The main hall of the Qingyun Temple was majestic and solemn. Inside the hall, the golden statues of the Three Pure Ones were enshrined, with curling incense smoke and everlasting candlelight.
Pei Cijing and Shen Ninghuan stood side by side in the hall, bowing three times on the praying mats.
Pei Cijing bowed very earnestly.
Although he was a staunch materialist before his time travel, always maintaining a respectful but distant attitude toward ghosts and gods, he had already time-traveled, after all. Since he was in this Daoist temple, it was never wrong to do as the locals do, not to mention...
He cast a sidelong glance at Shen Ninghuan beside him.
His wife was praying piously, her brows and eyes showing a rare gentleness and solemnity. Thus, he followed suit and bowed two more times, taking it as a plea for the Daoist ancestors to lock their marriage in place permanently.
After bowing, Pei Cijing pulled out a bank note from his sleeve and dropped it into the donation box.
The bank note fell to the bottom of the box.
The young Daoist boy waiting nearby stared wide-eyed. The denomination of that bank note was one hundred taels, enough to cover the living expenses of a large, ordinary family for over a year.
"Would the two benefactors like to draw a fortune slip?" the young Daoist boy greeted them attentively. "Our temple's fortune slips are the most efficacious and famous far and wide. Whether it's for seeking marriage, asking about the future, or divining good and bad luck, they are extremely accurate."
Shen Ninghuan nodded slightly. "Alright."
The young Daoist hurriedly brought out a red sandalwood slip cylinder. Its body was smooth, clearly having been rubbed by people for many years. He offered it with both hands, very astutely handing it to Shen Ninghuan first, and said respectfully, "Female benefactor, please."
Shen Ninghuan took the slip cylinder.
The cylinder felt heavy in her hands. She shook it gently, and the bamboo slips inside collided, making a rattling sound. She closed her eyes and silently thought in her heart: I do not seek great wealth or high status, I only wish for a smooth life, my husband's safety, and my family's health.
With a flick of her wrist.
A bamboo slip popped out and fell to the ground with a clatter.
The young Daoist bent down to pick it up, glanced at the number on the slip, and smiled. "Please wait a moment, female benefactor. I will go invite my martial uncle to interpret the slip."
He turned and walked toward the side hall.
Shen Ninghuan handed the cylinder to Pei Cijing. "Husband, you should draw one too."
Pei Cijing took the cylinder and shook it casually. He had no particular obsession with this sort of thing; drawing a slip was just going through the motions to accompany his wife and join in the fun.
There was a rattle inside the cylinder.
A bamboo slip fell out.
Pei Cijing bent down to pick it up, not even looking closely at the text on it, and casually held it between his fingers.
Before long, the young Daoist led over an old Daoist priest with half-white hair and beard. The old priest wore a blue-grey Daoist robe and had a lean face, but his eyes were exceptionally bright, as if they could see through people's hearts.
"Two benefactors, this is our temple's Daoist Xuanzhen," the young Daoist introduced. "He has been interpreting fortune slips for thirty years and is the most accurate."
Daoist Xuanzhen nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping over their faces before finally landing on Shen Ninghuan. He revealed an amiable smile. "Female benefactor, please let me take a look at the fortune slip."
Shen Ninghuan handed over the bamboo slip.
Daoist Xuanzhen took it and lowered his eyes to look closely. A moment later, he raised his head, looked at Shen Ninghuan, and a trace of surprise flashed in his eyes. Then he smiled and said, "Congratulations, benefactor. This is a top-tier auspicious slip."
Shen Ninghuan raised an eyebrow slightly. "Please explain in detail, Daoist priest."
"This slip is named 'Phoenix Resting on the Parasol Tree'." The old priest turned the bamboo slip toward her and pointed at the poem on it. "'Oh phoenix, oh phoenix, resting on the high ridge. The parasol tree grows, facing the morning sun.' Benefactor, your destiny is noble and pure, your marriage is made in heaven, and your future blessings will be profound and unspeakably precious."
