Chapter Fourteen: Aunt Zhao’s Temptation

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In his previous life, Han Fu never believed in divination or face reading.

But compared to the fantastical experience of transmigration, it was hardly surprising.

So Han Fu chose to believe.

Suddenly, suspicion crept into his mind.

Although Ping’er seemed to acknowledge Baili Mingda’s abilities, her expression was somewhat off.

Was there more to this than met the eye?

With this thought, Han Fu couldn’t help but ask, “How skilled is he, really?”

“Not once has he ever been right—wouldn’t you say that’s impressive?” Ping’er’s smile grew, impossible to suppress, and she giggled, “Everyone in the Zhou household knows Young Master Baili can divine fortunes, but not only is he never accurate, his readings are always completely opposite of the truth.”

Afraid Han Fu wouldn’t understand what a contrary reading meant, Ping’er offered examples.

“When Steward Zhou asked for a reading, Young Master Baili said he’d earn a hefty reward that month. In the end, not only did he not get any bonus, but he was penalized half a month’s wages for making mistakes.”

“Six years ago, he read for the eldest young master and confidently declared that the first child would be a daughter. The whole household was plunged into gloom, sighs everywhere, and the madam even considered taking medicine to end the pregnancy. If the old matron hadn’t intervened, little Master Zhou Qing might never have been born.”

The madam, of course, was the wife of Zhou Xinyi’s eldest son.

The old matron was the very person Han Fu was about to meet.

What a curse… Han Fu’s lips twitched fiercely, and he began to worry for himself.

Baili Mingda’s enthusiasm must be due to sensing his limitless future, but under this kind of curse… No, that was fortune-telling, and Baili Mingda was supposed to be reading his face.

His mood lifted slightly, only to be dashed again by Ping’er’s next words.

Ping’er tilted her head, looked at him in confusion, and asked, “When did Young Master Baili start studying face reading?”

Han Fu was completely bewildered.

“Will I have a terrible end?” he wondered.

He followed Ping’er, but his heart was in turmoil.

“Young master, this is as far as I go. The Buddha Garden is a place of tranquility. Please follow Aunt Zhao to see the madam.” Ping’er stopped at the arched doorway where Aunt Zhao, dressed in monastic robes, stepped out.

She pressed her palms together in greeting and intoned a Buddhist chant, “Benefactor, please follow this humble nun.”

Aunt Zhao was in her forties, once a maidservant of the Zhou family matron. She’d married young, but her husband died early, leaving her childless and with no wish to remarry. She returned to serve the Zhou matron, reciting scriptures, and eventually shaved her head and became a nun.

Of course, Han Fu knew nothing of this and didn’t need to.

He returned her Buddhist greeting and said, “Thank you, venerable master.”

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Ping’er waited at the gate while Han Fu followed Aunt Zhao through the arch and into the Buddha Garden.

Inside, Han Fu had no mind to take in the scenery. Only one question filled his thoughts.

He was deeply unsettled after learning of Baili Mingda’s fearsome reputation.

A seasoned jinx, able to doom one’s fate with a single face reading, showering him with flattering attention. But according to Ping’er, this jinx had only just begun dabbling in face reading.

The more he thought, the more unnerving it became.

Could anything be worse?

He had transmigrated to this world, arrived penniless, and endured hardship without wavering.

The Qin family broke their promise and humiliated him, yet he stood firm.

He had swallowed his pride and agreed to become a live-in son-in-law, still determined.

But faced with Baili Mingda’s curse...

Whatever. He’d take things as they came.

Han Fu shook his head, banishing his chaotic thoughts.

It was just a curse. He’d overcome it with determination.

Just like the archway he’d stepped through—once crossed, there was no need to overthink. Worrying did nothing but disturb the mind.

Suddenly, Han Fu’s mind cleared, and he heard Aunt Zhao’s voice at his side.

“Benefactor, you were troubled, but now you seem at peace?”

Han Fu composed himself and smiled. “It was nothing major. Once you see through a single thought, every thought becomes clear.”

“What a marvelous saying—see through one thought, and all thoughts are clear.” Aunt Zhao’s expression grew thoughtful, as if enlightened, and she smiled gently. “If you can resolve your troubles upon entering the Buddha Garden, you must have a connection with the Buddha.”

A connection with the divine...

That trouble had arisen right outside the garden gates.

Han Fu couldn’t be bothered to retort and merely smiled in agreement. “It must be so.”

“If you ever wish to enter monastic life, you can come to me. I am acquainted with the abbot of Du’e Monastery and can introduce you. With your talent, the monastery would surely welcome you as a fellow practitioner,” Aunt Zhao said with a smile.

Does one need academic credentials to become a monk in this world?

Looking at Aunt Zhao’s smile, Han Fu felt like a big bad wolf was gradually luring a little lamb.

“I’m about to get married—I fear this life leaves me little chance to follow the Buddha,” Han Fu replied.

“We’ll speak of it in the future.”

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At the entrance to the main chamber, Aunt Zhao left him with those words and went ahead to open the door.

Watching her, Han Fu wanted to ask one thing clearly.

What exactly did she mean by “in the future”?

“Come in. The madam is waiting for you before the Buddha,” Aunt Zhao called as she opened the door.

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

The room was spacious, and thus felt empty.

About twenty paces ahead, a plainly dressed woman was reciting sutras before a Buddhist altar.

Before her stood a shrine, housing a Buddha statue about a foot tall.

Looking closer, it was made of wood, unpainted and unadorned—far from luxurious.

Apart from the shrine, the wooden statue, the offering table, and a few prayer mats, the large room held nothing else. It was simplicity itself.

Clearly, this was someone who truly devoted herself to worship.

Han Fu felt a sincere respect for such a person.

He stepped forward lightly and bowed, saying, “Madam, Han Fu is here.”

“Mm.” Lady Zhou did not keep him waiting, and after a soft response, she asked slowly, “What did Zhao Mei say to you?”

“Ah?”

The unfamiliar name startled Han Fu, but then he realized that Zhao Mei was Aunt Zhao.

Before he could reply, Lady Zhou continued, “Zhao Mei was once my maid. After her husband died young, she returned to serve me. Not long after, she shaved her head and became a nun, practicing alongside me. But her mind is not yet calm—she still thinks about worldly matters, weddings and funerals, affairs of men and women. She even secretly associates with the abbot of Du’e Monastery. If not for my old affection and pity for her rootlessness, I would have driven her away long ago… But enough of this, it’s not your concern.”

She sighed to herself and went on, “Just know this: whatever Zhao Mei says to entice you to become a monk, pay her no mind. You are about to marry Mingsu; from now on, live your life well.”

Fearing Han Fu might not understand, Lady Zhou added, “She gets rewarded for sending people to Du’e Monastery—especially talented scholars like you, the return is even greater. That place is nothing but a den of hypocrites in robes. Amitabha…”

At this first meeting, Lady Zhou had confided so many secrets, truly thinking of Han Fu’s best interests.

Han Fu, however, was stunned, marveling at the fascinating complexity of this world.

There was so much information, it was impossible not to be surprised.