Compared to the envious and jealous looks from everyone around, Song Ci felt very anxious. She really didn’t want to face Master Jinghui!
To say it’s a discussion about Buddhist philosophy is definitely a lie. It’s more likely that he has seen through her disguise and wants to save her!
Song Ci felt nervous inside.
"Um, Master Jinghui has been delivering sermons for so long, he must be tired. Maybe I shouldn’t disturb him?" Song Ci said cautiously, looking at the little monk.
Everyone’s eyes widened.
She must be out of her mind, actually refusing Master Jinghui’s invitation?
Seeing Song Ci’s old trick of wanting to refuse but secretly accepting, everyone felt a surge of resentment in their hearts, wishing they could shove her aside and say, "Get lost, let me go."
The little monk stepped forward, clasped his hands together, and said in a low voice, "Master Jinghui said that the old patron has just recovered from a serious illness and that her soul is still unstable. He will recite sutras to stabilize your soul."
Song Ci’s heart skipped a beat.
He really did see through her. Otherwise, why mention her soul? This is a not-so-subtle way of telling her to stop pretending; this monk knows exactly what kind of demon she is!
Though Song Ci didn’t want to meet, the other party anticipated her refusal and blocked her way with words. Refusing again would be ungrateful and confrontational.
Steeling her heart, Song Ci, with an air of marching to her death, said, "Since the master sincerely invites, I ask the young master to lead the way."
The little monk turned to lead the way.
Look at her, making such a big show of pretending to refuse while actually being so eager, does she think she looks important?
But honestly, how sour it is that Master Jinghui didn’t want to see me?
Madam Fan even twisted the handkerchief in her hand into a pickle.
With such a noble status and advanced age, even so, Master Jinghui didn’t say he wanted to see her, yet he saw Song Ci.
Madam Fan glanced at the scrutinizing eyes around her, knowing that from today onwards, the winds in the Beijing Circle would change again.
Madam Fan snorted coldly and walked towards the Zen Temple.
The crowd dispersed in twos and threes, each lost in their thoughts.
Madam Wei was also envious of Song Ci’s good fortune, but she had more pressing matters at hand.
Sure enough, when Madam Marquis Weiyuan said she wanted to go to her guest courtyard for tea and conversation, Madam Wei gladly agreed, and the two of them went off warmly together.
Song Ci stood hesitantly at the door of Jinghui’s Zen room, reluctant to move her feet.
She wondered, if he really outed her as a demon and wanted to save her, what should she do?
Song Ci licked her lips. Fine, if she’s to be saved, so be it. Maybe it could send her back to the modern world?
But she felt sorry for the original old woman; she hadn’t yet helped Silang find a suitable wife named Ru Yi.
Song Ci silently recited internally, it’s not her fault, it’s not that she wants to leave, it’s others who want to save her.
If she’s going to die, then die bravely facing forward!
Jinghui: You’ve played this act well; it’s unmistakably you.
Just as she stood before the door, her hand not yet knocking, it was as if the inside had seen through her, and a voice invited her in.
Song Ci’s hand paused, pushed open the door, and at a glance saw Jinghui sitting across the room, with incense burning in front of him, making his face appear somewhat ethereal.
When Jinghui saw her, he clasped his hands together in a Buddhist greeting.
Not some other pleasantries, nor an angry rebuke, just a simple three words: You’re here.
Song Ci looked into those deep pool-like eyes, and her heart started pounding erratically again.
Magnetic and mesmerizing, this monk didn’t need a spell to terrify her.
At this point, if she said he hadn’t seen through her disguise, she wouldn’t believe it.
Song Ci gritted her teeth, stepped into the Zen room, closed her eyes, and said, "I’m here, just do it quickly, save me!"