Chapter 74: Friendly Reminder

Zhou Meiniang is too young; her small heart cannot bear such intense pain, and with the broken leg bone having been untreated for too long, her recovery ability has declined—she must enhance her luck and recovery ability.

Pan Yun adjusted her breath for a moment, waited until her spiritual power was full and her mind calm, then picked up her brush to draw talismans.

When she put down her brush and looked up, nine talismans already lay on the table; the spiritual energy spent left her somewhat weary.

She stretched her stiff neck and asked Wang Feiyin, who had appeared without notice, “Senior Brother, has today’s ritual ended?”

“Other Daoists have taken over,” Wang Feiyin sat across from her and glanced at the talismans on the table. “For Zhou Meiniang, a talisman scroll is more suitable than individual talismans.”

Pan Yun froze, lowering her eyes. “I’m not skilled with scrolls.”

“I can tell. When we return to Mount Sanqing, you’ll learn scrolls from your Fourth Senior Sister—she’s an expert in talisman scrolls.”

Pan Yun agreed.

Wang Feiyin looked at her, as if wanting to say something but holding back.

Pan Yun: “Senior Brother, if you have something to say, say it—I’ll listen carefully.”

Wang Feiyin sighed. “Don’t misunderstand, Fifth Junior Sister. I’m not scheming—this is simply fate. The money you have… could you set some aside?”

Pan Yun immediately pulled out a hundred-silver-tael banknote from her pocket and said generously, “Senior Brother, please take it!”

Wang Feiyin was astonished, shoving the money into his sleeve as he asked, “Fifth Junior Sister, you won’t renege on this, will you?”

“No reneging. Once we save her, there’s another hundred taels as reward—all for Senior Brother.”

Wang Feiyin squeezed the money in his sleeve, confirmed it was secure, then smiled warmly. “So you still have a lot of money on you?”

“Junior Sister, don’t blame Senior Brother for not warning you—you’d best spend all your money in the next two days, leave as little as possible. If you don’t know where to spend it, just give it to the temple. Fate is fate—we must accept it.”

Pan Yun: “If Daoists accept fate, why bother cultivating?”

Wang Feiyin: “Junior Sister, you’ve gone off track. We cultivate to understand the Dao, to draw closer to it, to attain eternal harmony with Heaven’s Dao—not to defy fate.”

Pan Yun: “But last time you taught, you passionately said we cultivate to fight others, to fight Heaven, to fight fate!”

“Did I? That was your Third Senior Brother speaking. I, a gentle and kind person, would never say such rebellious words. We must follow Heaven’s Dao, follow nature, follow destiny.”

Pan Yun narrowed her eyes at his upward gaze of hopeful supplication. “Senior Brother, are you saying that to Heaven’s Dao—or to Master?”

Wang Feiyin glared at her. “Don’t say everything that comes to mind, child.”

Pan Yun nodded thoughtfully. “I understand—I can think it in my head.”

So she stared wide-eyed into his eyes, hoping he could read her unspoken thoughts.

Wang Feiyin tapped her head, stood up, and said, “Keep the rest of the money yourself. If you won’t listen to elders, you’ll learn from one misfortune. Bring the child here tonight to sleep with you—watch her closely. Her tribulation comes within these two days.”

Pan Yun agreed.

That evening, Sun Xianniang arrived with the nursemaid, carrying a bundle.

Sun Xianniang’s eyes were red—she had cried all afternoon and still couldn’t bear to let her daughter come alone, so she and the nursemaid would stay too.

There wasn’t enough bed space.

But the weather wasn’t especially cold; laying thick straw mats on the floor and covering them with quilts made it quite warm.

Spacious and warm, Miaohé did a backflip upon returning from the ritual, then sat hard on the mat and bounced up again, delighted: “Even more comfortable than a bed—it bounces!”

Pan Yun sipped hot tea from her bowl and sighed. “When Old Lady Sun has money, things change—this household is finally running properly.”

Miaohé asked curiously: “Didn’t Old Lady Sun run the household before?”

Pan Yun: “If Old Lady Sun had run the household, we’d have seen a mother beating her filial son the night we arrived.”

Sun Xianniang looked embarrassed.

Miaozhen glanced at her and said, “Junior Auntie is reminding the good woman: money means authority, and authority brings money.” Sun Xianniang: …

Pan Yun smiled and nodded at her. “Good Woman Sun, once you and your daughter survive this tribulation, greater fortune awaits you.”

Sun Xianniang pondered.

Xuanmiao brought over the decoction Tao Ji had prepared. Seeing so many people in the room, she paused briefly before handing the bowl to Sun Xianniang. “This is the child’s medicine. After she takes it, I’ll needle her.”

Pan Yun leaned in. “Senior Sister, you know acupuncture?”

Xuanmiao glanced at her. “Medicine and Dao are inseparable. Aren’t you learning medicine too? I may not match your two Senior Brothers, but I know the basic needle techniques.”

Sun Xianniang coaxed the child to take the medicine.

Children who had undergone foot-binding had exceptionally good tempers—even when the medicine was bitter, they swallowed it with tears, never daring to refuse.

Pan Yun propped her chin in her hand, puzzled. “Good Woman Sun seems to love her child deeply—why insist on foot-binding despite her cries?”

Sun Xianniang stiffened.

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Miaozhen and Miaohé also stared at her curiously.

Pan Yun quickly explained: “Good Woman Sun, don’t misunderstand—I mean no harm. I’m simply curious. Cultivation, as you know, requires introspection—not just your own heart, but others’ hearts, and the Dao’s heart.”

Sun Xianniang looked lost. “Is cultivation like that?”

Xuanmiao nodded. “Yes.”

She was curious too.

Sun Xianniang’s gaze swept over their feet—all natural, unbound. Of course—Daoists don’t bind feet.

“Did your parents not bind your feet because you were to cultivate?”

Miaozhen: “I have no parents.”

Miaohé: “I was picked up by Senior Grandmaster from the grass—I have no parents either.”

Xuanmiao: “My family never bound women’s feet.”

Pan Yun raised her hand high. “Me! Me! I had foot-binding experience!”

Everyone turned to look.

Pan Yun said proudly: “When the foot-binder grabbed my foot, I screamed so loudly my voice cracked. My mother, heartbroken, let me off.”

Sun Xianniang hugged the child tightly, tears falling. “But this concerns her future—if she doesn’t bind her feet, her marriage prospects will sink lower. Like me—I had two marriage offers: the County Magistrate’s son, or the Zhou family. Because I didn’t bind my feet, I married into the Zhou family.”

My elder sister was the same—she had better options, but suitors fled the moment they saw her feet.

Foot-binding brings temporary pain; marriage brings lifelong hardship. I believe, when she grows up, she’ll understand me.”

Xuanmiao: “Even if foot-binding kills?”

“So many women bind their feet—how many die? How was I to know my Meiniang would be one of them?”

Pan Yun frowned. “A failed marriage isn’t necessarily due to foot-binding…”

“It’s entirely due to foot-binding!” Sun Xianniang declared firmly. “If you don’t believe me, visit the official households in Guangxin Prefecture—whose back courtyard lacks these three-inch golden lotuses? When choosing brides, isn’t smaller always better?”

Pan Yun opened her mouth, then closed it. After a long pause, she said: “Who invented this disgusting, fortune-ruining custom?”

She spoke forcefully: “Foot-binding truly ruins fortune and disrupts feng shui!”

The lucky number for this chapter is any number ending in 2—screenshot as proof.

(End of Chapter)