After Rebirth, I Married my Archenemy - Chapter 101

“Eighty bolts of yunjin brocade?” The silk merchant was stunned at first, then sneered. “Even if you scoured the entire city, I doubt you’d find that many.”

Qun Qing was momentarily dazed.

Just last year, Yunzhou had produced over a thousand bolts of yunjin brocade and patterned silk. She hadn’t expected this. Other fabrics were easily acquired, yet among all the carts they brought, there were only ten bolts of yunjin brocade.

In Yunzhou, a city famed for its brocade, not even eighty bolts could be found.

At that moment, a long-fingered hand extended beside her, holding out two luminous pearls. Before Qun Qing could stop him, Lu Huating lightly pressed her arm and said, 

“I’m rather curious. Why is it that even the silk merchants don’t have yunjin brocade? Where has it all gone?”

The merchant took the pearls and hesitated for a moment before answering, “Officer Liu’s eldest son, Liu You, has a fondness for white yunjin brocade. Each year, the finest bolts are seized by the Governor’s office under the guise of tribute, at a pitifully low price. If you want to know about that stock… you’ll have to ask them.”

“And the rest?” Lu Huating asked.

“The rest was purchased by Jiangling Temple,” the merchant replied. “The prayer flags for the upcoming Vesak Festival are all made of yunjin brocade. Unless you can peel it off the temple walls, you’re dreaming.”

“The Governor’s office or Jiangling Temple, Madam, which would you prefer to try first?”

“You’re heading to the Governor’s office?” Qun Qing asked.

Lu Huating nodded.

“Then I’ll go to Jiangling Temple,” she said. “Might as well try my luck there first.”

She had only taken half a month’s leave; time was running out, and she couldn’t afford to wait any longer.

Lu Huating lowered his gaze, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. This woman always acted on her own, was that her way of calling him too slow?

“You’re a woman. How do you plan to get into the temple?” he asked.

“The merchant mentioned the Vesak Festival is near. They’ll need a lot of prayer flags,” Qun Qing said. “They usually recruit outside embroiderers during this time.”

Lu Huating glanced toward Zhu Su. The man left and returned shortly after, breathing a little heavily.

“There’s a notice posted in the city,” Zhu Su said. “They’re recruiting two embroiderers for the prayer flags.”

Outside Jiangling Temple, the gates were crowded with women.

Zhu Su’s words echoed in Qun Qing’s mind.

“Recruiting two embroiderers” she hadn’t expected so many to come.

The more the floods affected livelihoods, the more women from the outer city came hoping to earn a little extra to support their families.

Qun Qing stood among the embroiderers, listening to their murmured conversations.

“I wonder how much they’ll pay this year.”

“The Vesak Festival is nearly here. They still need more prayer flags, so surely they’ll take on a few more hands?”

“I heard Embroiderer Jiang came this year, she’s fast and skilled. If she’s competing, we’re probably out of luck again.”

When the women noticed Qun Qing, they saw only a young, unfamiliar face and didn’t pay her much attention.

Her hair was done in twin buns, and she wore a ruqun, a style commonly worn by unmarried women in Yunzhou. As she adjusted her sleeves earlier to leave, Lu Huating had given her a long look. Their eyes met, but he said nothing. Qun Qing simply pulled down the veil of her hat and walked past him without pause.

Prince Yan had only been overseeing disaster relief for two days, and Princess Yan distributing porridge herself had already earned her the title “Goddess of Mercy” among the locals. In a few days, word would reach Officer Liu. Once the impostor group was exposed, the Governor’s Office would have no excuse left.

Lu Huating must’ve understood as well. She had to act alone to avoid drawing any link to Prince Yan’s household. Only then would she be safe.

At that moment, a young monk came out and led the women into the temple. As soon as Qun Qing stepped through the gate, she heard the murmurs around her grow louder, full of envy and bitterness.

In her view was a vivid Buddhist painting. Beneath it sat a woman working swiftly with her needle, surely the Embroiderer Jiang they had just mentioned. Her fingers were tightly drawn as she stitched, so fast that the embroidery cloth trembled slightly with the movement.

Indeed, she was both quick and precise. The common embroiderers couldn’t help but feel inferior.

Qun Qing then looked toward the temple abbot standing nearby.

