The sea of suffering is endless, there is always a way out.
Yan Zhuoxu, it is never too late to turn back.
Shen Zhiyi relaxed her body, sat sideways on the futon, and suddenly looked at him with blushing cheeks.
"I wanted to... prepare a few more scrolls of scriptures for the Master, but the temple is short of rice paper, and the ones I brought with me are all gone."
Her long raven-feather hair was loosely tied up, with a few strands falling on her cheeks.
Make her profile look beautiful and gentle.
But that look contained a hint of charming brilliance.
"So..." She said slowly, pinching the hem of her skirt, "I thought of a way to copy a unique scripture for the master..."
The hem of the skirt rises a little bit.
As if he had made up his mind, he turned sideways and exerted a little force.
The pair of eyes opposite her, as quiet as a deep pool, suddenly shrank!
Appeared under Yan Zhuoxu's nose.
It is a piece of calf skin as delicate as jade.
Swaying in the candlelight, the white color is charming.
What shocked him even more was the densely packed scriptures covering that piece of skin!
The Heart Sutra was deliberately written in tiny regular script, which was elegant and clear, completely different from her previous writing style.
Every horizontal fold is deliberately restrained, full of concentration and patience.
The ink seeped into her skin.
Let those words of salvation and enlightenment merge with the warm flesh.
It has become a living scroll with body temperature.
Yan Zhuoxu's face turned pale in an instant.
"Master..." she called him softly.
Her face was as pink as clouds and intoxicating.
The ink marks on the slender white legs danced with the candlelight, and in Yan Zhuoxu's eyes, they looked sacred and weird.
Shocking beauty...
His breath hitched.
silence.
Deathly silence.
Even the sound of the lights popping off disappeared.
All that remained was the uneasily flickering candlelight and Yan Zhuoxu's frozen face.
The hand that was twisting the Buddhist beads stopped for a moment.
The dark Bodhi beads lost their weight at this moment.
With a "pa" sound, it fell to the ground.
All his indifference, coldness, and the high walls he had built were shattered into pieces in front of this "scripture".
Under those eyes, huge waves suddenly rolled up!
He stared at that piece of skin, as if watching his persistence and rationality being burned away.
There is no hope for the future, even gods and Buddhas cannot save you.
Yan Zhuoxu's fingertips trembled, and he suddenly stood up and lifted Shen Zhiyi from the ground, "Do you know what you are doing?!"
Shen Zhiyi looked innocent: "I'm reading the scriptures for the master..."
Yan Zhuoxu stared at her face intently.
A clear, soft, and compassionate face like that of a god or Buddha.
He was the only one who fell and collapsed.
He closed his eyes tightly.
"go out……"
"Get out of here!"
The door closed.
He leaned against the door frame, slowly slid down, and fell to the ground.
Scripture, the flesh…
Ink, snow-white...
Buddha's smile, her smile...
Yan Zhuoxu fell to the ground in pain, the sky was spinning and the whole world was falling.
He seemed to see himself falling into the Avici Hell...
Something fell out of his arms.
It's her silk handkerchief.
Yan Zhuoxu picked up the handkerchief and held it in front of him with trembling hands.
Then, bury your face in it and take a deep sniff...
He fainted.
Yan Zhuoxu had a dream while suffering from a high fever.
An unbearable and confusing dream in front of the Buddha...
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