Miaozhen remembered very clearly.

That year on the nineteenth of the second month, it was Guanyin Bodhisattva’s birthday, and the convent had to celebrate it.

Her task was heavy—not only did she have to replace all the old couplets in the convent, she also had to write a pile of Buddhist scriptures.

That night, she wrote by lamplight until midnight. Unable to hold on any longer, she dozed off at the table. When she turned over, her hand accidentally touched the candle and got burned.

The burn was on her right middle and index fingers. She couldn’t exert force when writing at all. She wrapped a piece of gauze around them herself and gritted her teeth to push through, but soon the wound bled through the gauze.

The pain from fingers connects to the heart—it truly hurt.

No one noticed, except Jingchen.

The next day, Jingchen handed her a thick stack of copied Buddhist scriptures. Only then did she discover that Jingchen’s calligraphy was exceptional.

“Afterward, I specifically asked her why she would hide such excellent calligraphy.”

“What did she say?”

“She said it’s better for a person to be a bit foolish, a bit slow. Otherwise, they easily provoke jealousy.”

Xie Zhifei thought about the resentment the abbess still couldn’t let go of and suddenly asked, “In your convent, were there many who were jealous of her?”

“I don’t think so.”

Miaozhen fingered her prayer beads.

“Those who leave home devote their hearts to Buddha. What we renounce are precisely these worldly emotions and desires. Jealousy is resentment. If you can’t even renounce resentment, what kind of cultivation are you practicing?”

Someone who’s read books is indeed different—she even dares to question me, Magistrate Xie, in return. Quite bold.

“So in your view…”

Xie Zhifei’s half-closed eyes suddenly widened. “Jingchen was being excessively cautious?”

Miaozhen felt two cold beams shoot from the man’s dark eyes like deadly daggers, piercing straight into her heart.

“This…”

“Speak!”

Xie Zhifei looked at her, his brow pressing forward a few inches.

Li Buyan watched the cold sweat breaking out on Miaozhen’s forehead and finally understood that Third Master had been using courtesy before force with this person.

Different people, different interrogation methods.

Ha, cunning!

Pressed by Xie Zhifei’s gaze with nowhere to hide, Miaozhen remained silent for a long time before saying, “I think… she was probably afraid of trouble.”

Xie Zhifei shook slightly. “Why do you say that?”

“After I learned she had excellent calligraphy, I begged her to write a Buddhist scripture for me. I begged for several years before she finally wrote me this one.”

Miaozhen continued, “She specifically instructed me that if anyone discovered it, I should say I wrote it myself.”

There was also another possibility—Jingchen didn’t want others to trace her worldly identity through her calligraphy.

Thinking of this, Xie Zhifei picked up the calligraphy sample again and examined the handwriting carefully.

The Slender Gold style was created by an emperor of a certain dynasty. The brushwork was nimble and swift, the strokes lean and vigorous—slender yet not lacking substance.

According to his father, people who practiced this calligraphic style had extremely strong and distinctive personalities.

They say calligraphy reflects character, and writing reflects the person.

Both calligraphy and writing permeate a person’s bones and flesh—not something Jingchen could deliberately conceal with a nun’s robe.

“Miaozhen, why did you become a nun?” he suddenly asked.

“Master may not believe this, but when I did the zhuazhou ceremony at one year old, I grabbed a string of prayer beads. At six, my mother took me to a temple, and I pointed at the Buddha statues and said I’d seen them before.”

Speaking of the past, Miaozhen’s expression relaxed slightly.

“After returning, I fell ill and couldn’t recover no matter what. A monk said this child must be raised in a temple to survive. At ten, I came to Water Moon Convent. First, I practiced while keeping my hair, and indeed had no illness or disaster.

But whenever I had thoughts of returning to secular life, illness and disaster would come. Later I simply took vows.

When the old abbess accepted me, she said in my previous life I served at the Bodhisattva’s side, and this lifetime I came to the mortal world to cultivate.”

“You’re educated and write well, which shows your family circumstances before becoming a nun weren’t bad?”

