Chapter 19: The Closed Temple and an Opportune Favor

No loiterers allowed.

“But it was open just a few days ago, wasn’t it?”

Qíngyǔ’s own memory echoed this; she recalled the temple’s incense burning profusely during her initial days there.

“Are you bringing your daughter to seek divination, young lady?”

From a distance, a mountain-dweller descending the path spotted Qíngyǔ and Little Girl, both with a back-basket, and called out.

“Yes. Old Gentleman, do you know when this temple closed its doors?”

“The government officials came to raid it a few days ago,” the Old Gentleman replied without reservation. “Notices were even posted in town, saying that high-ranking officials from the county seat were overseeing the matter.”

“Old Gentleman, be careful.”

The Old Gentleman hastened his steps, nearly stumbling. Just as Qíngyǔ reached out to assist, he waved her off, steadying himself.

‘This I had not heard.’

“Few people discuss such matters, so it’s normal you haven’t heard. The notice is still posted in the town center; if the Young Lady is interested, you can go take a look.”

This, indeed, came as a surprise.

In her past life, City God and Earth God temples were typically sanctioned by the ruling dynasty, sustained by human incense offerings.

The deities enshrined within were mostly virtuous officials or village elders, responsible for keeping demonic entities at bay in their respective regions.

Initially, when she detected the presence of a Mountain God and Earth God outside the town, she had assumed this world’s system wouldn’t differ much from her previous one.

Now, it seemed a change in dynasties had disrupted the divine order, leaving these local temples in a state of disarray, unable to function properly.

“Old Gentleman, walk slowly!”

“I still need to rush and sell these wild goods. Young Lady, you should hurry too.”

The Old Gentleman was surprisingly robust, striding swiftly with a basket of wild game on his back. Though he moved no faster than an average youth, it was a sight that commanded respect.

Qíngyǔ activated her ink-wash vision (TL Note: A spiritual perception ability, allowing the user to see things beyond the ordinary, often in a monochrome, ethereal manner) and gazed into the temple.

As expected, she found it deserted, an empty shell devoid of any spiritual vitality.

‘Have all the divine statues been moved out?’

“What are you looking at, Little Mom?”

“Nothing. Have you thought about what you’d like for dinner tonight?”

“I don’t know… anything feels fine.”

‘How troublesome…’

Suddenly, Qíngyǔ remembered that she might be able to pickle some chili bean paste this winter, which would add more flavor to their meals.

“Then let’s buy a chicken. Tonight, Little Mom will make you chicken soup.”

“Chicken soup?”

The Little Girl tilted her head, seemingly unfamiliar with such a dish.

Qíngyǔ, her heart aching, gently pinched her cheek. This child had truly suffered enough following that impoverished scholar.

She could only feel grateful that she had arrived, grateful that her memories of her past life had resurfaced.

“Ouch! Little Mom is mean!”

Little Girl vigorously rubbed her slightly reddened cheek, then playfully reached out to poke Qíngyǔ’s soft flesh at her waist, feigning anger.

“Don’t just poke anywhere.”

Qíngyǔ’s waist was indeed quite sensitive, and the girl’s poke sent a tingling sensation through her, prompting her to quickly grasp the Little Girl’s hand.

“Hehe, Little Mom is ticklish!”

Little Girl blinked, grinning, as if she had discovered a new continent, and looked up at Qíngyǔ.

“I am not! You’re being disrespectful.”

Qíngyǔ, rarely displaying emotions beyond placidness or melancholy, playfully scolded her, reaching out to rub the Little Girl’s cheeks several times until the child pleaded for mercy, at which point she stopped.

“Little Mom is pretty.”

Little Girl, however, kept giggling. It was the first time she had seen her Little Mom make such an expression, and she found it rather novel.

Ignoring the girl’s persistent attempts to tease her, Qíngyǔ quickly took her hand and headed towards the market.

They bought a chicken, some meat, and added a few wild vegetables.

She had originally intended to sell some of the wild mushrooms from her back-basket, but now, she realized there was no need.

Little Girl gasped and shrieked, watching the butcher pull a hen from a cage, preparing to bring down his knife.

Qíngyǔ quickly covered her eyes and cast a spell to muffle her ears.

Only then did she pick up the chopped chicken and lead Little Girl home.

In truth, if she were alone, she would have taken the chicken blood to stew into the soup, but the Little Girl clearly didn’t want to see such things, so Qíngyǔ had to give it up.

“Miss Qing?”

Upon reaching the market entrance, she saw Yin Sangu, the paper shop owner, also buying groceries.

“Old Gentleman, are you also here to buy groceries?”

