“Fourth one?”
Mu Qing was momentarily dazed, then quickly realized that this referred to her husband.
Fourth son… stepmother…
It seemed this was a rather large family—no doubt he was a young man with a story.
The flicker of surprise in Mu Qing’s eyes passed quickly, but she had underestimated this lady’s perceptiveness. The woman’s smile grew more serene and composed, but her words were sharp and unambiguous:
“What’s this? He hasn’t told you anything?”
Chu Yu, who was seated nearby, was about to rise and respond when Mu Qing reached out and pulled him back down.
She gripped his hand tightly and responded with a calm smile:
“Mother’s question shows her concern for her son and daughter-in-law, and I am deeply grateful. But there is more to the story than meets the eye.”
The lady remained unruffled and replied gently, “Oh? Do tell.”
Mu Qing silently lamented her luck but didn’t let it show on her face. She smiled and said:
“To speak plainly, it was my husband who saved my life. In doing so, he even sustained injuries…”
Here she paused deliberately, intending to elicit some sympathy for her husband and observe the lady’s reaction.
But to her disappointment, the woman didn’t bat an eyelash. Her posture remained perfectly poised, her expression unchanged. Clearly, whether her stepson was hurt or not didn’t concern her in the slightest.
Mu Qing sighed inwardly. As expected.
Still, she continued with her performance, this time turning up the emotional pitch:
“From that day onward, I swore I would marry no one but him… Though I wasn’t part of his past, I vow to do my utmost to make his future full of happiness.”
After her lengthy speech, and seeing that the lady still showed no reaction, Mu Qing persisted with her conclusion:
“We met in a moment of hardship. As the saying goes, ‘Great calamities survived bring future blessings.’ And as the Buddha teaches, to let go is to be at peace. Rejoicing in others’ joy brings merit. Thus, I do not ask about the past—I only look to the future.”
With that, she fell silent, sneaking a glance at her husband—intending to play the part of a bashful new bride.
But to her surprise, he was already watching her.
There was an intensity in his gaze, a depth and tenderness she had never seen before. It made Mu Qing’s cheeks flush instantly.
Thus, her intended solo performance turned into a duet. Her coy glances became a shared moment of tender eye contact.
To be looked at with such affection by such a strikingly handsome man—even Mu Qing felt it hard to resist.
Fortunately, the lady soon interrupted the increasingly romantic atmosphere.
Clapping her hands lightly, she said with a laugh, “All right, all right. I can see you two are newlyweds and very much in love. If you’re going to be so sweet, do it back at home and spare this old woman the jealousy.”
Her words clearly carried hidden meaning, but Mu Qing, unaware of the family’s inner dynamics, simply smiled demurely and didn’t respond.
The lady laughed again at Mu Qing’s unflappable demeanor. Seeing that she wouldn’t get anything further out of the girl, she decided the meeting had run its course.
She glanced at the sky and stood up. “It’s getting late. Time to return.”
Mu Qing quickly rose and moved to help her up. At the same moment, the gaggle of maids and old attendants standing behind the lady surged forward, also ready to assist…
The situation suddenly turned a little awkward.
The lady shot a look at the older woman leading the servants, then turned back to Mu Qing with a smile:
“A-Qing, don’t take offense. They always treat me like an invalid. I didn’t mean you, now. I’m an old woman—seeing young blossoms like yourself just puts me in a good mood.”
As she spoke, she took Mu Qing’s hand and allowed her to assist her, slowly descending the steps from the mountainside pavilion.
Mu Qing had experience taking care of her mother when she was pregnant with her younger brother, and she’d frequently supported her mother in and out of rooms and kept her company. She was quite skilled at offering stable and comfortable support.
The maids and servants remained orderly, the leading older woman following closely behind with a worried look, but no one dared overstep. Not even a single cough broke the silence. Clearly, they were all strictly trained.
Judging from this, Mu Qing thought, her husband’s family must be quite wealthy.
And yet her husband… Mu Qing’s imagination went wild, picturing a tangled web of family intrigue, full of dark secrets and melodrama. She suddenly felt a wave of sympathy for her husband.
The family was so rich, and yet he had to grow up in a brothel, now wandering without a home, alone, destitute. His stepmother had ignored him all this time, only to now suddenly demand a meeting with his wife…
Something about this didn’t sit right.
She hoped he would be all right.
As she mulled over these thoughts, Mu Qing didn’t stop chatting with the lady.
They had already covered all the usual pleasantries, but the stepmother was surprisingly good at keeping the conversation going.
It seemed Mu Qing’s earlier Buddhist references during her little monologue had sparked something, and the lady now began discussing Buddhist teachings.
