That day.
The weather was very cold.
The monk's robe was not thick enough, worn for many years, covered in gri.
Dared not wash it,
If washed, it might fall apart.
Sotis, filth could also serve as a warming shell.
A nun with beautiful eyes, face veiled, hunched over as she worked.
She repeatedly pounded the dicine in her hands, hamr after hamr after hamr, pounding until the dicine turned to bits and powder, then poured it out and continued pounding.
The room was very dark.
Beautiful eyes were of no use here.
She chanically repeated the dicine pounding.
She had forgotten that she once had a beautiful embroidered bed, beautiful embroidered shoes, traveled by sedan chair, ate exquisite als daily, had parents, brothers and sisters. That life was too wonderful, like a dream.
Suddenly one day, she was sent to Shangqiu Convent.
She was terrified, angry, rebellious.
So her face was disfigured.
Then she was thrown here to work.
Day after day.
Day after day.
She gradually forgot her past, forgot who she was, forgot why she was alive. She only knew she was a dicine slave, the lowest of dicine slaves.
She chanically pounded the dicine, exhausted, almost crushing her hand. She felt so pain but didn't cry. Crying would lead to beatings.
She heard commotion outside but didn't move.
Continued pounding dicine.
She slled thick smoke but didn't move.
Continued pounding dicine.
She heard the door open, saw strangers, her mouth opened slightly but no sound ca out.
Continued pounding dicine.
Soone dragged her away. She saw many others being taken away too.
So in tattered clothes, so in luxurious garnts.
So whose sight made her tremble.
Shangqiu Convent had a strict hierarchy.
But now all were being equally taken away.
She saw the blue sky.
Saw the clouds.
Saw the Buddha.
He wore white robes, rode a white horse, like a true Buddha descending. He raised his sword and slew the evil demons blocking the way, while speaking of compassion.
He shouted to save people while killing others.
He must have understood at a glance who was human and who was a demon.
So Buddha really does appear.
The Jingzhou officialdom was shaken.
That murderer Jiang Er had torn open the sky.
It seed he alone cared when no one else did.
With so many people in Jingzhou, was there really no one who knew about Shangqiu Convent's shady business?
So many officials had studied hard all their lives to pass the exams, and still studied daily. The convent's deeds weren't secret, how could they not know?
They were all elites.
But everyone followed the rules.
No one would break the rules.
Breaking rules made it hard to get ahead.
Jiang Er, that rebel, disregarded the rules and would surely face dire consequences.
Shangqiu Convent was burned down, fierce flas rising up.
The whole of Jingzhou seed to sll the scorched odor.
It wasn't just the convent that burned, but a nest of deeply entrenched powerful families.
It was said that Master Jingren of Shangqiu Convent was the disciple of Eldest Princess Huiyun.
The wives of various powerful families had to queue and apply for appointnts just to see Master Jingren.
Unexpectedly, Jiang Er that killer had her taken to jail under the pretext of ensuring her safety.
That day, the jail cells achieved perfect yin-yang balance.
Never before had so many won been imprisoned.
Jiang Er had accomplished it.
Jiang Er was simply a crazy, neurotic madman.
As people pieced together the events, they realized it all started with Shangqiu Convent.
The rumors that had spread in the city these past days: Commander Jiang's young daughter had an unusual fate, it would be best for her to beco a nun, otherwise she would bring harm to family and friends.
Usually when such rumors arose, the likely outco was that the young girl would be sent to Shangqiu Convent.
Better safe than sorry.
But Jiang Er chose to destroy the entire Shangqiu Convent.
A thousand-year-old temple, ruined in an instant.
Thinking about it still sent chills down one's spine.
This Jiang Er was truly a complete lunatic, was it really necessary?
anwhile, in the mourning hall, Madam Yu who was keeping vigil, upon hearing this news and looking at her dead husband lying in the coffin,
Broke out in a cold sweat down her back.
When Mrs. Jiang brought her children to offer incense during the day, she couldn't help but harbor so resentnt, though she suppressed it.
Although she hated her husband's cruelty and heartlessness, he was at least still alive.
With him dead, how would she and her daughters get by? She was actually quite panicked.
But upon hearing the news that Shangqiu Convent had been demolished,
She suddenly felt that the Commander had actually been very rciful to them.
The fact that she and her children could sit here keeping vigil, that she could still claim benefits as the widow of a judicial official, was already a case of him showing leniency and sparing them.
That was because Jiang Er hadn't moved against them.
When Jiang Er did take action, Shangqiu Convent was left without a blade of grass.
It was said that when the Buddha statues burned, they burned especially well, with crackling flas.
Because it was so shocking, more people ca to pay respects, unable to resist asking Madam Yu for news and sharing gossip.
The youngest daughter, Mi'er, had fallen asleep.
Xiu'er and Mian'er also looked bewildered.
When they had walked with Mrs. Jiang, they had also noticed Jiang Mianmian.
Their circumstances were actually quite similar.
But they were treated like servants.
Jiang Mianmian, however, was at ease, like a princess. Though her father was also a pardoned rebel from the countryside, she wasn't awkward at all, but confident and natural. When receiving gifts from others, she wasn't shy, showed happiness without appearing fawning, accepted them as if it were only natural.
At this mont, they realized that Jiang Mianmian truly deserved her status.
Because Jiang Mianmian's father would raze Shangqiu Convent for her sake.
When rumors arose, Jiang Mianmian's mother ca out to refute them, while her father directly eliminated the source of the rumors.
You speak one idle word about , I'll exterminate your entire clan.
While their father would beat them bloody over a casual remark from his wife.
It was good that he was dead.
He deserved to die.
At this mont, the Jiang Er everyone was talking about returned ho.
He took a bath.
Jiang Changtian liked cleanliness. Things could be old, but not dirty.
Being old was an external state, being dirty was a ntal state.
After bathing, he changed into clean clothes.
He had also washed his hair.
Sister Xia helped him dry it for a long while, and when it was almost dry, she tied it up.
He wanted to cook tonight.
Back in Kan'er Village, he often cooked.
Although it had been a while, he wasn't out of practice.
Jiang Mianmian watched her father wearing white clothes and a white hat, chopping vegetables, while her mother kneaded dough. They were having noodles again tonight.
Jiang Mianmian's little head popped up between the two from ti to ti.
She had grown taller; her head could now reach above the stove.
"Dad, I like fried lard bits, fry so lard bits and add sugar," Jiang Mianmian requested.
"Alright, go wait outside, I'm worried you'll get burned."
In the kitchen, her mother also wore a white apron as she kneaded dough.
"Wearing white really does get dirty easily. Your daughter insists on wearing white in the kitchen, saying it looks clean to others. Where did she get all these notions from? She must take after you."
"It's good that she takes after . Girls should be clean and tidy."
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