Chapter Fourteen: Aunt Zhao's Temptation

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In his previous life, Han Fu had never believed in divination or physiognomy.

Yet compared to the utterly fantastical experience of transmigration, these things were no longer so strange.

Thus, Han Fu chose to believe.

Suddenly, he was puzzled again.

Though Ping’er acknowledged Baili Mingda’s abilities, her expression seemed off.

Was there something else behind this?

Thinking of this, Han Fu couldn’t help but ask, “How impressive is he?”

“Not once has he ever been right—would you call that impressive?” Ping’er’s smile widened, impossible to contain, as she giggled, “Everyone in the Zhou household knows Young Master Baili does divinations, but not only are they always wrong, they’re consistently the opposite of what actually happens.”

Fearing Han Fu might not understand what an opposite divination meant, Ping’er gave examples.

“Director Zhou once asked him for a reading. Young Master Baili said he’d receive many rewards that month. In the end, not only did he receive none, his pay was actually docked for making mistakes.”

“Six years ago, he divined for the eldest son, confidently declaring the first child would be a daughter. The whole family was plunged into gloom, sighs everywhere, and the lady of the house even considered drinking an abortifacient. If not for the old madam’s intervention, Young Master Zhou Qing might never have been born.”

The lady, of course, was Zhou Xinyi’s wife.

The old madam was the one Han Fu was about to meet.

What a cursed prophet... Han Fu’s mouth twitched, anxiety creeping in.

After all, Baili Mingda had just predicted his own boundless future—but with this kind of jinx behind it... No, that was divination. What Baili Mingda read for him was physiognomy.

Feeling a little relieved, Han Fu was knocked back to despair by Ping’er’s next words.

She cocked her head, puzzled, and asked, “When did Young Master Baili start reading faces, anyway?”

Han Fu was at a loss.

He followed Ping’er, but inside, he was growing uneasy.

“Young Master, this is the Buddhist Garden—a place of quiet. I’ll leave you here; just follow Aunt Zhao to meet the lady.”

The courtyard where Zhou Xinyi resided bordered the Buddhist Garden. At the arched gate, Ping’er stopped, and Aunt Zhao, dressed in monastic robes, stepped forward.

She pressed her palms together, intoned a Buddhist greeting, and said, “Benefactor, please come with this humble nun.”

Aunt Zhao was in her forties, originally Zhou Wangshi’s maid. She’d married young, but after her husband died and she was left childless, she had no intention to remarry. She returned to serve Zhou Wangshi, chanting sutras and practicing Buddhism, and eventually shaved her head to become a nun.

Of course, Han Fu knew none of this—and he didn’t need to.

He returned the Buddhist greeting and said, “Thank you for your trouble, Master.”

Ping’er waited behind while Han Fu followed Aunt Zhao, stepping through the arched gate and entering the Buddhist Garden.

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Once inside the garden, Han Fu had no mind to take in his surroundings; one question consumed him.

Should he continue with his grand ambition of rebellion?

Though he hadn’t started yet—this was only the groundwork—giving up now would make his life much more comfortable.

The reason was simple: hearing of Baili Mingda’s terrifying reputation, he felt deeply apprehensive.

A master jinx had just looked at his face and pronounced a bright future. And by Ping’er’s account, this jinx had only recently started dabbling in physiognomy... The more Han Fu pondered, the more disturbing it became.

Was there anything more vexing than this?

He’d transmigrated into this world, inheriting a life of poverty and hardship, yet he hadn’t wavered.

He’d been insulted and had his engagement broken by the Qin family, still he hadn’t wavered.

He’d even swallowed his pride to become a live-in son-in-law, and remained resolute.

But now, after Baili Mingda’s curse...

What did it matter? He would take things as they came.

Han Fu shook his head, dismissing his tangled thoughts.

If he gave up because of this, he’d never have the heart for rebellion in the first place.

