Buddhist Temple Turmoil (Part 1)
The effects of the silver needle treatment were immediate. Su Qingyue felt that the chill that had been lingering in her lungs had been mostly dispelled, her breath was no longer icy and painful, and her mind was clear as a mirror. Qingdai regarded her "needle technique" as divine and took even better care of her.
However, the peaceful days lasted only two days.
That afternoon, the sky was so overcast it looked like it was about to collapse, and fine snowflakes began to tap against the window paper. Granny Qian appeared at the courtyard gate again, accompanied by two burly old women. This time, she didn't even bother to announce her arrival; she simply pushed the door open and entered.
“Third Miss,” Granny Qian said with a forced smile, but her eyes were icy cold, “Madam is concerned about your health and is afraid that you will get bored in your own courtyard. She specially instructed this old servant to invite you to the Buddhist hall to rest for a few days. It is quiet there and most suitable for cultivating your mind and body, copying scriptures, and praying for the well-being of everyone in the mansion.”
Here she comes. Su Qingyue sneered inwardly, knowing that Wang Shi wouldn't let her off easily. A Buddhist hall? It sounded so noble, but it was nothing more than a change of scenery for confinement, using coldness and loneliness to wear down her will, and even… her body.
Upon hearing this, Qingdai panicked and knelt down with a thud: "Granny Qian, please tell Madam that Miss is still not fully recovered after falling into the water, and the Buddhist hall is cold and damp; she really can't bear it! What if her condition worsens..."
"How dare you!" Granny Qian interrupted sharply, her eyes sweeping over Qingdai with a piercing gaze. "The Madam's intentions are good, how dare a lowly servant like you interfere? The Third Miss is going to rest and pray for blessings, accumulating good karma for the household. This is her good fortune! If you dare to say another word, you'll regret it!"
Two rough-looking old women immediately stepped forward, their eyes fierce, as if they were about to take action and arrest the person.
Su Qingyue sat upright in the only dilapidated chair, holding a glass of slightly cooled water in her hands, her fingertips gently tracing the rough surface of the glass. She didn't look at Granny Qian, her gaze fixed on the increasingly dense snow outside the window, her tone calm and even: "Mother is very kind."
Seeing her so calm, Granny Qian felt a little uneasy, but relying on the mistress's orders, she remained confident: "Since the Third Miss understands the Madam's good intentions, then please come in. The scriptures, writing brush, ink, paper and inkstone are all prepared in the Buddhist hall."
Su Qingyue slowly stood up. She neither argued nor resisted. Circumstances were beyond her control, and a head-on confrontation would be unwise at this moment. She adjusted her slightly loose old cotton coat and said to Qingdai, "Get up, tidy up, we'll go to the Buddhist hall with Granny."
"Miss!" Qingdai looked up, her eyes filled with tears, resentment, and worry.
Su Qingyue gently shook her head at her, her eyes conveying reassurance. Going was inevitable. But how to go, what to do in the Buddhist hall, and whether she could come out unscathed were things that could be arranged.
The master and servant were "invited" out of the courtyard. They walked in silence through layers of pavilions and towers, becoming increasingly secluded. Finally, in a corner near the outermost wall of the Prime Minister's residence, almost completely covered in snow, they saw a solitary building.
The Buddhist hall in the Prime Minister's residence was less a serene place for worshipping gods and Buddhas and more a forgotten prison. The blue bricks and black tiles appeared even more solemn and eerie against the backdrop of snow. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, a wave of cold air mixed with the smell of old wood, incense, and a strong musty odor rushed out, causing Qingdai to sneeze several times.
The interior of the Buddhist hall was quite spacious, but extremely dimly lit. Only a few rays of sunlight struggled to penetrate through the high-rise windows, barely illuminating the dusty Buddha statue in the center. The prayer cushions before the statue were worn and tattered, and the incense burner on the offering table was piled high with ash, long since cooled. A junk piled up in the corner, covered in cobwebs. Most unbearable was the cold; it seemed even colder inside than outside, a damp, bone-chilling cold, a kind of perpetual, sunless chill.
"Third Miss, please calm down here." Granny Qian said with a forced smile, gesturing for the servant to place a small stack of rough scriptures and inferior writing materials on the dusty table. "You need to copy ten pages of scriptures every day, and someone will come to collect them. Food... will also be delivered on time." She deliberately paused on the word "food," her tone carrying a deeper meaning.
