The day had arrived for the Sheng family to offer incense and fulfill their vows. Early in the morning, the inner household was already bustling with activity. Three plain-headed carriages lacquered with tung oil were prepared at the second gate: one for Old Madam, Madam Wang, and Hai Shi; one for the three Lan sisters; and another for the maids and elderly servants. Madam Wang additionally assigned eight or nine sturdy matrons and a dozen guards for the journey.
Having risen early, Molan and Rulan were too weary to bicker and, like Minglan, dozed off against the soft cushions, swaying with the carriage's motion. Rulan, who detested Molan, leaned heavily against Minglan in her drowsiness, pressing so uncomfortably that Minglan eventually woke from her hazy slumber. Faint chants and temple bells from outside hinted at their nearing destination.
Drawing on her past skill of rousing dorm mates for morning classes, Minglan deftly pinched the noses of the other two Lan sisters. They soon awoke, suffocating, and glared at her in unison. Minglan smiled cheerfully and said, "Elder sisters, we're almost at Guangji Temple."
Hearing this, Molan hurriedly straightened her appearance, while Rulan, a step slower, reached up to adjust a gleaming gold hairpin shaped like twin drooping lotuses. Inside the carriage, the three Lan sisters could hear the growing clamor outside, mostly women's voices interspersed with children's chatter, suggesting many families had come to offer incense. A faint scent of sandalwood drifted into the carriage.
The lively sounds outside made the three girls restless, their curiosity itching like a plump cat scratching at their hearts. They exchanged glances but none dared to lift the curtain first. Minglan sighed inwardly: the parable of the three monks truly is a classic.
As the atmosphere in the carriage grew subdued, it suddenly jolted violently. The three girls, caught off-balance, lurched forward and nearly tumbled. Shouts and curses erupted outside. Minglan's heart raced—could carriages in ancient times also rear-end each other?!
Rulan, the most agile, was the first to scramble up, rubbing her forehead. Even with the thick carpet padding, she had bumped her head painfully and immediately yelled, "What happened?!"—though no one answered her.
Molan, after rising, shrewdly moved to the side and lifted a corner of the curtain to peek. Rulan, forgoing any taunts, leaned over to look as well. Minglan, the last to get up, joined them in peering out. Fortunately, the Sheng family's carriage had been pulled behind a large tree by the roadside, somewhat shielded, so the three Lan sisters went unnoticed as they secretly lifted the curtain.
The sight startled them: Old Madam's carriage was stopped ahead, and chaos reigned outside, with cries and shouts mingling in uproar, blocking the path. Not far off, several young men in lavish silks and jewels sat astride tall horses, laughing and cursing. Minglan gathered from the noise that they had just galloped through, overturning vendor stalls at the crossroads and, in their haste, trampling several pedestrians. The scene was one of weeping women and children, chaos and collapse, obstructing the way entirely.
Molan muttered softly, "Fops!"
Rulan growled under her breath, "Scum!"
Milan thought to herself: Public security officers?!
Then one of them, clad in bright red brocade, brandished his horsewhip and roared, "You blind dogs! How dare you block my path? I'd crush you like ants!"Below, a man supported his elderly mother, who had been struck and was now covered in blood and barely breathing, and angrily shouted, "You... you people, is there no law anymore? How can you commit such wicked acts and treat human life as worthless!"
The man in red lashed out with his whip, leaving a bloody gash across the man's face. The man lowered his head and clung tightly to his mother. The red-clad man, his fleshy face trembling, bared his back teeth and spat: "The law? I am the law! Now get out of the way!" The man seemed provoked into stubborn defiance and lunged forward, wrapping his arms around the red-clad man's thigh and refusing to let go. The red-clad man whipped him again and again, but the man still held on desperately.
Several other noble youths on horseback nearby laughed and teased: "Rong Xian! Your whip seems lacking in strength!"
"Could it be that Little Cuixian drained you dry last night? Hahaha..."
"Brother, you should take it easy with the whipping—don't strain your back. If anything happens to you, the business at Tianxiange would suffer by half!"... The group of richly dressed, spirited young masters laughed and joked without restraint.
Rong Xian grew even angrier and whipped with greater force, lashing the man until his skin split and flesh tore. Amid the jeering, a cold male voice suddenly cut through: "If you want to whip someone, go home and find a servant to vent on. Whip them to death for all I care—no one will bother you. Why make a spectacle of yourself here? Today, the son of Grand Secretary Yang is hosting a poetry gathering in the plum grove on the back hill. Soon, people will be coming up the mountain!"
Minglan had already withdrawn her head and stopped watching, but she suddenly felt the voice was familiar. She stole another glance and saw among them a man in a sapphire-blue round-collared robe. Even on horseback, he appeared broad-shouldered and tall—who else could it be but Gu Tingye?
By then, more carriages had gathered at the intersection, all lavishly decorated with robust attendants. Several families had already sent servants to inquire. Seeing the situation turning unfavorable, the group of richly dressed young men scattered a handful of silver coins, spurred their horses, and galloped away, leaving behind a crowd of weeping commoners who, despite being injured and trampled, scrambled to pick up the money.