The abbot of Jiangling Temple, known by the religious title Master Duer, had white brows and beard. He watched the embroiderer’s work with clear satisfaction.

It seemed one of the two positions had already been secured.

With that in mind, Qun Qing said, “I would like to challenge Embroiderer Jiang to a contest.”

As soon as she spoke, the other women turned to look at her. Embroiderer Jiang frowned, clearly displeased at being interrupted by someone she deemed ignorant. She pressed her needle into the embroidery cloth, then looked Qun Qing up and down.

“You don’t even look twenty, and your accent isn’t local. No wonder you’re so bold. My family has been embroidering in Yunzhou for generations. Competing with you in embroidery would be a waste of time. Let’s compare basic skills instead.”

As she spoke, she picked up a strand of colorful silk thread, twisted it twice between her fingers, and effortlessly split a hair-thin strand into eight separate filaments.

In embroidery, the finer the thread is split, the more vivid the final pattern. Ordinary embroiderers could divide a thread into four; splitting into eight was considered a master’s skill. Doing it so casually showed how practiced Embroiderer Jiang was.

Qun Qing walked up to her, picked up a length of thread, and focused herself. She hadn’t practiced embroidery in some time. She calmed her breath, first splitting the thread into four, then paused. When she tried again, she thought to herself: it’s split, but uneven. Hopefully no one would notice.

“Your skill isn’t bad,” Embroiderer Jiang started to say, when gasps rose from the crowd.

Qun Qing looked up.

Embroiderer Jiang, while speaking, had gone further. Splitting one of the eighths into two again. Her face carried a proud smile.

To split a single silk thread into sixteen strands, this was something ordinary people simply could not do. Qun Qing lowered her eyes to the silk thread in her hand; it was already impossible to split it any further.

Perhaps noticing the growing doubt in her expression, the other women laughed and whispered among themselves, teasing, “The young lady is full of youthful pride. How could someone from outside possibly compare with Yunzhou’s embroidery families? She’d best admit defeat.”

But Qun Qing stepped forward to stand beside Embroiderer Jiang and said,
“Please give me that thread.”

“What are you trying to do?” Embroiderer Jiang thought she was being reckless, yet Qun Qing had already reached out and taken the thread from her hand.

This was just one of sixteen split strands, far too fine. It was nearly invisible between Qun Qing’s fingers, only a faint shimmer of white light revealing to the crowd that she was, in fact, holding a strand of silk.

Realizing what Qun Qing intended, Embroiderer Jiang was struck speechless, and the crowd collectively held their breath. Yet Qun Qing was already lifting the thread with her fingertips, letting it hover in front of her eyes as she gave it a light twist.

The movements of Master Duer, who had been supervising beside them, came to an abrupt halt.

A single strand between her fingers split into two with a faint tremor. When Qun Qing separated the silk into two threads, the surrounding women fell into utter silence. Embroiderer Jiang blinked, doubting her own eyes. 

“Impossible. Sixteen splits is the limit. I’ve never seen anyone divide silk into twenty-four strands!”

“There is always someone better out there. When I said I could embroider better than Embroiderer Jiang, it wasn’t just empty boasting,” Qun Qing said calmly.

Her mother had said the same—sixteen was the limit for an ordinary embroideress.

Qun Qing could split it into sixteen because she practiced martial arts. There was a trace of sword energy between her fingers, invisible to others. Since becoming a spy, she had learned to control her breath however one slip could cost a life.

She lightly clenched her fingers. Of course, she couldn’t let Embroiderer Jiang know this.

Sensing that Master Duer’s attention had shifted to her, Qun Qing pointed toward the nearby Zen painting. 

“Embroiderer Jiang is not familiar with Sanskrit. She has embroidered one of the Sanskrit letters incorrectly.”

Embroiderer Jiang hesitated, her face flushing with color. Master Duer asked, 

“Lady Benefactor, do you know Sanskrit?”

“Though Embroiderer Jiang works quickly, she cannot read Sanskrit,” Qun Qing said. “Following the scripture line by line slows her down and leads to mistakes. It would be more efficient to have someone familiar with Sanskrit handle the text, while Embroiderer Jiang focuses on the decorative patterns. Only by working together can we complete a hundred banners in the shortest time possible.”

The other women gradually dispersed.

A young monk led Qun Qing into the temple and brought her some fruit. 

