My Cold-Hearted Wife Chapter 119

The room was bitterly cold in the middle of the night, and every so often, the howling of beasts could be heard from the mountains.

Cheng Danruo had no idea whether it was wolves howling, but either way, she simply could not fall asleep. Curled up in a corner with her knees drawn to her chest, she held her arms against her chest, pressing through her robe against the dagger concealed beneath it.

When she had first been forced to drink the drugged concoction, she had still been conscious. Taking advantage of the dim light inside the carriage, she had hidden the dagger in advance.

Bai Mingyue had been in a hurry to get on with the journey and had not searched her immediately. It was only later, after they boarded the boat, that she had searched her. However, she had focused mainly on the things Cheng Danruo was carrying in her bosom and sleeves. She had felt through her purse and sachet, while merely giving the rest of her body a cursory pat-down, overlooking her legs curled up beneath her.

And so, the dagger had remained hidden. Cheng Danruo kept it close against her body.

At present, this cold weapon was the only thing that offered her even the slightest sense of security.

The night passed in a hazy blur. The following day, the little girl from yesterday came over and brought her a bowl of thin porridge. Naturally, it had not been made with white rice. Instead, it was boiled wheat with the husks still on, mixed with a little wild greens. The resulting mush looked positively unappetizing.

Cheng Danruo said nothing and accepted the bowl, slowly sipping at it.

Gradually, the sounds of activity outside grew louder.

She noticed that the door was not locked. After hesitating for a moment, she pushed it open and stepped outside.

The sun was shining brightly. People hurried about in all directions, some pushing carts, others carrying timber on their shoulders. Everyone seemed to be in a great rush.

They were fortifying the stronghold.

Were they planning to confront the government troops head-on here?

Cheng Danruo surveyed the scene, her brows drawing together slightly.

“Hey, don’t go wandering off,” Ah-Niu ran over and warned her. “Or we’ll have to tie you up and drag you back.”

She nodded and was about to return to her room when he called out to stop her again. “The Divine Mother wants to see you. Come with me.”

Cheng Danruo had no idea what this was about, but she said nothing and immediately followed him.

Ah-Niu lowered his thick arm, which he had raised moments earlier, and scratched his head instead. He didn’t like this female official from the imperial court. Although he still hadn’t quite got his head around the fact that the imperial court actually had women serving as officials, he simply didn’t like her.

Still, after spending some time with her, his initial aversion had gradually begun to fade.

The Divine Mother had said, “It’s clear that this female official is a good person.”

He had replied, “Everyone in the imperial court is evil.”

“She is a good person. She sympathizes with us,” the Divine Mother had explained. “We must win her over. This is very important.”

Ah-Niu didn’t understand what the Divine Mother meant, but he was obedient by nature. He didn’t shove Cheng Danruo along roughly. Instead, he simply kept his eyes on her back as she walked. If she tried to run, he would rush forward, knock her unconscious and throw her into the woodshed.

However, Cheng Danruo proved entirely cooperative.

She walked slowly towards the largest open space in the stronghold. Quite a number of followers had already gathered there, sitting on the ground and gazing expectantly towards the front.

From the bushes on either side, wisps of white smoke drifted into the air. They came from burning incense herbs, filling the surroundings with a faint, pleasant fragrance.

Holding a lotus-topped Buddhist staff, Bai Mingyue walked to the front and sat cross-legged on a prayer cushion.

“Greetings, Divine Mother!” The followers pressed their palms together and bowed.

Her voice was soft and melodious. “Please rise, my brothers and sisters.”

Only then did everyone straighten up.

Bai Mingyue began her sermon, reciting from the scriptures:

“Tormented by troubles day and night, we weep bitterly in our dreams, stirring the Pure Land of the True Void…”

She recited one line, and the common folk repeated it after her. After finishing each passage, she would explain its meaning.

“All the suffering you have endured, whether it be the death of loved ones from illness or the loss of your farmland and homes, has reached the Void. The Eternal Venerable Mother has heard of the hardships we are going through from within the Void. Her heart filled with compassion, and so she descended into this world, bringing with her boundless mercy…”

The common folk listened, utterly captivated, tears welling in their eyes.

Cheng Danruo lowered her gaze and listened. She neither grew angry nor offered any rebuttal, as though she were merely a passer-by who had stopped to watch.

Yet, deep inside, her heart grew colder by the moment.

Bai Mingyue told the common folk that the gods had heard their suffering. The gods had sent her into this world to help them put an end to it. But how were they supposed to end their suffering?

Not by returning to farming, for their land had already been taken away. Nor by clearing wasteland, for even the fields they reclaimed would eventually be taken from them again.

They had to seek revenge. They had to kill the landlords and avenge themselves. They had to kill the corrupt officials and greedy bureaucrats. All their suffering was the fault of these people.