Minglan shook her head and retreated into the carriage. It seemed the rumors were true—Yanran had had a narrow escape.
Most of the women in the carriages came from noble families. Seeing the scene of distress, they quickly opened their purses to offer aid, distributing silver to the injured. The crowd outside gradually dispersed, and the remaining carriages continued their journey up the mountain.
Guangji Temple, located on the left peak of Yumei Mountain in the western part of the city, was one of the three famous temples in the capital. It gained renown when the founding emperor of the dynasty personally inscribed the words "Deliver All Living Beings." The temple was not particularly grand or ornate, consisting of only three main halls dedicated to the Buddha, Guanyin, and Maitreya, among others, with a bell tower on each side. Its incense offerings were not as abundant as those of the other two major temples, which was why Old Mrs. Sheng had chosen this place to offer incense, seeking tranquility.
Minglan was well-practiced in burning incense and worshipping Buddha. The group followed the guest-monk into the main hall, where the abbot, Miaoshan, personally came to greet them. After exchanging pleasantries, Old Mrs. Sheng donated a large sum of incense money, followed by Madam Wang and Hai Shi, who also made contributions. Then, the women began their worship from the main hall, moving left to right, lighting incense and kowtowing before each statue, silently praying and burning stacks of paper offerings.Since most of those praying to gods and Buddhas were women and children, the temple was bustling with either elderly monks missing half their teeth or young novices who had just grown their permanent teeth. At a glance, there wasn't a single young or middle-aged monk in sight. Minglan sighed inwardly: Look at this professional quality!
When they reached the Willow Branch Guanyin in the last hall of the third main temple, Minglan thought of Yao Dad, Yao Mom, and Yao Brother, so she sincerely kowtowed a few extra times, earnestly wishing them all the best. As she raised her head, she happened to see Madam Wang pulling Hai Shi toward the Child-Granting Guanyin in a corner at the back. Hai Shi’s face was flushed, and she bowed shyly again and again, while Old Mrs. Sheng stood to the side, silently gazing up at the Guanyin statue. Minglan turned around and saw Molan staring intently at a divination stick holder on the incense table, her eyes seeming eager to try. Noticing Minglan looking at her, she covered her sleeve and chuckled lightly, "Would you like to give it a try, sister?"
Before Minglan could respond, Rulan grabbed the divination stick holder, knelt down, and began shaking it while murmuring incantations. Molan bit her lip, but since they were in public, she couldn’t make a scene. She watched as Rulan shook out a stick, but before anyone could see what it was, Rulan snatched it up and said to them, "Do you want to draw lots? Let’s go interpret them together after we’re all done."
Having been beaten to the draw by Rulan, Molan wasted no time. She immediately took the holder, knelt, kowtowed three times, and then carefully shook it until a stick fell out. Like Rulan, she grabbed it before anyone could see it clearly. Then she turned to Minglan.
Minglan shook her head and said, "I don’t need to. You two can go interpret your lots." Rulan insisted, tugging Minglan down onto the prayer mat, saying, "No, no, we both did it—you can’t skip out." Molan added lightly, "You should give it a try, sister. If Grandmother finds out, she might blame me for not looking after you properly."
Minglan smiled wryly and knelt before the Bodhisattva. As she shook the divination stick holder, she suddenly recalled the words Old Mrs. Sheng had spoken to her after He Hongwen’s departure, and her face flushed slightly. Truthfully, she had thought about her future, but in this isolated world, how many people could she truly know? Wasn’t it better to trust those who were worthy of trust?
After a lifetime of hardships, Old Mrs. Sheng believed that fame and fortune were fleeting illusions. As long as life was manageable, what mattered most was a person’s kindness and sincerity. Initially, she had considered Cousin Taisheng. Although the Hu family were merchants, both Hu Uncle and his son were exceedingly honest and kind. Moreover, Aunt Sheng Yun owed Old Mrs. Sheng a favor, so if Minglan married into their family, she would surely lead a smooth, joyful, and peaceful life.
Unexpectedly, two unforeseen contenders emerged. First, they encountered the He family grandmother and grandson. Old Mrs. He took a liking to Minglan and hinted at a marriage proposal. Then, they met Madam Li, who also expressed interest in marrying Minglan into her family. After settling into the Sheng ancestral home, Old Mrs. Sheng carefully observed and noticed that Da Lao Taitai and Li Shi subtly indicated their hope for Pinlan and Taisheng to marry. Unwilling to cause trouble among relatives, Old Mrs. Sheng gradually cooled her interest in Taisheng.
Thus, Minglan’s potential marriage candidates were narrowed down to two: He Hongwen and Li Yu.Although the Li family was wealthier, they were ultimately of merchant origins and lacked established connections among noble families (Minglan thought: If they had both wealth and aristocratic foundations, why would they need to marry her?). He Hongwen, with his refined character and handsome, gentle appearance, was quite favored by Old Mrs. Sheng. However, she worried that having lost his father at a young age with no reliable support, coupled with his ailing widowed mother, would make life difficult for his future wife.
