After taking a couple of steps, I realized that it was just dark at the entrance. Behind the hidden door was a brightly lit space with a bronze Buddha statue standing in the center.

There was an incense table and a prayer cushion in front of the Buddha. All the furnishings were exactly the same as those in the Buddhist hall we had just been in, as if they were modeled after that Buddhist hall.

The only difference is that the stand for the eternal lamp is placed in front of the Buddha statue, side by side with the incense table, one stand on each side.

The one on the left has five lamps lit, while the one on the right only has one.

Perhaps fearing that people would be lonely, many candles were lit around the ever-burning lamp, as if to keep them company.

Chu Huaixu walked over hesitantly, his face growing paler with each step he took.

By the time he stood in front of one of the iron frames, his face was ashen, and he almost couldn't stand up.

The two lamps in the first row represent: [Father, King Chu Mingyao] and [Mother, Consort Jiang Rong].

The two lamps in the second row: [Eldest Brother Chu Huaiqing] [Second Brother Chu Huaiyun]

A lamp in the third row: [The people of Prince Duan's Mansion]

The signature is always "Chu Huai Xu".

These lamps, which burn eternally, were all offered in his name.

Prince Duan was a traitor, and everyone in his household was a sinner. After their deaths, no one dared to collect their remains.

However, someone hid a Buddhist hall in a royal temple like the White Horse Temple, specifically to enshrine these treacherous officials and rebels.

There is only one person in the world who dares to do this and can get the monks to cooperate at such great risk.

Chu Huaixu found it hard to describe his feelings at that moment. He was filled with hatred and resentment, and even wanted to overturn the ever-burning lamps in front of him.

What kind of person is an executioner who lights an eternal lamp in his own name for his parents and brothers?

Is it irony? Or mockery? The smugness of a victor?

Nothing could have made Chu Huaixu feel more ashamed and disgusted than this.

Even the humiliation and mistreatment he suffered at the hands of those patrons couldn't compare to even a fraction of what he felt now.

—How could Song hear how he could, how dare he…

Chu Huaixu braced himself on the frame with both hands, his anger almost burning away his reason.

The bright yellow firelight in his eyes turned into bright red blood, and the ghosts who died with their eyes wide open roared and cursed in his ears.

Each sound and each word felt like the sharpest dagger cutting into his soul, causing him so much pain that he could no longer see clearly.

After a long while, the excruciating pain gradually subsided, and his vision slowly returned.

Chu Huaixu turned to the side, his gaze falling on the lamp stand on the other side.

There was only one lonely lamp there.

This is a Buddhist hall specially set up for the Prince Duan's mansion. But since all the dead people in the mansion have eternal lamps, who is this eternal lamp lit for?

Chu Huaixu already had a guess in his mind.

He walked forward with difficulty, step by step, until he reached the lamp, where the name on it clearly appeared in his eyes.

[Preface to the Chu-Huai Chronicle]

It really was his name.

"The ever-burning lamp can guide the deceased and also bring blessings to the living," a monk nearby explained.

"Is that so?" Chu Huaixu nodded, his face expressionless.

The next moment, he suddenly grabbed the ever-burning lamp in front of him and smashed it to the ground!

The candlelight flickered and vanished in an instant; the monk had no time to stop it before the lamp was smashed to the ground and shattered.

The monk was horrified: "Benefactor, you..."

Chu Huaixu's eyes were bloodshot: "I don't need something like that."

He was very calm.

After saying this, he asked the monk a seemingly unrelated question in a calm tone:

"Excuse me, sir, do you have any oil for a fire?"

The monk was still surprised by his actions, but seeing that he seemed to have truly recovered, he asked nothing.

"Of course, please wait a moment, benefactor."

In no time, the monk brought the oil. Chu Huaixu thanked him and took the oil.

Even if nothing was outwardly apparent, the resentment and anger in his heart were not so easily dispelled, and his fingertips were still trembling at this point.

She almost dropped her things, and when she added oil to her parents' ever-burning lamp, a few drops spilled out, causing the flame to flicker violently.

Chu Huaixu's heart tightened, and he even felt his breath catch in his throat.

Once the lamplight had stabilized, they continued to add oil.

This time, they were even more careful, fearing that something might go wrong with the few lights that would stay on all night.

How ironic, Chu Huaixu thought to himself. He was disgusted and wanted to vomit, but he couldn't bear to actually smash those ever-burning lamps.

Because only here can the souls of the dead find rest.

If Song Ting were here, she would definitely laugh at him.

After adding the oil, Chu Huaixu turned around with difficulty, knelt in front of the Buddha statue, put his hands together, and closed his eyes.

"Master, may I stay here with them by myself?"

“Of course you can,” the monk said. “Please do as you wish.”

Chu Huaixu: "Thank you."

After a busy day of preparing for the grand ceremony, Song Ting finally had a moment to relax around 7 PM. He hastily drank a couple of mouthfuls of porridge before heading off to find Chu Huaixu.

They had only spent a short time together that morning, and he missed her terribly. When he arrived at the room, he discovered that she wasn't there.

Xiao Wu and Qi Zhou didn't leave any message; they must have just gone out for a casual stroll. Song Ting then decided to go out and try her luck.

The inner Buddhist hall, where the eternal lamp is enshrined, is located in the eastern corner of the temple, a rather remote location, but Song Ting is quite familiar with this place.

He had already searched the entire temple but hadn't found anyone; this was the only place he hadn't looked.

—Let's go in and take a look.

Thinking this, Song Ting quietly walked in and saw a monk kneeling in front of the Buddha chanting scriptures from afar.

He walked slowly closer, and the monk slowly opened his eyes and nodded at him.

Song Ting returned his greeting, then knelt on the prayer mat. The bronze Buddha statue looked down at him in the flickering candlelight.

Song Ting closed his eyes and clasped his hands together, listening to the monk recite a passage of scripture.

He used to disbelieve in these gods and ghosts. If praying to gods and Buddhas were effective, there wouldn't be so many pitiful people dying tragically in this world.

Good people don't get good rewards, while evil people enjoy wealth and honor.

But he doesn't know when it started, but every time he sees one of these clay idols, he kneels down and bows to it.

"Amitabha." After a while, Song Ting walked up to the monk and said, "I would like to see an old friend. Please lead the way, Master."

The sound of the wooden fish stopped, and the old monk opened his eyes and looked at Song Ting:

"Please wait a moment, benefactor, as an old friend is visiting at this moment."

Song Ting's throat tightened, and after a long while, she managed to speak with difficulty: "An old friend?"

The hidden Buddhist hall beneath the inner Buddhist hall was built by his own orders. Apart from the monks responsible for adding lamp oil, he was the only one who had been able to enter it over the years.

The old friend he spoke of has long since passed away and rests here.

What kind of person could be called an "old friend" by this old monk, and would dare to let the old monk let people in without his permission?

This is a problem that Song Ting doesn't need to rack her brains to solve.

His heart trembled violently, and his vision went black for a moment.

“Master, you shouldn’t have acted on your own.” After suppressing his emotions, he put his hands behind his back and stared at the old monk with fierce and sharp eyes. “You have overstepped your bounds.”