Chapter 39 Copying Scriptures: Wanting Her Attention

Xiao Qiyu's thoughts had long since turned into a wisp of smoke, drifting outside his body throughout the evening, unaware of his physical form.

Everything around him became blurry and illusory, turning into black and white, indistinct and unclear.

Until I heard Cui Ying's voice.

The girl's voice was clear and bright, like a ray of sunlight that suddenly tore through the grayness surrounding him. In an instant, the grass and trees became lush, the fragrance of flowers wafted, and the warbling of orioles sang sweetly on the branches. The whole world came alive again.

As if driven by the will to survive, Xiao Qiyu's mind went blank, and his body moved in response to Cui Ying's voice. He walked straight to the ebony tea table, his slender fingers with distinct knuckles steadily lifting the jade teapot handle. The clear stream of water poured into the white porcelain cup, and then he held the cup of lukewarm tea in one hand and handed it to Cui Ying, his movements swift and without the slightest hesitation.

Cui Ying was stunned.

He even rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

Xiao Qiyu put down his teacup, turned around and headed towards the door, seemingly intending to go to the small kitchen to prepare two dishes for her.

"Wait!" Cui Ying exclaimed in surprise.

She threw down her pen, stood up, and ran to him, her eyes wide with excitement, her long eyelashes trembling with each breath. She reached out and placed her hand on Xiao Qiyu's forehead.

The girl's hands had a delicate and sweet fragrance, like spring flowers or summer fruits. Beneath her thin skin flowed the purest and most youthful energy, brimming with vibrant life and sunshine.

Xiao Qiyu did not dodge.

The warmth of his pulsating palms flowed from his forehead through his entire body, driving away all the chill and melting away the ice and snow.

"What are you doing?" Xiao Qiyu's voice was hoarse, his eyes were dark and deep, and he stared quietly into Cui Ying's amber eyes. His frozen heartbeat quickened at this moment, and an unfamiliar heat quietly spread.

Cui Ying tentatively checked the temperature of his forehead, then placed her other hand on her own forehead, carefully comparing the temperatures, and said, "Why is it really a little hot? Are you sick?"

No wonder I served her tea and water; something was definitely amiss. A stingy woman offering such attentiveness would surely cause trouble. It turns out she was confused because she was sick.

Xiao Qiyu remained focused, his eyes fixed on Cui Ying, trying to find traces of concern in her furrowed brows.

As for why he wanted her to care about him, he didn't know.

"I know whether I'm sick or not." He turned his head slightly, avoiding that warm and soft little hand.

Deep down, however, she secretly longed for Cui Ying to stubbornly place her hand back on his.

Unbeknownst to them, their scents intertwined, a sweet fragrance blending with the medicinal aroma, leaving their throats dry.

Under the flickering lamplight, the boy's pale face exuded an aloofness and indifference that kept strangers at bay. His eyes shimmered with a dark light, and his long, narrow eyes were more beautiful than gentle.

Cui Ying, of course, couldn't hear the secret thoughts in Xiao Qiyu's mind. In her eyes, this guy was stubborn and inflexible, and would never learn to back down.

"Why are you more stubborn than a donkey?" Cui Ying cursed. "If you're sick, hurry up and take your medicine. Don't catch a cold before your old injury has healed. You were injured because of me. If you die, how will I explain it to Grandmother? How will I explain it to all the elders in your family?"

"Put your forehead out here!" Cui Ying shouted angrily, his tone commanding.

Xiao Qiyu stiffened his neck, his jawline taut, and remained motionless.

Cui Ying cursed him a couple more times, then raised her hand to press it back onto his forehead.

Just then, a night breeze swept through the hall, causing the brocade curtains under the door to flutter and swirl like flowing clouds. The candlelight on the desk flickered violently, casting erratic shadows. The scriptures on the desk were blown into the air, one after another, like birds released from their cages.

Cui Ying exclaimed in annoyance, "Oh dear," "I forgot to weigh them down with a paperweight."

She stood on tiptoe, waving her two snow-white arms as she tried to reach the scriptures, but a long arm beat her to it and easily reached them.

