Transmigrated into a minor official in a county government, with children at home waiting for rice t

Wang Chao was waiting at the alley entrance.

Behind him stood an old woman, dressed in a coarse gray-brown cloth shirt, with gray hair tied in a bun at the back of her head, secured with a wooden hairpin. Her hands were clasped together in front of her, her knuckles large and calloused, clearly the hands of someone who had done hard labor for many years.

As he walked out of the alley, the old woman's back hunched over, clearly not naturally so. Zhang Sanlang immediately noticed that she habitually lowered herself around people, a habit she must have developed from her life in the marketplace.

The old woman shrugged slightly, took half a step forward, and greeted in a dry voice, "Zhang Yashi."

Zhang Sanlang looked the old woman up and down.

He had a long, thin face with very little flesh on his cheeks, high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, a wide mouth with thin lips, and two lines drooping down his face, giving him a naturally bitter appearance.

"What is it?"

The nun glanced down into the alley.

Zhang Sanlang followed her gaze and glanced around. It was dinnertime in Jinshi Lane, and smoke was rising from the kitchens of every household, with people walking around from time to time.

"It's not convenient to talk about this here," the nun said in a very low voice.

Zhang Sanlang glanced at her.

The old woman's fingers were tightly clenched in front of her; judging from her appearance, she wasn't there to report anyone, but rather to beg for her life.

Reporting is a means, survival is the goal.

He had seen this kind of person before. When the criminals were being interrogated in the prison, they all looked like this when they entered the room.

"Come with me."

He turned and went into the incense and candle shop. The nun followed behind, her steps quick and hurried, glancing around every now and then, as if afraid of losing him, or as if afraid of being seen walking with Zhang Sanlang.

The incense and candle shop was originally a steamed cake shop owned by the Wu family, so naturally the storefront was not large. A plaque hung on the door that read "Incense, Candles and Paper Horses".

Zhang Sanlang stepped over the threshold, glanced back at the nun, and frowned when he saw her shrugging her head. "Come in."

The nun tripped over the threshold as she entered. The shop was dark, with only an oil lamp on the counter, its wick smoldering and the flame flickering.

The shelves on both sides were piled high with paper money, paper clothes, and paper shoes, and several bundles of incense and candles were stacked in the corner. The air was filled with the smell of stale wax and paper ash.

When Old Feng saw Zhang Sanlang arrive, he didn't say anything, but simply pushed open the back gate and stepped aside. Zhang Sanlang went in first.

The backyard wasn't big either, with walls on three sides and a few clumps of wild grass growing in the cracks between the blue bricks on the ground.

There was a shed built against the north wall, with several rows of bamboo frames underneath, neatly stacked with paper figures, horses, and sedan chairs.

The paper figure's face was made of white paper, and the features were not outlined. Under the dim light, it looked somewhat eerie and frightening.

Two coffins were placed side by side next to the shed. One was painted black, while the other had not yet been painted, its original wood planks tinged with gray.

When the old nun saw the coffin, her legs went weak. She stood by the door, her back against the wall, her hands clasped behind her back, unable to move her legs.

Zhang Sanlang sat down on the stone bench and gestured with his chin toward the stone stool opposite him: "Sit."

The nun had no choice but to grit her teeth and move over to sit down, her bottom touching the edge of the stone stool, her hands awkwardly twisting and turning on her knees.

"Uncle Feng, close the door." Zhang Sanlang nodded to Old Feng. "You stay in the shop and don't let anyone in."

Old Feng responded and gently closed the door.

The wooden axle made a scraping sound in the socket, startling the nun so much that her shoulders trembled.

Zhang Sanlang was pleased with her nervousness. He nodded to her with an outwardly indifferent expression, "Go ahead and speak."

The nun licked her lips.

Her lips were dry and chapped, and a slight friction sound could be heard when she licked them with the tip of her tongue.

"This afternoon, an elderly benefactor entered Yongning Nunnery."

What's your last name?

His surname is Wang. We all call him Master Wang.

Zhang Sanlang was taken aback upon hearing this.

Master Wang?

Not just anyone can be called "Yuanwai" (Master Wang). In Juancheng County, there are only about a dozen people who can be respectfully addressed as "Yuanwai." Only two of them have the surname Wang.

Feng Jian's biological father, the wealthy man surnamed Wang from Wangjiazhuang, was one of them.

Today, Zhou Quan took him to Wangjiazhuang to buy a government office, and he met this wealthy man named Wang once.

At that time, Master Wang was all smiles and friendly, his tea-making skills were exceptional, and he spoke very politely. However, his eyes kept scanning back and forth between him and Zhou Quan, as if he were assessing the two men's worth.

"What does it look like?"

"He was in his sixties, had a kind face, wore an ochre-colored silk robe, and carried a bamboo cane. He walked with a straight back. Oh, and he had a black mole on his left eyebrow."

It was indeed Master Wang.

Zhang Sanlang nodded. "Okay, continue."

The nun's voice began to tremble.

I don't know if it was what was about to be said that frightened her, or the terrifying scene in the backyard that made her tremble.

She moved her lips several times before finally speaking: "The old woman went to the abbess to ask for next month's allowance. When she got to the door of the meditation room, she heard people talking inside."

She paused here, her eyes fixed on Zhang Sanlang, "They're talking about...how to kill you!"

Upon hearing this, Zhang Sanlang's eyes widened, and the courtyard suddenly fell silent.

The paper figures and horses under the paper shed swayed gently in the breeze, their paper clothes rustling.

One hour ago.

Yongning Nunnery.

Quiet room.

Abbot Jingchen sat cross-legged on a futon, with a cup of tea in front of him, the tea already cold.

She looked to be nearly sixty years old, wearing a gray cloth robe with a black outer garment, her head was clean-shaven, and the ordination scars gleamed faintly red in the candlelight.

She was petite, almost sinking halfway into the prayer mat, but her eyes were unlike those of a spiritual practitioner. They were too bright, too sharp, like a long-sharpened knife hidden in a black sheath, its edge hidden until it was drawn.

The door was gently pushed open.

Master Wang walked in, leaning on his bamboo cane, and closed the door behind him.

"My brother has arrived." Jingchen raised his eyelids, his tone indifferent.

"I apologize for disturbing my sister's meditation." Master Wang leaned his bamboo cane against the wall and sat down on the prayer mat opposite him.

When he sat down, his back was still straight, but he stretched out his right leg first, followed by his left leg, a sitting posture usually reserved for elderly people with knee problems.

Jingchen pushed the tea towards him.

He picked up the teacup, took a sip, frowned slightly, and put it back down. "I'm here today for this matter: Zhang Shouli, the clerk of the county yamen's household registration office, may be investigating the Wang family."

Jingchen didn't rush to reply, his gaze sweeping over Master Wang. "What does brother want to say?"

Master Wang remained silent for a moment.

The candlelight flickered on his face, casting long shadows in his eye sockets.

"In recent years, the world has gradually become more peaceful, and people yearn for tranquility. I originally had three hundred loyal followers, but now seven or eight out of ten have left, leaving only twenty or thirty. With so few men scattered among the mountains, forests, and lakes, they are unlikely to accomplish anything significant."

"Brother, since that's the case, why not give them up and live a peaceful life? You're already nearing seventy, what are you still fighting for?"

Master Wang gave a bitter smile. "We've raised them for twenty or thirty years. How can we just give them up like that? If the Wang family cuts off their supplies, these people might turn on us and turn against us."