From Nun to Real Heiress: Expert at Turning the Tables

Lin Qing hurried out, bumping into Ming Jing who was about to go downstairs.

“Ming Jing.”

Ming Jing stopped in her tracks, silently observing her.

Lin Qing took a deep breath. With no makeup on, she looked somewhat haggard, less sharp and more gentle than usual.

She glanced downstairs and mournfully said, “1 wronged you before, and I apologize. I don’t expect your forgiveness, but could you please save Shaodan for the sake of him being your sibling? You’re the only one who can save him now. As long as you rescue Shaodan, I promise I will never scold you again and treat you doubly well.”

As she said this, she tried to kneel down. Uncle Wen cried out in alarm behind her, “Madam…’ .

Ming Jing silently watched her.

As Lin Qing began to kneel, she saw that Ming Jing remained indifferent. She hesitated, unsure whether to kneel or not.

When she glanced up, the young girl looked back at her with quiet, dark, mysterious, and dangerous eyes, like an ancient well. Lin Qing felt embarrassed. Was this girl’s heart made of stone?

“Whoever plants the seed, must reap the fruit. Shaodan’s fate is the consequence of you constantly indulging and spoiling him. If he faces tough opposition today, and one day, if he does not restrain himself, causing great disaster, what then?” Ming Jing’s cold, gentle voice came, shocking Lin Qing with every word.

She murmured, “Isn’t this how every parent spoils their child? He’s the only son of the Zhus.”

“Absurd. Do the Zhus have a throne to inherit? How other families raise their children is their business. Are you going to follow the trend when it comes to education too? You brought him into this world, surrounded him with worldly pleasures, and what have you created? A good-for-nothing, a prodigal son. And then you claim to love him while actually holding him hostage with this indulgence. That is not love; you’ve ruined him.”

Lin Qing’s face grew paler and paler, unable to argue.

Uncle Wen looked deeply at Ming Jing. If it were not for the wrong moment, he would have clapped in agreement.

What was said was true. He had subtly tried to advise Madam many times before, but Madam simply wouldn’t listen. A doting mother has a spoilt son; this is an eternal truth.

Now that the young master is in trouble, it’s time for Madam to wake up.

“Why is a man considered more valuable than a woman? Some women wield weapons and ride horses, expanding territories; Wu Zetian was a master strategist, a woman who became an emperor; Li Qingzhao was a stunning literary talent. None of these women were lesser than men. As a woman, you should understand the difficulties women face in life. You should teach your son to respect others, not to abuse power and money, bully men and tyrannize women. When the day comes that he cries in jail, asking why you didn’t advise him, regret will torment you night after night.”

“For him, this is a lesson. If you truly care for him, start thinking about how to proceed from now on.”

With that, she turned around and went downstairs.

After walking a few steps, she glanced sideways and said softly, “I promised someone I wouldn’t let anything happen to him. This time, for him, it will be a real growth.”

Lin Qing whispered, “Was I really wrong?” Uncle Wen sighed, “Madam, what Miss Ming Jing said makes sense.” Zhu Xiangxiang stood at the door, looking dazed.

The two left the Zhu residence. Bai Ziyan glanced at Ming Jing, “I always thought I underestimated you. Just now, after hearing your words, it was like gaining ten years of wisdom. I am enlightened.”

“But seriously, Shaodan is your own brother. Don’t you feel the slightest bit sorry for him?”

“Everyone has to pay the price for their actions. Why should he be any different?”

Bai Ziyan gave a thumbs up, “Tell me, how do you want me to teach him a lesson?””Just do what you originally intended and let things take their natural course.”

Bai Ziyan asked curiously, “You just said you promised someone, who did you promise? The more I think about it, the more it feels wrong.”

Ming Jing’s eyes flickered slightly as she fiddled with her Buddhist beads, walking and speaking softly, “An old friend.”

Bai Ziyan stroked his chin, dropping the subject, and asked instead, “You said that those who abuse power are worthless hedonists, what about me? Am I a worthless hedonist in your eyes?”