Xiao Qiyu originally intended to hand it to her, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his own name at the end of the paper. He then looked at it carefully and saw that it read:

It was the fourteenth day of the first month of autumn in the twentieth year of the Jingming era of the Great Zhou Dynasty

Yang Shang's filial son, Xiao Qiyu, respectfully writes after washing his hands: I devoutly copy one copy of the Diamond Sutra, and with this merit, I dedicate it to the spirit of my late mother, Wang Shi, who was both young and old.

May all beings be liberated from suffering and attain happiness, be reborn in a good realm, and together attain enlightenment.

If a thunderclap were to strike, Xiao Qiyu's soul would tremble.

His hand gripping the paper trembled slightly, but he forced down his turbulent emotions, his voice striving to maintain a calm and indifferent tone, with only a barely perceptible low hue leaking out at the end:

"Cui Ying, are you copying scriptures for my mother on my behalf?"

Cui Ying was frantically grabbing another fluttering scripture when she heard this. She just said "Oh" and then complained, "This scripture is difficult and hard to understand. I make at least three mistakes in every line I write. I've only copied half of it and my hand is already about to break. I will never believe anyone who says that copying Buddhist scriptures can calm the mind again. It's just annoying."

“That’s not what I meant,” Xiao Qiyu swallowed, his gaze still fixed on the elegant handwriting, as if trying to etch it into his eyes: “What I meant was, why did you do this?”

Cui Ying finally managed to grab one scripture, then reached out to grab the second. Her bare arms were as tender as the flesh of a sweet pear, and her voice was clear and honest: "The Ghost Festival only comes once a year. I heard Yangyang say that if the deceased's closest relatives and loved ones transcribe and burn the scriptures, it can comfort the deceased's soul, allowing them to rest in peace and enter the cycle of reincarnation sooner. Although I don't know if it's true, transcribing scriptures doesn't take much effort. If we miss it this year, we'll have to wait until next year, won't we?"

Having received so much from a young age, Cui Ying rarely considers the benefits her actions will bring her. Her guiding principles have always been only two: to have fun and to help others.

Although she still argues and bickers with Xiao Qiyu, she has regarded him as one of her own ever since he saved her. Even though she has never heard Xiao Qiyu mention his deceased mother, everyone has a heart, and who wouldn't be sad after losing their mother? He must be sad too, but he just won't say it.

"If your mother receives the scriptures you copied for her, she will be very happy."

Cui Ying said, "After all, we girls like it when others put effort into us."

Another evening breeze slipped in, ruffling the soft candlelight.

Some awkward and unspoken feelings quietly melted away at this moment, silently seeping into the boy's hardened heart and growing in secret.

Xiao Qiyu picked up a scripture that had fallen to the ground. The upper half of his face was hidden in the shadow of his bowed head. His calloused fingertips gently smoothed the wind-wrinkled edges of the scripture. His voice was calm, yet incredibly clear:

"Cui Ying, I will take my medicine properly and make sure I don't catch a cold."

“I will copy the second half of the scripture.”

“Now,” he looked up, his gaze piercing through the flickering lamplight to settle on Cui Ying’s face, “I want you to go and rest.”

"Huh?" Cui Ying tilted her head, blinked at the person who had suddenly shown kindness, and wondered if she had misheard. "What did you say? Say it again."

Xiao Qiyu did not repeat himself. He walked up to her, gently took the scripture from her hand, and put it back on the desk along with the one in his own hand. He carefully pressed it down with the heavy white jade paperweight, aligning the edges meticulously.

Then, returning to her side, before she could react, one arm had already slipped under her knees, and the other hand firmly wrapped around her back, the movement carrying an undeniable force, and he lifted her up by the waist.

Before Cui Ying could even cry out in surprise, her body sank into the soft bedding.

Xiao Qiyu also casually tossed the storybook she had been reading these past two days next to her pillow.

When Cui Ying came to her senses, she was already comfortably lying on the bed, with the storybook within easy reach, and even a pot of tea on the small tea table by the bedside.

Today is truly a day when the sun rises in the west!

