Chapter 042: The Widow Sister and the Monk Brother

Chapter Title: 042 Widow Sister, Monk Brother

With an air of lofty benevolence and a tone that brooked no refusal, she spoke as if issuing an order. Though she still appeared as frail and delicate as an unmarried maiden from the inner chambers, her actions carried the fierce authority of a household matriarch.

Fang Rulai glanced at Old Lady Lin from the corner of her eye. The old matron was still present—how could this not-yet-married daughter-in-law presume to speak? Old Lady Lin had her eyes shut, weeping in pain, seemingly oblivious or perhaps merely feigning ignorance. But why?

With lingering doubt, Fang Rulai looked toward Wang Suzhi and Xu Chunhua. These two had nearly come to blows over a single remark, yet now this sister-in-law, not even married into the family, dared to speak before them, subduing them… One gazed at the sky, the other at the ground, both pretending not to hear. But why?

The mystery deepened in Fang Rulai’s heart, though her face betrayed nothing. “Amitabha. The monk is grateful for your kindness, Lady. However, given our respective identities, it would be inconvenient for me to intrude further. It’s best I not trouble you.” Newly arrived in Ping City, she had only just grasped the outline of the situation. She would have to be foolish to step into such an obvious trap.

“You worry too much, Master,” Miss Wan’er pressed, refusing to yield an inch. “Since childhood, I was promised to the Zhao family. I am Zhao’s in life, Zhao’s in death. Now that Ke has died far from home, I must conduct myself as a widow. You, Master, protected my late husband’s soul all the way; as his widow, I should reciprocate. Naturally, for the sake of your reputation, I will leave you at the banquet and then withdraw elsewhere.”

Fang Rulai gave a silent nod. Indeed, she must withdraw—otherwise, should anything happen to her, Miss Wan’er’s presence would make her the prime suspect.

“To be candid, my family runs a modest tavern here in Ping City. From the day we learned you would escort my late husband home, my parents wished to thank you. They have only me, their daughter, and Ke was always treated as half a son. Now that he is gone, nothing can bring him back, but for his soul, my parents wish to offer sincere comfort. Please, Master, accept their gratitude and do not decline.”

Fang Rulai fingered her prayer beads, clarity in her heart: their own tavern? What a perfect tool for murder and robbery.

“Green Bud, Green Bamboo, prepare a sedan for the Master!”

At her command, a black sedan appeared before Fang Rulai. A chill ran through her; she hadn’t even noticed where it had come from.

“Master, please enter the sedan.” Green Bud and Green Bamboo stood on either side, seemingly respectful as servants, but in fact blocking any chance for escape.

Zhu Xishi stood up with hands on hips, “Hey, Miss Wan’er, you’re being quite rude.”

“Oh?” Miss Wan’er paused and turned.

“I came all this way with Master Rulai,” Zhu Xishi pointed to herself. “Though I don’t care much for the meal, Miss Wan’er, you speak only of Master Rulai, and it makes me a bit uncomfortable! I say, Miss Wan’er—no, as you said, I should call you Widow Sister. Why does Widow Sister only see Master Rulai but not a fellow widow like me?”

Zhu Xishi exaggerated her complaint, drawing out her words. “Sister, as one who’s been through it, let me warn you: a widow’s doorstep is always fraught with trouble. No matter how upright you are, inviting a monk to a private banquet in broad daylight will damage your reputation. Be careful.”

“Reputation at risk?” Miss Wan’er paused in solemn silence, then declared, “For the peace of my late husband’s soul, I could abandon life and limb, let alone mere reputation!”

She stood tall and proud, her words ringing with heroic spirit.

Green Bud’s tears burst forth, “Such righteousness, my lady!”

Green Bamboo glared at Zhu Xishi, “My lady acts with a clear conscience. The people of Ping City see and hear all; who dares slander her?”

Old Lady Lin opened her swollen eyes, “Wan’er, your aunt is ashamed for you, calling yourself a widow.”

Wang Suzhi and Xu Chunhua laughed together, “Who in Ping City doesn’t know Wan’er’s character? When our uncle was gravely ill and wanted to break off the engagement, Wan’er herself persuaded him otherwise. Such a loyal woman would never lose her reputation after his death. Wan’er, rest assured, anyone who gossips, your big sister-in-law will be the first to deal with her!”

A moment ago, everyone had their own stance, but now they were united in support of Miss Wan’er.

Why? Was it her lofty position, or her formidable skills? Either way, Fang Rulai realized Miss Wan’er was not nearly as fragile or easily bullied as she appeared.

Fang Rulai’s original plan to consult Old Lady Lin before investigating suddenly changed. What could be more effective than infiltrating the enemy’s camp?

She quickly signaled Zhu Xishi: stay alert, I’ll return soon.

“Amitabha. Then I shall respectfully accept your invitation,” Fang Rulai pressed her palms together, bowed slightly, and placed a hand on the sedan to climb in.

Just as she did, a voice slipped into her mind.

