Light and shadow flowed between his distinct bone structure, as if an ancient Greek sculpture had suddenly fallen to earth, and even time slowed down in front of this sleeping face.
Xu Zhuohua shook her head silently.
She had always been attracted to Cheng Muyun simply because of his looks.
Each time a warning bell rang in her heart, her reason repeatedly warned her that Cheng Muyun was as dangerous as a poisoned rose. But when that person lowered his eyes and smiled, his eyelashes cast fine shadows under his eyes, or when he inadvertently revealed the faint veins on his pale skin, even the curve of his Adam's apple was captivating.
When those eyes swept over her casually, her heartbeat suddenly went out of control, all the carefully built defenses collapsed, leaving only the roaring waves in her ears, pushing her involuntarily to sink once again.
Xu Zhuohua was completely disarmed; every inch of his heart was engraved with Cheng Muyun's name.
This love is like poisoned wine; you know it will cause excruciating pain, yet you still hold the bowl and drink it all in one gulp, even if you're drunk and out of your mind, you still find it sweet.
She knew all too well that without Cheng Muyun, she was like a fish out of water, her gills filled with the sand of despair, and even breathing was a painful, fishy taste.
So she let herself sink, sinking into the deep sea where he was.
Regardless of the truth or the past, she was a staunch "Cheng Muyun advocate".
Like a pilgrim holding their heart, devout and unwavering, following without asking when they will return, even if the end of this pursuit is a bottomless abyss, they are willing to close their eyes and jump down.
Xu Zhuohua nestled in Cheng Muyun's arms, listening to the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, and smelling the faint scent of soap on his body.
The moonlight outside the window sliced the window frame into silvery-white squares, and the rain chimes under the eaves were rustled by the wind, their delicate tinkling sounds like the whispers of a Bodhisattva turning prayer beads, which finally calmed her heart, which had been in turmoil for several days.
She gazed at his relaxed brows as he slept, her fingertips gently brushing against the stubble on his chin, and a certain thought settled in her heart.
Xu Zhuohua contacted Chen Hede, and the two arranged to meet in a meditation room at Baiyun Temple.
Xu Zhuohua lied to Cheng Muyun, saying she had come to pray for peace. Originally, Cheng Muyun was going to go with her, but Madam Cheng suddenly developed a high fever that wouldn't go down, so Cheng Muyun went to the hospital instead.
A faint scent of sandalwood wafted through the meditation room. The tea in the porcelain cups cooled and was refilled repeatedly, and two empty teapots sat on the table.
When the door creaked open, sunlight, carrying waves of heat, flooded into the room. Beads of sweat trickled down Chen Hede's forehead, down his chin, and into his collar. His soaked clothes clung tightly to his back, making him look as if he had just been pulled out of a steamer.
Xu Zhuohua knelt on the prayer mat, her back to the door, praying to the true man.
The jagged shoulder blades pushed the fabric into sharp angles, like a weary bird shivering in the cold wind.
Her long, flowing hair formed a dark blue curtain, obscuring her devoutly clasped hands. Her back was taut in a fragile arc, rising and falling slightly with the long, drawn-out prayers. Her wrists, visible from her sleeves, were so thin they were almost transparent.
The rising sandalwood incense made her figure appear even more ethereal. The tinkling of the copper bells on the eaves outside the door could not break the deathly silence around her. Only that heavy loneliness, like a spider web, tightly wrapped around her thin body.
The moment Chen Hede stepped through the door, his feet seemed to be nailed to the spot, his gaze fixed on the back of the person who had turned around.
After a long silence, he finally managed to squeeze out a hoarse name: "Xu Zhuohua?"
She slowly turned her head, the dark circles under her eyes spreading like ink on rice paper, and even her voice was melancholic, as if imbued with moisture, as it floated lightly into his ears: "You've finally come."
He stepped across the threshold, but his gaze was drawn to the shrine on the altar—a gilded statue he had never seen before, with wisps of smoke rising from the incense burner, making the room seem somewhat hazy.
"When did you start believing in this?"
As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt my throat tighten. In my memory, she always had her neck stiff, with a stubborn air of "my fate is in my own hands."
How could it be like this now, with eyes as empty as shattered stars, where even the Buddha's light in the shrine cannot illuminate the darkness in their eyes?
Xu Zhuohua stood up from the prayer mat and looked at Chen Hede, "When life is hopeless, there is nowhere to worship but gods and Buddhas."
Chen Hede clenched his fist. "Have you been having a hard time lately? Is something bothering you?"
Xu Zhuohua lowered her eyes and sighed. When she pulled over a stool and sat down, her knees made a slight sound.
She poured tea into a rough porcelain bowl, the tea soup rippling lightly at the bottom: "It's a long story. Look how scorching the sun is, and how steep the path up the mountain is. Let's have some tea and rest first." Chen
Without any formalities, He De sat down opposite him, picked up the teacup, and drank most of it.
The cool tea soothed the dryness in his throat. He slammed the teacup on the table and tapped it with his knuckles: "I'm afraid Cheng Muyun didn't know that we specifically arranged to meet at this remote Baiyun Temple?"
She chuckled softly, rubbing her aching knees, her fingertips brushing against the rim of her cup: "Talking to you is so easy."
The cicadas outside the window suddenly chirped louder. She looked at the faded curtains hanging beside the shrine and said in a deep voice, "Yes, I ran into the Cheng mansion's butler, who was making improper advances toward Madam Cheng."
Chen Hede paused for a moment, seemingly thinking about who the housekeeper of the Cheng Mansion was.
"Butler? He had improper intentions towards Madam? You saw it, why didn't you just point it out?"
Xu Zhuohua sighed, "How could I not want to? I even fired a shot at him, but he dodged it. Madam Cheng was also awakened, and everyone from the Cheng mansion came. What could I say? If I said that, would Madam Cheng's innocence still be intact?"
Growing increasingly frustrated, Xu Zhuohua picked up her teacup, downed a mouthful, wiped her lips clean, and continued, "I can't tell anyone else that Madam Cheng has been recuperating for so long. I can't upset her. But Li Qirui wants to kill me, so I have no choice but to come to you."
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