The rough bark scratched his palms. He looked up at the scattered sunlight filtering through the branches and was somewhat absent-minded for a moment.
There were rustling sounds of footsteps in the hall. Zheng Wanqing slowly opened her eyes and saw an elderly abbot standing beside her.
The old monk's long, snow-white eyebrows drooped down to his cheekbones, glowing silver in the dim light, and years of compassion were deposited between his wrinkles.
The cuffs of his gray-brown monk's robe were frayed to a fine frayed edge, but it exuded the warm scent of agarwood, which made people feel inexplicably at ease.
Zheng Wanqing quickly stood up, clasped her hands together and bowed: "Abbot."
The old abbot put his hands together in return, with a string of shiny bodhi seeds wrapped between his skinny fingers.
"Did the female donor ask for a lucky charm?"
"I'm begging for my husband." Zheng Wanqing answered softly, her eyes unconsciously glancing outside the palace.
The old abbot took out a piece of yellowed talisman paper from the scripture table, stroked it lightly with his skinny fingers, and folded it into an exquisite triangle with skillful movements.
He took out a red string dyed with cinnabar and wrapped it around the talisman paper in circles.
"Amitabha."
The old monk closed his eyes and chanted. His hoarse voice echoed in the hall. After he finished chanting the sutra three times, he slowly opened his eyes.
He handed the amulet to Zheng Wanqing, his eyes kind as the flame of a long-burning lamp in front of the Buddha: "This amulet must be carried with you." After a pause, he said: "If the donor is sincere, the Buddha will surely bless the person you pray for."
Zheng Wanqing took it respectfully with both hands and carefully put the amulet into her inner pocket. The satin lining made a slight rustling sound against the talisman paper.
She took out ten silver coins from her purse and put them one by one into the merit box.
Before leaving the palace, she unconsciously touched the amulet in her pocket.
As soon as I walked out of the vermilion temple gate, the cold spring breeze blew towards me, bringing with it a few pieces of remaining snow.
She couldn't help but shrink her neck, and when she looked up, she saw Xie Yun's broad and sturdy back, standing quietly under the Bodhi tree.
As if they had telepathic connection, Xie Yun suddenly turned around.
He walked up to her in two steps and held her red, frozen hand without saying a word.
The large hands with distinct joints completely wrapped around her cold fingertips, and brought them to her lips, gently blowing warm air.
The warm breath brushed across Zheng Wanqing's skin, causing a slight shudder.
"It's so cold, why did you take off your gloves?"
He frowned slightly, his voice was filled with heartache and reproach, but his hands were extremely gentle, his fingertips gently stroking her stiff joints.
Zheng Wanqing raised her face with a faint smile on her lips: "This way, be more sincere."
Xie Yun didn't say anything more, just sighed.
He took the pair of cashmere gloves from her hand and put them on her carefully.
After wrapping her up, he put his arm around her shoulders, holding her to his side, and walked out of the temple together.
His arms were warm and strong, and Zheng Wanqing unconsciously leaned into his arms.
The two walked along the stone path covered with crushed snow, leaving behind a trail of footprints that were soon covered by newly fallen snow.
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