So what if it was a jinx? He’d just have to overcome it.

Baili Mingda was likely the first obstacle Heaven had set for him on his path to rebellion.

Like that arched gate behind him—he just had to step through. Overthinking would only distract him.

Rebellion was a matter of risking one’s head at the belt; how could it possibly go smoothly?

Whether he succeeded or not, he would at least try.

To stick to one’s heart and leave no regrets—that was the basic principle of a transmigrator.

With this, Han Fu’s thoughts cleared, and Aunt Zhao’s voice drifted to his ears.

“Benefactor, you seem troubled, but now you’ve come to terms with it?”

Han Fu gathered himself, smiled, and replied, “It’s not a major issue. Once the mind is clear, every thought falls into place.”

“What a fine saying—once the mind is clear, every thought falls into place.” Aunt Zhao’s expression brightened, as if enlightened, and she smiled gently. “If you’ve managed to untangle your worries just by entering the Buddhist Garden, you must have a connection with Buddha.”

Connected, perhaps, but it’s the garden itself that brought out my worries... Han Fu couldn’t be bothered to retort, so he simply smiled and agreed, “It must be so.”

“If in the future you ever wish to renounce the world, just come to me. I’m well-acquainted with the abbot of the Temple of Deliverance and can introduce you. With your extraordinary talent, the temple would surely welcome you to join their practice,” Aunt Zhao said with a smile.

Does joining the monastic order in this world also require credentials...? Watching Aunt Zhao’s smile, Han Fu felt like a little lamb being gently lured by a cunning wolf.

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“I’m about to marry—perhaps in this life I have no fate with Buddha,” Han Fu replied.

“That can be discussed later.”

At the entrance to the main hall, Aunt Zhao left him with those words before stepping forward to open the door.

Han Fu watched her figure, wanting to ask one thing:

What exactly does “later” refer to?

“Come in; the lady is waiting before the Buddha,” Aunt Zhao called after opening the door.

Han Fu stepped forward into the room, while Aunt Zhao withdrew and quietly closed the door behind him.

The room was spacious, and so felt rather empty.

Some twenty steps ahead sat a plainly dressed woman, chanting before a Buddha.

In front of her was a Buddhist altar, holding a wooden statue about a foot tall—not gilded, not ornate.

Aside from the altar, the statue, a small offering table, and a few meditation cushions, the vast room contained nothing else—simplicity to the extreme.

One could see at a glance that she was a true devotee.

Han Fu felt genuine respect for such a person.

He approached quietly, bowed, and said, “Madam, Han Fu is here.”

“Mm.” Zhou Wangshi did not keep him waiting. She uttered a soft sound, then asked, “What did Zhao Mei say to you?”

“Ah?”

The unfamiliar name took Han Fu aback, but he quickly realized Zhao Mei referred to Aunt Zhao.

But before he could answer, Zhou Wangshi continued, “Zhao Mei was once my maid. After she married and her husband died young, she returned to serve me. Not long after, she shaved her head and became a nun, practicing with me. Yet her six senses are not quiet—her mind still preoccupied with worldly matters, with men and women. She even secretly became involved with the abbot of the Temple of Deliverance. If not for our long acquaintance and my pity, she’d have nowhere to go—I couldn’t bear to turn her out… But never mind, what’s the use of telling you all this?”

With a sigh, Zhou Wangshi went on, “All you need to know is that no matter how Zhao Mei tries to entice you into monastic life, you needn’t pay her any mind. You are soon to marry Mingsu; live your life well.”

As if worried Han Fu might not understand, Zhou Wangshi added, “She profits from sending people to the Temple of Deliverance—especially talented scholars like you, where the rewards are greater. That temple is nothing but a nest of hypocrites cloaked in robes. Amitabha…”

At their very first meeting, Zhou Wangshi revealed so many secrets, truly out of concern for Han Fu.

But Han Fu was left dumbstruck, marveling at the wonders of this world.