He paused and added, "In this life, you will meet a good husband, enjoy a harmonious marriage, and have a peaceful home. In your later years, your home will be filled with children and grandchildren, enjoying both fortune and longevity."
Hearing this, a faint smile curved Shen Ninghuan's lips. She cast a sidelong glance at Pei Cijing, her eyes carrying a bit of smugness, as if saying: Hear that? I have a good destiny.
Pei Cijing smiled and nodded, wearing an expression that said, "Of course my wife has a good destiny."
Shen Ninghuan's lips curved slightly as she gave a small nod. "Thank you, Daoist priest."
In truth, there were not many ripples in her heart.
She had vaguely sensed these things after marrying into the second branch of the family. Her mother-in-law, Madam Zhou, treated her like a biological daughter, having boxes of money and jewelry carried into her room. Her husband, Pei Cijing, though laid-back, was sincere and true to her. Even the supposedly stern Old Madam of the Marquis estate was always pleasant when she saw her.
Naturally, the one she met was a good husband!
After Daoist Xuanzhen finished interpreting Shen Ninghuan's slip, he turned to Pei Cijing. "Benefactor, please let me take a look at your fortune slip."
Pei Cijing casually handed it over.
Daoist Xuanzhen took the bamboo slip and looked down. The poetic proverb on the slip had only four short lines: "Where does the guest come from, and where does he return? The heart is as broad as heaven and earth, the nature is driven by wind and clouds."
Daoist Xuanzhen's hand.
Trembled imperceptibly.
He stared at the text on the slip, his brows slowly furrowing, growing tighter and tighter. The composure on his face gradually faded, replaced by an indescribable... confusion, and even a faint sense of shock and suspicion.
Pei Cijing raised an eyebrow.
He didn't really believe in these things, but drawing a fortune slip was like seeing a doctor. You aren't afraid of them stating the illness directly; you're afraid of the doctor frowning in silence. Seeing the Daoist priest's expression, he couldn't help but feel a bit curious. "Daoist priest, is there something wrong?"
Daoist Xuanzhen did not speak.
He just stared at the slip, reading it over three times, as if trying to discern something extraordinary from those four simple lines of poetry.
Shen Ninghuan also rested her gaze on his face.
The next moment—
She heard Daoist Xuanzhen's inner voice in her ears.
"This slip... is not right."
"I have been interpreting slips for thirty years, and I have never seen such a destiny."
"Where does the guest come from, and where does he return... Is this, is this the fate of someone from beyond the heavens? This person is not of this world?!"
Shen Ninghuan remained impassive on the surface, and her heart was also calm.
A person from beyond the heavens?
She mostly understood the Daoist priest's meaning.
She recalled those bizarre words she occasionally heard from Pei Cijing's inner thoughts—things like "time travel," "past life," "modern times"... She knew that this husband of hers might have lived in another world in his past life.
Now that the Daoist priest called him a "person from beyond the heavens," it was not hard to understand.
Daoist Xuanzhen was still frowning.
He held the slip as if holding a hot potato, unable to toss it away or keep it. After a long while, he finally raised his head. The look in his eyes as he gazed at Pei Cijing was indescribably complex.
"Benefactor," he spoke, his voice unexpectedly a bit hoarse. "My... cultivation is too shallow. I cannot interpret this slip."
Pei Cijing's eyebrows rose even higher.
Cannot interpret it?
He had listened to stories in teahouses for years and heard countless tales of fortune-tellers. Things like "heaven's secrets must not be revealed" or "this is an omen of great disaster and requires more money" were standard practices, but the excuse "cannot interpret it" was truly a first for him.
"Daoist priest, why don't you try again..." he probed. "Or perhaps we could add some money?"
Daoist Xuanzhen choked a bit at these words.
Did he look like someone greedy for money?
