Chapter 7
Chapter 7: Schemes in Every Heart
Nie San...
Lying on her bed, Awu couldn’t help but find the situation amusing.
She knew perfectly well that she had bewitched him utterly, but his pursuit had gone so far as to follow her all the way to Yanxiang Temple—now that was unexpected.
She was well aware that the entrance to the temple was guarded by palace guards; not just anyone could stroll in at will. From what Awu had learned about men over the past few years, they could pamper and cherish a woman, but would never risk their future—or their lives—for her.
So she was puzzled: Nie San had actually come here to warn her?
The key issue... she also suspected that Nie San belonged to the Crown Princess.
Surely the Crown Princess wouldn’t be so inept as to assign a guard from her own family to watch over her, only for him to immediately switch loyalties? If she truly had such luck and allure as to turn men’s hearts so easily, how could she have fallen so low?
After pondering, Awu decided to ignore him, to act as though Nie San did not exist, and simply remain unchanged no matter what.
The next day, Awu underwent the formal rite of conversion. Guided by the ceremonial master, she first offered tea to Lady Song Lingguan. At the first offering, Lady Song did not even look at her.
Awu felt slighted. “Master, won’t you drink?”
A nearby Daoist nun quickly signaled her with her eyes, and Awu then recalled—she was supposed to offer tea three times; the first could not be drunk.
She could only offer it again. This time, Lady Song took a sip.
A third time, and Lady Song used her middle and thumb to flick tea onto Awu’s body.
Dampened by the tea, Awu felt displeased but, knowing it was tradition, knelt and presented the red envelope prepared in advance, as an offering to the spirit.
Only then did the formal conversion ceremony begin. After a series of elaborate rituals, the deputy spirit officer bestowed on Awu the certificate of conversion, bearing phrases such as “Spread the Dao, Enlighten the People, Practice Devotion.”
She was also given a religious name: Miaozhen.
The deputy spirit officer recited a litany of words—Awu caught fragments about “The Star Lord’s Blessing” and “Disciples born in a prosperous age, yearning for the Way.”
After the transmission of the Dao and the conferral of precepts, Lady Song ordered a senior nun to read to her the Three Refuges and Nine Precepts.
By then, Awu’s head was spinning. She bowed her head, feigning reverence, though she had not absorbed a single word.
When at last the ceremony ended, she felt half-dead.
Lady Song glanced at her coldly. “Miaozhen, now that you have entered our order, you must abandon worldly thoughts and devote yourself to meditation and study. Do you understand?”
Awu replied weakly, “Yes...”
The other nuns looked on in silence, their expressions complex.
If an ordinary disciple had shown such inattention, she would have been thrown out long ago. But this one—
Everyone knew she was the Crown Prince’s favored concubine, a seductress. Sent to Yanxiang Temple to be watched and restrained, but none dared offend her.
What if the Crown Prince found out?
Lady Song, her face impassive, clearly disapproved, but merely tolerated it, turning a blind eye. “Miaoxin, take Miaozhen back to her room.”
“Yes,” answered a young nun.
Thus Awu was led back to her chamber by Miaoxin. There she found two low beds; having formally become a disciple, she now had to share a room.
A double room!
Such hardship.
Miaoxin said, “I’ll go with you to get your Daoist robe, then I’ll teach you to meditate and chant. Your cultivation begins today.”
The road ahead seemed daunting, but Awu forced herself to rally. “Very well, Miaoxin. I’ll be relying on your guidance.”
**********
In the days that followed, Awu meditated and chanted in Yanxiang Temple. She shared her room with Miaoxin; together they ate, slept, and cultivated. Life, for all its austerity, was not unpleasant.
Over time, Awu learned that even among Daoist nuns there was a strict hierarchy: beneath Lady Song were deputy spirit officers, then supervisors, and below them three stewards, five heads, and eighteen sub-leaders—an intricate order.
As a newcomer, Miaozhen, she had not only to master scriptures and meditation, but also chores: carrying water, sweeping, tending flowers and crops, and repairing various places—everything done by her own hand.
She found the days bitter. Frail by nature, she had never done hard labor even as a child, cherished by her family. Though life since had tossed her about, her body had never truly suffered.
Now, she was undergoing harsh discipline.
Worse yet, she had to serve the higher-ranked nuns.
It was then that she found her thoughts drifting to the Crown Prince—and to Nie San.
The Crown Prince was out of reach; he had made no sign all this time, no doubt having realized that women were nothing compared to his heir’s position—so much the better.
As for Nie San...
Why hadn’t he come?
If he appeared again, she might consider speaking with him—it could be a path forward.
