From Nun to Real Heiress: Expert at Turning the Tables

Chapter 318: 145 Cultivation (Midnight)

Zhao Xinrong, Zou Jingyu, and Xiao Wenwen were enjoying the air conditioning inside the house, while Han Ying was in the yard grinding juice.

“Bang bang bang-” A rhythmic sound came, and the startled Zhao Xinrong, who was drinking tea in the room, quickly leaned on the window to look outside.

Under the shade of the big elm tree, the girl was swinging an axe twice as thick as her arm, splitting the firewood into two halves with each swing, perfectly equal, without the slightest deviation.

She piled up the split firewood in one place, and Ming Jing placed new firewood on the stump, then raised the axe again…

“Oh my god…” Zhao Xinrong covered his mouth, realizing he completely misunderstood Ming Jing. The scriptwriting and directing team really couldn’t have made this up.

Zou Jingyu glanced from a distance, a fleeting look of surprise flashed in his eyes. He smiled and lowered his head to drink his tea.

Xiao Wenwen exclaimed, “Oh my, Ming Jing looks so weak, but I didn’t expect her to be so strong. Is she a Kung Fu Barbie?”

This wasn’t exactly a compliment for a young girl.

Zou Jingyu shot her a glance, ‘Wenwen, why don’t you go help out? Young people should find common topics to talk about.”

Xiao Wenwen didn’t budge from her seat, her innocent big eyes wide open,

“What did you say, Mr. Zou?”

Zou Jingyu just smiled, “Nothing.”

“Wow, Ming Jing, you’re amazing! Aren’t you tired?” Even though they were in the shade, it was noon and the outdoor temperature had reached 37 degrees Celsius. An egg could be fried on the ground instantly.

However, Ming Jing effortlessly split the firewood with a few swings of her axe, not even breaking a sweat, her cheeks not flushed and her breath not heavy. This was not normal!

After splitting the firewood, Ming Jing tied it up with a rope and carried it into the kitchen.

As he watched Ming Jing’s casual figure, Han Ying hesitated for a moment, walked over to pick up the axe, and almost dropped it on his foot. It was so heavy he could barely lift it, let alone chop firewood.

Han Ying shook his head, “She’s stronger than a human.”

At that moment, the kitchen was like a steaming room, and Qu Feitai, who was sitting right by the fire, was almost roasted alive. He was drenched in sweat like he had just been fished out of the water, his clothes completely soaked, but he didn’t complain, quietly squatting by the fire.

Ming Jing placed the freshly split firewood beside him and asked, “Are you hot?”

Qu Feitai nodded and then shook his head quickly, “Not really. I can still hold

”

Ming Jing smiled, lifted the lid, and the water in the pot was already boiling, bubbling, and steaming.

She blanched the washed wild vegetables in hot water, scooped them up quickly, and placed them in cold water.

“Lower the heat a bit.” After saying that, Ming Jing took out the dough she had prepared and slammed and twisted it repeatedly on the cutting board, making it more elastic. She pinched off a small piece and stretched it into a very thin, long strip. Ming Jing placed it in the boiling pot to cook, then moved on to the next piece.

Qu Feitai watched in amazement, “Ming Jing… where did you learn this?”

As Ming Jing continued to make the noodles, her expression remained calm, “Master was sick, and Senior Sister couldn’t handle cooking fumes. Since people need to eat, the owner of a noodle shop down the mountain often volunteered at our temple, and he taught me.”

She spoke so casually, but her words were like a stormy wave crashing into Qu Feitai’s ears.

Those davs must have been difficult. but she never uttered a comolaint. calmlv accepting all the hardships life had given her.

“At least it’s all in the past now, and you won’t have to go through that kind of hardship again,” Qu Feitai muttered to himself.

“Hardship?”

Ming Jing raised her eyebrows.

“Compared to those who are born with disabilities or who lack the five senses, I have a Master, a Junior sister, a healthy body, and a sound personality. These are all great gifts from Heaven, and I’ve never felt that my life was hard.”

Ming Jing’s faint voice seemed to blur into the rising steam, and Qu Feitai stared at her blankly.

The girl, shrouded in the mist, had delicate and gentle features, a heart as vast as the ocean, and a humble attitude like a valley.

She had never found the tranquil, lengthy days in the temple a burden; on the contrary, she had enjoyed every moment.

Every action, whether it was sitting or lying down, having a meal or a drink, living in a secluded temple, or being engaged in the bustling life of a wealthy family or a reality show, was a form of spiritual practice.

Zhao Xinrong stared at the food on the table in amazement, “Did Ming Jing make all of this?”

Zou Jingyu walked over, took a look, and smiled, “Yes, they all look perfect in color, aroma, and taste..”