It was the winter of the thirty-first year of Jianing, at Luhun Manor.

A blizzard raged, blanketing the vast landscape in a pristine layer of silver.

Even at dawn, the manor was brightly lit, its tall grey walls and tiered grey roofs resembling a colossal cruise ship, silently navigating a silvery-white sea of snow. From a distance, passing travelers might have imagined hearing the cracking of ice, as if it were slowly breaking through the eternally frozen polar ice.

A clear, resonant bell chime echoed.

At the entrance to Luhun Manor, two young monks stood guard, their hands tucked into their sleeves.

One monk, hearing the bell, turned his head towards the depths of the manor and softly remarked, “Another one from the Daoist court has been defeated. How many is that now?”

“The eighth! Just one more loss, and they’ll have no one left.”

“The Daoist court is arrogant, but we came prepared.”

A young monk, still with his hands tucked into his sleeves, looked out at the blizzard and sighed, “The debate has lasted a day and a night; it’s finally coming to an end.”

Just then, the sound of horse hooves could be heard amidst the blizzard.

The young monk stood beneath the Luhun Manor plaque, shading his eyes with a hand and squinting into the driving snow. After a long while, a few grey shapes slowly began to materialize!

A young man, head bowed, struggled through the snow, holding three reins against the wind. The fierce wind whipped his garments backward. Behind him, three figures huddled on their horses, bracing against the frigid gusts.

The young monk asked warily, “Who goes there?”

The newcomers quickened their pace. “Travelers seeking lodging,” came the reply.

“Lodging?”

The young monk looked puzzled. As the figures approached more quickly, he suddenly shouted, “This is a sacred Buddhist ground; halt at once!”

“Buddhist ground?”

The newcomer raised his head, revealing the face of a young man. “Isn’t this the mountain outpost of the Laojun Mountain Daoist Court? How has it become a sacred Buddhist site?”

The young monks exchanged glances, then quickly explained, “Ma Yiming, the senior disciple of Laojun Mountain Daoist Court, lost his debate against our senior brother, so the Daoist Court has forfeited Luhun Manor to us, Yuanjue Temple!”

The young man paused, astonished. “The stakes are that high?”

He looked up at the lintel of Luhun Manor. The estate covered hundreds of *mu*, sprawling endlessly, and must have cost at least tens of thousands of taels of silver to build. Such a vast estate, lost just like that!

The young monk explained, “This property originally belonged to our Zen sect; the Daoist Court won it from us in the twelfth year of Rende. Now, it’s merely returning to its rightful owners. And there’s an even bigger wager today: if the Daoist Court loses all nine rounds, the nineteen Daoist priests participating in this literary debate will all have to shave their heads, become monks, and ring bells in our temple for the rest of their lives.”

The young man’s jaw dropped. “Which round are they on now?”

The young monk replied, “The eighth round just concluded; they might be resting for half an hour. If you’re merely passing through and seeking lodging, please turn back. Today, Luhun Manor is only open to guests of the literary gathering.”

The young man glanced back; a girl was slumped unconscious on one of the horses. Turning back to the monk, he said politely, “Among us are the heir and princess from Prince Jing’s household, as well as Miss Zhang, the second daughter of the Luocheng Prefect. Please inform them that we encountered mountain bandits on the road, and our invitations were lost.”

The young monk was startled. “The heir and princess? And you are…”

The young man replied, “I am merely a junior apprentice from Prince Jing’s Royal Medical Office, Chen Ji!”

The young monk asked, “Do you have any identification tokens from the Prince’s household?”

Chen Ji shook his head. “No, but there must be people at this gathering who recognize the heir and the princess.”

“Please wait a moment.”

The young monk, lifting the hem of his grey monastic robe, scurried into the manor to report.

Chen Ji turned back to the horses and softly told the princess, “Don’t worry, Princess. With both the Daoist Court and the Buddhist temple present, there’s bound to be medicine for the chill.”

The princess, her head wrapped in a piece of cloth, mumbled weakly from her slumped position on the horse. She couldn’t straighten herself, and it was unclear if she had even heard Chen Ji’s words. Chen Ji reached out and touched her forehead. It was burning hot!

The next moment, the young monk hurried back. “My apologies, esteemed benefactors,” he said, “but the heavy snow has blocked the roads, and we are unable to verify your identities. Please turn back!”

Chen Ji frowned slightly. “Did you inform them who we are?”

The young monk replied patiently, “Yes, I did, but our senior brother said that since you have no tokens or invitations, you must turn back.”

Chen Ji suddenly realized the Buddhist monks were making excuses. This literary gathering at Luhun Manor usually grants an invitation to any scholar who wishes to attend, no matter how ordinary. How could such a relaxed entry requirement suddenly be denied to them? The monks must have known what happened at Dragon King Village and were unwilling to get involved in the affairs between the Liu family and Prince Jing’s household, which is why they refused entry. What a convenient way to avoid karma.

Zhang Xia, still on her horse, asked, “What do we do now?”

Chen Ji reached for the whale-shaped dagger by the princess’s saddle, but she weakly raised a hand and pressed down on his. “Don’t do anything foolish,” she whispered.

He smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m just checking if it’s still there. I’m not foolish enough to pick a fight with the senior officials of the Daoist or Buddhist orders.”

Chen Ji turned to look at the couplet beneath the Luhun Manor plaque. The first line read: “Human effort shapes events; speak not of all being fate.” The second line read: “Circumstances are mind-forged; a step back grants natural breadth.”

But… He couldn’t afford to retreat a single step.

Chen Ji tightened the cloth wrapped around the princess’s head, ensuring no cold wind could seep into her collar. He turned and walked back to the entrance of Luhun Manor. “Is this a literary gathering?” he asked.

The young monk replied, “Yes!”

“Are there debates taking place?”