They must not fear death. Their loved ones were already waiting for them in the Land of Wusheng, within the Heavenly Paradise. Death was merely a new beginning. There, they would be reunited with their loved ones and start a new life together.

In short, it was all about stirring up hatred and rallying their fighting spirit.

And what would this lead to?

The common folk would fight to their deaths, seeking revenge for their departed loved ones without regard for the consequences.

And then what? There would be no then.

The Wusheng Cult was simply using them. It had no genuine concern for the common folk, nor did it truly seek to secure any benefits for them.

This peasant uprising had only been going on for a few months, yet it had already become corrupted.

Cheng Danruo felt she had figured out what Bai Mingyue was trying to do.

The sermon did not last long, no more than half an hour, perhaps only twenty minutes. After Bai Mingyue had finished one short section, the followers’ emotions gradually settled. Everyone returned to their respective posts and resumed their work.

Ah-Niu ordered Cheng Danruo to leave.

She obediently took a step forward, but, unlike her usual silence, she suddenly spoke up. “You’ve made the common folk hate the imperial court. What will become of them in the future?”

Ah-Niu replied gruffly, “What the hell do you know?”

“There is no farmland in the mountains. Where will the food you eat come from? Will you buy it, or will you steal it?” Cheng Danruo asked. “Even if you carve out a territory and establish your own regime, you’ll still need food to survive, won’t you?”

Ah-Niu only understood half of what she said. He roared at her furiously, “What the hell do you know? Now you suddenly care whether we have enough to eat? Why didn’t you say anything before? So many people starved to death, and only now you think to ask whether we have food? Bah!”

He was tall and imposing, with a particularly ferocious appearance. Cheng Danruo was naturally wary of him, so she silently retreated two steps rather than argue with him.

“Ah-Niu.” Bai Mingyue arrived just in time and called out to him. “Go help out at the front. I don’t need you here.”

Ah-Niu was still furious, but he didn’t argue. Like a domesticated village dog, he huffed a couple of times before stomping off in a temper.

Bai Mingyue smiled faintly. “Ah-Niu is rather straightforward. He’s not a bad person, really.”

Cheng Danruo could see that Bai Mingyue was playing the role of a savior. However, she pretended not to notice, allowing a hint of relief to show on her face as she replied somewhat reluctantly, “Perhaps.”

“You needn’t worry. We’ll have food soon enough,” Bai Mingyue assured her. “Everything we’re doing now is to reclaim what rightfully belongs to us.”

Cheng Danruo sighed. “Miss Bai, you won’t be able to defeat the government troops.”

“We’ll only know that once we’ve fought them.”

“We don’t need to fight to know the outcome.” Cheng Danruo spoke earnestly. “How many government troops are there? The capital alone has tens of thousands of soldiers, not to mention those stationed in the other provinces. You might win once or twice, but you can’t keep winning forever. There aren’t many troops in Shandong because the imperial court is busy fighting the pirates. Once it has its hands free, an army of thirty thousand could be sent here with ease.”

“Are you trying to persuade me to surrender?” Bai Mingyue asked.

Cheng Danruo feigned ignorance. “I’ve experienced war myself. I know how terrifying it can be. So many people will die. If we can avoid bloodshed, why must we fight to the bitter end?”

“You’re far too naive.” Bai Mingyue smiled, but her tone suddenly turned cold. “If we hadn’t rebelled, would the imperial court have given us the time of day? It was only after we rose up and won battles that the court finally realized we had no food to eat and understood how much suffering we had endured.”

She shot Cheng Danruo a sidelong glance, her eyes brimming with murderous intent. “If we don’t fight, even more people will die.”

Cheng Danruo opened her mouth, then closed it again, looking utterly at a loss for words.

The autumn wind swept through the air, scattering withered leaves.

The two fell silent for a while before Cheng Danruo finally spoke with difficulty. “But we can’t keep fighting forever. The common folk need to live their lives.”

Bai Mingyue was putting on an act too. Her eyes shifted slightly, as though ripples of light had flickered across their surface. Her brows drew together naturally, and in an instant, she seemed to shed the aura of the “Divine Mother”, appearing instead helpless and heartbroken.

“No one wants to fight forever,” Bai Mingyue said. “Do you know why I rebelled?”

Here comes the main act.

Cheng Danruo thought to herself, then replied with genuine sincerity, “Who would choose to rebel unless life had become unbearable?”

“You are a good person.” Bai Mingyue smiled faintly. “You sympathize with us, so I’m willing to tell you the truth.”

And what was the truth?

A superstitious tale dressed up in a convincing disguise.

“When I was young, I was frail and frequently ill. Fortunately, I encountered a wandering monk who told me that my fate was unusual, that I had little affinity with my family, and that I would not live long in the secular world. He therefore guided me into monastic life.”

Cheng Danruo: “…”

That opening sounded awfully familiar.

