Chapter 192

Master Jingren's death was not a pretty sight.

It was unclear what horrifying event she had encountered.

Her expression was contorted, eyes wide with anger.

Her beautiful, slender fingers were filled with blood and flesh.

The coroner came to examine.

Due to the suddenness of Jingren's passing.

Commander Jiang urgently summoned the coroner.

An autopsy was performed on-site for everyone to witness.

He was determined to find the true culprit.

The coroner was startled.

The prison guards were also shocked.

They truly hadn't done anything.

When Master Jingren entered, everything for her daily needs was prepared, and the room was spacious, just without windows, but clean.

Commander Jiang had it newly built, every corner tightly sealed, impossible for venomous snakes or insects to enter.

They were very careful with the food; the water and meals weren't even finished, so it couldn't have been poison.

Even in prison, Master Jingren was to be well-treated, as per instructions.

The items sent to her meditation room were all inspected and didn't pass through Commander Jiang's hands.

Including the meditation room, which Commander Jiang had built as a compromise after being nagged by colleagues, a spiteful gesture.

He really built it, and the contractor was a relative of a certain official. Ordinary people rarely get government contracts, and even if they do, it's hard to get paid.

This relative contractor was even more senior than Commander Jiang.

This relative certainly wouldn't risk sabotage.

The building was solid, airtight, absolutely no issues.

The room was fine, the food was fine, the staff was fine, and the room was so secure with guards constantly patrolling that no one could have entered.

Yet Master Jingren had passed away.

They had to call in the coroner, as it was inexplicable.

But to prove his innocence, Commander Jiang demanded an on-site autopsy, with the nuns as witnesses.

After the autopsy, the coroner concluded death by extreme fright.

Her dance troupe hadn't returned yet. After performing rites for General Zi's deceased wife, they were invited by other families. Recently, with no nuns available, the nuns' business had ceased, and the dance troupe's memorial service business had suddenly increased.

Jiang Mianmian could only have Father send people specifically to lead the troupe. Father said he had added many more people, finding jobs for those with nowhere else to go.

It felt like it had already gone beyond her scope.

Today it rained heavily.

Father, after breakfast, didn't rush to work, planning to teach her writing first.

Jiang Mianmian wore her rabbit ear headband, her little hair fluffy, her clothes adorned with fur as she liked, looking extremely cute.

Jiang Changtian looked at her with great delight.

But seeing the characters taught yesterday, which she had written well then, today she had forgotten to write the radicals, always missing parts of the characters.

Jiang Changtian, restraining his urge to shout, gently asked, "Where's the radical for this character? It was there yesterday, wasn't it?"

Jiang Mianmian cried; traditional characters were so hard to remember, and when writing quickly, she would revert to simplified ones.

Seeing Father's eyebrows raised, she seriously rewrote it, but still made mistakes.

Moreover, having previously practiced doctor's prescriptions with a focus on industry-specific handwriting that outsiders couldn't easily read, now practicing regular writing was really difficult.

It's easy to draw on a blank piece of paper.

But it's so hard to draw on a paper already full of content.

The life of a young lady isn't so easy; while well-fed and clothed, the learning tasks are also heavy.

Time flies.

The burnt-down Shangqiu Convent was cleared out and became a school.

Instead of smoke from incense, there was the sound of reading aloud.

Instead of noble ladies kneeling to seek audience,

There were common people carrying bags, bringing their children step by step up the stairs.

The ruins once piled with broken Buddha statues were cleared and covered with a library.

Jiang Mianmian put on her little backpack, followed by the much taller and wider Pangya.

"Young Miss, wait for me, slow down a bit," came Pangya's panting voice.

Jiang Mianmian hadn't walked fast, just step by step, it was Pangya who was too slow.

She could only stop and sit on the steps to wait. By the steps, ants busily walked about. She put her finger in their path, and the ants on both sides circled around her fair little finger.

Birds chirped in the trees.

Sunlight filtered through in patches.