Chapter 20

Chapter 20: Door Shut, Window Shut, Alone Together

Xiao Man planted her palms on the heavy door and shoved. It yielded with a reluctant groan, and she slipped into Lin Qing Xuan’s meditation room.

The sandalwood inside was thicker than outside—cool, calm, and heavy, like a hand pressing on her chest.

She kept her gaze forward and walked straight to the broad purple sandalwood desk, fixing on the inkstone and the fine ink stick as if they were her only lifeline.

She had just lifted the ink stick when the door behind her shifted.

Silent. Gentle.

Then—

Click.

The latch dropped. In the stillness, the sound rang sharp as a nail.

Xiao Man’s heart lurched. Her fingers clenched until her knuckles went white.

She stayed bent over the desk, frozen, not daring to turn.

Next came the windows.

One after another, the carved lattice panels slid shut—soft, measured sounds, like someone calmly sealing a box.

The warm morning light was cut off. The room dimmed, lit mostly by the glass lamp on the desk, its glow mild and faintly eerie.

Door shut.

Window shut.

One smooth motion.

Every hair on Xiao Man’s body rose.

Sirens screamed in her skull.

[What is he doing?]

Broad daylight. Under open heaven. In a meditation room.

Was this Buddhist Scion truly planning to shatter his vows with such thunder?

Her leg twitched, ready to pivot—ready to deliver another bloodline-ending kick if she had to.

Outside, crouched by the courtyard wall and peering through a crack, Stone’s eyes nearly popped out. He slapped a hand over his mouth to smother the scream clawing up his throat.

Good heavens.

Young Master shut the door.

He even shut the windows.

Stone didn’t dare stare another heartbeat. Cold shot from his soles to his scalp. He spun and bolted, sprinting like his life depended on it to the storage shed where Old Chen Tou was working.

“Dad! Dad!”

He crashed in and grabbed Old Chen Tou, who was repairing a flower rack, his voice shaking to pieces.

“They’re alone in a room—and he shut the door. He shut the windows too!”

Old Chen Tou’s hand jerked. The small hammer slipped and clanged to the floor.

He whirled, face changing, and clapped a palm over Stone’s mouth so hard Stone almost swallowed his own breath.

“You little brat—are you trying to die? Shouting like that!”

Old Chen Tou’s voice dropped to a hiss. His cloudy eyes swept the doorway, sharp with fear.

“You want the whole manor to hear? Where’s your mother, that loudspeaker?”

Stone blinked furiously under the hand and forced out broken syllables. “Mom… went… to the west courtyard… to chat…”

Old Chen Tou eased off, but his face stayed dark.

He stared at his son and spoke low, as if the words themselves might leak.

“You saw it clearly? It was Young Master who shut the door? Not the maid?”

Stone stamped his foot, frantic. “Dad, I swear! I saw Young Master reach out and shut it. He pulled the windows closed too! Xiao Man had her back to him, reaching for the ink stick—I saw it!”

Father and son stared at each other, shock and confusion passing between them—and something else, too. A strange sense of duty, as if the heavens had dropped a secret into their hands and dared them to keep it.

Old Chen Tou went still for a breath. Then his eyes hardened.

He smacked the back of Stone’s head—not gently.

“Listen. This rots in your belly. Not one word leaves your mouth. Especially not to your mother. If she finds out, by tomorrow even the guard dog will know.”

He pointed at himself, then at Stone.

“We saw nothing. We do nothing. We keep working. But keep your eyes sharp and your ears up.”

His voice sank even lower.

“Guard the courtyard gate tight. Except for the First Madam and Old Madam, even the King of Heaven doesn’t go in to disturb Young Master.”

Stone nodded hard.

In that instant, father and son became the Buddhist Scion’s first line of defense—the most loyal gatekeepers of his “vow-breaking mission.”