The sound of chanting drifted softly; sandalwood filled the air with calm.
When Jiang Zhuo opened her eyes again, she was already inside a meditation room of a Buddhist temple.
Strange… where was she?
Could it be that she had done too many bad things as a ghost, and was now being escorted to transcendence?
Confused, Jiang Zhuo sat up and rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her mind, again and again.
Only—there seemed to be something in her tightly clenched palm. Curious, she opened her hand and discovered that the chilblains and calluses left from years of rough labor were gone. Instead, a crumpled fortune slip lay in her palm.
As if remembering something, Jiang Zhuo reached trembling fingers to her cheek. She did not find the horrifying rough scar that had marred her face in her past life.
Jiang Zhuo was speechless with shock.
“Miss! You’re finally awake!”
A young maid with double-bun hair rushed in at the sound of movement behind the curtain. She threw herself onto Jiang Zhuo, tears shimmering in grievance.
“If anything had happened to you, how would I ever face Master?”
The familiar address and the beloved face stirred Jiang Zhuo’s memories.
She remembered now—on the eve of the Qionghua Banquet, she and her personal maid Tonghua had come to Baima Temple to draw a fortune. They abandoned their carriage and climbed the mountain on foot, only to receive a mystifying slip of fortune. They then asked a little novice monk to interpret it.
The small monk only smiled and said that since the young lady did not yet understand its meaning, the time had not yet come.
Having achieved nothing, they descended the mountain. Impatient by nature, Jiang Zhuo had suffered heatstroke and rested for a while in a meditation room.
“Peach blossoms flare, burning bright; A willow’s tender heart meets the eastern wind. Unknowing, they cross as fated in two lives; Tears shed in the past become jade upon the lotus.”
Jiang Zhuo murmured as she read the slip. Compared to the confusion she had felt in her previous life, she now sensed clearly that this was a judgment on her fate.
“If you don’t know, just say you don’t know! Why all this roundabout nonsense?” Tonghua puffed angrily. “Miss, this priest is strange, and the slip is unreliable. Next time we’ll go to another temple!”
Hearing Tonghua’s complaints, the novice monk entered with his hands folded, smiling as he explained.
“The Buddha’s compassion is equal to all beings. If destiny has yet to reveal itself, it will be the same no matter which temple you visit.”
“You little monk! H-how dare you eavesdrop on people talking!”
Tonghua planted her hands on her waist, furious—but her eyes showed a hint of guilt.
Tonghua had grown up with Jiang Zhuo since childhood. Though quick-tempered, she was fiercely loyal. On the night the Jiang family was exiled in her previous life, Tonghua had thrown herself at the pursuing soldiers to buy Jiang Zhuo time to escape.
Meeting her again now, Jiang Zhuo only smiled and gently shielded Tonghua behind her, joking to the novice monk:
“If all beings are equal, then tell me—why are some clever and some dull, some beautiful and some plain, some prosperous and some downtrodden?”
“My master says that some among us are living as humans for the first time, and therefore act clumsily. Others have lived many lives and thus become worldly and astute.” The little monk paused, his childish face taking on an adult’s solemnity. “All appearances in this world are like dreams and illusions, bubbles and shadows—like dew, like lightning. Since they are mere illusions of the mortal realm, does it matter whether one sees through them sooner or later?”
His words struck precisely at Jiang Zhuo’s hidden thoughts.
She was momentarily stunned.
But the solemn little monk was soon flicked on the forehead by Tonghua.
“Oh, stop pretending to be a grown-up.” Tonghua scoffed. “If someone wasn’t human in their last life, then what were they supposed to be?”
Jiang Zhuo laughed as well.
“I don’t know about others, but Tonghua—if you ask me, you must have been a little wild cat in your previous life. You probably helped someone get rid of their rats and earned the chance to be reborn human.”
“Miss, now that you’re feeling better, you team up with an outsider to tease me, is that it?” Tonghua grabbed their luggage with puffed cheeks, then turned around and made a face. “If I was a wild cat, then Miss, you must have been a mountain tiger who happened to eat the local bully and got turned into a human!”
Amused, Jiang Zhuo chased after her.
But as soon as she turned, she crashed into a firm chest.
Jiang Zhuo stepped back in confusion and looked up—only to see a familiar face.
Fear from her previous life flooded her instantly.
Panicking, and moving almost entirely on instinct, she bent her knees and bowed like a servant.
“…?”
Xie Guanlan lifted a hand to support her, silent but clearly baffled.
“Does the young lady know my master?” the servant beside him asked.
Only then did Jiang Zhuo recover somewhat. In this lifetime, she was still the legitimate daughter of a second-rank official, not a concubine. And Xie Guanlan at this moment had no official title. She had absolutely no reason to bow to him.
“…It was I who bumped into the young master. I beg his pardon.”
She could only find a flimsy excuse for her improper behavior.
“It’s fine.”
Xie Guanlan surprisingly opened his mouth.
Just as Jiang Zhuo intended to leave this troublesome scene, Tonghua caught sight of what had happened.
“Who are you? How dare you let my lady bow to you!”
Tonghua, always ready to defend her mistress, immediately went into full battle mode.
“What nonsense are you spouting? Your lady apologized on her own! How is a maid even less polite than her mistress?”
“If you two hadn’t tried to intimidate her, why would my lady bow? Do you even know who she is?”
“I don’t care who she is! She still ran into my young master!”
…
Jiang Zhuo suddenly remembered—she really had met Xie Guanlan once at Baima Temple in her previous life. Back then, he had accidentally collided with her, and she had forced him to apologize.
Only this time, the ones arguing were Tonghua and Xie Guanlan’s servant.
The situation was strangely amusing.
“Xie Guanlan of the Xie clan from Chen Commandery.”
Lost in thought, Jiang Zhuo flinched—Xie Guanlan had actually taken the initiative to speak to her.
“Jiang Zhuo greets Young Master Xie.” She forced herself to reply.
“The daughter of Assistant Minister Jiang?”
Now it was Xie Guanlan’s turn to ask a question.
Truly, youth made a difference. He was still stiff and quiet, but at least he could squeeze out a few sentences. Who knew what he would go through later to become the cold and silent god of slaughter she remembered?
It was reasonable, though. Normally, young noblewomen wore veils when going out. They would never allow a man to see their face easily.
Someone like herself—bumping into him, bowing like a concubine—was hardly behaving like a proper lady.
“Yes,” Jiang Zhuo admitted stiffly. “My father has long admired the reputation of the Xie clan of Chen Commandery. Since you are newly arrived in the capital, if you lack anything, you may come to the Jiang residence.”
Before the imperial examinations, candidates often visited high officials to present their writings—formally known as submitting one’s work, but in truth merely seeking opportunities.
Unfortunately, Xie Guanlan was taking the martial exam, and he had never been the type to rely on connections. Had he been more flexible in officialdom later, he might not have been exiled to Sichuan.
Jiang Zhuo’s words were mere politeness. In this life, she had no intention of getting entangled with him.
“Thank you.”
Fortunately, Xie Guanlan was not one to pursue matters.