When Old Mrs. He came to examine Hualan’s pulse that day, she confided in Old Mrs. Sheng. First, she and her husband doted most on their youngest grandson. After his father’s passing, concerned for the child’s future, they had divided the family assets early, setting aside the third branch’s share of property and silver, which Old Mrs. He currently managed on his behalf. Upon their passing, the ancestral estate would be divided equally among the three branches. Moreover, He Hongwen could practice medicine to earn a living and rely on his official uncle and other clansmen, ensuring a worry-free life.
As the conversation continued, the straightforward Old Mrs. He revealed that He Hongwen’s widowed mother was already critically ill, merely sustained by her mother-in-law’s care, holding on to see her son married and established. She likely wouldn’t last more than three to five years—thinking of this, Minglan felt deep remorse, chastising herself for the fleeting delight she had felt at not having to deal with a mother-in-law.
Molan and Rulan often mocked her for lacking ambition, but Minglan believed they had grown overly ambitious after experiencing the capital’s luxuries. In the capital, there were countless imperial relatives, nobles, and high officials—a national elite—while someone like Sheng Hong, who was relatively insignificant there, was a prominent figure in Youyang.
Moreover, if He Hongwen could further his studies in the capital, gain experience at the Imperial Hospital, and then open a clinic or pharmacy in a scenic small town, they could live a leisurely life. It was said the He family’s hometown was near Youyang. According to Old Mrs. He’s feedback, He Hongwen quite liked her too. Recalling their several meetings, Minglan believed they could achieve mutual respect and harmony in marriage. Then, she would diligently manage their household, striving to become the wealthiest in the county, and keep one, two, three, or even four guard dogs, strutting proudly through the streets—how wonderful!
However, Old Mrs. Sheng had also said: there’s no hurry, let’s observe further; what if a more suitable match appears? In short, she wanted to continue assessing He Hongwen and considering Li Yu, and perhaps other unexpected candidates might emerge.
Molan and Rulan watched as Minglan shook the divination stick tube incessantly, a dazed, silly smile on her face. Impatient, Rulan gave her a push, causing her to randomly draw a stick. Minglan stood up, and the three sisters compared their sticks in order of age: upper-middle, middle-upper, and lower-lower.
Molan and Rulan looked quite pleased, then feigned pity as they gazed at the unfortunate lower-lower stick in Minglan’s hand, consoling her: “It’s just a broken stick, don’t take it to heart.”
Minglan remained calm: this stick accurately reflected her circumstances.
Near the temple entrance was the interpretation station, where several elderly monks sat. The three “Lan” sisters, having informed Old Madam and Madam Wang, went over accompanied by maids and matrons. As they approached, they saw a group of servants clustered around a young girl in luxurious brocade clothing seated with her back to them, obscuring her face. They overheard the monk across from her saying: “…Like Qin Qiong selling his horse, there is light at the end of the tunnel; though you currently face minor setbacks, simply follow the natural course, and you will eventually see the moon through parting clouds…”Minglan couldn't help but laugh. All these fortune slips were like cure-alls, applicable everywhere.
Molan and Rulan, equally excited, each found an old monk to interpret their slips. Minglan stood behind them for a moment, listening briefly. She roughly summarized the interpretations: the future is bright, the path is winding, and as long as you strive hard, even if you're a blockhead—this applied to marriage, career, and health alike.
Feeling she shouldn't stand out too much, Minglan decided to have her slip interpreted as well. She noticed a strangely ugly old monk sitting nearby, his face more wrinkled than a dried orange peel, with a fierce and terrifying expression. He sat alone in a neglected corner, with no one seeking his interpretation. Impatient to wait in line, Minglan went straight over and sat down, handing him her slip with both hands. The old monk glanced at it briefly and was about to speak when he suddenly caught sight of Minglan's face. Frowning, he seemed somewhat startled, then tossed the slip aside and shooed her away as if swatting a fly. "This slip isn't yours. Don't bother seeking fortunes in the future—it's useless."
Minglan was greatly astonished, wondering if she had encountered a true master. Just as she was about to ask, the old monk snapped impatiently, "Go away, go away! The more you say, the more mistakes you'll make. Don't come harm me!"
Though only half-understanding, Minglan still wanted to say something, but by then Rulan and Molan had finished their interpretations, and a matron came to call the three girls back. As Minglan was dragged away by Nurse You, she glanced back and saw the old monk scurrying off in a hurry, as if a tiger were chasing him. Furious, Minglan thought: Who said reclusive masters are always eager to help others?!
The three girls were first led to a side room for tea. There, besides Old Mrs. Sheng, Madam Wang, Hai Shi, and the abbot, several elegantly dressed noblewomen were also seated. The women chattered incessantly, and since some adult topics weren't suitable for young ladies, Madam Wang sent the three Lan sisters to rest in an adjacent side room.
A young novice found a quiet, elegantly furnished empty room and invited the three young ladies inside. But as soon as Rulan stepped in, she noticed a girl already seated at the round table, drinking tea. By her attire, she was the same girl they had seen earlier during the fortune-telling. She appeared to be about fifteen or sixteen, with willow-leaf eyebrows and almond-shaped eyes, her features delicate and charming, carrying a hint of coquettishness in her expression.
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