Chapter 58: Wolong Temple

Sooner than expected—next day Mo Qing came to the gate as guard. She had Shuangjiang slip silver to the gatekeepers—distant kin of Shuangjiang, they said. Guards ranked in tiers—he took outer post—no fuss, kept on.
Three days passed fast.
That morning Ren Wanyun finished all arrangements; maid Xianglan came to instruct Shen Miao. Before departure all visited Rongjing Hall.
Old Madam spoke grave—be proper on the road. Usually they did not incense at Wolong—remote though famous, flames weaker than city temples. Why seek far this time—none knew.
Shen Qing looked merry—vowed to pray for Old Madam and Shen Yuanbai too. The old woman softened toward Qing.
They brought escorts for the girls' safety. Shen Miao stood by the carriage and did not move. Ren frowned: "Fifth Girl—why not board?"
"This guard seems thin—for safety, Second Aunt might send more."
Ren's brow creased—she had not expected this now. All was settled—she smiled: "Fifth Girl—we have hands enough. Cannot empty the whole guard corps—too many is worse. Let it stand."
Shen Miao shook her head and would not budge.
Yue said nothing; Qing disliked it and added: "Our Shen house is not the royal court—how grand does Fifth Sister want? Uncle on campaign was never so picky."
She dragged Shen Xin in again—Shen Miao looked once—light—and Qing went cold all over.
"Two more then." Shen Miao pointed far to two guards by the gate. "Those two."
Not many—only two—Ren's breath eased. No time to waste; two could not change the game. She played reluctant: "Fifth Girl—you truly… fine—when did Second Aunt refuse you? As you wish." To Xianglan: "Fetch those two—we leave the city."
"Thank you, Second Aunt." Smile touched Shen Miao's lips.
Ren yielded—Yue looked at Shen Miao odd; Qing stamped hard, glared, turned away.
In the carriage Qing would not speak to her on purpose. Yue spoke with three parts probe—Shen Miao answered flat. Ren was high spirits all road—childhood stories, warm as kin. Once Shen Miao might have adored this gentle aunt—now every move was performed ugliness. After the inner palace's colors—hardly worth watching.
From dawn to dusk they reached Yangjing Peak.
Wolong Temple sat halfway up—deep valley, high ridge. Spring outing here was birds and green—late autumn now—trees bare—desolation added.
Far from Dingjing, road poor—incense seekers were devout matrons mostly; common folk did not come. They left the carriage at the gate—one young acolyte swept outside—very empty.
"Peaceful here," Yue laughed light.
Qing wrinkled her nose to complain—thought better—swallowed it.
Ren said: "Do not judge by quiet—the Buddha here answers well. When you burn incense—be sincere."
The acolyte rose to welcome. Servants unloaded behind; Ren and the girls followed him in.
Deeper in—fewer people indeed. Few pilgrims, few monks—hall wide—emptiness. Night stay might frighten.
The abbot assigned courtyards—each girl a room, close together. At Shen Miao a younger middle monk said: "Forgive us—south pavilion has no room left. If Miss does not mind—north pavilion?"
All looked at her. She smiled: "Forgive me—I mind very much."
"Fifth Girl—" Ren scolded low. "Holy ground—no willfulness."
"Only strange," Shen Miao unmoved. "Flames look thin—how is a pavilion full?"
The monk frowned—never seen a lady comment on the temple so bold. Yet she did not shriek like spoiled girls—reasoned calm—hard to answer.
"Young donor—pilgrims are few but monks are many," the old abbot smiled, explaining.
"Alone I am afraid—what then?" she asked.
"This—" Ren soothed: "Fifth Girl—endure one night. Buddha sees sincerity—tomorrow's prayer will grant your wish."
Once that would have moved her—soft not hard—and with Fu Xiuyi in her heart she might swallow the small loss for a prayer to join them.
Not now.
Ren's head ached—Fifth Girl grew thorns. Before, believe anything, easy coax. Today errors piled—if not settled soon the Shen house would have worse trouble.
"Then this," Shen Miao smiled bright. "Aunt—stay with me in north pavilion. Company—and I sleep easy."