“Lady Benefactor may remain here. I will fetch the banners.”

As soon as he left, Qun Qing found ten pieces of brocade that had not been used in the storehouse.

As Embroiderer Jiang knelt on the mat in the inner hall, Qun Qing began her embroidery. The Sanskrit characters beneath her fingers were elegant, flowing more freely than the ones copied from the scriptures.

Noticing Master Duer behind her, seemingly observing her embroidered script, Qun Qing seized the moment.

“Master, this year’s rains have been heavy. If these yunjin brocades remain until next year, they may grow mold. I happen to have rain-resistant yellow linden fabric. Might I exchange it for these brocades?”

Without so much as lifting an eyebrow, Master Duer replied flatly, “You may.”

Faced with such leniency, Qun Qing felt a pang of guilt and began stitching faster.

She and Embroiderer Jiang worked fast, but a hundred prayer flags was no small task. The light that spilled between Qun Qing’s needle and thread gradually darkened from bright gold to dim black.

By evening, Embroiderer Jiang hurried over and quietly said to her, 

“Two men have arrived in the temple. They seem to be enemies of Master Duer.”

Hearing a familiar voice, Qun Qing lifted the curtain slightly. She saw Lu Huating and he, too, had spotted her.

Jian Su was just about to speak when Lu Huating slightly lowered his lashes. Jian Su understood and bowed his head, saying nothing. Qun Qing lowered the curtain. The two acted as though they didn’t know each other. Only then did Lu Huating raise his eyes and look toward Master Duer, whose brows were drawn in cold displeasure.

“You disgrace!”

Master Duer’s staff slammed to the floor, the dull thud making Qun Qing’s hand tremble, the needle quivering. She strained her ears toward the commotion.

“Prince Yan’s command has already reached Jiangling Temple, and the Princess herself came to pay her respects. With every temple in the realm now under royal oversight, do you still wish to use imperial authority to suppress us?” Master Duer said sharply.

Lu Huating’s tone was calm to the point of chill.

“His Highness has no such intention. I came seeking donations, not to throw my weight around. Yunzhou has suffered disaster. The incense offerings the people usually bring are no longer enough. Master, would you consider donating funds to build a new temple and employ the people in exchange turning relief into work, and in turn increasing the temple’s future offerings?”

In the city, the only places with more silver than pawnshops and banks were the temples. Temples in Chu had a long tradition of disaster relief. Seeking aid from the abbot was indeed the swiftest way to secure emergency relief funds.

Yet Master Duer’s tone shifted, colder and sharper than before. 

“Had anyone else come on Jiangling Temple’s behalf, it might have been reasonable. But since it is Prince Yan, I cannot agree.”

Lu Huating said, “I knew. You were waiting for me to come, and now I have.”

Master Duer sneered. “You knew full well that Master Zengjia was my junior brother and you still dared set foot in this temple, after committing such a grievous offense? A man who betrays his master and dishonors his lineage—how could such a person serve as an advisor to Prince Yan? And what does that say about the prince himself?”

A narrow road for old enemies. Master Duer was indeed acquainted with Master Zengjia.

Master Zengjia’s death was Lu Huating’s sore spot. Qun Qing instinctively lifted the curtain again, fearing Lu Huating would lose control and spill bl00d in Jiangling Temple.

But Lu Huating did not react. After a pause, his dark eyes remained calm. 

“Master, what would it take for you to agree to offer disaster relief?”

“Bring out the Lotus Seat,” Master Duer ordered.

The two young monks, alarmed by their master’s fury, ran into the inner chamber and dragged out a heavy lotus cushion.

Lu Huating lowered his gaze. The reason it was so heavy was because nails were hidden beneath the pad—meant for penitents seeking redemption.

Master Duer moved his prayer beads, voice resuming calm. 

“If Jiangling Temple is to aid the people, then I shall take on the unfinished exorcism left behind by Master Zengjia. Kneel.”

Qun Qing saw Lu Huating pause for a moment, then he truly lifted his robe and knelt on the lotus seat.

Before him was a golden basin of saltwater, thorned brambles coiled within. He placed his hands into the water, cleansing them. When he withdrew them, several deep red cuts marred his fingers.

Lu Huating flexed his hands briefly, then slowly grasped the copper mallet and began striking the wooden fish rhythmically.