“I grew up in a Buddhist convent, observing a vegetarian diet, praying to Buddha and studying the scriptures. Later, I followed my master on his travels and went to Yanzhou to solicit alms. Little did I know that I would encounter the tribulation I was destined to face in this lifetime.”

Cheng Danruo furrowed her brows, a sense of foreboding rising within her.

Yet Bai Mingyue recounted her story calmly, as though she were speaking of someone else’s experiences, having long since transcended the concerns of the mortal world.

“He abducted me and forced himself upon me. At first, I wanted nothing more than to end my life. But one night, I had a vivid dream in which I was told that in my previous life, I had been one of the three thousand incarnations of the Divine Mother. Because my murderous nature was too strong, I had been unable to attain enlightenment. I would have to endure the suffering of reincarnation across three lifetimes before I could finally achieve Buddhahood. Prince Lu was the tribulation I had to overcome in this life.”

Cheng Danruo abruptly raised her head, her face filled with shock.

Bai Mingyue continued, “Without enduring the suffering of the mortal world, one cannot attain enlightenment and become a Buddha. I had no choice but to endure everything and regard it as spiritual cultivation. Who could have foreseen that calamities would strike Shandong one after another? First came devastating floods, then drought, leaving the people unable to make a living. The Divine Mother could not bear to see their suffering, so she appeared in my dreams and commanded me to deliver the common folk from their sea of misery.”

At this point, she let out a heartfelt sigh.

“If the Buddha could cut flesh from his own body to feed an eagle, why should I not be willing to incur the sin of killing for the sake of saving the world? Should there be karmic retribution, let it all fall upon me alone. Even if I must endure ten lifetimes of suffering through reincarnation, I would accept it willingly.”

Cheng Danruo’s thoughts raced.

The credibility of the opening of Bai Mingyue’s story was questionable. She was literate and educated, so it was possible she had genuinely been a nun at some point. But one thing was worth remembering: ordinary women could not simply become nuns without cause. The imperial court did not issue ordination certificates to just anyone.

Judging by the tricks she had performed, she was more likely a charlatan from the world of wandering performers, probably one of the three types of female swindlers. However, the story of Prince Lu violating her was likely true. Her tone had been far too calm. Unlike the earlier parts of her tale, which had been delivered with such rich emotion and dramatic flair that she had practically been on the verge of reciting poetry, this part had been strikingly matter-of-fact.

That alone was enough to make Cheng Danruo sympathize with her.

So she listened quietly, playing the part of an audience member who had been taken in by the story, offering only the occasional question at the appropriate moment.

“Really?”

Bai Mingyue remained composed. “Do you doubt the sincerity of my intentions?”

Cheng Danruo replied, “You keep saying that the Buddha enlightened you, but I haven’t seen anything particularly remarkable.”

As though she had anticipated this response, Bai Mingyue smiled faintly. “And what difficulty is there in that?”

She casually picked up a withered twig from the ground. Her slender, jade-green fingertips brushed over it, and a spark suddenly appeared, setting the twig alight. It was autumn, and the air was dry, so the flames quickly leapt higher, sweeping past Cheng Danruo’s face.

Bai Mingyue gave a soft, quiet laugh and swiftly closed her five fingers around the burning twig. In the next instant, the withered branch had become a wild chrysanthemum.

“You…” Cheng Danruo struggled to find the words, looking utterly incredulous. “You really can perform magic?”

“After being reincarnated as a mortal, all I have left are these little tricks,” Bai Mingyue sighed. “In my previous life, I would gladly have surrendered all my magical powers if it meant I could bring their dead loved ones back to life.”

Cheng Danruo fell silent.

After a moment, she asked, “What is it you want?”

All that pretense of supernatural powers and tales of suffering had been nothing more than an attempt to win her sympathy. Now that she had secured it, Bai Mingyue should finally be getting to the most important part.

“Alas, fate has a cruel way of playing with people. It was only after I raised my forces in rebellion that I discovered I was pregnant.” Bai Mingyue dropped this bombshell, fixing her eyes firmly on Cheng Danruo. “A woman grows strong when she becomes a mother. Now that things have come to this, I have no choice but to make plans for my child.”

Cheng Danruo paused, then said with certainty, “You want to negotiate a surrender.”

Bai Mingyue smiled too, finally revealing her true intentions. “If you can help me bring this about, wouldn’t that be a great achievement?”

The air between them tightened like an invisible string stretched to the breaking point.

Neither could afford to speak first. The two women scrutinized each other, trying to judge how much of what the other had said so far was an act, and how much was genuine.

After a long while, Cheng Danruo finally spoke.

“You’re right. If this succeeds, it will benefit both of us. I can help you. But…” She cut straight to the heart of the matter. “What about everyone else? What will they think?”

Without the slightest hesitation, Bai Mingyue replied, “Everyone wants to be pardoned and brought under the imperial court’s authority. But only one person can succeed.”