Yan Hua felt a sudden sadness, Xingxing cried so sorrowfully over a virtual scene in a TV show, yet when the sa thing happens to a family mber, she remains indifferent. Is it her emotional nature, or is the world too cold?
Suddenly, she felt utterly hopeless, recalling her childhood living in the temple, where life was harsh. Her greatest joy was listening to the monks chanting, their voices seemingly magical, bringing her heart complete peace. Later, she beca so accustod to the chanting that she couldn’t sleep without the monks’ evening lessons.
The Abbot gave her the Dharma na Fei Xin, derived from the Diamond Sutra—"All thoughts are not thoughts; this is what is called thought."
The past mind is unattainable, the present mind is unattainable, the future mind is unattainable.
"Let the heart arise without dwelling," Master, I understand your aning now.
Yan Xing, slow to react, paused his typing, stopped his counterattack, and turned to look at Yan Hua: "Sis, what did you just say happened to Fifth Uncle?"
Yan Hua smiled, yet her smile seed so ethereal.
Yan Xing gave up the ga and ran over to say: "Isn’t Fifth Uncle not doing well? I an, Fifth Uncle has lived all these years, that’s sothing. After all, doctors said he wouldn’t live past ten, and now he’s almost thirty, gaining twenty more years."
"Sis, you aren’t upset over Fifth Uncle, right? I know you were close to him since childhood, but birth, old age, sickness, and death, we can’t stop them. You should let it go." It’s easy to talk without experiencing the pain; Yan Xing never liked this bedridden uncle and was kept away by Lu Yuke, making her indifferent to him, even if he died, it wouldn’t affect her at all.
"I’m fine, go on with what you’re doing." Yan Hua put on a coat and walked out.
"Second Sis, where are you going so late?"
"Can’t sleep, just going out for a walk."
By sheer instinct, Yan Hua found herself at Yan Nanfeng’s room door, standing there for most of the night.
She looked up at the night sky, the stars and moon hung low, few in number.
She rembered many sumrs ago when ng Shujing brought her back to the Yan Family; it was her first ti stepping through their door. Though it was her ho, inside she felt anxious and uneasy. The splendor and luxury here felt like stepping into another world, yet despite her upbringing in a Buddhist Sect, she had to navigate amidst worldly affairs. She longed for familial affection, like a fish longs for the embrace of the sea, terrified that a single misstep would incur her parents’ disapproval. How anxious a ten-year-old girl must be inside...
She got lost in the Yan Family, suddenly scared. Did her mother not love her? In that mont, despair and sadness engulfed her, turning the whole world gray.
"Crying girls grow up to be ugly," a teasing voice suddenly ca from behind her.
Startled, she turned her head, seeing a figure leaning against the willow trees by the lake. It was a handso young boy, so skinny that a gust of wind seed enough to blow him away. Despite the oppressive sumr heat, he was wrapped up tightly from head to toe.
His skin was the pale shade of never seeing the sun, with tiny capillary patterns like a spider’s web, leaving stark marks on his skin. At first glance, it looked ghostly frightening, yet his smile was so bright. Sunlight filtered through the willow branches, touching his brows, casting light into the darkness of hell, so srizing. His smile was even brighter than the sunlight, and his eyes were as clear as morning dew on a lotus, pure and transparent, without any impurities. Just one glance, and her heart was ensnared.
She had never seen such beautiful eyes, such a beautiful man.
Her expression was silly as the young boy approached. He walked very slowly, needing to stop and rest every couple of steps. Finally reaching her, he gently wiped her tears with a pure white handkerchief. His hand was cold, like ice water in winter, carrying a faint bitter scent from years of dicinal baths.
"Are you the little niece from Big Bro’s family?" he asked with a gentle smile; the curve of his lips always perfectly fitting, as if this world were always beautiful, with never any suffering or despair.
In her eyes, his pale figure reflected back, she blankly said: "You... who are you?"
He smiled, put the handkerchief away, slipped it back into his pocket, revealing a mischievous smile.
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