Lin Wan’er, Old Lady Lin’s niece, only daughter of Lin Tavern’s owner. Her father, Lin Dahai, once saved the local magistrate Sun Chi’s life; Sun Chi, grateful, adopted Lin Wan’er as his goddaughter, treating her with great regard. Thus, though not the true daughter of the magistrate, Lin Wan’er holds a status in Ping City equal to, if not higher than, the magistrate’s own daughter.

Mu Zhijin’s voice.

Fang Rulai paused, then entered the sedan as if nothing had happened.

The black sedan swayed through the city gates, winding along alleys and streets. Within, Fang Rulai reviewed all the information she’d gathered.

The sedan turned into a dark alley, stopping before a narrow black door. The bearers knocked, and Fang Rulai disembarked, casually leaning sideways to steady herself against the wall.

Green Bud and Green Bamboo exchanged smiles: Hmph, now you know fear? Too late.

Both drew daggers and closed in. Fang Rulai straightened and looked back with a smile, “Amitabha, thankfully this is the back door! I was worried about entering through the front and ruining Lady’s reputation.”

Green Bud and Green Bamboo froze. The monk had just arrived—how did he know this was the tavern’s back door?

Suddenly, both sprang up the wall, scanning for ambushes: Was there an informant here?

At that moment, the back door creaked open, and an elderly couple rushed out to greet Fang Rulai.

“Master, your presence honors our humble home! Please, come in.” The couple enthusiastically took Fang Rulai’s arms and led her inside.

“Father, Mother,” Lin Wan’er called, “please take good care of Master. The Zhao family is welcoming Ke home today, and I must return to help. I’ll stay for the vigil tonight and not come home.”

“Of course, we understand. Go, and take care of your aged aunt.”

Lin Wan’er’s sedan departed, and Fang Rulai vanished through the tavern’s back door.

On the staircase, Fang Rulai respectfully traced the carvings on the wall, “Ping City’s craftsmanship rivals Shengjing’s. Impressive.”

At the private room, Fang Rulai stepped ahead to lift the curtain for the couple. “As a young monk, how could I trouble you to do this? Allow me.”

On the wall opposite the entrance hung a painting of a plump, gluttonous Buddha. Fang Rulai immediately pressed her hands together in reverence, then quickly withdrew, “Amitabha, forgive my disrespect.”

Facing the painting was a table laden with chicken, duck, and fish, the aroma enticing, though Fang Rulai knew these were all imitation—real ingredients were tofu.

Beside the table was an ornate window, through which the faint sound of strings and flutes drifted.

Lin Dahai apologized, “Master, please make yourself comfortable. I must attend to business downstairs,” and hurried out with his wife, closing the door behind them.

Fang Rulai didn’t mind. She surveyed the room, then took the seat of honor at the table.

The first dish was tofu fashioned as mock chicken, shaped and flavored like chicken but made entirely of tofu. Fang Rulai pulled the plate close, sniffed, and sighed, “Ah, it’s not as tasty as the sugar-free version,” then pushed it away.

So wasteful that even the Buddha painting seemed to sigh along.

She picked up her chopsticks and tried the braised tofu next to the mock chicken.

The music rose gently.

“Oh, too much sugar, it’s bitter.” Fang Rulai returned the braised tofu.

The music paused, then resumed.

“Ah, my favorite, Mapo tofu.” Fang Rulai picked up a piece and brought it to her lips.

The music soared.

As she raised it, her mouth opened, and even the Buddha painting seemed to inhale eagerly, wishing to devour it.

Suddenly, Fang Rulai set it down, “Oh, I almost forgot—after all this travel, my mouth is sore. I’d better avoid spicy food for now.”

A clear, sharp sound—a string snapped.

Fang Rulai burst out laughing, “Hey, Miss Lin, the new widow, do you need the monk’s help to replace a string?”

At her words, the wall with the Buddha painting creaked open like a door, and Lin Wan’er stepped out.

“So you knew I was here!” Lin Wan’er’s face was dark, her composure gone. No wonder she found the monk’s actions odd—he had known she was observing from the secret passage, and had teased her with his feigned indecision over the food. And from the moment they met, no one had mentioned her surname. How did the monk know?

Fang Rulai tapped the rim of the plates with her chopsticks, producing melodic sounds. “Widow Sister, curious how I knew? Call me Monk Brother, and I’ll answer every question.”

“…You dare tease me?” Lin Wan’er slammed the table.

Fang Rulai grinned, holding the chopsticks in her mouth, “Do you wish to be teased?”

Lin Wan’er and Fang Rulai locked eyes. Suddenly, Lin Wan’er removed the white flower from her hair and handed it to Fang Rulai. “Monk Brother.”

Thanks to dear C Banxia / Ruyan, &! Manman! ^_$, zengfengzhu, and ‘Can’t Guess Your Eye Color’ for the encouragement!

A new year begins—may everyone work hard toward their goals. Qingye too!

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