What schemes those high-ranking figures have in mind is beyond the comprehension of a widow like Qi Su.

Speaking of Qi Su, although her current situation is somewhat better than Chen Tang's, it's not much better.

Qi Su was sent to Qingyun Nunnery, or, to put it more politely, to transcribe scriptures and recite blessings for her deceased husband.

To put it bluntly, they were locked up and detained.

In feudal times, nunneries deep in the mountains were rife with methods of tormenting people. In as little as one or two years, they could quietly send someone to meet Buddha.

Don't even think about escaping. The nuns inside all have stern, stepmother-like faces, and the guards are even tighter than in a prison.

Qi Su is even more miserable than the young women and wives who were thrown here.

If she doesn't handle this job well, she'll be dead in three to five days, let alone three to five.

Fortunately, the boss is experienced.

I've been to many dungeons before, and the conditions were far worse than this, but I still managed to get by.

However, the Buddha's disciple is compassionate, the Buddha's disciple is compassionate.

Strange, Qi Su felt a strange familiarity with the name. Could it be the young widow's unspoken apology?

.

Two more days passed.

Before Qi Su had fully recovered, the little nun Jing Rou, whose nature was completely at odds with her name, urged Qi Su to quickly return the favor to Dao Ci.

The young girl stood menacingly at Qi Su's bedside, a dagger in her hand.

"You can eat three bowls of noodles a day now, so you must be much healthier by now, right?"

Qi Su: "Alright. I'm going to make a dessert for the master today as a token of my appreciation."

Jingrou: "Snacks?"

Qi Su: "Yes, mung bean cake."

Jingrou was a little doubtful, "Does Daoci like to eat this?"

Clearly, this information was not in their intelligence network.

Qi Su thought to herself, "Don't even mention that you Embroidered Robe Envoys don't know, even Dao Ci himself doesn't know."

"Yes, that's right." She lied without a care in the world.

Whether it's true or not isn't important. What's important is that she's currently in poor health and doesn't want to expend any energy.

Don't be picky, this is it.

…

When Qi Su, covered in soot and grime, finished working at the stove and brought out a plate of dark, burnt pastries, Jing Rou's face also darkened.

Qi Su wiped non-existent sweat from her forehead.

"Put it in a box," she said matter-of-factly.

Jingrou's face darkened. "Prepare this thing?"

Qi Su: "Otherwise what? If we're late, we won't be able to get into Huatan Temple."

Jingrou glared at her fiercely.

"Don't try any tricks. If you don't deliver these mung bean cakes today, I'll make sure you die in Qingyun Mountain."

Qi Su smiled, looking confident.

“He will definitely eat what I made.”

.

The two carried the food box and went around to the back gate of Qingyun Nunnery. After climbing the back of Qingyun Mountain, it took another half an hour to reach the side courtyard of Huatan Temple.

This was Qi Su's first time entering Huatan Temple.

Although she was dressed in coarse clothes and had wooden hairpins, and her robes were loose and lacked definition, her illness made her even more refined and ethereal.

If you pass by the snow pear blossoms, they will be beautiful and charming.

Jingrou seemed to know the place well, and kept urging Qi Su, who was panting after just a few steps, to keep up with her.

Because Huatan Temple is far from Jincheng, only nearby villagers come to worship Buddha, so the temple is not very popular.

Jingrou whispered a few words to a young novice monk outside the Sutra Repository, then pulled Qi Su forward.

"Quickly, Abbot Daoci isn't translating scriptures today, let's hurry over there."

Qi Su had a sudden inspiration and wrote down the words "translation of scriptures".

Today is a rare sunny day.

The thin layer of snow under the Buddha Hall has almost melted.

A young monk wearing a Buddhist robe was standing on the stone steps when a little girl stopped him to speak.

The entire temple has a somber tone and an ancient, rustic appearance.

The young girl, with delicate features, held up the fortune slip she had drawn from the divination tube, seeking answers about her marriage prospects.

Qi Su... even a monk has admirers.

People who are obsessed with appearances truly have no age or historical limitations.

Jingrou gave her a push.

"Go quickly!"

