To say she didn’t believe in these matters of gods and spirits at all would be false. Song Chuyi herself had inexplicably returned with resentment—how could she not believe in tales of ghosts and spirits? She opened her palm with some trepidation to glance at it, then immediately clenched her fist tight.

She wasn’t afraid of retribution—she was only afraid that, as Master Yuanhui said, it would also implicate those around her.

Looking back, prosperity was like a fleeting dream, and the remainder of her life was given over to turbulent waves. Sometimes when she woke in the middle of the night, Song Chuyi would be startled awake by nightmares. Memories of both her past and present life would all replay before her eyes, and she could never clearly distinguish reality from dreams. Life since her rebirth was always like walking a tightrope. Like those street performers, she had to be cautious and fully focused, unable to relax for even a moment. A string in her heart had to remain taut and could never break. Sometimes when she thought about it, it was indeed as Master Yuanhui said—defying heaven to change fate also required paying a price. Deep down, she had vaguely known this all along, which was why she could never sleep peacefully.

She stood quietly in the center of the great hall. The wind seemed to pour in from all directions. She pulled her hood closer. When her fingertips touched her face, she realized her blood seemed to have gone cold.

Song Yan came up to hold her hand. Seeing her dazed, he shook her and said softly: “Everything he said was nonsense. Sister, don’t pay attention to him.”

What karma and retribution? If there truly was karma and retribution, wouldn’t Master Yuanhui himself, a Buddhist monk, deserve to suffer retribution first?

Only then did Song Chuyi come back to her senses. She gathered Song Yan’s hand and turned back to look at Zhou Weizhao: “Why has Your Highness come?”

“To celebrate An’an’s birthday.” Zhou Weizhao smiled and raised the beautiful brocade box in his hand: “Last time An’an said she wanted a sugar figurine carved by Master Lang. I specially brought it for her.”

Nanny Xu came to the front hall to invite them all to the rear courtyard for longevity noodles, smiling as she said: “Today we also prepared a steamer of longevity peaches, specially made with flour mixed with peach blossom dew. I don’t know if we captured that flavor. We’ll wait until Madam returns, then steam them fresh to eat.”

Uncle Zhang had already led people to repair the door. Who knew where Master Yuanhui got such strength—to smash down such a large door just like that. It didn’t look proper from outside.

Taking advantage of everyone eating noodles, Song Chuyi frowned and called Zhou Weizhao, tentatively asking him: “Qing Zhuo and Han Feng didn’t come with you?”

The wind howled through the corridor. Although Song Chuyi’s face was hidden in her hood, it was still blown somewhat red. Zhou Weizhao glanced at her: “Master Yuanhui isn’t as simple as he appears… Fortunately, you didn’t try to kill him.”

It was precisely because of this point that Song Chuyi had left some room for maneuver, and all the more reason to keep Madam Huang and Elder Sister Huang in her grasp. Only this way would Master Yuanhui have some scruples when acting.

This monk who truly had deep accomplishments in both Buddhist studies and martial arts was someone with backing.

“He entered Shuntian Prefecture’s office but was released after just one night.” Song Chuyi turned her head to look at Zhou Weizhao, her eyes bright: “Does Your Highness know who worked behind the scenes?”

Zhou Weizhao also looked at Song Chuyi with smiling eyes: “I heard that before the abbot of Huangjue Temple, Master Yuankong, came down from the mountain, he first sent someone to deliver a calling card to Elder Du’s residence.”

So he said Master Yuanhui was an extremely difficult character to deal with. He had very deep connections with Prince Duan, while simultaneously maintaining mysteriously good relations with Prince Gong. Even after he had already pledged loyalty to Prince Dongping, Prince Gong’s people were still willing to help him.

Although compared to Master Yuanhui’s downfall, Prince Gong was more unwilling to see the two future pillars of the Eastern Palace—the Cui family and Song family—succeed, which was why he intervened. Still, they had managed to move Elder Du.

However, Song Chuyi vaguely felt something was wrong. That Elder Du would help Master Yuanhui might not necessarily be at Prince Gong’s suggestion.

Back when they wanted to remove the Fujian Governor-General who preceded Cui Shaoting, it seemed that Elder Du, who was only a lecturer at the Hanlin Academy at the time, had risked his life to submit memorials in opposition. He had even spent some time in prison for it…

She recalled events from her previous life and vaguely felt she was touching upon something, but couldn’t quite grasp the deeper connection. She couldn’t help but feel a headache coming on.

“Elder Du has operated in the capital for so many years. If he takes action to help Master Yuanhui, combined with Master Yuanhui’s existing influence, it’s not strange that he could find people.” Zhou Weizhao looked at her: “But you can also rest assured. Elder Du doesn’t want to offend the Song family and Cui family right now. He won’t do anything to your people, especially with Qing Zhuo and Han Feng there.”

Song Chuyi didn’t want to let the tiger return to the mountain. Master Yuanhui was different from the Chen family and Prince Duan—he himself was a capable person. If he was willing, none of the people in this room just now would have been his match. He could have easily torn her apart.

“I don’t know if I absolutely must kill Master Yuanhui, whether Elder Du would expose himself for Master Yuanhui’s sake.” Song Chuyi frowned as she looked toward Zhou Weizhao: “Your Highness, when I asked for your help before, I told you I wouldn’t let go of those who wanted to kill me. If I spare Master Yuanhui now, the next one to die will probably be me. I can’t put my own life and my family’s lives in such a dangerous position.”

“This is also what I wanted to advise you about. After deciding to do something, never look back with hesitation.” Zhou Weizhao looked at her: “When you have a blade in your hand, never listen to others’ persuasion to put down that blade. Because others might pick up the blade you discarded at any time and stab you with it.”

After pausing, Zhou Weizhao continued: “Master Yuanhui’s reputation is already thoroughly ruined now, and the Emperor’s impression of him has deteriorated to the extreme. At this time, you should strike while the iron is hot. Otherwise, you’re right—if he doesn’t die, the next one to die should be you.”

Song Chuyi had truly struck ruthlessly, directly hitting Master Yuanhui’s heart with one blow, forcibly carving out his flesh, making it likely that all his future ambitions would come to nothing.

Yes, Master Yuanhui’s greatest support actually came from Emperor Jianzhang’s favor. Previously, everyone gave him some face because they felt Emperor Jianzhang would listen to what he said. Now that Emperor Jianzhang detested him, those below would naturally read the prevailing winds.

Even if Elder Du could save Master Yuanhui once out of sentiment and other purposes, he couldn’t save him a second time. Prince Dongping and Lady Fan were wary of acting rashly. Now was also a delicate time in their relationship with the Crown Prince, so they similarly wouldn’t intervene.

“When I came down from the mountain, my master told me something.” Zhou Weizhao saw her expression become resolute again and smiled warmly at her: “Now I’ll tell you the same thing. Don’t expect, don’t assume, don’t force. Let things take their natural course. If it’s destined, it will certainly happen.”

What retribution or no retribution—after doing one’s best and leaving the rest to fate, then worry about it. Those are all distant matters. Living well in the present moment is what’s real.

Song Chuyi suddenly felt her heart settle back into place, her vision suddenly brightening.