“Occasionally, I indulge in some meat,” Yin Sangu chuckled. “That calligraphy of yours the other day truly helped me immensely.”

Qíngyǔ bowed in return, then ventured, “Let me guess, you sold it to Master Zì Bùxiàn, didn’t you?”

Hearing Qíngyǔ’s words, he paused, a look of realization dawning on his face. “Haha, it’s good that the Young Lady knows. Next time you have such a good opportunity, come find me, Yin Sangu! I guarantee I’ll be fairer than any pawn shop.”

Passersby, observing the usually reclusive paper shop owner laughing and scoffing, gave him a wide berth.

“That goes without saying.”

Qíngyǔ felt a little awkward, clearing her throat, ready to bid farewell.

“Oh, right, Young Lady, do you know about that temple outside of town?”

Just as Qíngyǔ was about to walk away, she halted abruptly at his words, pulling the slightly disoriented Little Girl back with her.

“The government officials approached me, wanting to commission a plaque (TL Note: “paibian,” an inscribed wooden or stone tablet, often for a temple or building).

I wonder if the Young Lady knows anyone skilled in calligraphy? It would be a great favor to this old man, and a writing fee (TL Note: “rùn bǐ fèi,” literally “wetting the brush fee,” a traditional payment for calligraphy or writing services) would, of course, be provided.”

This was a return of favor.

She had been meaning to investigate the temple herself; it was like a pillow appearing when one was sleepy (TL Note: An idiom meaning to get exactly what one needs at the opportune moment).

Qíngyǔ deliberately pondered for a long moment, then sighed as she replied, “If the Old Gentleman doesn’t mind, I would be willing to inscribe the characters.”

“Excellent, excellent! It doesn’t matter if the calligraphy isn’t perfect; what truly matters is the sincerity of devotion to the gods.”

Yin Sangu nodded in satisfaction, then, with a carefree air, lifted his basket of wild vegetables and bid Qíngyǔ farewell.

“Then, in three days, this old man shall await the Young Lady at the paper shop.”

“Sir, you overstate things.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Yin!”

Little Girl sweetly bid him farewell. The Old Gentleman chuckled, waved a hand behind his back, and continued on his way.

‘He is quite an eccentric character himself.’

“Little Mom, why are all these old farts so strange?”

The Little Girl was, of course, referring to Zì Bùxiàn and Yin Sangu.

“Don’t call people that,” Qíngyǔ emphasized first, then continued, “When people get old, they think about many things. They are actually quite carefree.”

Little Girl nodded, half understanding, then gazed at Yin Sangu’s receding figure in the distance and mumbled softly.

“I think Little Mom and those two are a bit alike.”

“What nonsense are you spouting? Isn’t Little Mom pretty?”

‘Though I was an old fart myself in my past life, my current appearance is still quite passable, isn’t it?’

“It’s not about being pretty or not! It’s just… it’s just alike!”

Little Girl hurriedly explained, but couldn’t quite articulate what she meant.

“Where are we alike? Really.”

Shaking her head, Qíngyǔ led the Little Girl through the bustling market and back to their small courtyard.

All the way home, she kept dwelling on the Little Girl’s comment about her resemblance to those two old farts.

So much so that while cooking, she stared at her reflection in the water缸 for a long time.

She bared her teeth, holding the basket of chicken meat.

The lovely maiden in the water, with bright eyes and pearly teeth, also bared her teeth twice, completely ungracefully.

The maiden’s black hair was tied back, some messy strands loosely escaping.

Her complexion was pale and cool, and her figure was impossibly slender, possessing the delicate grace of a weak willow swaying in the wind (TL Note: “ruò liǔ fú fēng,” an idiom describing a delicate and graceful physique).

Thinking this was her current self, even she, who had lived two… no, three lives, couldn’t help but blush for a moment.

‘How is this even remotely like those two old farts?’

Little Girl, who had been peeking over the wall by the entrance, observed her Little Mom’s strange behavior and couldn’t help but rouse Immortal Sword to ask a few questions.

[What is Little Mom doing?]

[Nothing, just being vain (TL Note: “chòuměi,” a colloquial term meaning to be vain or to show off one’s beauty).]

[What does that mean?]

[It means she thinks she’s pretty.]

[Oh.]

‘Of course Little Mom is pretty.’

The Little Girl watched her strangely as Qíngyǔ coughed twice, the flush on her face vanishing in an instant, returning to her usual cool demeanor.

For some inexplicable reason, Little Girl suddenly wanted to see more of that blush on Qíngyǔ’s face, yet instinctively felt it wouldn’t be right.

She could only shake her little head vigorously and run off to the courtyard to play with ants.