Taking a deep breath, he regained the composure of a Daoist. "You must be joking, benefactor. Although I cannot interpret it, the abbot of our temple—Master Qingyun—has profound cultivation and might be able to resolve your doubts."
He paused, turned sideways, and made a gesture of invitation. "Please come with me, you two."
Pei Cijing and Shen Ninghuan exchanged a glance. Shen Ninghuan took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before the two of them followed Daoist Xuanzhen toward the back of the hall.
Passing through a moon gate and winding past clumps of verdant bamboo, they arrived at a secluded courtyard. A few old plum trees were planted inside, their branches and leaves sparse. One could easily imagine what a breathtaking sight they would be when they bloomed in the winter.
Daoist Xuanzhen led them to a wing room and pushed the door open. "Please wait here for a moment. My martial uncle is currently receiving two distinguished guests. Once they depart, this humble Daoist will go and announce your arrival."
Pei Cijing nodded and pulled Shen Ninghuan into the room.
The furnishings inside were simple: a small table and two daybeds. An ink wash landscape painting hung on the wall, and a bronze incense burner sat on the desk, emitting the faint scent of sandalwood.
The two sat down on a daybed.
Pei Cijing looked around the room in sheer boredom. Suddenly, he lowered his voice, leaned in close to Shen Ninghuan's ear, and whispered, "Wife, do you think that old Daoist's expression just now meant he wanted to charge us more money?"
Shen Ninghuan didn't know whether to laugh or cry at his words.
She shot him a reproving glare and said softly, "Husband, don't speak nonsense. Daoist Xuanzhen is an enlightened master; how could he do such a thing?"
Pei Cijing curled his lip.
He remained noncommittal.
Watching him act like this, Shen Ninghuan couldn't help but find it amusing.
...
Meanwhile.
In the adjacent wing room.
Li Chenglu sat upright in an armchair by the window. His moon-white brocade robe accentuated his jade-like complexion, but his overly frail figure made him look like a slender bamboo shoot that had never weathered a storm—as if a single gust of wind could snap him in two.
Sitting across from him was Li Chengyu.
And occupying the seat of honor was an old Daoist priest with a youthful face and crane-white hair—none other than the master of Qingyun Temple, Master Qingyun.
"Thank you for your guidance these past few days, Master," Li Chenglu said, bowing slightly with a modest tone. "Your words, 'Outer appearance is but a fleshly vessel, while the true heart is the genuine self,' will be engraved in this junior's heart."
Master Qingyun smiled faintly and stroked his snow-white beard. "For the Ninth Prince to comprehend this principle means you have an affinity with the Dao. In a person's life, the most valuable thing is self-awareness, rather than being troubled by external matters."
Li Chenglu lowered his eyes.
He gave a soft "Mm."
However, his heart was not actually as calm as his surface suggested.
These past few days, his Sixth Brother had taken him to visit the Great Xiangguo Temple and Qingyun Temple, inviting eminent monks and renowned Daoists to preach to him. The underlying theme was always the same: "Do not care about your outward appearance."
Li Chenglu was no fool; he knew why his imperial brother was doing this.
In a little while, it would be time to discuss marriage for him.
As a man, he wished for a tall and strong physique, to be as valiant as his brother. But in reality, he was even more frail than his younger sister, Chanying. He was only as tall as she was, and his strength was pitifully small—he couldn't even lift slightly heavy objects.
His imperial father despised him.
His brothers mocked him behind his back.
He knew all of it.
Therefore, over the years, he had always harbored a sense of inferiority deep down.
His brother taking him to listen to these counseling sessions, telling him not to care too much about these things, was simply out of fear that he would lack confidence in front of his future wife and be looked down upon. But—
He understood the logic!
Putting it into practice.
Was hard!
He lowered his eyes and looked at his own hands.
His fingers were slender and as fair as jade, even more delicate than an ordinary woman's. Hands like these couldn't hold a sword steadily, couldn't draw a bow, and even found it strenuous to grip the reins while riding a horse.