After saying that, she and the old woman left, and with a loud bang, they locked the door of the Buddhist hall from the outside, cutting off the last bit of sunlight and human voices from outside.
The Buddhist hall was completely silent and dark, with only the howling of the wind and snow hitting the doors and windows, like the wailing of ghosts.
Looking at the prison-like environment, Qingdai finally couldn't hold back her tears and cried out, "Miss, how... how can we stay here! It's so cold, how can your body bear it!"
Su Qingyue, however, appeared unusually calm. She ignored the stack of scriptures and began to carefully examine the "cage." She walked to the window and inspected the impossibly high vent; then she touched the wall, which was cold and damp to the touch; finally, her gaze fell on the incense burner filled with ash and the few oil lamps that had long since dried up beside the offering table.
"Don't panic." Su Qingyue's voice was exceptionally clear in the empty Buddhist hall. "The environment is a bit harsh, but it's not hopeless." She had experienced the harsh realities of modern society; working overtime, dealing with all sorts of emergencies was commonplace for her, and her mental resilience far exceeded that of ordinary people. This cold treatment wouldn't be enough to break her down.
She instructed Qingdai: "First, put away anything that can be used. See if the stuffing in those prayer cushions is usable, if there's any leftover oil in the oil lamps, and the incense burner... it might come in handy too."
Seeing her mistress so calm, Qingdai also suppressed her fear and began to search.
Just then, a series of light footsteps and deliberately hushed, smug laughter came from outside the Buddhist hall.
"Oh, Third Sister, are you satisfied with your new 'living place'?" Su Qingxue's voice came clearly through the crack in the door. She actually came in person, obviously to see the joke.
Su Qingyue did not respond, but simply gestured for Qingdai to be quiet and listened attentively.
"This Buddhist hall is a bit cold in winter, and terribly humid and hot in summer, plus there are rats!" Su Qingxue feigned concern, her tone almost overflowing with malice. "Sister, you should be careful not to get frightened. But it's good to calm your mind here, it's better than being out there... embarrassing yourself, don't you think?"
Qingdai was so angry that she trembled all over, wishing she could rush out and argue with them.
Su Qingyue merely curled her lips into a cold smile. A clown.
“Oh, right,” Su Qingxue added, as if that wasn’t enough, “Mother said you should copy the scriptures carefully and reflect on yourself. The scriptures in this Buddhist hall were Grandmother’s most cherished possessions. If even the slightest damage is done to them… little sister, you can’t bear the blame for that.”
After she finished speaking, a satisfied giggle rang out from outside, and the footsteps gradually faded away.
The Buddhist hall returned to deathly silence, but a deeper chill permeated the air.
Qingdai looked at the stack of scriptures with concern: "Miss, these scriptures..."
Su Qingyue walked over and casually picked up the top book. The paper was yellowed and fragile, with torn corners, clearly indicating its age. Wang Shi and Su Qingxue had dug a trap for her, waiting for her to fall in. Whether she had fallen ill from the cold, starved, or "accidentally" damaged the scriptures, they would have an excuse to punish her further.
"If you want to condemn someone, you can always find a pretext." Su Qingyue gently put down the sutra, her eyes sharp as knives. This Buddhist hall, seemingly a dead end, was it not also an opportunity? A stage for some to perform to their heart's content, ultimately reaping the consequences of their actions.
She looked at the dusty Buddha statue, feeling no reverence, only a clear mind. If gods and Buddhas truly had eyes, how could they stand idly by while such demons and monsters ran rampant? It's better to rely on oneself than on others.
“Qingdai,” she turned around, her tone steady, “we need to find a way to start a fire first; keeping warm is the most important thing.” She remembered that when she was searching earlier, she seemed to have seen some discarded, dry candle wicks and broken cattail wadding.
Under Qingdai's questioning gaze, Su Qingyue used the remaining lamp oil and the flammable materials she found to once again demonstrate her "survival skills." A small, weak flame struggled to ignite in the incense burner. Although it could not dispel the chill of the entire Buddhist hall, it brought crucial light and heat, and also ignited the hope in the hearts of the master and servant.
The flickering firelight illuminated Su Qingyue's serene profile. She knew that this turmoil in the Buddhist hall had only just begun. And she was already prepared to face it.
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