Yan Sanhe hadn’t experienced much, but she was clever. After turning it over in her mind a few times, she immediately understood the reason.

Couples who could afford to raise a child always had some family property.

Men with property, even if the legitimate wife couldn’t bear children, could always take another concubine to produce a son or daughter.

If it was a boy, that was fine—raise him, and when he married and had sons, he could continue the family line.

But bringing back a girl wouldn’t continue the line, and when she came of age, they’d have to provide a dowry too.

No one would make such a losing deal.

Yan Sanhe asked, “Then what about Mingyue and the others? How did they get adopted?”

“Some men don’t have the ability—they could take seventeen or eighteen concubines and still produce no fruit.”

Huiru worked her prayer beads slowly. “Families like that would choose an outstanding boy from their clan to adopt as heir.

With someone to continue the family line, and money they couldn’t spend, if they felt lonely, they might adopt one or two girls to keep them company.

Most of the girls taken from our Water Moon Nunnery were in such situations.”

Huiru added, “These things require not only timing and location but also a meeting of eyes.”

Yan Sanhe asked, “What kind of couple took the girl called Mingyue? How is she now? Does she know about Jingchen’s death?”

“The couple who took Mingyue are surnamed Tang, country gentry from Hejian Prefecture. Old Master Tang was a successful imperial examination candidate from years ago, three generations of only sons. By his generation, there were hardly any clan members left.”

Huiru continued, “Madam Tang is also an only daughter, and Old Master Tang’s cousin. Old Master Tang took no concubines, and the two have a very good relationship. That year they came to the capital for leisure, visited our Water Moon Nunnery, and immediately took a liking to Mingyue.”

Yan Sanhe asked, “How is Mingyue doing there?”

“In all my years, old nun that I am, I’ve never seen anyone with better fortune than Mingyue.”

Huiru genuinely smiled for the first time.

“Old Master Tang and Madam Tang didn’t adopt a boy from the clan. They raised her like a pearl in their palm. Last year they even recruited a live-in son-in-law for her.”

Recruiting a live-in son-in-law meant they couldn’t bear to see their daughter suffer in her in-laws’ home.

Truly fortunate.

“Did Jingchen know?”

“She knew. Old Master Tang specifically sent someone with a letter. Jingchen didn’t say anything, but I could tell she was happy in her heart.”

Huiru sighed. “Before Jingchen died, she instructed me not to send word to Mingyue, so to this day Mingyue doesn’t know she passed away.”

“Why not announce her death?” Yan Sanhe asked.

Huiru replied, “Enter the nunnery gate, and past life matters don’t concern us. Leave the nunnery gate, and Buddhist matters aren’t asked about. Jingchen said letting that child live well is better than kowtowing at her grave or burning however much paper money.”

“Mingyue is doing so well…”

Yan Sanhe pondered for a moment. “That means Jingchen’s inner demon isn’t her.”

“It certainly can’t be her.”

Huiru said with feeling, “That child was obedient from childhood, and her fortune was good. Raised until eight years old, she never caused Jingchen half a moment’s worry.”

Yan Sanhe asked, “And the third matter?”

Huiru dimmed the light in her eyes and recalled carefully.

Half a cup of tea passed, then a full cup. Just as Yan Sanhe was pouring herself a second cup, Huiru, frowning, said with difficulty:

“Miss Yan, I actually can’t think of anything particularly special.”

“You shared a roof with her for eighteen years, seeing each other constantly.”

Huiru said helplessly, “She was just proper and honest, a person who didn’t talk much or cause trouble. Every day she chanted scriptures, slept, slept, chanted scriptures—nothing special.”

“Then why did she paint her eyebrows and apply rouge before dying?”

Since nothing else came up, Yan Sanhe had to return to the old matter. “And why did you take off her clothes and wipe away the rouge?”

Huiru’s face paled as she fell into a long silence.

Yan Sanhe wasn’t anxious at all and slowly drank her tea.

Water Moon Nunnery was just this big, with just these people. Every day they ate together, chanted scriptures, did devotions—eighteen full years of constant companionship, yet there were hardly any notable events?

This didn’t make sense!

Just based on Huiru’s actions after Jingchen’s death… there must have been something between them.

“Jingchen spent eighteen years at Water Moon Nunnery—it was her home, and you were her family.”

Yan Sanhe said coldly, “If her coffin won’t close, as time passes, it’s Water Moon Nunnery that will suffer misfortune, along with everyone in it.”

The old nun Huiru’s heart lurched as she hurried to speak.

“Miss Yan, those who leave home have rules for burial. We treat the dead as we treat the living. She took refuge in Buddhism while alive—how could she paint her eyebrows and dress up after death? This doesn’t follow the rules.”

Yan Sanhe scanned her expression.

“Who made this rule?”

“No one made it. It’s a common understanding.”

“You’re lying!”

Yan Sanhe’s gaze suddenly sharpened. “Buddhism doesn’t ask about cause and effect, only about cultivation. What’s the purpose of cultivation?”

Huiru was stumped by her question.

“To cultivate for the next life to be a nun eating vegetarian food and chanting scriptures all day? That makes no sense, does it?”

Yan Sanhe finally couldn’t help but raise her voice. “Even if you cultivate to be a nun again in the next life, you’d still have to enter the mundane world first before entering the Buddhist realm, right?”

Huiru’s face looked terrible—like the ash in an incense burner, tinged with white, gray, and a bit of green.

“Moreover, Buddhism preaches freedom to come and go. Those who leave home can return to secular life; those who return to secular life can enter emptiness again.”

Yan Sanhe looked at her and sneered. “How is it that when it comes to Jingchen, she doesn’t even have the freedom to choose what to wear after death?”

Huiru’s face suddenly flushed red, veins bulging on the backs of her hands. She opened her mouth, called out “Miss Yan,” but still said nothing.

Yan Sanhe looked at her, filled with doubt.

Xie Daozhi and Ji Lingchuan, who navigated official circles with such ease, immediately spoke up when they heard about potential misfortune.

Yet this woman who had left home, who should have a compassionate heart to save all beings, wouldn’t speak even at this point?

Did she have some unspeakable difficulty?

“Huiru, since you don’t want to answer, I’ll change the question.”

Yan Sanhe’s voice suddenly became gentle. “Why did you leave home to become a nun?”

Huiru hadn’t expected Yan Sanhe to suddenly ask about her own affairs. Unable to hide it in time, her expression became very guarded.

Yan Sanhe saw it clearly.

“You entered the Buddhist realm three years before her, so you left home at twenty-four. At twenty-four, you would have already been married, and if lucky, could have been a mother.”

“Miss Yan.”

Huiru suddenly shouted in anger, “Don’t make wild guesses.”

“You said you were a woman of bitter fate, which shows everything you possessed turned to ashes.”

Yet Yan Sanhe had to continue guessing. “Your family, your man, your children—all gone. How did they disappear?”

Huiru’s body trembled violently, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears.

“You say a nunnery gate separates the mundane world and the Buddhist realm, yet you still become agitated, angry, and tearful when I bring up your affairs in the mundane world…”

Yan Sanhe’s tone suddenly changed.

“You’ve cultivated for twenty-one years—what have you been cultivating?”