“I wouldn’t say they were particularly good, but at least we never worried about livelihood. My family distributed porridge twice a year—accumulating good deeds and virtue.”

Having asked this much with nothing more to ask, Xie Zhifei waved his hand, indicating Miaozhen could leave.

After she’d gone far, Li Buyan asked curiously, “Third Master, why didn’t you tell this one to come find you at the Xie residence?”

Xie Zhifei wore an expression that said “are you stupid?” “Her family can afford to distribute porridge—why would she come find me?”

Li Buyan choked, unconvinced, and asked again, “Then what did Third Master learn from questioning this person?”

Xie Zhifei lazily held up two fingers. “First point.”

“What?”

“Jingchen’s family background before becoming a nun was also good, even better than Miaozhen’s family. Otherwise, she couldn’t have practiced such Slender Gold calligraphy, couldn’t have maintained such beautiful hands, and wouldn’t have noticed things like spring sun, summer wind, autumn rain, winter snow—things unrelated to livelihood.”

Xie Zhifei smiled. “Hero Li, am I right?”

Hero Li nodded to indicate Third Master had quite a few tricks up his sleeve.

“Second point—after coming to Water Moon Convent, she was cautious in everything, deliberately concealing her abilities to avoid attracting attention.”

Xie Zhifei rubbed his chin, his gaze somewhat distant.

“From this we can see that before becoming a nun, she experienced earth-shattering changes in life. Perhaps she fell from life’s highest peak to its lowest point. Mm, there’s one more thing…”

There’s more?

Hero Li’s eyes widened.

“Since people who practice Slender Gold calligraphy all have strong personalities, this Jingchen before becoming a nun probably wasn’t very conventional and obedient.”

Xie Zhifei rested his face on his hand. “Hero Li, what do you think?”

Hero Li returned him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I think you and our young lady were both reincarnated from foxes in your past lives.”

That’s right!

One male fox, one female fox—a natural pair.

Xie Zhifei slowly curved his lips into a smile. Before the smile could reach his brow, Zhu Qing entered the room.

“Master, everyone’s been questioned. Please review.”

Xie Zhifei took the papers and flipped through them one by one.

The further he read, the heavier his heart sank.

The answers were surprisingly consistent—their deepest memories were all of Jingchen explaining Buddhist teachings to them, without exception.

He collected these papers along with the Buddhist scriptures Jingchen had copied.

“Have a simple vegetarian meal at the convent, then question a few more people this afternoon.”

“Yes!”

Just as he finished speaking, someone outside called out desperately, “Master, Third Master, my Third Master…”

It was Shuncai, a servant from his courtyard.

Xie Zhifei and Zhu Qing exchanged a glance and slowly stood up.

Shuncai rushed in, panting. “Third Master, this is terrible! Young Master Pei concealed it from the Pei elders and came to the Xie residence to propose marriage. The eldest madam asks you to hurry back and advise him!”

Xie Zhifei plopped down onto the bench, panting heavily, unable to catch his breath.

On the side, Li Buyan burst out laughing.

“Oh my, Lord Pei’s eye for people… not bad!”

…

Imperial Medical Bureau.

Another Xie residence servant came rushing in desperately.

“Imperial Physician Pei, disaster, disaster!”

Pei Yu was preparing medicine. As an imperial physician, he’d heard such shouting too often—he didn’t even lift an eyelid.

When the servant ran up close, he looked completely calm. “Speak. Who in your household is critically ill this time?”

The servant wiped the sweat from his face. “Imperial Physician Pei, please go quickly! Young Master Pei, he, he…”

“He’s critically ill?” Pei Yu’s movements paused.

“Young Master Pei isn’t critically ill—he brought a matchmaker to the Xie residence to propose marriage.”

“Propose marriage?”

Pei Yu was somewhat confused. “To whom?”

“The Old Madam’s distant relative, Miss Yan from our residence.”

Crash—

Medicinal herbs scattered across the floor.

Pei Yu grabbed his robe and rushed out like a gust of wind.

That damned little beast—he was trying to anger his own father to death!