Chapter 1

On a midsummer noon without a breath of wind, the sunlight was always so bright and piercing. Everyone was either napping in the side rooms or seeking shade to escape the heat. The vast Biyun Nunnery was utterly silent, without a sound.

Fu Tingjun, wearing a moon-white cotton shirt and a bamboo hat, slowly walked westward along the back courtyard wall of the nunnery, where weeds and brambles grew thickly.

The sun-scorched ground shimmered with heat waves, drenching her in sweat. Her clothes were soon soaked through, clinging damply and stickily to her body. Low brambles kept catching at her skirt, and every few steps through the tangled weeds, a cloud of black gnats would buzz up. One moment she had to crouch down to free her hem from the thorns, the next she had to pull out her handkerchief to wave away the nameless insects—a thoroughly disheveled sight.

Fu Tingjun had no time to mind. She looked around, scanning her surroundings, until her steps finally came to a halt beneath a large locust tree.

The tree was as thick as a man's arms could encircle. Whether struck by a violent wind or lightning, it had snapped in the middle. The crown had fallen against the courtyard wall, withered and rotting into a nest for insects and ants, while new shoots had sprouted from the roots—already as thick as a bowl, their lush branches leaning out over the wall at an angle.

This was the one she had seen from the second floor of the sutra pavilion that day!

Joy rose in Fu Tingjun's heart, and a faint smile softened her previously grave expression.

She gave the new branch a hard kick.

The leaves rustled loudly, but the branch remained firmly propped against the wall.

Fu Tingjun smiled in satisfaction. She took off her bamboo hat, revealing thick, glossy black hair.

She tucked one corner of her skirt into the sash at her waist, then carefully climbed up the tree, stepping on the forks of the branches.

The glaring sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patches of light and shadow across her face, her hands, and her dress.

Fu Tingjun focused entirely on her task and soon scaled the wall.

She pushed aside the leaves blocking her view.

Without warning or sign, a young man's face suddenly appeared from behind the leaves.

They were so close—face to face, nose to nose. She could even smell the sweat on him and feel the warmth of his breath against her lips.

"Ah—" After a moment of stunned paralysis, Fu Tingjun let out a terrified cry and instinctively recoiled, forgetting that she was standing on a tree suspended in midair. Her foot slipped, and she fell into the grass below the tree.

The wall was so high—how could anyone appear at its top?

She tried groggily to get up, but her vision darkened in waves. Suddenly, her neck tightened, and she was yanked to her feet and shoved against the wall.

Fu Tingjun's breathing became labored at once. The rough surface of the wall scraped her back with excruciating pain.

"Let me go!" she wanted to shout, but all that came out was a choked whimper. She tried to kick and struggle, yet all her strength seemed drained away, her limbs limp and useless.

It's over, it's over... A silent, deserted afternoon, a remote and overgrown back courtyard, a man climbing the nunnery's rear wall... Her life was done for!

Her mind was crystal clear, but her body would not move.

The hand gripping her neck loosened slightly, and a thin stream of air rushed in.

Fu Tingjun greedily gulped down breaths.

The man's low, sinister voice sounded coldly by her ear: "If you make a single sound, I'll snap your neck right now."

His voice was neither loud nor soft—flat, dull, utterly devoid of inflection—yet it carried more menace and intimidation than any furious roar or harsh shout.

Fu Tingjun's whole body went weak. She nodded vigorously, afraid he wouldn't believe her, though to any onlooker it would have seemed no more than a slight dip of her chin.

The hand on her neck slowly relaxed, with a hint of testing.

She collapsed limply to the ground, clutching her throat with both hands and coughing painfully. Then, remembering the man's words, she stifled the cough and looked up at him in terror.

The man before her was barely past twenty. Though tall of stature, he was gaunt to the point of emaciation, wearing a tattered short jacket so worn that its original color was indistinguishable. His deeply sunken eyes were startlingly bright and sharp, his cracked lips pressed tightly together. His gaze at her was like a hawk staring down a chick—cold, with a hint of savagery.

Fu Tingjun's heart sank.

She quickly glanced at his feet.

He wore no shoes, and his trouser legs were rolled up unevenly, revealing skin tanned to a bronze hue.

Her heart sank further.

A man as ruthless and cruel as he was—even if born into poverty—would surely be hired by debt collectors or wealthy merchants. Yet he was so destitute he couldn't even afford a pair of straw sandals... Unless he couldn't afford to be seen in the light!

She began to tremble uncontrollably.

Was he a wanted bandit on the run? Or a fugitive who had committed murder in the countryside?

Whether the former or the latter, she had stumbled upon his whereabouts... He would silence her for good, wouldn't he?

Her body went limp, and her gaze involuntarily fell on those large hands with their prominent knuckles, gripping like iron pincers.

Fu Tingjun still remembered the feeling of them closing around her throat!

No, that wasn't right. If he wanted to kill her, he could have simply strangled her right then and there. Why bother threatening her with words?

She thought of the probing look in his eyes when he released his grip, and a flash of insight struck her.

Or perhaps—he had his own reservations!

Fu Tingjun's heart slowly revived, strength returning to her body as she rapidly formulated a plan.

If she guessed correctly, since he was someone who couldn't afford to be seen, he surely wouldn't care about adding one more life to his conscience... More likely, he feared that after killing someone, the body would be discovered, or the deceased's relatives would report it and draw the authorities' attention, thereby exposing his whereabouts...

