Chapter 021
Chapter 21: Closed Doors Only to Grind Ink?
Inside the meditation room.
Xiao Man was wound tight, so close to spinning around to fight that she could barely keep still, when footsteps sounded behind her.
They were soft, yet steady and sure, coming step by step toward the desk.
Her heart climbed into her throat.
But the attack she expected did not happen.
Lin Qing Xuan merely walked past her, went behind the desk, and sat in the wide rosewood armchair where she had stood a moment ago.
He picked up the fine brush resting on the ink rest, dipped it in the brush washer, then spoke in a clear, cool voice that carried no change at all as he said: “Grind it well,” and after a beat he added: “Do not let your mind wander.”
Xiao Man froze, thinking she must have misheard.
[That’s it?]
[He shut the door and windows just so I would grind ink properly?]
[Do not let my mind wander?]
[Hey, who is the one with wandering thoughts here?]
Holding back a mouthful of frustration, she slowly turned and saw Lin Qing Xuan already seated straight, a sheet of snow-white paper spread open. He lowered his eyes, lifted his brush, and dipped for ink… Wait, the ink was not ready yet.
Resigned, Xiao Man picked up the ink stick, added a little water to the inkstone, and began to grind in strong, steady circles. The ink stick rasped against the stone with a regular whisper that sounded loud in the quiet room.
She kept her head down, staring at the dark stream of ink as it spread, trying to crush all her complaints into the black swirl.
Lin Qing Xuan set brush to paper. His strokes flowed like small dragons and snakes, neat and clear, as line after line of characters bloomed. He was copying the Heart Sutra.
He looked fully focused. In the dim light, his profile was clean and sharp. His long lashes lay low. The fingers that moved his Prayer Beads slid in a calm, regular rhythm.
Sandalwood smoke curled in the air. The scent of ink spread. For a strange moment, the room felt peaceful, as if time had turned gentle.
Just when Xiao Man thought this odd “alone together, grinding ink for Sutra Copying” would go on until her wrist gave out, Lin Qing Xuan’s cool voice suddenly broke the fragile calm as he said: “Do not walk so close to Shi Tou.”
Her grinding hand stopped with a jolt.
She looked up in shock at the man behind the desk.
He kept copying the sutra, not even lifting his eyelids, as if the words had been her imagination.
[Do not walk so close to Shi Tou?]
[Close how? Close what? We only said two sentences.]
[Is talking to a boy a crime in this place?]
[Or is it that I can only talk to you, the one man here?]
Her inner theater exploded, countless lines of commentary racing across her mind.
She did not speak her questions out loud, but she glared hard at the one who had caused this mess, who looked like he had nothing to do with it.
The very next second, his brush paused so lightly on the paper that it left only a tiny, almost invisible dot.
He still did not look up. In the same calm tone a person might use to talk about the weather, he answered the words she had not spoken as he said: “Yes.”
Xiao Man felt like lightning struck her. All the blood in her body seemed to freeze.
[Yes?]
[Yes what?]
[He… he heard it?]
[He heard my complaints in my head?]
Cold fear washed over her like a tide.
This was more than Shared Empathy and Dreaming.
This man could hear her Heart Voice.
That was scarier than any Spirit Creature trick. In front of him, she was like a transparent person with all defenses stripped away.
Her hand shook so hard the ink splashed. A few drops dotted the edge of the inkstone.
She stood there stiff and pale, as if a Binding Spell held her, even forgetting to breathe.
He seemed to finish the line he was writing. He set down the brush and lifted his eyes.
Those deep, still eyes showed her face clearly, white with panic like she had seen a ghost.
His gaze stayed on her for a breath, then fell, naturally, to her clenched, white-knuckled grip and the specks of spilled ink.
His fingers moved to the next bead. His voice stayed even, but it carried a steady force that pierced straight into her ears as he said: “When you stand close, I can hear some of it,” and then he added, “Do not call me ‘that guy’.”
He paused, and his clear voice took on a faint, hard-to-catch warmth as he said: “You may call me Qing Xuan.”
The ink stick slipped from Xiao Man’s numb fingers and dropped straight into the inkstone. A small splash of black ink fanned out, staining the cuff of her blue shirt and the edge of the desk.
She felt completely numb from her scalp to her toes, like a strong current had shot through her and left her frozen.
Only one thought kept spinning in her mind:
[It is over.]
[This Chastity Defense Campaign is going to the level of the soul.]
[This Buddha’s Chosen plays unfair. He is cheating.]