Just as these thoughts lingered, a great event occurred at Yanxiang Temple.
At the turning of the seasons and on important occasions, the Inner Court would send representatives to Nanqiongzi to conduct rituals. It was now the tenth lunar month, the beginning of winter. Each year, the Inner Court performed the Early Winter Ceremony in the first days of the month.
This coincided with the brief warmth of late autumn; gentle rains had fallen mid-month. The Imperial Astronomer declared this a great omen, calling the rain “liquid rain”—all insects would drink it and burrow deep, not emerging until the spring thunder awakened them.
The Emperor, delighted by the news, decided to visit Nanqiongzi himself, to hold a thanksgiving ceremony at Jingling Palace. Jingling was a mountain palace near Yanxiang Temple. Thus, the imperial consorts and ladies would be coming to the temple for their own rituals, and the temple went into a flurry of preparations—cleaning rooms, sweeping courtyards, polishing idols, and readying all manner of items to welcome the noble guests.
One day, Miaozhen and Miaoxin went behind the mountain to gather fresh vegetables and fruits. Miaoxin excused herself to a nearby grove, leaving Awu to pick alone. Suddenly, from the woods emerged a figure wearing a bamboo hat.
Startled, Awu recognized, beneath the hat, the angular, rugged features of Nie San.
His broad, dark robes disguised his strong build, but the wild grass and fallen leaves clinging to his clothes lent him an untamed, roguish air.
Awu glanced quickly around; there was no one in sight, Miaoxin lost somewhere in the woods.
She lowered her voice. “What are you doing here? This isn’t a place you can just come to.”
Though this was only the back courtyard, guards were posted even on ordinary days. Now, with the Emperor himself at Nanqiongzi and the palace women soon to arrive, security was even tighter—yet here he was!
Before she could protest, Nie San grabbed her arm and pulled her behind a boulder.
Awu gasped, about to cry out, but he clamped a hand over her mouth.
She glared at him.
If he dared harm her, she would haunt the Crown Prince’s dreams with her grievances!
Nie San whispered, “Don’t make a sound.”
She nodded quickly.
Only then did he release her.
His hand was strong and rough, with the scent of wild grass and earth clinging to the skin. Now, a flush of red marked her face, an imprint of his touch and an indelible trace of masculinity.
She raised her sleeve and scrubbed at her cheek, but the more she wiped, the redder it grew.
Biting her lip, she glared at him. “You’re far too presumptuous!”
Nie San’s gaze lingered on the flush across her snow-pale face. The mark was not deep, but against such flawless skin, it was jarring.
As if she had been roughly ravished.
His eyes darkened.
Everyone knew she was the Crown Prince’s woman, cherished and protected, for whom he had even risked conflict with the Emperor—yet their fate had never truly aligned.
A woman like this—jade for bones, snow for skin—would be a rare blessing for any man.
When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse. “How fares Miaozhen, the Immortal Lady?”
Miaozhen, the Immortal Lady...
Awu felt her legs tremble, tears threatening to fall.
She stepped back, pointing a quivering finger at him. “So, Nie Qianpei, you know I have taken vows. Why come to disturb me? I was once the Crown Prince’s concubine—if you dare tarnish my honor, he will never forgive you!”
Nie San’s eyes fixed on her lips—small, red, and delicate as carved coral.
Such beauty was never meant for men like him. Yet now, he was acting on orders, killing two birds with one stone.
He leaned closer, voice low. “Has the Crown Prince not abandoned you? A box of pearls—severing all ties, buying himself peace of mind, isn’t that so?”
Recalling those pearls, Awu’s breath caught.
She could not deny it.
Nie San continued, “The rules here are harsh, and you, so frail, have never suffered such hardship. Even without ill intent, the daily austerity would wear you down—can you really last a year?”
A chill ran through her.
His words held a hidden warning; she knew that if she were to fall sick and die here, she would be discarded like an old mat. No one would shed a tear—her possessions divided up. Even if the Crown Prince grieved, by the time he raged at the world, she would already be dust.
Nie San saw her waver and pressed further, voice gentling, coaxing. “I know my status is low, far beneath the Crown Prince, but my feelings are sincere.”
Wiping her tears, Awu struggled to steady her heart.
The days at the temple had shown her that this could not last. She was like meat on the chopping block, awaiting the knife.
To run to Nie San was to leap into the tiger’s jaws, but under heaven’s vastness and the Emperor’s might, where else could a lone woman flee?
She could not decide, nor could she cut off this possible avenue; she would have to feign interest, sound him out.