At a time like this, every moment of hesitation meant more danger!

"Brave sir," she said without delay, enduring the discomfort in her throat, her voice hoarse, "I am a daughter of the Fu family of Huayin. Biyun Nunnery is our family's private temple. Because the weather is hot, I brought my maidservant to the nunnery to escape the heat. I heard there are several steles by a great calligrapher of the previous dynasty in the back courtyard, and I wished to see them, but every time I came in haste, I never had the chance. This time I came to stay at the nunnery, thinking I'd finally have the opportunity, but then my wet nurse felt the weather was too hot and feared I might suffer heatstroke, so she wouldn't let me come. That's why I slipped away when no one was around to take a quiet look..."

His expression remained impassive, but there seemed to be a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

Fu Tingjun secretly rejoiced, her voice growing even softer: "Men and women should not touch in passing. If my wet nurse discovers me alone with a man, I'm afraid I'll face her reproach..." She lowered her eyelids, putting on a dejected look while stealing glances at his expression from the corner of her eye. "If she tells my mother, it would inevitably implicate you, brave sir..."

He curled the corner of his mouth and abruptly cut her off: "You say you are a daughter of the Fu family of Huayin?" His tone was flat, revealing nothing of his feelings.

"Yes!" Fu Tingjun quickly straightened herself into a proper kneeling position, hands folded on her knees. "I am the ninth in my generation."

He gave an "oh," the rising inflection carrying an indescribable hint of mockery: "The Fu family with five memorial archways at the gate—besides the ones bestowed for the Grand Guardian of the Heir Apparent and for placing first in the imperial examinations, the other three are chastity arches?"

Fu Tingjun immediately realized he held the Fu family in considerable contempt.

Her brows arched slightly.

Although the Fu family had not produced any high-ranking officials in recent generations, they were still held in great respect, just as before, thanks to their clean and rigorous family conduct.

And he dared to look down on the Fu family!

She opened her mouth as if to speak, then stopped.

Arguing with him about this at such a moment was clearly unwise.

A man like him—if he understood propriety, honor, and shame, how could he have ended up in such a state? Speaking to him of loyalty, filial piety, benevolence, and righteousness would be like playing a lute before a cow. Better to tell him that if he let her go, she could give him a sum of money without alerting anyone... Fortunately, she had brought some jewelry with her... If converted to silver, it would amount to one or two hundred taels... Not enough for him to live lavishly, but at least it would resolve his immediate difficulties... She wondered if he would become greedy after she made this offer... She had come in haste; she couldn't produce any more than that...

Fu Tingjun was uncertain.

The man had already spoken: "You say this is the Fu family's temple?"

Fu Tingjun quickly collected her thoughts: "Mm!"

"Then you should know where the kitchen is, right?" he said flatly. "Find a secluded path that avoids the people in the nunnery, and take me to the kitchen!"

To... the kitchen!

Fu Tingjun was greatly surprised, but dared not ask questions. She grabbed the old locust tree stump and stood up.

Perhaps she rose too quickly, or perhaps she had hit something earlier—stars danced before her eyes. She closed her eyes and rested for a moment until she caught her breath, then slowly headed east.

He followed silently behind her, exiting the back courtyard into a narrow alley.

The alley had no trees; the sun beat directly down on their heads, a blinding white glare that made Fu Tingjun dizzy. But that was nothing compared to the man's gaze behind her, which seemed to bore a hole through her, filling her with such dread that she dared not think too much, dared not take a single wrong step.

Fortunately, they encountered no one along the way. The kitchen in the southeast corner was dim and silent, empty of people.

He searched the kitchen thoroughly, gathering steamed buns, wheat cakes, pickled vegetables, and even half a bowl of leftover rice, wrapping them all up in his outer garment.

Fu Tingjun lowered her head when he took off his clothes.

Her face burned fiercely.

In all her years, this was the first time a man had undressed in front of her.

A crude country fellow, indeed—utterly boorish!

"Let's go!" In the blink of an eye, he stood before her, one hand holding the bundle of food wrapped in his clothes, the other carrying a clay jar the size of a water bucket that had held rice.

Go? Where? Her quarters were only one courtyard away...

The thought flashed through her mind, and her face turned deathly pale.

He wanted her to go back to the back courtyard with him!

No, no, no... He had no more use for her. If she went back to the back courtyard with him, that would be courting death... She absolutely could not go with him... In the neighboring courtyard lived several nuns who did the cooking; at this hour, they should be taking their afternoon nap... She was truly muddled... She should have run away when he was searching for food!

“Warrior!” Fu Tingjun said, retreating quietly while trying to make her tone sound as gentle and submissive as possible, “You already know the way out. The sun outside is so strong, and I've been in the back courtyard for so long that I can't take it anymore. I won't see you out...”

Her heel had already touched the threshold.

“Help!” She turned and ran.

But the word “help” had barely left her lips when her throat tightened again. She was grabbed by the neck and dragged back inside, then shoved against the central pillar of the kitchen.

Her whole body ached as if it had fallen apart.

She desperately tried to pry his hand off her neck, staring intently at his face, as if only by doing so could she express the hatred she felt.

He looked at her calmly, with the same casual air one might have when crushing an ant. As if the killing before him was as ordinary and routine as eating or drinking!

Fu Tingjun trembled as if plunged into an icy abyss... struggling desperately like a fish thrown onto the shore... gradually unable to breathe... sinking into darkness...