Cui Ying even suspected that Xiao Qiyu had been possessed by some kind of demon. Was this still the Xiao Qiyu she knew?

She opened the storybook, her eyes fixed on the indescribable romance and poetry, but her gaze fell on Xiao Qiyu.

The boy sat upright behind the desk.

The soft candlelight seeped through the ivory lampshade, which was carved with cloud and goose patterns, illuminating his focused expression. His slender fingers gently gripped the fine rabbit hair brush, and his brushstrokes were delicate and meticulous. It was hard to imagine that these were the hands of someone who could wield the mighty Six Directions Spear.

Cui Ying's long eyelashes fluttered, her gaze moving from the corner of Xiao Qiyu's delicate nose and forehead to his slightly pursed thin lips.

The candlelight cast a warm, glossy sheen on her lips, like she had applied lip rouge.

Over the years, Cui Ying had never looked at Xiao Qiyu so intently as she did at this moment.

It seems that in her eyes, he has always been the little kid he was when he was young. No matter how much people around him praise him to the skies, she always thinks he has a stern, unsmiling face and is far from being "handsome".

Only now, in this quiet night where only the sound of a heartbeat could be heard, did Cui Ying suddenly realize—

Xiao Qiyu is indeed quite good-looking.

The candlelight flickered warmly. After watching for an unknown amount of time, Cui Ying couldn't help but yawn, her thick, long eyelashes slowly covering her eyes.

Time flowed like a gentle stream, enveloping the quiet girl. Outside the door, a full moon hung in the dark sky, casting a radiant glow as pure as frost. It refracted through the window lattice and fell at the foot of the bed, illuminating a pair of jade-colored, butterfly-patterned soft satin embroidered shoes.

The sound of the brush gliding across the rice paper was soft and rustling.

At midnight, Xiao Qiyu finished copying the second half of the scripture.

He carefully arranged all the copied papers in order, forming a thick stack, and solemnly placed it under the heavy white jade paperweight.

After finishing all this, he should have gotten up, but for some reason, his gaze fell back to the last page of the stack of scriptures. His fingertips paused for a moment on the words "Respectfully written by Yang Shang's filial son Xiao Qiyu after washing his hands." A very faint emotion, which he himself did not notice, swept across his heart.

He picked up his pen again, dipped it in ink, and carefully added seven small characters before the line of text:

“Cui Ying, the filial daughter-in-law of Yangshang”.

After the ink stains dried, he repeated the previous actions, tidying up the desk, brushing away non-existent dust, and as he got up, his gaze involuntarily drifted towards the bed.

The bright red gauze curtains from the wedding had long been replaced by a soft, misty blue gauze after the rain, an extremely fresh and ethereal color that made the figure behind the curtain appear like a wisp of smoke. The arms hanging over the edge of the bed were smooth and white, and a gold armlet inlaid with pink agate slid down to the wrist, swaying slightly, reflecting the brilliance of the snow-white skin.

Xiao Qiyu walked to the bedside, intending only to put the hand hanging outside the curtain back, but when his fingertips touched the warm wrist, Xiao Qiyu's gaze was completely captured by a faint red mark on the inside of the wrist bone, caused by holding a pen for a long time.

The girl's clear, complaining voice echoed in his ears again—"This scripture is difficult and hard to understand. I make at least three mistakes in every line I write. My hand is almost broken after copying only half of it."

An indescribable bittersweet feeling quietly filled Xiao Qiyu's chest.

Xiao Qiyu leaned down and placed Cui Ying's right wrist on his knee. With gentle, slow, and meticulous pressure, he kneaded and massaged the red mark with his fingertips.

As if the soreness in her hand had been relieved, Cui Ying's sleeping face became more peaceful, her slightly furrowed brows relaxed, and she looked serene and beautiful.

Through the soft, sky-blue gauze, Xiao Qiyu looked at her long, curled eyelashes that rose and fell with her breath.

Dewdrops dripped outside the window, and the lush, fragrant summer grasses and flowers grew wildly and silently.

In the stillness of the night, Xiao Qiyu spoke softly, in a voice only he could hear:

"Thank you, Cui Tuantuan."