The dusk was settling, and Abbess Sun put down the scripture in her hand and stood up.
“Abbess, are you going to Tai Ping Palace again tonight?” the young disciple asked.
“I’ll stay there tonight,” Abbess Sun replied. “Keep an eye on the lanterns, it’s quite dry recently.”
The disciple answered affirmatively and fetched a lantern.
The mountain path wound upwards, and a faint lantern light flickered as it ascended.
Tai Ping Palace was still the same as ever, and the creaking door was opened by the same young disciple.
Out of habit, she went to check on Cheng Jiao-niang’s quarters.
“Has it been dusted today?” she asked.
“Yes, it has. The flowers in the room were also freshly replaced,” the disciple replied.
Abbess Sun nodded.
“Remember to do this every day, so the room feels lived in. We don’t want the mistress to feel uncomfortable if she returns,” she said.
The disciple answered obediently but thought it a bit unnecessary. The lady had just left, and there was no way she would return so soon, especially since she had been taken to her maternal family.
“Abbess, will the lady come back?” she couldn’t help but ask.
The Cheng family treated her so poorly. Wasn’t it better that she was taken in by her maternal family? Why would she come back?
Abbess Sun said nothing.
For decades, the absence of this lady hadn’t mattered, so why, after just two months of her being here, did her disappearance leave such an emptiness inside?
It was as if she had lost her anchor.
A daughter abandoned by the Cheng family and left at the temple, and yet she had somehow become her anchor—how ridiculous that would sound if she said it out loud.
Abbess Sun chuckled and shook her head.
“Whether she returns or not, this will always be her home,” she said.
The disciple murmured in agreement. After all, Tai Ping Palace was still part of the Cheng family’s estate.
The two turned to close the door when suddenly the outer gate was knocked on.
“Abbess, someone from Bao Yuan Mountain Temple has come with a message.”
Bao Yuan Mountain Temple?
Abbess Sun was momentarily stunned. So late at night? What could have happened?
Inside the room, Abbess Sun read the letter under the nearby lamp, her expression complicated.
“Didn’t I tell you these two children were clever and to keep a closer eye on them?” she said with a sigh.
“Yes, at first we did keep an eye on them. But the two of them seemed honest, took their studies seriously, worked hard, and never complained about their unfortunate background. They were steady…” The messenger, a middle-aged nun, also sighed and continued, “Who would have thought they’d suddenly run away, and even steal the temple’s donation money? That was our savings for winter.”
“Serves you right,” Abbess Sun replied curtly. “Don’t expect me to give you our winter funds.”
The middle-aged nun gave an awkward laugh, clearly embarrassed.
“My master didn’t mean it like that. We just wanted to inform you,” she explained.
Abbess Sun snorted.
“As if I don’t know what schemes your master is up to,” she said, then sighed again. “How far could two kids get in the middle of the night? Have you searched everywhere?”
“We did. We searched within a hundred miles and didn’t find a trace. It’s really strange. Unless… they were snatched by wolves,” the middle-aged nun replied.
Abbess Sun stared at the letter in her hand, saying nothing, contemplating whether to send a message to Cheng Jiao-niang. But then she remembered there was no address left when she departed, so there was no way to send it.
“It’s getting late. You should rest at the foot of the mountain. If they’ve run away, then so be it. There’s nothing more we can do. We didn’t drive them away; they chose to leave. Their fate is out of our hands,” she said.
The middle-aged nun responded with a quiet “yes.”
“Abbess,” she stopped in her tracks, a flattering smile on her face. “I’ve heard your temple’s pastries are quite famous. How about letting me take some when I leave? I can help spread the word over on our side.”
Abbess Sun scoffed, her expression clearly saying, “I knew what you were up to”.
“No, no, absolutely not. We’re a temple, not a pastry shop. There’s nothing to ‘spread the word’ about,” she replied.
The night was deep, and the mountain wind blew in gusts.
In the pitch-black darkness, two small figures trudged on with difficulty.
“I can’t walk anymore.”
“Even if you can’t, we must keep going.”
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going to a place that will make those who abandoned us regret it.”
In the darkness, two lanterns finally came into view, and the entire convoy let out a sigh of relief.
“Miss, we’ve reached the inn!” the maid said excitedly, looking at the lady wrapped in a brocade blanket inside the carriage.