From close up, Mu Qing noticed a faint scent of sandalwood on the lady, suggesting that she truly was devoted to scriptures and rituals—hence Mu Qing’s earlier choice to drop some Buddhist phrases for effect.
What she hadn’t anticipated was that what she thought would be a clever move had become a liability. Her mother was religious, sure—but mostly just lit incense on the first and fifteenth of the lunar month, offered prayers, pulled the occasional fortune stick.
True study of Buddhist texts? That was out of the question.
Her mother could barely read beyond the family ledgers—considered impressive among the merchant wives of Jiangnan.
As for Mu Qing herself—she could read, but couldn’t be bothered. She was from the modern world, part of a generation often labeled “faithless” and “disillusioned.” Apart from last-minute exam cramming prayers, she hadn’t had much interaction with the Buddha.
Still, she understood the basics—especially since she often called herself a “Buddhist salted fish” (meaning laid-back and not striving for anything).
So at first, when the lady spoke of simpler Buddhist principles, Mu Qing could hold her own. But when the lady got more enthusiastic and started quoting esoteric texts and even Sanskrit, Mu Qing was totally lost.
She maintained her polite smile throughout.
After all, Buddhism emphasized calm and detachment. Talking endlessly could be a form of practice, and smiling silently could be too… as long as her skin was thick enough, awkwardness wouldn’t catch up to her.
Thus transformed into the Buddha Maitreya, Mu Qing pretended that not understanding was no big deal.
Eventually, the stepmother noticed her silly smile and caught on.
She chuckled and said, “Ah, my fault—I got carried away. I haven’t had such a satisfying chat in years. You’re a good girl, A-Qing. You have a Buddhist affinity.”
Mu Qing quickly offered thanks.
The lady patted her hand. After walking quietly for a few steps, she suddenly turned and asked:
“Since you’re from Jiangnan, A-Qing, what was your childhood name?”
Mu Qing paused, just about to answer when her husband unexpectedly spoke softly from behind: “Miao-niang.”
That surprised not just the lady, but Mu Qing herself.
She was walking on the lady’s right side, offering support, while her husband stood slightly behind on the left. The servants followed about three paces behind in complete silence, a few more walking ahead to clear the way.
So although his voice was quiet, it was crystal clear.
Everyone nearby heard it—especially Mu Qing and the lady.
The lady chuckled. “Oh my, look at you, Fourth. So you do know how to dote on someone. I thought you were going to spend your whole life wandering the world alone with that cold face of yours.”
Mu Qing lowered her head, cheeks burning—this man was too much! He hadn’t been in her home for that long, and he’d already remembered her childhood name? That was something only close family used…
As she was blushing and zoning out, her hand was suddenly grasped more firmly.
Startled, she turned and saw the stepmother staring at her intently, her eyes misting with unshed tears.
“Miao-niang? What a lovely name. ‘Where there is wondrous existence, not a single speck stands; where there is true emptiness, cause and effect are crystal clear.’”¹ She softly quoted a Buddhist line, then closed her eyes, as if recalling some deep sorrow.
Mu Qing didn’t know what memory the name had stirred, but seeing the lady suddenly so sad, she couldn’t help feeling a pang of sympathy.
She had always had a soft spot for older women around her mother’s age. So without thinking, she gently returned the hand squeeze and tried to lighten the mood with a story.
“Mother, you flatter me. My parents are merchants from Jiangnan—barely literate, nowhere near your depth and understanding.”
She shook her head and sighed dramatically:
“My nickname came from something silly. On my one-month celebration, a snow-white kitten wandered into the house—looked like a fluffy dumpling. It meowed at me, and I followed it with my eyes. My mother said, ‘This girl must be a cat spirit,’ and named me Miao-niang.”
That got the lady laughing so hard she almost choked.
The sorrow in her eyes vanished. She laughed and patted Mu Qing’s hand, gasping, “Oh my, you’re just too lovable… If Fourth ever bullies you, come find me. Even if I disown him as a son, I’ll still recognize you as my daughter-in-law.”
It sounded lighthearted, but the implications ran deep.
Mu Qing kept smiling and nodded without comment.
Finally, their long walk down the mountain came to an end.
The lady signaled her servants to approach—it was time for her to go.
Mu Qing and her husband stood midway up the hill, watching as the lady was carried away in an elegant sedan chair, vanishing down the path.
Only once she was completely out of sight did Mu Qing breathe a sigh of relief. Just as she was about to complain to her husband, he suddenly took her hand.
Looking up, she saw his face inches from hers, his eyes lowered.
He simply gazed at her quietly and murmured, “Thank you, Miao-niang.”
