The silk handkerchief in her arms suddenly became scorching hot.

Yan Zhuoxu loosened his grip on the door frame slightly, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment before shifting to the moonlight outside the wall.

"Could you have asked Chen Bi to search for it?"

Shen Zhiyi nodded, "We searched everywhere, inside and out."

Yan Zhuoxu's expression remained calm: "It's just a handkerchief. If it's lost, it's lost. Why bother about it so much?"

Shen Zhiyi sighed, "It's a handkerchief that I really like."

"I carry it with me every day."

"I embroidered it myself, stitch by stitch, without ever asking anyone else to do it."

"Master, did you really not see it?"

Suddenly, an image flashed through Yan Zhuoxu's mind: her pinching and pressing those silk threads, each inch brushing against her fingertips, even bending down and biting off the ends of the threads with her teeth...

Perhaps she used it to wipe her sweat.

Forehead, neck, behind the ears...

The handkerchief touched every part of her face, and even...her body.

His Adam's apple bobbed.

A dense itch spread through my body.

He loosened his grip on the doorframe, holding the Buddhist prayer beads in his palm against his body.

She pressed the silk handkerchief even tighter and closer into her bosom.

“I used it during the medicinal bath.” His voice was inexplicably hoarse as he lowered his eyes and stared at her face. “After that, I haven’t seen it again.”

Shen Zhiyi paused, lowering her eyelashes, "Is that so..."

"That's such a pity..."

Yan Zhuoxu looked at her with her brows slightly furrowed, and felt a surge of reluctance and regret in his heart.

He looked away, no longer looking directly into her eyes.

Taking something without asking is stealing.

He broke his vow again.

Yan Zhuoxu frowned deeply, not understanding why he would rather lie than leave behind this silk handkerchief.

False speech, theft.

Now that he has broken two precepts, will Buddha... still forgive him?

If she knew the truth, how would she view him?

Yan Zhuoxu tensed his jaw, his expression turning grim in an instant. "It's late, get some rest."

Shen Zhiyi stepped forward and entered his palace.

"Won't you take a look at the gift I prepared as a token of my gratitude?"

"A thank-you gift?" Yan Zhuoxu lowered his eyes, looked at the distance between them, and took a half step back without making a sound.

Shen Zhiyi nodded.

"This item is confidential; please examine it carefully behind closed doors, Master."

With a serious expression, she walked to the prayer mat and sat down in front of the Buddha statue.

Yan Zhuoxu paused for a moment.

He raised his hand and closed the door.

The eternal flame in the distance flickered for a moment.

He turned and walked over, sitting down on the futon opposite her.

"What is it that is so cautious?"

Shen Zhiyi shifted her body, then knelt on the prayer mat, clasped her hands together, and devoutly worshipped the Buddha statue.

"As Buddhism says, the human body bears the burden of cause and effect karma."

"All sentient beings are originally Buddhas."

"Today, Master gave me a medicinal bath. You are often blessed by the Buddha. You also personally prepared the medicine for me and wiped away my sweat and tears. I think my body should also be tainted by some Buddhist teachings and scriptures, and can be considered cleansed."

"Master, am I right?"

She turned to look at him.

Yan Zhuoxu's dark eyes, like pools of ink, seemed to hold a deep depth as he gazed at her silently for a long time.

All phenomena are impermanent, and the five aggregates are empty.

Her very existence in this world is beautiful and pure.

He is not the one who can save her.

He was... the one who defiled her with his filthy thoughts...

Yan Zhuoxu glanced sideways at the silent Buddha statue.

The compassionate Buddha, with his eyes half-closed, sat cross-legged on a lotus platform, looking at him with a smile as if he could see through all things.

Look at his despicable behavior.

Watching him fall into ruin.

But he still hoped that the gods and Buddhas would have mercy and lend him a hand...

"Why are you saying all this?" Yan Zhuoxu calmed down and stared at the ever-burning lamp not far away.

It seemed as if he saw the flames leaping and rolling up the silk handkerchief in his arms, burning it to ashes.

It will also burn away all his despicable and dark deeds.

The sea of ​​suffering is boundless, but turning back is the shore.

Swallows wash their thoughts, turning back is the shore.

Shen Zhiyi relaxed her body, sat sideways on the futon, and suddenly looked at him with flushed cheeks.

“I originally intended to...copy a few more scrolls of scriptures for the master, but the temple is short of Xuan paper, and I have used up all the ones I brought myself.”

Her long, raven-feather-like hair was loosely tied up, with a few stray strands falling beside her cheeks.

It makes her profile look delicate and graceful.

But her eyes held a hint of alluring, watery charm.

“So…” she slowly gripped the hem of her skirt, “I devised a way to transcribe a unique scroll of scripture for the master…”

The hem of the skirt rose little by little.

As if making a decision, he turned to the side and exerted a little force.

The pair of deep, still eyes opposite her suddenly narrowed!

Appearing right under Yan Zhuoxu's nose.

It was a section of calf skin that was as delicate as jade.

Swaying in the candlelight, its shimmering whiteness was captivating.

What shocked him even more was the dense, countless scriptures covering that skin!

It was deliberately copied in tiny, neat characters, resulting in a beautiful and clear Heart Sutra, quite different from her usual calligraphy style.

Every horizontal bend is deliberately restrained, brimming with focus and patience.

The ink seeped into her skin.

Let those words of redemption and solace become one with the tender flesh.

It became a living, breathing scripture, imbued with warmth.

Yan Zhuoxu's face turned deathly pale in an instant.

“Master…” she called softly.

Her face was flushed with a captivating pink hue, like the glow of a sunset.

The ink stains on her slender white legs danced in the candlelight, appearing both sacred and eerie in Yan Zhuoxu's eyes.

Shockingly decadent...

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