Qi Su... isn't the current situation a bit inappropriate?

She stumbled and lunged forward, and the two people talking in front of her looked at her.

Even without turning around, he could feel Jing Rou's cold gaze.

Qi Su sighed and went to greet them, carrying the food box.

The little girl who had been interrupted from her fortune-telling session glared at Qi Su with malice.

Qi Su ignored her and bowed to the monk.

"Master, may I ask how to get to the Sanqing Hall?"

She lowered her eyelashes and didn't look at him, her voice soft and gentle.

There was silence all around, and no one responded.

"master?"

Qi Su looked up and met a pair of cold, calm, narrow phoenix eyes.

His eyes were deep, and when he stared at someone, there was a hint of coldness in them. But it seemed to be just an illusion.

The monk clasped his hands together, his distant attitude unchanged from when he had seen her a few days earlier.

He seemed not to recognize her at all, and appeared completely indifferent to the person before him. He simply said:

“Benefactor, Huatan Temple does not have a Sanqing Hall.”

The little girl pointed at Qi Su: "Yeah, going to a Buddhist temple to find the Sanqing Hall? Are you out of your mind?"

Qi Su suddenly realized.

"What I want to ask about is the Mahavira Hall."

It was really just a slip of the tongue; they didn't mean to attract attention.

The monk didn't speak again, but simply pointed to the Buddhist temple a few steps behind him on the stone steps.

The crisp sunlight after the first snow fell on him.

He carried a faint scent of sandalwood. And, subtly, a hint of floral fragrance.

Qi Su bowed in thanks, said nothing more, and then went to the Buddhist temple behind him with the food box.

.

Just as Qi Su finished offering the plate of burnt mung bean cakes to the Buddha statue in the main hall and knelt in worship, Jing Rou stormed in angrily.

She kept her voice very low.

"You were indeed deceiving the master. Dao Ci has absolutely no feelings for you!"

As she spoke, a small dagger was pressed viciously against Qi Su's waist.

Qi Su maintained her prayer-like posture with her hands clasped together, and said slowly:

"You're wrong again. He asked me to meet him in his meditation room at midnight."

"What?" Jingrou's eyes widened. "He clearly didn't talk to you."

Qi Su pushed away the dagger at her waist.

“Sister, sometimes words can deceive, but actions can not. When he pointed the way for me, he held up two fingers of one hand and pointed to the Buddhist temple, while the other hand was hidden in his sleeve. This was his way of telling me to meet him in secret at his Zen temple at midnight.”

Jingrou: ...I think you're just talking nonsense.

Qi Su smiled and said, "Why don't you go ask him?"

Jingrou glanced at her suspiciously.

"Let's wait and see."

.

Afternoon, outside the Jingzhai Zen Courtyard of Huatan Temple.

A monk in black robes hurriedly came to greet them.

"Master, someone from the capital has arrived."

Dao Ci's expression remained calm, but the young novice monk Qing Yan beside him stared wide-eyed.

"When did you arrive? So quickly."

The monk in black robes reported back.

"Indeed, as reported by the Xuan Niao Guard, it was Wang Dajian, the eunuch serving Wei Zhao, who came in person. Wei Zhao must have heard that the Chan sect is going to hold the Lotus Mountain Buddhist Assembly next spring, which is why he is in such a hurry."

Buddhist altar gatherings are not unusual; Zen Buddhism holds them every so often.

The important thing is that the Songyang Chan Buddhist ancestral temple has announced its intention to pass on its mantle at this conference.

The master is a Buddhist disciple of the Jinming Chan sect and an inner disciple of the patriarch Kasyapa, so there is a high possibility that he was ordained as a successor.

Wei Zhao knew that the dog would definitely resort to desperate measures.

If the master were to inherit the mantle of Zen Buddhism and have countless followers, wouldn't the new dynasty be in turmoil?

The monk in black robes said, "The abbot has settled them down as instructed by his master. The Black Bird's eyes are still watching."

The monk chanted a Buddhist prayer, then looked up at the half-open window, where snowflakes were falling softly.

Winter has arrived in the Northwest.

The snow and wind in the capital city arrive earlier than in the northwest.