The next day, the sky suddenly turned overcast.

Qiao Zhao took the premium pure ink she had selected yesterday and rode in the West Residence’s azure-curtained carriage to Dafu Temple.

The young novice Xuanjing still led her to Shuying Nunnery.

These past days, Xuanjing had lost another tooth. Whenever he spoke, two black holes would show, looking both adorable and amusing.

For this, Xuanjing had been teased mercilessly by his senior brothers. When he saw Binglu, he was especially on guard, bowed to Qiao Zhao, and walked ahead silently to lead the way.

Binglu deliberately wouldn’t let him off, pulling out several crystal-clear winter melon candies with white frost from her purse, smiling cheerfully: “Little Master, would you like some winter melon candy?”

Xuanjing glanced at the winter melon candy and shook his head like a rattling drum.

No, no, absolutely not. Last time it was because he ate candy that his tooth fell out.

“Really, won’t eat any? This candy is delicious—sweet and soft. I especially bought it from a century-old pastry shop.”

A century-old shop? Wouldn’t that be older than the Abbot’s master? What would winter melon candy from a century-old pastry shop taste like?

The little novice’s gaze followed the winter melon candy in Binglu’s hand, secretly swallowing his saliva.

Binglu laughed watching this, wrapped the winter melon candy in a handkerchief and stuffed it into Xuanjing’s hands, pinching his little cheeks: “Eat it quickly. You haven’t eaten candy recently, but didn’t another tooth fall out anyway?”

The little novice clutched the winter melon candy tightly, his small face suddenly turning red.

The female benefactor was so annoying!

Watching the little novice walking ahead quickly with his short legs, Binglu giggled.

When they reached Shuying Nunnery, Binglu was left outside while Qiao Zhao followed the nun Jingxi inside.

“Third Miss came early today.” Jingxi showed a kind smile.

Miss Li had come several times, and each time after her visits, Master-aunt seemed more cheerful than usual.

“I saw the sky looked overcast and feared we might encounter rain on the road, so I came early.”

“It does look like it might rain.” Jingxi glanced at the sky, quickened her pace, and led Qiao Zhao inside.

“You’ve come.” Master Wumei put down her whisk and spoke lightly.

Qiao Zhao presented the pure ink: “Yesterday, when I went shopping, I bought an ink cake and brought it for you to use.”

She spoke naturally and openly, just like many considerate younger family members who would buy something pleasing to their elders when they encountered it outside to make the elders happy.

Master Wumei was quite pleased, took it to examine the quality, and revealed a faint smile: “Not bad. Let’s use this ink to copy scriptures today.”

“Very well.”

Qiao Zhao cleansed her hands, burned incense, skillfully laid out the paper, ground the ink, took up her brush, and began copying scriptures.

She sat straight and proper, her brush flowing like clouds and water as time slowly passed, but gradually she began to lose focus.

Although Shao Mingyuan said her elder brother was fine, Big Brother wasn’t a weak scholar—how could he have fainted?

Was it aftereffects from the burns, or because seeing her burial had caused him too much grief?

Whichever possibility it was made Qiao Zhao’s heart ache. In her distraction, a drop of ink fell onto the rice paper, instantly spreading and staining it.

She lifted her brush and came back to her senses, staring blankly at the spreading ink.

Master Wumei, behind her, suddenly spoke: “You have something on your mind today? If your heart isn’t calm, you shouldn’t copy scriptures.”

Qiao Zhao put down her brush, turned around, and said apologetically: “Master is right.”

Master Wumei studied Qiao Zhao for a moment and asked: “Have you encountered some trouble?”

Qiao Zhao felt warmth in her heart.

For Master Wumei to ask this, given her status, was already quite rare.

Master Wumei wore a gray monk’s robe today. Though it was extremely plain, it gave her a kind of accumulated radiance from the years. This radiance, set against the dull monk’s robe, inexplicably made one feel regret.

Qiao Zhao suddenly wondered what kind of emotional struggle Master Wumei had experienced before becoming a nun.

Somehow, Qiao Zhao felt the desire to confide.

“Master, if there’s someone you very much want to see and care about, but because of your identity, you have no reason to approach them, what should you do?”

Yesterday, if it hadn’t been for her elder brother fainting, she could almost certainly have met him at that teahouse. But something had gone wrong.

This was indeed planned by humans, but success was determined by heaven. Would her gradual approach to Cousin Kou’s sisters through the Fushan Society to find opportunities to meet her elder brother encounter more accidents?

She really wanted to see her elder brother so much that she almost wanted to run to the Minister’s residence and tell him that she was Qiao Zhao, his sister Qiao Zhao.

But of course she couldn’t. She was now Li Zhao. If she acted rashly, others would surely think her mad, and her well-read elder brother couldn’t possibly believe such a bizarre thing.

Unless—

Qiao Zhao suddenly thought of a possibility: unless through long contact with her elder brother, she could gradually let him discover how similar she was to his deceased sister, thus making him naturally think this way.

But the problem circled back—what reason did she have to frequently meet with her elder brother?

Miss Qiao felt confused for the first time.

Master Wumei spoke: “Either forget him, or… forget identity and reasons, and act according to your heart.”

According to one’s heart?

Master Wumei’s words were like a blow to the head, dispelling the confusion in Qiao Zhao’s heart.

Yes, what was she afraid of? What was she wavering about? Heaven had given her life again—it had given her opportunity, not shackles.

One failure, and there could be a second time, a third time.

As long as her elder brother was there, as long as she was there, someday she would achieve what she wished.

“Thank you, Master. I understand now.”

“Good, that you understand.” Master Wumei smiled faintly and turned her gaze toward the window.

Forgetting identity and reasons to act according to one’s heart could also lead to failure.

But she wouldn’t mention the latter part to this child. She had failed before—she hoped this child could succeed.

“Master-aunt, the Ninth Princess has arrived.” Jingxi came in to report.

“Zhenzhen?” Master Wumei glanced at Qiao Zhao and said lightly, “Let her come in.”

Shortly after, Princess Zhenzhen, who had been waiting outside Shuying Nunnery, was invited in.

“Master, Zhenzhen has missed you so much. May I read scriptures to you today?”

After Princess Zhenzhen entered and saw Qiao Zhao beside Master Wumei, she was secretly displeased but maintained a sweet smile on her face.

Ever since this girl had come to accompany Master in copying Buddhist scriptures, Master had seen her fewer times. It was truly vexing!

“Read then.” Master Wumei nodded and sat cross-legged.

Seeing that Master Wumei hadn’t refused, Princess Zhenzhen smiled and knelt on the cushion to read scriptures.

Her voice was sweet and her pronunciation clear—listening with closed eyes was undoubtedly an enjoyment.

Before she finished reading one volume of scriptures, Master Wumei’s breathing became even, her expression peaceful—she had entered meditation.

Princess Zhenzhen saw this, put down the scriptures, and carefully withdrew from the meditation room.

Qiao Zhao also withdrew.

Princess Zhenzhen stood waiting outside. When she saw Qiao Zhao emerge, she said: “Come with me.”

Under the bodhi tree, the two stood facing each other. Qiao Zhao asked calmly: “What does Your Highness want with this subject?”