The lavish dowry the imperial family had spent years preparing for the princess could now only accompany her into the underworld as grave goods. On the day of the funeral procession, ten thousand people escorted her coffin, with imperial troops clearing the way and the assembled officials following behind. Banners and jeweled canopies blotted out the sky, incense was burned as freely as firewood, and cart after cart of rare treasures dazzled the eye. The head of the procession had already reached the tomb while the porters at its rear had yet to leave the city gates. Officials and commoners across Chang'an closed their shops to watch, sweating through their clothes and jostling shoulder to shoulder, each afraid of being left behind.

From the burial grounds to the mourning rites, every aspect of Princess Wanshou's funeral exceeded what regulations allowed. The chief censors argued until their mouths were dry, but the emperor's grief at losing his daughter had torn his heart and guts to shreds. He would hear no opposition and instead demoted and exiled several remonstrating officials whose words had been especially fierce. The exalted status of an imperial daughter was not open to question.

The stars and moon were dim. Zhongnan Mountain's shadow loomed like a pitch-black overturned grain measure over the imperial burial grounds, and the lanterns could illuminate only a few inches of ground underfoot. The muggy heat was unbearable, the air so damp it seemed water could be wrung from it. Even in the dead of night, it left people struggling to breathe.

The underground burial chamber had already been sealed, the seams of its three gates filled with molten tin, but the burial mound above had yet to be completed. The emperor had also ordered the grounds leveled and an ancestral shrine built for future offerings. Conscripted laborers and craftsmen from throughout the capital region continued to arrive. This grand funeral was still far from over.

Two Imperial Guards sat resting on freshly felled tree stumps. Patrolling at night in full armor had exhausted them, and the clothes beneath their armor were soaked through. These capital soldiers, sons of wealthy households, seldom received such grueling assignments.

"It was all too rushed. Hurry, hurry, hurry. If they didn't want to keep the coffin in the palace, couldn't they have laid her in state at some great temple, chanted sutras, and taken their time building the tomb? Imperial funerals usually take more than half a year. Even ordinary families get a few days to hold the funeral and receive mourners. Are they trying to work everyone, top to bottom, to death?" one complained.

The other replied, "They say the palace occultists checked the calendar. She had to be buried on a particular day, at a particular hour and moment, for it to be auspicious."

"What auspicious day could there be in the evil month?" the first soldier said, lowering his voice. "Everything about this reeks of something strange. I heard the princess loved polo and hunting and had always been perfectly healthy. Even if she'd caught a chill, she couldn't have died of it in a day or two. Not only did she die quickly, they rushed to bury her as though ghosts were driving them on."

The second soldier hurriedly glanced around. Finding no one nearby, he lowered his voice too. "Everyone's saying she didn't die of illness. She was poisoned."

The first soldier understood at once and leaned closer to hear his companion's explanation.

"Ever since the consort passed away, things have been delicate for those brothers and their sister. Prince Shao is clever and steady, and people think well of him. His Majesty used to treasure him so much, and it looked as though he was about to be named heir. Then last year, for no apparent reason, he was banished to Youzhou as prefect. Now his full sister has suddenly died too. It's hard to say..."

The first soldier frowned. "I thought you had something new. That's just the same old stale tune. Everyone says a mother's standing rises through her son, but really, children's standing rises through their mother. Only when their mother has favor do the children enjoy good fortune. Once that affection is gone, tsk, tsk."

Years earlier, when rebels rose in revolt, the emperor, then still Prince Liang, had fled in panic to Shu. His first wife, Lady Wang, had perished in the upheaval. He and Lady Xue had sustained each other through hardship, neither abandoning the other, and Prince Shao had been born during their flight. With tears in his eyes, the prince had sworn, "If ever I rise in the world, I will never fail you."

Later, through a fortunate turn of events, Prince Liang ascended the throne and duly fulfilled his promise. For twenty years, Lady Xue's extraordinary favor never waned. He left Changqiu vacant, and both in life and after death, she enjoyed the honors due an empress. Her entire family soared to wealth and prominence. People never added a surname when speaking of the consort, because everyone knew there was only one. The whole realm knew their story and celebrated it as a tale of devotion.

"Besides, the princess was favored while she lived. Surely she should have been buried in the imperial mausoleums north of Chang'an, beside her ancestors and the consort. Instead, they hurriedly dumped her here at Zhongnan Mountain to lie all alone. Isn't that suspicious?"

"Keep your voice down. The more you know about these palace secrets, the sooner you die," the first soldier said, shielding his mouth. "Before the tomb passage was sealed, a detachment of Dragon Martial Guards went in. They came out moments later with blood all over their armor and boots."

The second soldier looked puzzled. "Didn't they say a few of the princess's favorite prized horses were sacrificed to accompany her?"

The first soldier scoffed. "Would killing a few horses require His Majesty's personal guards to do it themselves?"

All sleepiness left the two Imperial Guards, and their conversation grew ever more animated. The stars shifted and the water clock ticked on, while all around lay silent. Suddenly, the first soldier heard a rustling in the bushes. His heart leaped and pounded. One hand clamped onto the saber at his waist while the other covered his companion's mouth, and he shouted in a deep voice, "Come out! Who's prowling around here in the middle of the night?"