Jian Su’s breath trembled, too afraid to speak. He clenched his fists, glaring at Master Duer.

Master Duer remained unmoved, then coldly instructed the two monks, “Fetch the thorned rods.”

Kneeling on the lotus seat was just barely bearable. If they lashed him with thorns, the nail board beneath would embed deep into his knees enough to cripple him. Jian Su’s expression shifted.

Qun Qing pushed aside the curtain and said, “According to the scriptures, it is not only those who cultivate who can redeem others. Even those with pure hearts and no evil deeds can also guide and save. Might I substitute for him in this act of redemption?”

Seeing her step out, Master Duer’s fury shifted to her. 

“Which scripture says such a thing?”

“The 100th volume of the Liuli Kingdom Haohai Tan Sutra, recorded by Master Chihao’s disciple. The Master himself praised it.”

Master Duer was slightly taken aback

Qun Qing lowered her eyes. A touch of unease stirred in her heart. What if he sensed the bloodlust beneath her gentle exterior?

But Master Duer’s expression eased. 

“Indeed, Lady Benefactor is well-versed in the Dharma. It is rare to find one so young who studies the scriptures so diligently.”

With that, he stepped aside.

Qun Qing wiped her hands clean, took a willow branch from the purification vessel, and approached Lu Huating.

He watched the Ruyi knot swaying on her skirt as she approached.

Then, without a word, Qun Qing gently tapped his head with the willow branch. Lu Huating’s thick lashes trembled violently. The cold dew from the leaves ran down his brow.

He opened his eyes, slightly dazed, and found himself looking at the green willow branch held delicately between Qun Qing’s slender, jade-like fingers.

Just as she returned the branch to its place, Master Duer said, 

“Bring the incense ash water.”

A young monk stepped forward with a cup of murky liquid. Master Duer picked it up, eyes cold as ice. 

“Drink this, and our grievances shall be settled.”

His trembling hands betrayed the truth. This cup clearly held no good will. Lu Huating’s gaze sharpened, and he refused to take it.

Master Duer forced the cup toward him. Qun Qing intercepted it, lifted it, and drank it herself.

Lu Huating’s eyes widened in surprise, though it vanished in an instant. 

The next moment —pfft—

Qun Qing spat the ash water directly onto his face.

She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and turned to Master Duer.

“Master, is this how you exorcise evil spirits?”

Water trickled down Lu Huating’s elegant features. He tilted his head slightly. His face was unreadable but his fury was unmistakable. Qun Qing didn’t need to look at him to feel it radiating from his silence. Yet she had no choice. If she hadn’t stepped in, how else would the two of them get out alive?

Master Duer was silent for a while, then seemed drained of all strength. 

“…Very well. Go. Jiangling Temple will donate the silver.”

Lu Huating shot Qun Qing a dark glance, then slowly rose from the lotus seat and strode away without another word.

Meanwhile, Master Duer retrieved the brocade Qun Qing had come for, wrapped it carefully, and handed it to her.

“It’s getting late. Take these prayer flags home to embroider, and return them to the temple once you’re done.”

“I’ll also bring the yellow lindens, Master.”

He clearly meant to send her away. Qun Qing understood that it was improper for a woman to remain at the temple. She accepted the flags and quietly took her leave.

Master Duer watched her go.

Then, from the temple’s shadows, several guards in black armor emerged, swift and silent. They seized the young monks, who dared only to whimper in fear. A gleaming blade pressed against Master Duer’s neck.

A young man in a python-patterned robe strode forward, gentle-featured, but with a cold look in his eyes. It was Fang Xie.

He demanded, “You saw her grab the cup and drink it. Why didn’t you stop her?”

Master Duer replied calmly, “There was no Acacia poison in the ash water. Only fermented koji powder.”

Fang Xie was stunned. Then his expression darkened, and he pressed the blade harder against the old master’s throat.

“Do you realize how important that moment was? Why would you waste it?”

Master Duer kept his eyes closed, unfazed by the blade or the threat.

“A man of cultivation must have his limits. I refused to kill. If you wish, then take my life.”

Fang Xie’s hidden guard whispered, “Your Highness, the Zen Master bears no fault.”

Fang Xie slowly lowered his hand, fingers brushing the edge of the blade. After a while, as though something occurred to him, his expression calmed.