Ming Jing glanced at him, “Buddha says that all beings are equal, and all phenomena spring from the mind. If awakened, all beings can become Buddhas; if deluded, even Buddhas become ordinary beings. Both Buddhas and ordinary beings are equal. But since the feudal society, the emperor’s power has been supreme, so where is the true equality? In the realm of ultimate power, one can indeed do whatever they please. For example, did the emperors of ancient times believe in Buddhism? No, they just used Buddhism to consolidate their power and to educate the masses in faith. Equality for all is humanity’s ultimate ideal, and yet since the creation of the world, the differences and classes in human society have never truly disappeared. In this sense, you are an intelligent hedonist.”

At a young age, he had become quite skilled at the game of human class struggle.

Bai Ziyan rolled his eyes, “Such a great set of principles, I don’t know if you’re praising or insulting me.”

As if struck by a thought, Bai Ziyan sized her up and down, “Is it true that those who study Buddhism are truly without desires and needs? You’re a girl in the prime of youth, I don’t believe that you won’t have any thoughts of love.”

“From love comes worry, from love comes fear, if we abandon love, there would be no worry or fear.” The girl’s ethereal voice seemed to come from the distant sky, her expression imbued with an indescribable sadness that made Bai Ziyan uncomfortable.

“I don’t believe it. Everyone has emotions and desires. I’ll be watching you to see if you really are without desires and needs.”

Ming Jing simply responded with a smile.

The driver waited at the gate, and the two set off in the car for the Western Suburbs Horse Race Track.

On the way, Bai Ziyan called Jiang Jinchen and Charles Gao. Charles readily agreed, while Jiang Jinchen refused, citing his studies. Upon mentioning Ming Jing, the other party went silent and hung up the phone.

The Western Suburbs Horse Race Track was built amidst the undulating rural landscape, surrounded by lush, verdant scenery. The racetrack’s east side featured stands that could accommodate thirty thousand spectators, while the west side housed imposing stables. An array of amenities such as a five-star hotel, restaurant, swimming pool, and museum could also be found within the racecourse complex. As horse racing required vast amounts of resources and was always a form of entertainment for the wealthy, those who frequented the track were either rich or noble.

With plenty of time to spare, Bai Ziyan and Ming Jing went to the restaurant and ordered fruit juices to drink while they waited.

By noon, the restaurant was bustling with customers.

At this moment, two men dressed in black entered. Both wore serious expressions and moved with steady steps, walking in step with each other. Scanning the restaurant quickly, they took a seat by the window, their eyes never leaving the other diners, as if searching for something.

Ming Jing stirred her glass of fruit juice with her delicate white fingers.

Unaware of his surroundings, Bai Ziyan lounged on the sofa, engrossed in his phone.

As a female server holding a cup of coffee passed by Ming Jing, her slim frame and graceful silhouette were evident despite her stiff uniform. Yet her face was so plain and ordinary that it evoked a sense of regret.

In the instant she passed by, Ming Jing’s hand stopped stirring, and the fruit chunks in her glass tumbled and churned.

One of the black-clad men cast a glance in the direction of the female waiter.

Ming Jing narrowed her eyes and suddenly stood up, “I’m going to the restroom.”

Bai Ziyan casually responded with a hum.

The restaurant’s interior was a square with a walkway surrounding the entire area. After delivering the coffee, the woman did not retrace her steps, but instead circled around to the front and entered the restroom.

Exchanging glances, one of the black-clad men followed her.

The woman retrieved a dagger from under the restroom washbasin and wiped it gently with a paper towel. Reflected in the mirror was a plain face, but her eyes were seductive and cold.

Footsteps approached from outside the door, and the woman’s cold lips curled into a smile. She hid in a corner, raised her dagger high, and prepared to strike.

Suddenly, she frowned, noting that the footsteps sounded wrong—alternating between light and heavy, with the lighter, quicker steps in the lead..