“Yes!”

Chen Ji asked, “What is the topic of this round’s debate between the Daoist and Buddhist schools?”

The young monk pouted. “Why should I tell you?”

Chen Ji calmly stated, “I also wish to enter and debate!”

The young monk chuckled, sizing him up and down. “What kind of scriptures would *you* debate?”

As soon as he spoke, Zhang Xia dismounted her horse, and pulling Zaodao by the reins, she walked to the entrance, braving the wind and snow. “Is Yuanjue Temple afraid we’ll enter and win the debate against you?” she challenged.

The young monk, leaning against the grey brick wall beneath the plaque, rolled his eyes. “Your provocations won’t work,” he scoffed.

Zhang Xia stated coolly, “I am Zhang Xia, niece of Xu Shu, Deputy Director of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau. If you do not report our presence, I will return to the capital and tell everyone I meet that the monks of Yuanjue Temple were too afraid of being defeated in a debate to let us into Luhun Manor. Go report quickly; you cannot bear the consequences of refusing us.”

The young monk recoiled, then turned and hurried into the manor to report.

A moment later, he ran back, snow dusting his shoulders. “You may debate,” he said, “but you must first answer the question we posed to the Daoist Court in this round.”

Chen Ji glanced at him. “Tell us!”

The young monk asked, “The Daoists say that the Dao gives birth to all things. Is this Dao conscious or unconscious?”

Just as Chen Ji was about to answer, Zhang Xia lightly tugged his sleeve and whispered, “Debating isn’t that simple. Every answer must cite its scriptural source. With a source, it’s true scripture; without one, it’s false…”

Chen Ji considered this. “Why don’t you debate with them instead?”

Zhang Xia’s expression fell. “No, they don’t debate with women. You answer their question, and I’ll tell you what to say!”

“Alright!”

The wind and snow swirled between them, small eddies of air circulating around their forms.

A few breaths later, Chen Ji stepped forward. “As it says in the *Dao De Jing*,” he began, “Man follows Earth, Earth follows Heaven, Heaven follows Dao, Dao follows what is natural. The Dao is the law for heaven and earth, the example for all things. Naturally, it is conscious.”

The young monk took the answer and scurried back to report once more.

When he returned a moment later, he brought a new question: “My senior brother says that if the Dao is conscious, then it should only give birth to good people. Why, then, does it also give birth to evil people? If the Dao doesn’t distinguish between good and evil, then it must be unconscious. And if it’s unconscious, how can it give birth to all things, or serve as an example for all of heaven and earth to emulate?”

Behind him, Zhang Xia’s lips moved slightly as she whispered a few words.

Chen Ji looked at the young monk and replied, “As it says in the *Mahaparinirvana Sutra*: ‘The “Self” is the meaning of the Tathagata-garbha; all beings possess Buddha-nature, and all beings possess the meaning of the “Self”.’ The Buddha himself said that all people are born with Buddha-nature. How then can you decide who is born good and who is born evil?”

The young monk was stunned. “How do you understand our Buddhist scriptures so thoroughly?”

Chen Ji retorted impatiently, “Lives are at stake; hurry back and report!”

The young monk once again scurried back into the manor.

This time, the young monk did not return quickly. It seemed the Yuanjue Temple monk who had posed the question was deep in thought.

An unknown amount of time passed. Then, from within the manor, another clear, resonant bell chime rang out.

Zhang Xia’s eyes lit up. “The bell means they’ve tabled the question, which is tantamount to conceding defeat!”

“Chen Ji? Chen Ji?”

She turned to look at him, but Chen Ji had his head bowed, lost in thought.

At that very moment, Chen Ji noticed that the furnace fire within him suddenly pulsed for an instant as the bell chimed, and then its faint reddish glow brightened slightly. Strange. Was it because Zhang Xia, by speaking on his behalf, had won the debate? Before, he had thought the change in the furnace fire required doing good deeds or winning public favor. But now, it seemed the reason for its change in hue might be far deeper, far broader.

Chen Ji looked at Zhang Xia.

Zhang Xia touched her cheek. “Why are you looking at me?”

Chen Ji shook his head. “Nothing. I just admire your vast knowledge, Miss Zhang. No wonder you look down on unlearned people.”

Zhang Xia seemed a little embarrassed. “I simply have a good memory, that’s all.”

As they spoke, the young monk hurried back. “You’ve won this round, but…”

“But what?”

The young monk looked troubled. “No offense, esteemed guests, but our Buddhist sect values purity and detachment from worldly karma. We truly do not wish to be entangled in mortal affairs. You two have worldly matters weighing on you, with karma yet unresolved, and are therefore not suitable to enter Luhun Manor. Please turn back!”

Chen Ji calmly looked at him. “Surely, we can at least ask for a medicinal pill?”

The young monk shook his head. “No. Please don’t make things difficult for me, benefactors. I am just a junior monk.”

Chen Ji immediately moved to force his way in, but Zhang Xia grabbed his arm and silently shook her head. “You can’t force your way in,” she mouthed.

“Whether I can or not, I must try.”

Just then, a song drifted through the wind and snow from outside.

A figure could be seen sitting backward on the back of a green ox, humming a tune while flipping through a book: “With a wicked heart, burning incense brings no benefit. Uphold righteousness and integrity; what harm is it if you don’t bow to me?” The folk song swirled into the blizzard, carried far away by the snowflakes.

As the green ox arrived at the entrance, the young Daoist priest on its back lightly leaped down. Smiling, he walked past Chen Ji and Zhang Xia to the entrance, reaching out to rub the young monk’s bald head. “Zhang Li, senior disciple of Huangshan Daoist Court, has come to debate on behalf of my master, ‘Apostle Zi.’ Now, little monk, quickly step aside, or this Daoist might just slap you!”