She raised her lashes and cast Nie San a wounded glance, speaking slowly. “Since you spoke with me that day, you vanished without a trace—now you appear again. Who knows if you’re true or false, or what you really want? You are a man, strong and unafraid, free to roam wherever you wish. I, on the other hand, am weak and powerless. If you were to harm me, even if you devoured me whole, there would be no one to hear my cries...”
Nie San narrowed his eyes, appraising her—this delicate, alluring woman with skin like cream, lashes trembling, eyes glistening warily.
A little thing, perhaps scheming to use him, but so what? She had been abandoned, left with nowhere to turn, forced to seek his help.
She might look down on him, but she still tucked away her claws, yielding to him, her voice low and soft as a kitten’s plaintive mew.
Nie San drew a breath.
If he had ever hesitated before, now he did not.
Since fate had sent such a beauty to him, he would accept.
She was only a woman; as a guard who risked his life for others, what could he desire but power, wealth, and women?
The Crown Prince, the future Emperor himself, could not possess her—but a commoner like him could. That was enough for a lifetime.
He straightened, solemn. “Immortal Lady Miaozhen, last time I visited, it was by luck that I slipped in. Afterwards, the temple’s security grew tighter—I dared not risk your reputation. This time, with the Emperor at Nanqiongzi, I received an errand and seized the chance to see you.”
His voice dropped, low and rough, tinged with intimacy.
Awu was no naïve maiden; she had known two men and could read the subtleties in a man’s words.
She and Nie San—one fishing, the other the bait—but who played which role hardly mattered.
The key was that their interests aligned.
She had nothing left—her beauty was all she could use.
She lowered her head, a hint of grievance in her tone. “So, Sanlang, you came here just to watch me suffer, to see how I’m bullied and helpless?”
Nie San’s eyes rested on the Daoist hairpiece falling over her slender shoulder—a seductress, enchanting even in the austere garb of the Dao.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he said softly, “Do you recall what I offered last time I came?”
Awu replied, “Oh? You were vague then, and now you return—who knows if you’re telling the truth?”
Nie San answered, “Every word is true. I dare not deceive you.”
Awu lifted her lashes, her gaze circling his face. “You dare not deceive me? Truly?”
He pressed his lips together. “Yes, Immortal Lady. My intentions are genuine.”
She smiled. “And what is the source of your sincerity?”
His eyes deepened. “Do you wish to hear the truth?”
“Of course.”
“Your beauty, Immortal Lady. From the moment I saw you, I was smitten. I cannot bear to see you come to harm. So I wish, no matter what, to protect you.”
Awu’s dark eyes shimmered. “Is that so?”
Nie San asked, “You don’t trust me?”
She snorted coldly. “Few men are good. You all want nothing but my beauty.”
Nie San admitted, “Yes, I do desire your beauty. But between men and women, it always begins with desire. You are beautiful; my heart yearns for you—what’s wrong with that?”
Awu fixed him with a stare. “You know who I am—a former favored concubine of the Crown Prince, ordered by the Emperor to take vows. Are you mad to covet me?”
Nie San gazed at her in silence.
After a long moment, he smiled—a rare warmth softening his severe features.
He said, “To die beneath the peony is sweet as a ghost. If I dared come to see you, I have nothing to fear. I have no family, my only foster father passed away. There’s nothing in this world to bind me. If I could win a companion like you, and flee far away together, what bliss!”
Awu remained unmoved. “Flee far away? The world is vast—where would you go?”
Nie San replied, “I hear you come from the eastern sea?”
“I do.”
“If fate allows, I would go with you—sailing the eastern sea together.”
Awu’s heart fluttered faintly.
She looked into his eyes; all she saw was sincerity, no sign of falsehood.
“To sail the eastern sea”—what stirring words. The Crown Prince had whispered countless sweet nothings, but she’d never cared if they were true or false. Now, at these simple words, she found herself hoping he meant them.
But after a long silence, she only laughed lightly. “But I once served by the Crown Prince’s side.”
Nie San: “Hmm?”
Awu shot him a languid glance. “Once you’ve beheld the ocean, no water compares. I was held in the hands of the heir to the empire. How could you hope that I’d sail the sea with you?”
With that, she turned and walked away.
Nie San stood tall in the distance, unmoving.
He slowly raised his hand, still scented with the softness of her skin.
He plucked a blade of grass, chewing it slowly, his hard jaw working.
He watched her receding back.
The sky over Nanqiongzi was clear and limitless; autumn sunlight pierced the clouds, casting a warm glow on the cold season.
She walked away, swaying, her dark Daoist robe flowing over her slender waist.
He watched her, thinking: this austere robe could not conceal her beauty, nor could the temple’s strictures restrain her allure.
Such a woman could never be kept in Yanxiang Temple.