It is said:

　　Once we chanced to meet and did not know, our meeting passed like a common thing;

　　Since the palace gate closed behind us, how many years have folded.

　　When we meet again the old feelings stir, the voice and face remain the same;

　　Why not go forward? Only a thousand formalities restrain.

　　After the episode at the Longmen Grottoes, the party returned to the capital Chang’an. Li Lingyue, idle and restless, went to the Eastern Palace to find Li Hong, hoping to draw from him some plan that might lead to the discovery of the benefactor who had rescued her. When she entered the hall she found Li Hong wearing a look of deep worry. Curious, she asked, “Brother Hong, what weighs so on your mind?” Li Hong answered at her voice, “Why did the attendants not tell the Princess to come?” “I told them not to say much,” Li Lingyue replied. “I have missed you for so long, Brother — if you have some playful diversion you must not forget me.”

　　Li Hong’s mouth twitched into a smile. “How could I forget you, Yue’er?” Then his tone shifted and he explained, “Censor Wang Shishun has reported famine in Guanzhong; hundreds have already died of hunger.” Li Lingyue exclaimed, “That can surely be remedied by swiftly sending grain to relieve the disaster — Brother Hong need not worry himself so.”

　　Li Hong said, “Guanzhong is densely populated and a granary of the realm; where shall the needed grain come from?” Li Lingyue replied, “When trouble comes, solace of heart matters first, then means of remedy. Send grain quickly from places with surplus. Let the court follow the Empress’s example and have the royal household and high ministers donate funds. If the people’s hearts are calmed at first and reinforcements arrive thereafter, the disaster will pass.” Li Hong laughed at the cleverness of the child: “One word solves it all. Little Yue, so young and yet so wise.” The praise delighted Li Lingyue; she answered, “It’s merely things I have heard Father and Mother say.”

　　The two siblings went together to report the plan to Gaozong and the Empress. Gaozong approved Li Hong’s proposal and ordered Censor Wang to reroute granaries from Jin and Jiang prefectures (present-day Shanxi) to relieve Guanzhong; river transport lines were opened to move the rice. The plan worked and Li Lingyue clapped her hands in delight — then smacked her forehead remembering why she had come: she had meant to ask Brother Hong about finding the man who had saved her.

　　The next day Li Hong told the Empress of the relief work. The Empress gathered palace ladies and attendants, reduced her own table, and donated jewels and food to assist the people of Chang’an. Pei Judao led by example; seeing this, ministers followed, and then nobles and wealthy citizens emulated the gesture, some from true charity, some from rivalry.

　　A few days later Li Lingyue and Shangguan Wan’er returned to the Eastern Palace. Finding Li Hong engrossed in state papers, Lingyue praised his diligence: “Brother Hong, you work so devotedly — in time you shall be remembered alongside Gaozu and Taizong.” Li Hong smiled and said, “If you have any thought, speak plainly. Since when have you grown so flattering?” Laughing, Li Lingyue then told him about her search for the benefactor. Li Hong, indulgent of his sister, feigned helplessness and said, “I have no plan; why not take me with you outside the palace to look for clues?” Wan’er objected at once: “Your Highness, it is a grave matter for the Princess to leave the palace; one must obtain the Empress’s permission.” Li Lingyue scoffed, “Wan’er, when did you grow so prudish? Brother Hong is with me — there will be no harm.” Li Hong added: “Wan’er need not worry; I will summon Jinwu Guards to accompany us.” Wan’er reluctantly agreed and the three left the palace together.

　　They found little success searching the streets. After a few days of playing in the avenues, Li Hong’s time for arranging state business grew scant, worrying his staff. The steward of the prince’s table, Xing Wenwei of Quan Jiao, cut back the prince’s rations and submitted a memorial of admonition:

　　“Your servant heard that the Crown Prince has been spending days out with the Princess and that his attention to military and state affairs has lessened. I am but a low official, yet I have reduced his meals to warn him. I humbly ask Your Highness to consider this.”

　　Li Hong read the note, acknowledged his lapse, and accepted the admonition. The Emperor and Empress learned of the matter. Finding an opening in the household offices, Gaozong and the Empress considered promotion for the frank steward and decided to make Xing the Right Scribe for the Crown Prince. The Empress approved; Gaozong followed suit and appointed Xing Wenwei accordingly.

　　Afterwards Li Hong no longer had much free time for his sister, so the Eastern Palace arranged a banquet both to amuse Li Lingyue and to mark Xing Wenwei’s recompense. At the feast Li Hong ordered palace performers to play games and stunts to please Lingyue. When the acrobat Wang Jishan hesitated, saying that such performances were the duty of court entertainers and that stepping in would undermine his position as an official, Li Hong bowed and apologized; Lingyue, puzzled, asked why the man did not simply comply. Wang Jishan replied bluntly that each man must keep to his office and duties. Later Gaozong rewarded Wang Jishan with a hundred bolts of fine silk and soon promoted him to a military command.

　　In the fourth year of Xianheng (673), at the age of eight, Li Lingyue watched the Empress’s sleepless visions grow more frequent. The Empress dreamed repeatedly of the late Princess An-dingsi and of Lady Yang of Rongguo, and the dreams disturbed her countenance and her duties. Seeking counsel at the Hall of the Three Purities, the presiding monk divined that the Empress’s visions were the lonely spirits of the deceased calling for prayers; if the Empress took ordination to pray for them, the afflictions might ease. The Empress hesitated: if she truly took vows, who would manage the state? She delayed the decision but continued to worry.

