At the lecture platform, a monk draped in a kasaya, with gentle features and a graceful presence, slowly sat down.
At the first sight of Jinghui, Song Ci thought, looking like that yet becoming a monk, how many girls would cry themselves blind?
He’s too handsome, hmm, Sanzang probably couldn’t compare to him.
No wonder these people are going crazy, not just for his title as the Saint Monk, but even for that face, it’s a feast for the eyes.
Perhaps Song Ci’s gaze was too intense, Jinghui slightly turned his head, his eyes pierced through the crowd and landed on Song Ci.
Song Ci unexpectedly met his gaze, her pupils shrank, and her heart started thumping wildly.
Those eyes, deep and dark, like a bottomless pool, seemed to see right through everything.
Song Ci swallowed, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, her arms breaking out in goosebumps.
She felt as if this handsome monk had seen through her.
Song Ci felt guilty, with a sudden urge to escape.
But she found her legs wouldn’t move.
Fortunately, Jinghui only slightly curled his lips at her before looking away.
Song Ci sighed in relief, pinching her handkerchief to dab at the cold sweat on her forehead.
Good heavens, I, the great Song Ci, got scared by a monk!
With Jinghui not looking at her anymore, Song Ci dared not continue her silent criticisms, for she had lost the first round of their encounter.
The handsome monk indeed had some skill.
Song Ci lifted her tea and drank it like a warrior.
It was lucky that the madams around her were all attracted to Jinghui; otherwise, seeing her gulping tea so rudely, they would surely criticize her for being vulgar and losing her decorum. "Buddha says..."
As soon as Jinghui began speaking, the crowd fell silent. His voice, like a trickling stream flowing into everyone’s ears, was very pleasant and seemed like a cool spring, washing away the heat of summer.
Everyone was immersed in the classic scripture of introspection.
But Song Ci felt a bit drowsy.
Her seat, under the tree, was at the mountain pass, where the mountain breeze caressed, cool and soporific.
Song Ci sneaked a glance around. Many elderly madams were playing with their Buddhist beads, half-closed eyes listening to the sermon, while others were lost in their own thoughts.
Song Ci settled herself, closed her eyes, and slept.
Due to her profession as an actress in the modern times, she often had to rush to wrap filming, working long hours and pulling all-nighters, so she had long mastered the ability to catch up on sleep anytime, anywhere.
Right now, she didn’t truly intend to sleep, but Jinghui’s voice was so melodious, and the scripture more like a lullaby.
If not sleep now, when?
The first to notice her odd behavior was still Nanny Gong, who, seeing her master was completely still, instinctively looked down, and couldn’t help but feel exasperatedly amused.
Nanny Gong didn’t call her, just quietly moved to block others’ view, so no one would notice Song Ci’s odd behavior.
Fortunately, everyone was either listening to the sermon or deep in thought, so no one noticed Song Ci asleep.
As Jinghui’s sermon was nearing the end, Nanny Gong gently tugged Song Ci’s ear and pulled on her collar.
The end is near, time to wake up.
Just then, the sound of a wooden fish rang, signaling the end of the sermon, and applause erupted throughout the crowd.
Song Ci jolted awake, almost scared witless, as if thunder struck on a clear day.
She instinctively sat upright, and upon looking around, realized it was already over.
Song Ci touched the corner of her mouth and sensed a scrutinizing gaze upon her, compelling her to look over.
It was him, him, still him.
The monk’s going to scare me again.
Why stare at me like that?