Chapter 173: Hidden Remnants, Hidden Danger

Jia Cong saw her finish reciting the poem, his eyes filled with surprise: "You didn't know a single character before—now you're truly changed."

Even daughters from ordinary families rarely get the chance to learn to read and write; though the Jia household is a great clan, among its maids, those who can read and write are as rare as phoenix feathers or unicorn horns.

Only young ladies like Lin Daiyu, Sister Miao Yu, and the three Spring sisters, born into official or noble families, ever get the opportunity to study.

Zhen Ying Lady Lian was kidnapped as a child, and by sheer coincidence, she overheard lessons for two years outside a private school, which allowed her to learn to read and write—such fortune is exceedingly rare.

Even Bao Yu's chief maid, Sister Xi Ren, couldn't read a single character; Zhi Shao was no different before—but now she could recite a poem with perfect rhythm and cadence.

Jing Hui looked puzzled: "Before?" She furrowed her delicate brows, lowered her head, and thought long and hard, yet found no trace of memory.

"For the past two years, Sister has taught me to read and write every day—I remember nothing at all before that."

Jia Cong spoke gently: "If you can't recall, don't try. It's not important."

He took out the pair of silver filigree bracelets and said: "These bracelets were the gift I gave you back then. Last time I had Zhen Ying Lady Lian bring them to you, you never took them."

He slipped the two silver filigree bracelets onto her wrists, then released his hold.

She traced her fingers over the silver filigree bracelets, a strange feeling rising within her—she still couldn't remember who he was.

…

Seeing Jing Hui stare blankly at the bracelets, silent and lost in thought, her gaze distant, as if lost in some unknown reverie.

Sister Miao Yu remembered those bracelets—originally, it was that man surnamed Jia who had sent Zhen Ying Lady Lian to give them to Jing Hui, then had the audacity to touch her on the spot, startling her so badly that the bracelets fell to the ground and she never picked them up.

Jia Cong's heart surged; summoning courage, he took her hand. Jing Hui jolted as if waking from a dream, instinctively pulling away—but Jia Cong tightened his grip, capturing the jade-soft palm slipping from his grasp.

Earlier, when she had flushed and fled, his words had left her flustered and bewildered.

Jing Hui's cheeks flushed crimson; her clear, watery eyes met Jia Cong's, brimming with confusion and panic, yet unwilling to look away.

Jing Hui returned to her meditation chamber to find the bedcovers empty—Zhen Ying Lady Lian had risen and gone somewhere; the chamber lay silent and empty, utterly still, as if she could hear the pounding of her own heart.

The river flows on heartlessly, extinguishing past lives—but the deep-seated bonds of mutual devotion, etched into her heart, can never fade.

All she remembered was the inexplicable flutter in her chest whenever their eyes met.

Until Jia Cong recalled the past, unable to restrain himself, wanting to draw closer again—only for her to push him away, her face burning red.

"It doesn't matter if you don't remember me—I came to take you away. I'll stay right here, waiting until you're ready to come with me."

When Jing Hui returned to the inner hall of Panxiang Temple, Sister Miao Yu noticed her eyes glistened with moisture, her cheeks still flushed with lingering shame, and a pair of glittering silver bracelets on her slender wrists.

Judging from Jing Hui's expression, Sister Miao Yu knew that man surnamed Jia had come again to trouble her; Sister Miao Yu's face reddened as she muttered: "Rogue!"

A surge of resentment rose in her heart, her pulse racing; she returned to her room, unrolled her sutra scroll, gripped her wooden fish, and silently chanted until she quieted her wandering thoughts.

…

On the road from Jin Ling to Su Zhou, a carriage sped swiftly over ice and snow.

Inside sat four men; the leader, a man in his thirties, was sturdy and carried the aura of authority.

The other three were ordinary-looking, their frames robust, bearing the demeanor of soldiers, each with weapons at their sides—clearly standard-issue government arms.

"This time, I need you three brothers to eliminate someone in Su Zhou. When it's done, I'll give you exit permits and a sum of silver to live on."

"There are many ocean-going ships leaving near the New Year—Japan or the southern seas are good destinations. The world is vast—who could ever find you again?"

One of them said: "We've been dragged down by Commander Zou. If you hadn't warned us in time and arranged our escape, we'd already be dead in the Embroidered Uniform Guard's prison."

"We owe you our lives, brother—we'll repay this debt. But who exactly are we targeting? Why must we go all the way to Su Zhou?"

The leader sneered: "This man is famous in Jin Ling. With the Academy and the Embroidered Uniform Guard now dominant, if he stayed in Jin Ling, it would be hard to touch him."

"If you trace it back, brothers—you're in this mess because of him!"

…

Su Zhou, nestled between river and lake, boasts fertile soil and abundant water, famed for its glutinous rice and sweet, fragrant grains, its cuisine refined and delicately sweet.

On this day, Jia Cong took Zhen Ying Lady Lian to Leyu Street in eastern Su Zhou. He had originally wanted to bring Jing Hui too, but she wore her Buddhist robes with hair unshorn, still bound by precepts, and could not move as freely as Zhen Ying Lady Lian.

Zhen Ying Lady Lian, who spent her days with Jing Hui, knew her many preferences; she told Jia Cong that every Winter Solstice, temple patrons would bring Su Zhou rice cakes, and Jing Hui's favorite was Zhen'er cake.

Feng Shi had once taken Zhen Ying Lady Lian to Leyu Street, so she knew there was an old cake shop there that made the most authentic Zhen'er cake—most young women loved such sweet, sticky treats.

The winter sun warmed their backs; residual snow still clung to the curbs along the street.

With the New Year approaching, Su Zhou, a wealthy region of the south, still saw famine and beggars on the roads—but more common were families with spare coin, shopping for festival goods with children in tow.

Jia Cong and Zhen Ying Lady Lian each carried large and small bundles: Zhen'er cake for Jing Hui, plus other local specialties meant as gifts for his sisters back in the capital.

Jia Cong was laughing with Zhen Ying Lady Lian when he suddenly sensed someone watching—he caught a glimpse of a figure darting from the side, a man of average build.

Though his felt hat was pulled low, Jia Cong still recognized the face—familiar, though he couldn't place where he'd seen it before.

Something felt off; he couldn't piece it together, so after wandering a while longer, he returned with Zhen Ying Lady Lian to Mount Xuanmu Mountain.

Two days passed without incident, and he let his guard down.

That day, the Jia ancestral home sent another official letter from the Ministry of Rites: since the transcription of sutras at Da Ci'en Temple was complete, he was ordered to return to the capital promptly to submit his report.

He had been dispatched to Jin Ling on imperial business—this was standard bureaucratic procedure.

But Jing Hui's matter remained unresolved, and he couldn't leave yet. Fortunately, his duties weren't urgent; the letter set no deadline, only demanded his return to submit his report.

Delaying a little longer should be fine—as long as he reached the capital before Lantern Festival, or he'd invite suspicion.

During this time, Jia Cong had spoken to her with tender words and gentle care; perhaps because old feelings had never truly faded, Jing Hui had begun to grow attached to him—but the time was still short.

She had spent two years in Panxiang Temple, as if reborn into a new world; Master Shanshan and Sister Miao Yu were the people closest to her—perhaps even more so than he was.

To ask her to leave now, to sever ties with her master and sister, would still be difficult.

(End of Chapter)