　　One day, while strolling by the Ta-ye Pool, the Empress said to Li Lingyue, “Child, I dream of your grandmother. I consider taking the tonsure to pray, but state affairs press. Your father and I have discussed it: will you on my behalf take a short ordination and offer prayers for your grandmother? Will you do this for me?” Li Lingyue answered at once, “If it will help my ancestor, I will gladly do so. Whatever Father and Mother decide, I follow.” Inwardly she thought, “If I go into the order, the Imperial Preceptor will perform the rites — perhaps, as Brother Hong said, a divination will reveal my benefactor.”

　　That night she confided to Wan’er, “Wan’er, you know the one I long to see; soon, I shall meet him.” Wan’er half-smiled: “Princess, sleep early — otherwise you will lack the energy to meet him when the time comes.” Each night Li Lingyue lay awake thinking of that unknown savior and would talk of him to Wan’er. Wan’er could not fathom Li Lingyue’s yearning. “You are a princess,” she said, “why be moved so by a mere Daoist?” Lingyue answered, “I cannot explain — the thought itself is joy.” Wan’er shrugged that some feelings cannot be explained and that time will bring understanding.

　　A few days passed and an auspicious date arrived. At dawn Li Lingyue rose early and roused Wan’er; both dressed and readied themselves before first light. At early morning Gaozong and the Empress led Li Lingyue to the northeast corner of Han Yuan Palace, to the Hall of the Three Purities. The presiding monk stood before the table, lit incense, performed a ritual over the teacup whereby a lotus would appear and vanish within it; he then dipped a willow branch in the tea and traced a protective character upon Li Lingyue’s brow.

　　At the ritual’s end Li Lingyue finally saw the Imperial Preceptor — or rather his chief disciple. A tall man of commanding bearing and luminous face entered the hall. Li Lingyue peered closely: the man was Ming Chongyan. She asked, “Is the Preceptor not to be here?” Ming bowed: “Your Highness, my master went out to travel with his younger disciple and has not yet returned.” He handed Li Lingyue the ritual incense and taught her the seven-star stepping method. As she advanced through the prescribed steps, she felt as if lifted toward the ninth heaven; after seven steps she returned, placed the incense before the statue of the Primordial Lord, and bowed.

　　Ming Chongyan placed a lotus crown upon her head and announced that the Preceptor, though absent, had conferred upon her a Taoist cognomen: “Taiping” — “Great Peace,” from the Lv’s Spring and Autumn line “when the world is at peace, all things are tranquil.” He wished that the Princess live in safety and that the realm prosper. Lingyue thanked him; Ming teasingly said she might henceforth call him senior brother. Lingyue laughed and returned the jest: “Very well, I shall call you Brother Ming.”

　　She asked whether the Daoist monastery would host her; Ming replied that by imperial will she would remain in the palace. Disappointed, she accepted the answer.

　　Months later, in late autumn, Yan Liben set out on a secret mission to Bing Prefecture by imperial order. He fell ill on the journey but continued his duties; he summoned Di Renjie to assist. In conversation Yan spoke of the empire’s past hidden aid from celestial beings and foretold that if the Tang achieved a great flourishing, it would be followed by a grave trial. Di Renjie vowed lifelong fidelity to the prosperity of the realm. Yan’s illness worsened on his return and he soon lay unable to rise.

　　By the tenth month, snow fell over Chang’an like goose feathers. Within days the Grand Secretariat Yan Liben died at the age of seventy-two. Gaozong, mourning, granted him posthumous honors and called the court to pay respects. The whole court attended the funeral; the Emperor and Empress brought Crown Prince Li Hong, Princes Li Xian and Li Zhe, and the little Princess Li Lingyue.

　　At the family home the house was full of mourners in white. When the imperial party arrived Yan’s children and household presented themselves; the Empress bade them not to perform elaborate rituals — “Let the dead rest; do what is proper.” Pei Judao provided incense and when it came to Li Lingyue, Wan’er presented the ritual incense; Lingyue took it and entered the mourning hall. Bowing before the coffin, she glanced up and thought she saw a little Daoist like the one who had rescued her. She rose to approach but Wan’er stopped her softly: “Princess, do not — the preacher is contending with rites. We must not break decorum.”

　　So the meeting that almost was remained unfulfilled; though only a step away, the man seemed as distant as the far horizon. Lingyue slipped past the bier for a furtive look but saw no sign of him. After a while a hand lightly tapped her shoulder; her heart leaped, thinking it was him, but it was only Wan’er, who whispered, “Princess, leave now — if others see, it would violate propriety.” Reluctantly Lingyue followed Wan’er away.

　　Back in the palace that night, Li Lingyue and Wan’er spoke of the missing benefactor until her joy turned into sorrow. Wan’er teased, “You speak of your yearning so often — I am envious.” Li Lingyue hastened to reassure her: “You are as dear to me as any I long for; why be jealous?” Wan’er teased that Lingyue called the stranger her ‘benefactor’ in dreams and that perhaps he had already forgotten Wan’er; Lingyue laughed and chided her for petty jealousy. Wan’er coaxed her to sleep, and at last Li Lingyue fell into rest.