He closed his eyes.
An image suddenly surfaced in his mind—
It was late one night.
Alone in his bedchamber, unable to resist his curiosity, he had secretly put on his sister's clothes: a pale yellow blouse, a moon-white shawl, and a pearl hairpin pinned in his hair.
The person in the bronze mirror had soft features and skin fairer than snow, looking even more delicate and pitiful than his sister.
He had stared, completely stunned.
That feeling—
Was very strange.
It wasn't shame.
But rather a kind of... indescribable, secret intoxication.
As if that was how he was always meant to look.
Li Chenglu abruptly opened his eyes, ruthlessly suppressing the thought.
He couldn't think about it.
He couldn't think about it anymore.
He took a deep breath and cast his gaze out the window.
Outside the window was a small courtyard planted with a few verdant bamboos. The bamboo shadows danced, swaying gracefully in the sunlight. He could vaguely see the window of the adjacent room; the window paper was brightly lit, suggesting someone was waiting inside as well.
He withdrew his gaze, looked at Master Qingyun, and forced a smile. "This junior will strive to comprehend your words, Master."
Master Qingyun gave him a deep look.
That gaze seemed to have seen through everything, yet also seemed completely empty. He merely smiled faintly and said softly, "Your Highness need not force it. With some things, when the time comes, you will naturally understand."
Li Chenglu was taken aback.
When the time comes, he would naturally understand?
Understand what?
He wanted to ask more, but Li Chengyu had already stood up. "We have disturbed the Master for too long; we shall take our leave for today. We will come again another day to seek your guidance."
Master Qingyun rose to see them out. "Take care, Your Highnesses."
As Li Chengyu reached the door, his footsteps suddenly paused.
He turned his head to look at the adjacent wing room.
Two silhouettes were projected on the window paper—one tall with a relaxed posture, the other slender and sitting as straight as a pine. That relaxed posture actually looked somewhat familiar.
Li Chengyu's eyes flickered, but he didn't say anything more. He simply looked away and led Li Chenglu out.
The sound of their footsteps gradually faded away.
...
Inside the room, Pei Cijing was idly fiddling with the incense burner on the desk when his ears suddenly twitched. He looked up toward the door as footsteps passed by outside and then gradually faded.
He raised an eyebrow, feeling an indescribable sense of familiarity in those footsteps.
Shen Ninghuan also looked up toward the door.
Her Mind Reading ability could perceive thoughts within thirty feet. When those two people passed by just now, she faintly caught a fleeting inner voice—
"Sixth Brother treats me so well... But how, how can I ever tell him... that sometimes I actually want to be a woman... If I had been born a woman, perhaps I wouldn't have so many troubles?"
That inner voice was too soft, too fragmented, vanishing in a flash. Shen Ninghuan looked at Pei Cijing, hesitating to speak.
Right at that moment, the sound of footsteps came from outside the door.
It was Daoist Xuanzhen returning.
He pushed the door open and bowed slightly. "Benefactors, my martial uncle has seen his guests out. Please follow this humble Daoist."
Pei Cijing stood up and casually pulled Shen Ninghuan to her feet. The two followed Daoist Xuanzhen across the courtyard toward the adjacent room.
Inside, Master Qingyun was standing by the window with his hands behind his back.
Hearing their footsteps, he slowly turned around.
When his gaze fell upon Pei Cijing, a sharp glint suddenly flashed in his cloudy old eyes. The gleam vanished so quickly it almost seemed like an illusion.
Pei Cijing only felt a chill run down his spine.
He subconsciously stopped in his tracks and looked at the old Daoist with crane-white hair and a youthful face.
Master Qingyun smiled faintly. The smile was very light, as light as the morning mist in the mountains, yet it inexplicably made one feel as though they had been completely seen through.
"Benefactor," Master Qingyun spoke, his voice aged yet clear and resonant. "Please, have a seat."