“It’s already so late—why not just keep going?” Steward Cao suggested to Fourth Master Chen.
Fourth Master Chen obviously wouldn’t refuse. They had traveled non-stop day and night on the way here, but their return trip had slowed considerably because of the lady.
“You go tell the lady,” he said.
“Me?” Steward Cao quickly waved his hand. “It would be better if you, Fourth Master, speak with her.”
Throughout the journey, Steward Cao had hardly ever appeared before Cheng Jiao-niang, and Fourth Master Chen obviously noticed this. Coupled with the events at the temple, he could tell that Cheng Jiao-niang didn’t seem to like Steward Cao—or perhaps it was that she didn’t like the Zhou family?
“The mistress has always been a bit peculiar; she only listens to the old madam, who has taken care of her since she was little,” Steward Cao seemed to casually remark.
Fourth Master Chen responded with a soft “oh.” So this child was raised by the old madam of the Zhou family? That meant she must be quite close to them. It was common for patients to be odd; perhaps this lady was just inherently strange.
He turned and went to speak with the carriage.
“How can that be? We’re too tired! How can we handle it?” the maid immediately objected.
If someone as healthy as she was couldn’t withstand such a long, bumpy ride, how could Cheng Jiao-niang, who was in such poor health, manage?
Fourth Master Chen looked at Cheng Jiao-niang, knowing who truly had the authority to speak between the two.
“My father’s condition is truly…” he began apologetically.
“The faster we go, the slower we arrive,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
“Exactly, haste makes waste,” the maid nodded, looking at Fourth Master Chen. “My mistress is already exhausted; once we get there, she won’t be able to attend to your father’s illness.”
That made sense, and Fourth Master Chen nodded in agreement.
“I see I’ve been careless. Please forgive me,” he said.
Deciding to stop and rest, the group cheerfully made their way to the inn, only to find that it was even livelier there in the middle of the night.
This was an old, dilapidated inn that had seen better days. The courtyard was filled with carriages and horses, mostly those used for transporting goods, and the air was thick with a mix of strange odors.
“Get out, get out! There’s no room left! We can’t let anyone die here!” Two plump innkeepers were driving away four or five men.
The men were carrying a door plank, on which lay a person covered with a blanket. As they were being chased away, the men cursed under their breath.
“What are you doing? You cowardly soldiers who can’t even handle the Western bandits—are you trying to act tough here?” one of the innkeepers yelled.
“You scoundrel!”
The insult struck the men like a knife, and their faces turned red with anger as they raised their fists.
“Stop causing a scene; he’s not wrong,” one man shouted, trying to calm the others as he glanced at the innkeeper. “We’ll just rest outside for one night.”
“But, what about the third brother? His illness…” the other men said, their voices choked with emotion.
The man didn’t respond, merely casting a glance in their direction.
At that moment, Fourth Master Chen’s carriage and horses arrived, tall and grand, adorned in fine silk and gold, clearly an impressive sight.
The observant innkeeper immediately plastered on a smile and approached them.
“Sir, are you looking for a place to stay?” they greeted warmly.
Steward Cao took out the inn voucher, and upon seeing the bright red seal of the capital’s Military Affairs Office, the innkeeper nearly bowed his head to the ground.
In such a small place, they had never encountered a high-ranking official from the capital before, and they were filled with excitement.
“We don’t have enough rooms.”
“If there aren’t enough, then drive those merchants out.”
Instantly, the inn became a scene of chaos, with people and horses in disarray.
The men outside, who had already lit a bonfire, looked on coldly, and one of them spat heavily.
“Truly, the rich and the poor have different fates!” he said.
“Big brother, third brother can’t hold on any longer,” another man shouted, looking at the man under the blanket on the door plank.
A group of people surrounded him but felt powerless, ultimately bowing their heads and shedding tears.
“Life and death are predetermined; we must accept our fate,” the leader murmured, his expression filled with deep sorrow as he clenched his fists tightly.
Who wants to accept their fate? Who wants to accept their fate? Alas! Alas!
“Life and death are truly predestined,” a female voice rang out. “This patient is fortunate to have encountered me.”
What?
The inn was in an uproar, with several carriages accompanying them. One of the carriages had stopped nearby, seemingly waiting for those inside to finish getting ready before moving in. At that moment, the curtain of the carriage was lifted, and in the dim night, a lady’s figure appeared, looking over.
