Chapter 48

Two days later, two small sedan chairs, trembling under the escort of over a dozen attendants, came to a stop in front of the nunnery gate.

The sedan curtains had three layers—the outermost of green gauze, a middle layer of stiff netting, and the innermost of white silk woven from the finest mulberry threads.

At a glance, it was clear these were no ordinary wealthy nobles.

As the chairs were set down, the maidservants on either side lifted the layers of curtains one by one, assisting two noblewomen in their forties out of the sedan.

The nunnery’s senior receptionist nun had long been waiting outside. She stepped forward, palms pressed together in greeting, and bowed her head.

“Esteemed benefactors, the nunnery has prepared everything for your devotions. Please follow this humble nun.”

The two noblewomen replied, “We trouble you.”

Though not widely renowned, this nunnery was far from small, spanning five courtyards.

Passing through the first courtyard, the second housed the main hall enshrining Guanyin Bodhisattva.

The two noblewomen, frequent visitors for prayers, washed their hands in the basin offered by a nun, then picked up three sticks of sandalwood incense as thick as chopsticks.

Kneeling on the prayer cushions, they silently prayed for their husbands’ smooth official careers and that they might avoid offending the dreaded Grand Tutor’s wrath…

After three kowtows, they rose and reverently placed the incense in the burner.

Seeing their devotions complete, the receptionist nun approached and said, “The Abbess invites you both to partake in vegetarian fare. Please follow me.”

The vegetarian cuisine here was renowned.

Unlike public temples that welcomed all, this nunnery catered only to the highest nobility.

The Abbess had specially invited a nun from Jiangnan skilled in vegetarian cooking to entertain distinguished guests.

Over time, noblewomen and high-born ladies from every influential family flocked here, visiting not just to pray but to savor a single meal of this famed vegetarian feast.

Today’s spread was particularly exquisite.

The mountain mushrooms, fattened by spring rains, had fully opened their caps, their flavors at peak freshness.

Served in pumpkin bowls, paired with rare hedgehog mushrooms from the northern peaks, dozens of fungi were artfully arranged alongside winter-pickled dried vegetables, steamed to perfection.

The aroma alone could overpower even the freshest deep-sea fish.

The lavish table left the two noblewomen thoroughly satisfied.

The Abbess smiled and invited them to the meditation quarters for tea and scripture discussion before excusing herself.

After the meal, the two noblewomen, accompanied by their personal maids, followed the receptionist nun through the second courtyard toward the rear.

Just as they entered, they spotted a young nun in gray robes and cap walking toward them from the Abbess’ quarters, escorted by a middle-aged nun.

As they drew closer, the wife of the Minister of Rites gasped and quickly tugged the sleeve of the Marquess of Fu’an’s wife.

“My Lady, look—doesn’t that nun resemble…?”

The Marquess’ wife peered closely at the young nun now passing before them.

The little nun seemed to sense their gaze—her large, bright eyes flicked sideways for a glance before she hurried on.

The Marquess’ wife froze on the spot: This… this looks exactly like the Emperor!

Those eyes, that mischievous glance—if she didn’t know for certain the Emperor was male, she’d have sworn this nun was His Majesty.

Both women were wives of veteran court officials.

They had often entered the palace and, during the Lantern Festival years ago, had even helped the young Emperor craft lanterns.

They knew the imperial visage well.

Exchanging glances, they saw the same eerie fire ignite in each other’s eyes.

In truth, these two were carefully selected by the Grand Tutor himself—women who had seen the Emperor and lacked discretion.

Their husbands, though high-ranking, were meek men who failed to rein in their households.

These two were leading gossips among the ministerial wives, infamous throughout the court.

The scandalous affair between the Grand Tutor and that Shang family concubine-daughter? They’d pieced that together through relentless speculation.

Now, a young nun bearing an uncanny resemblance to the Emperor appeared in a royal nunnery? What hidden drama lay here? Their blood burned like vegetarian dishes doused in lard.

Without hesitation, they turned and pursued the retreating nun, leaving the bewildered receptionist and Abbess behind.

Just as they closed in, the middle-aged nun suddenly blocked their path, frowning.

“Why do you pursue us, benefactors?”

Struck dumb, the noblewomen faltered.

