Guilty Conscience
Yingshi had a guilty conscience.
She didn't even dare to maintain eye contact with Shuangjian. She kept her head down, staring at the stone-paved path, and said in a way that only made her guilt more obvious, "Shuangjian, why did you come from this direction? Shouldn't you be in the East Wing painting studio right now?"
Her throat was so dry, and her voice sounded terrible...
"I have already finished inking," Shuangjian said. "Now I've come to find you."
Shuangjian's voice was very pleasant to hear, clear and clean, with just the right amount of magnetism, like pouring a cup of iced cola into her ears on a summer day. Yingshi felt her heart bubbling up like carbonation... Wait, don't bubble! Destroy those carbon dioxide bubbles!
She jerked her head up, her expression serious. "Shuangjian, when is your birthday?"
As soon as she asked, she wanted to swallow the words back. No, no, Xu Yingshi, what are your intentions in asking this question!
Shuangjian froze for a moment.
"...It's September 13th," he said, lowering his eyes.
September 13th was the day Yingshi arrived in this world.
His real birthday was January 18th.
That was the anniversary of his mother's death, as well as the anniversary of the deaths of his adoptive parents and the entire village. There would be a plotline happening on this day in the future—his nominal biological father would appear again, shattering all peace.
This was a very important plot point in the book. Yingshi remembered it deeply and had talked to him about it back in the thatched cottage.
"Is it September 13th on the lunar calendar?" Yingshi quietly counted the days. It was now early December on the lunar calendar. Counting back three months, it seemed to be right around the time she first transmigrated. Had Shuangjian's birthday already passed?
But this was the timeline of the cultivation world. If calculated according to the timeline before her transmigration, she had crossed over during finals week in early June. Shuangjian had come a little earlier than her, around April on the lunar calendar. With three months having passed since then, Shuangjian was still two months away from coming of age...
"What's wrong?" Shuangjian quietly observed Yingshi's expression. Seeing her gaze shift as she pondered something, and then suddenly reveal a look of disappointment, he couldn't help but purse his lips.
Ever since she spoke with Duan Qinghe beneath the giant Buddha, he had been silently watching them.
Why would Yingshi suddenly ask about his birthday, and why did she fall into deep thought because of it... Was it related to Duan Qinghe?
"Nothing, just asking. If there's a chance, I can celebrate your birthday for you," Yingshi said guiltily.
Shuangjian was slightly startled and asked in return, "Then what day were you born on?"
Yingshi answered honestly, "I celebrate my birthday on the Gregorian calendar, on December 25th, which is Christmas Day... I'm not too sure about the lunar date, I think it's October 20th. Anyway, it's already passed, let's not worry about that for now... Shuangjian, did you come to find me to look for a place to stay tonight?"
She deployed her rapid topic-changing technique.
A strange evasion.
Shuangjian felt even more that something was amiss.
Yingshi was not good at disguising herself. Her thoughts were always written on her face. He could feel her evasion even without the blood pact being triggered under special circumstances.
Why would a simple question about birthdays make her so sensitive?
He looked down into Yingshi's eyes, his fingers tightening slightly, but on the surface, he acted as if nothing was wrong. "Yes, but before that, we can reinforce the blood pact."
The blood pact...
Yingshi swallowed stiffly. The blood pact had previously ignored Shuangjian's wishes and transmitted his bitter pain to her. Conversely, would it also transmit all the strange thoughts she couldn't hide over to him?
It was enough for her to endure her own personal moral judgment!
"L-let's not do that right now..." Yingshi's ears grew hot, like they were being slowly roasted over a low fire. She babbled nonsense, "I feel like the pact doesn't really have any substantial impact on us right now while suppressed by mystical arts, at most just a little bit of discomfort. Why don't we just leave it for now?"
Shuangjian did not speak.
He just looked at her quietly, making Yingshi feel as if all her little thoughts had been seen through.
To cover it up, she hurriedly stepped forward and grabbed Shuangjian's sleeve, then moved her hand up to hold his arm, wanting to lead him toward the housing area.
"Let's go find a place to stay tonight together..." she suggested weakly.
Through his clothes, the intimate touch on his arm made Shuangjian lose focus for half a second. He replied with a low "Okay" and prepared to follow Yingshi's pull and leave.
Even if he couldn't temporarily figure out the reason for her sudden change of mind, he didn't want to see her put in a difficult spot.
He would investigate on his own what she had said to Duan Qinghe.
Even if, based on his observations, the two of them had exchanged no more than two sentences, it was enough to make him care.
Duan Qinghe was dressed as a painter as well. Would Yingshi also praise him for looking good in that outfit, and admire his hands when he was inking?
Dong—
The eerie bell tolled through the courtyard once again.
Yingshi looked up in surprise and saw that the sky's light was indeed changing again. The day was so short. Could it be that once all the disciples finished work, it would automatically enter into the night?
"Good thing we didn't delay just now. Otherwise, if we were halfway through reinforcing the pact and suddenly had to run, we would definitely be caught off guard!" Yingshi even said with some relief.
She dragged Shuangjian into a wild run. After turning two corners and returning to the housing area, they indeed saw a crowd of disciples who had been lingering outside rushing back in a hurry.
Dong—
The lingering echoes of the second evening bell spread throughout the entire temple. Yingshi finally rushed into an empty room. Just a moment before she closed the door, she saw the old monk standing directly outside her door, smiling at her. Her heart could not help but skip a beat.
Before she even had time to panic, Shuangjian, who had not yet stepped into the neighboring room, suddenly pushed against the door she was about to close, grabbed her hand from the outside, and pulled her out.
