Jinghui was momentarily stunned, his usually serene and gentle face seemed less unattainable and high above today.
Understanding Song Ci’s intentions, he couldn’t help but smile slightly and pointed to the cushion in front of the small table.
"There’s no need to panic, sit."
Wasn’t he going to enlighten her?
Song Ci opened her eyes and looked cautiously at Jinghui, seeing that he had no fierce demeanor nor any intention to perform a ritual, her tense mood slightly relaxed.
Perhaps knowing that the other had already seen through her, Song Ci didn’t plan to pretend in front of him. She casually adjusted her skirt and plopped down on the cushion, crossing her legs.
Seeing her rough manner, Jinghui’s hand, which was pouring tea, trembled slightly, spilling a drop, and his mouth twitched as well.
He handed the tea to Song Ci, whose eyes lit up as she lowered her gaze.
Those hands were slender and long, as white as jade, the fingertips smooth, nails neatly trimmed and showing a healthy pink hue.
Song Ci murmured, "Your hands should be hand models."
Hand models? He didn’t understand, but it must be something from her world.
He quietly watched Song Ci, his gaze soft and gentle.
Perhaps because of the sparse sandalwood and the excessive quiet of the Zen room, Song Ci suddenly felt uneasy. When she looked up, she saw the other’s gaze fixed on her, as if he could see through everything, making her shiver once more.
But why should she be scared, at worst it was just death.
"Master, you called me here for...?" Song Ci tentatively asked.
Jinghui smiled slightly, "Just to see the benefactor."
I say, an old lady like me, what kind of flower do you think you can see, you damn monk?
Song Ci: "Now that the master has seen, can I leave?"
"If the benefactor wishes to leave, feel free." Jinghui did not insist.
Song Ci raised an eyebrow, looked him in the eye, wanting to discern if he was pretending, waiting for her to move and then start chanting a spell?
But in an instant, she conceded.
Alright, when it comes to determination and patience, she really couldn’t compete with a monk.
"I’m not leaving." Song Ci appeared determined and asked, "Everyone says you are an enlightened monk, a Saint Buddha. Now that you’ve called me here, you must have seen through my true self, right?"
Jinghui: "This humble monk is afraid, this humble monk is just a mere monk."
Song Ci was taken aback; well, this fellow knows I’m cursing him.
Song Ci awkwardly said, "Don’t be like that, Master. Since you’ve seen through, why not speak about it?"
"To see through but not speak of it, to understand but not explain, that is wisdom."
Song Ci’s mouth turned bitter, "Master, there are no outsiders here, the wise speak openly. At least resolve my confusion; why have I come here? You see, I am inherently an outsider, there’s no reason for me to linger here. Master, why not out of great compassion, send me back?"
Jinghui clasped his hands together and said, "Amitabha, benefactor, existence is reason. The fact that you’ve come here is to guide others, and when it’s time, you will naturally leave."
Song Ci was dumbfounded.
"In this life, everyone is trying to guide others, guide hearts, guide themselves. Benefactor Song, you can truly be at ease and need not worry," Jinghui laughed, "Songshan Temple’s vegetarian meals are quite decent. Since it’s hot, why not try some?"
This was a way to send her off.
Song Ci felt that she had talked herself into boredom; she wanted to ask more but saw him pick up the scriptures.
She had no choice but to stand and walk out.
Jinghui watched the door, closed the scriptures, and was just about to get up.
Song Ci clung to the door frame and looked back in, "Master, meeting is fate. At least write me ten or eight peace charms to take along, won’t you?"
Jinghui maintained his half-rising posture: "..."