They’d only wanted a closer look—how could they explain?

“We wished to ask your hometown and age, and why you look so much like the Emperor”?

By the time they hesitated, the young nun had already rounded the hall and vanished.

The middle-aged nun likewise hurried away.

—

Meanwhile, Nie Qinglin’s mind raced.

The Abbess had summoned her earlier for trivial chatter, and now she’d encountered these familiar noblewomen—likely the same ones who’d helped with palace lanterns.

This was no coincidence.

Nie Qinglin faintly grasped the Grand Tutor’s scheme and felt a flicker of unease: Grand Tutor, is there anything you wouldn’t dare do?

—

Back in the meditation quarters, the two noblewomen barely exchanged pleasantries with the Abbess before eagerly inquiring about the Emperor’s doppelgänger.

The Abbess sighed.

“A tragic soul. Her birth was noble beyond measure, but before she turned three, a seer from the Imperial Observatory declared her aura too baleful. Remaining at… home would bring calamity upon her twin brother. Only by chanting scriptures here could the malice be purified. Ten years were decreed sufficient, yet though the decade passed long ago, no one came for her. Perhaps the family met misfortune…”

Another sigh.

This bombshell left the noblewomen staring at each other, eyes gleaming like newly whetted daggers, itching to slice open the Abbess’ belly for more secrets.

Even the finest West Mountain White Dew tea couldn’t detain them now.

Making hasty excuses, they rushed back to the capital.

—

Within days, whispers spread among ministerial wives: The Emperor has a twin sister, raised in the Youyun Mountain nunnery. Most officials dismissed it as idle gossip, thinking, Thank heavens our Emperor lacks the Grand Tutor’s temper, or these busybody noblewomen might find their tongues ripped out.

Yet soon, noblewomen flocked to the nunnery daily.

After perfunctory prayers, they lingered in courtyards, hoping for a glimpse.

Though kept at a distance by a scowling nun, each caught enough of the young nun’s features to gasp into their perfumed handkerchiefs, murmuring Amitabha.

When the Grand Tutor heard the rumors, he summoned the Minister of Rites, Qian Yunlong.

“I hear your wife went vegetarian and found the Emperor’s twin. Care to explain?”

Sweating profusely, Qian Yunlong bowed.

“This official knows nothing! My foolish wife’s loose tongue—I’ll confine her to the estate!”

The Grand Tutor smiled faintly.

“No blame intended. His Majesty himself heard the rumors and inquired. Since your wife witnessed this, it seems there’s truth to it…”

Three days later, the imperial procession left the city for Tianyou Temple, accompanied by newly promoted officials—including Nie Qingyuan, specially invited by the Emperor.

The carriage bore thick gauze against sun and dust, its occupant barely visible.

After prayers, the Grand Tutor led the Emperor to the back mountains.

They returned half an hour later.

Eunuch Ruan came running for the imperial physician—the Emperor, overwhelmed with joy, had agitated his heart meridians…

Now even skeptical officials exchanged glances.

Perhaps a royal pearl had been lost in these mountains.

Yet this royal reunion paled against the Grand Tutor’s ongoing purge.

Officials now trembled nightly at every hoofbeat, wondering which household the soldiers would raid next.

Sleep-deprived, they yawned endlessly before the temple, too weary to ponder imperial twins.

Still, the Emperor’s “heart meridian disturbance” required Physician Wei’s attention.

After days of mountain recuperation—where daily strolls with Single Granny left noblewomen gaping like egg-swallowing hens—Nie Qinglin found the vegetarian fare far superior to palace delicacies.

She ate contentedly, unaware the Grand Tutor, denied his treasure for five days, was ‘vegetarian’ in a very different sense—one that stoked fires no scripture could quench.

Once free of the officials, the Grand Tutor stormed into the nunnery, guards sealing the gates behind him.

Inside the quiet room, the little one lay reading in gray robes, her hair in a single thick braid, face bare as freshly shucked shellfish—radiantly natural.

Startled by the Grand Tutor’s sudden entrance, Nie Qinglin moved to rise, but those phoenix eyes had already darkened with hunger.

Without a word, the immortal-beautiful man bolted the door and pounced like a starved wolf.