"We will swap," he said in a low voice.
After saying that, he had already sent Yingshi into the room next door. His strength was dominant yet gentle. Although it allowed no resistance, it was extremely soft. By the time Yingshi reacted, Shuangjian had already helped her close the door.
"Eh?!"
Dong—
The final strike of the third evening bell fell, and the sky turned dark once again.
The day had ended here.
...
Yingshi stood at the door, still unable to recover from the sudden room swap.
Obviously, Shuangjian had also noticed the old monk standing directly opposite her original room. That was why he decided to swap rooms with her, facing the bizarre targeting she might have suffered himself.
Did he... value her safety more than his own?
The words Xinmei had said echoed in her ears again. Yingshi stood blankly for a long time, then suddenly blinked rapidly and took a deep breath. She rested one hand on the door and gently covered her heart with the other.
This was the third rule of liking someone! Could it be that Shuangjian also had romantic feelings for her?
Then if another two months passed...
Yingshi's face turned beet red in an instant, but soon, she shook her head fiercely. The color drained from her face, leaving only a deeply worried expression.
Where was the time to think about all this nonsense right now?
The old monk came with ill intentions; Shuangjian absolutely must not be in danger!
...
"Little benefactor."
A knock sounded on the door.
The silhouette of the old monk holding a lantern was reflected on the window.
Shuangjian did not wait for him to knock a second time. He raised his hand and silently pulled the door open a crack.
Standing in the shadows just inside the door, he calmly met the old monk's cloudy eyes, which were illuminated by the lantern light.
The old monk's long eyebrows twitched as he looked up. He asked slowly, Young benefactor, why did you refuse to work during the day?
...
Shuangjian remained silent.
The merit ink in his sleeve was still perfectly intact. He had not ground it in the painting workshop, nor had he offered it at the feet of the giant Buddha. Contrary to the finished work status he had told Yingshi, he had indeed never completed the tasks expected of a craftsman.
Regardless of what the old monk had originally intended to do by targeting Yingshi's room, he had now taken the opportunity to shift his target, beginning to settle the score with him for not keeping to his duty.
As a craftsman, you must have awareness. The old monk leaned forward slightly, and the halo of the lantern spilled over the threshold, pooling at Shuangjian's feet. To deviate from your duty is to be unwholesome. To be negligent and lazy is to foster the evil karma of this place...
Evil karma? Shuangjian's voice was completely flat. Who defines what is good and evil?
Hearing him actually reply, the old monk seemed slightly surprised. He paused for a moment before pressing his hands together and smiling. Amitabha... Karma is brought upon oneself, and one must bear the consequences. You and the others entered this Avici hell bearing karmic hindrances; good and evil are naturally manifested from the forms of your own minds.
A faint trace of mockery flashed through Shuangjian's eyes. He said expressionlessly, If it is as you say, and everyone's mind form is different, why are our tasks the same? If the tasks are manifested by the collective karma of all beings, then where does the foundation of this collective karma come from?
Foolish child. The old monk sighed softly. Collective karma is like the sea, and individuals are like seafoam. Though the foam differs, it all resides within the sea. The foundation you cling to is nothing but a vain attempt to measure the vast depth of the sea with the insignificance of foam... Could it be that you believe yourself possessed of great wisdom, having already seen through this boundless sea of suffering? Then this poor monk would like to ask you a question...
The corners of his lips pulled into a bizarre curve, and his weathered voice dropped to a whisper: Do you think this poor monk... looks like a Buddha, or a ghost?
The moment the question was thrown out, his unusually dark pupils fixed intently on Shuangjian's expression, as if desperately wanting to catch a glimpse of vivid fear.
But regrettably, this young benefactor who was engaging in verbal sparring with him remained composed. Instead of answering, he asked in return, Is the Buddha a true Buddha? Is the ghost an evil ghost?
Naturally. The old monk nodded, his withered fingers absentmindedly flicking a prayer bead.
Shuangjian was silent for a moment before speaking at a leisurely pace: If the Buddha you speak of is truly a genuine Buddha that delivers all sentient beings, why would its dharma body collapse, requiring mortals to repair it? If it cannot even protect itself, how can it guard this realm, and how can it balance yin and yang?
...
The old monk's eyes, usually half-closed and exuding compassion and profundity, suddenly widened. He frowned, seemingly wanting to say something, but Shuangjian had already continued, Conversely, if what is suppressed beneath that golden body is truly an evil ghost, why would the spirits of this place help it break the seal? If it escapes, what benefit would that bring to all beings, to you and me, and to this realm?
The night wind suddenly ceased for a moment.
The candle flame inside the lantern leaped violently, as if pinched by an invisible hand. The light no longer flickered but suddenly shrank and dimmed, then remained static, as though time had been paused at that very moment.
The compassionate smile on the old monk's face, which seemed as though it had been carved there, completely froze. The corners of his mouth twitched unnaturally; he tried to curve them up again but only managed to form a twisted grimace.
The bony, gnarled hand holding the lantern also began to tremble uncontrollably.
Shuangjian watched this scene quietly and spoke with indifference: There is no need to answer me.
All the emotional changes revealed by the old monk, those instances of stuttering where he could not justify himself, were enough to prove that he was not the rule itself.
This meant that the entity known as the old monk was not an unshakable, invincible authority; he, too, could be destroyed.
And Shuangjian had only said all those words earlier to arrive at this conclusion.
You have exposed the form of your mind.
He stated calmly, looking at the old monk's face, which had turned deathly pale.
...
The lantern crashed to the ground.