The second soldier hooked the lantern onto his spear tip and stared toward the sound. Amid the wavering shadows, a small figure emerged, bent at the waist. Bald and beardless, dressed in a monk's robe that was neither new nor worn out, he was a novice of eleven or twelve.

Before he could answer, the two Imperial Guards were already half reassured, and the hand gripping the saber relaxed.

More than a thousand Buddhist monks and Daoist priests had gathered at the foot of Zhongnan Mountain to conduct rites and offer blessings for the princess. Every Buddhist temple and Daoist monastery in Chang'an had sent people, and eminent monks and ritual masters had converged here. There was nothing more natural than the appearance of a young novice.

"Please don't hurt me, officers! I was greedy and ate two extra bowls of vegetarian food during the day. My stomach started hurting tonight, and I got the runs. My master sent me outside..."

The novice clutched his belly and offered his explanation in a trembling voice, unable even to straighten his back. Beads of sweat rolled down his bald head in streams.

"Enough! Get far away. Don't foul the princess's sacred ground."

After a few questions, the two Imperial Guards breathed a sigh of relief and drove the novice off. Seeing that no superior had come to investigate, they moved elsewhere to patrol, intending to resume their earlier conversation.

It was merely a small, inconsequential incident during the vigil for the princess.

The novice waited quietly until the patrol's lantern had swung away into the distance before straightening and wiping his sweat with his sleeve. Choosing a night with little moonlight concealed his movements, but it also kept him from seeing the uneven ground beneath his feet. Had his master still been alive to see him step on a dry branch and alert the soldiers, he would certainly have whipped him half to death afterward.

Having escaped this scare unscathed, he became even more cautious and crept deeper into the woods. After traveling about a li, he felt his way to a vegetable farmer's home and climbed over the fence into the backyard. For the funeral, every household within ten li had been driven away, and the house stood dark.

He did not enter the house. Instead, he crouched in the yard for a while, silent and barely breathing. Only after making certain no one was around did he slip into the sheep pen and knock several times on the stone feeding trough. A moment later, matching knocks sounded from beneath it. The novice rolled up his sleeves and shifted the trough aside, exposing the turf below. Beneath the lifted turf was an inconspicuous hole, its narrow entrance barely large enough for a child. It slanted into the earth, leading who knew where.

The novice called softly into the hole, "Eldest Brother, come up!"

Several bundles of earth were pushed up first. The novice took them and set them aside. Then someone squeezed out of the hole, head first, followed by shoulders. Once both arms were free, bones cracked as he stretched his shoulders and back. From that tiny hole emerged a young man dressed in blue-green.

No matter how many times he had seen it, the sight remained astonishing. The novice could only marvel at his senior brother's bone-contracting technique.

The young man was lean, with a narrow, fine-featured face and skin paler than moonlight. Faint bluish shadows beneath his long, slender eyes gave him an unhealthy look. Once he emerged, neither exchanged pleasantries. The young man sat cross-legged on the ground, formed a hand seal, closed his eyes, and circulated his qi as he regulated his breathing.

The air underground was stagnant. Even though his mastery of the Mysterious Qi Primordial Art had reached an exceedingly high level, after digging for several hours he still had to come up for fresh air. While keeping watch, the novice scattered the bundles of earth. Construction for the princess's funeral was underway everywhere nearby; spreading a few bundles of dirt was like dripping water into the sea. No one would notice.

By the time he finished, the young man had completed his breathing exercises. The novice took food and wine from inside his robe and respectfully handed them to his senior brother. The young man accepted them and ate at an unhurried pace, perfectly at ease.

Watching him eat and drink, the novice reflected that although his senior brother possessed exceptional natural gifts and all manner of remarkable skills, no one could envy him when they came at such a price. His skin was colder than the blue-gray bricks of a tomb passage. If he closed his eyes, held his breath, and lay motionless on the ground, nine people out of ten would take him for a corpse.

"Are you nearly through to the burial chamber?"

"Another three quarters of an hour should do it." The young man drained the weak wine from the leather flask, untied his headcloth, shook off the dirt, and wrapped it around his head again.

"Eldest Brother, is this really... truly the last time?" The novice's patience finally gave out, and he could not help asking for reassurance yet again.

The young man smiled brightly, revealing small white teeth. "Yes. Even if I don't find it, I won't do this again. I'll wash my hands in a golden basin."

The novice could not help sighing. "It's a shame, with all those extraordinary skills of yours. And neither of us has made a fortune yet."

"Thirteen, if you want to get rich, go join Second Brother and the others. What road to riches could there be in following a walking ill omen like me, Wei Xun?"

The novice called Thirteen said earnestly, "If I went with Second Brother, who would keep watch for you?"

One a monk, the other a layman, they exchanged a smile and said no more.

Before his death, Old Chen, the Mound-Raiding General and a legend in the trade, had ultimately passed his mantle to his second disciple. Wei Xun had not cared in the slightest. As soon as the old man died, he had left alone, taking only the dagger he carried for protection. Then this child, the youngest of his fellow disciples, had caught up with him, determined to follow him.

Before entering the tunnel again, Wei Xun looked up at the moon among the clouds. Its shape was hazy, its cold radiance obscured, offering no discernible omen. Though he did not believe in ghosts or gods, he still silently repeated his vow.

One last tomb raid.