In a person’s life, there are many unforgettable moments.

For instance.

This time, this place.

He sat cross-legged on a meditation cushion, his head slightly raised, his eyes sharp and bright. The fair-faced scholar from before had been completely worn away, replaced by utter vicissitudes.

From every strand of hair to every inch of bone, he had become a different person.

Zhu Weixi couldn’t speak. She just looked at him quietly as old scars were reopened—they had never truly healed at all.

Still bleeding profusely.

Geng Songsheng was also looking at her.

In his memory, a radiant young lady stood beneath white pear blossoms, smiling at him sweetly. Now her dark hair remained, her vermillion beauty remained, but so many things were gone.

“Boy, is this your former sweetheart?”

Geng Songsheng came back to himself.

“Mm.”

“Not bad looking, seems blessed, but… her judgment isn’t very good.”

“What do you mean, not good?”

“She could take a fancy to you—tsk tsk, must be blind!”

“Master, don’t talk about yourself that way. It shortens your lifespan.”

“Can’t help it. I’m choosing the best of a bad lot, picking stones from a latrine—no other option, you know?”

“You really are put upon.”

“Not at all. Eminent monks are very magnanimous.”

“…”

This was the enlightened master that Shi Ran said came along once every three hundred years?

Who could achieve seated meditation and become a Buddha?

Young Master Pei curiously poked half his head in, looking at the withered old monk on the kang bed, and asked with sincere curiosity:

“Are you truly Master Chan Yue?”

“Genuine article.”

The master sat upright and proper. “Monks do not lie. Amitabha.”

Pei Xiao: “…”

This reunion between former lovers was interrupted by these few exchanges, and all the sadness, all the sense of worlds apart, completely dissipated.

Yan Sanhe: “Geng Songsheng, I’ve already explained our purpose in coming. Can you…”

“Sleep first.”

Geng Songsheng’s tone was rather impatient. “We’ll talk early tomorrow morning.”

“That’s right. Don’t discuss matters at night. With men and women together, it’s easy for problems to develop.”

The master said very magnanimously, “That room across the way—I’ll let you have it.”

Seven people crammed into that one small stone hut?

Young Master Pei put on official airs. “Does Golden Pavilion Temple have no other meditation rooms?”

“Just these two.”

The master pointed at Geng Songsheng. “He has one room, I have one.”

Young Master Pei didn’t believe it. He shuffled in his shoes and pushed open the door to look outside, and nearly fainted again.

Looking all around, on the white expanse of the platform summit stood only three connected, dilapidated stone rooms.

Only then did he belatedly realize that neither the east nor west stone huts had doors—they were open.

This poor?

Who the hell named it Golden Pavilion Temple? It’s clearly just an earthen shrine!

Young Master Pei was about to go inside when his gaze swept past the couplet at the entrance, and he cried out in shock, “Yan Sanhe, Yan Sanhe…”

Yan Sanhe came out.

Young Master Pei pointed at the couplet.

It was hard to see clearly through the wind and snow, so Yan Sanhe had to lean in close to look. With this look, she was truly startled.

The couplet read: “You can paint a tiger’s skin but not its bones; you can know a person’s face but not their heart.”

Young Master Pei hunched his neck and lowered his voice. “Buddhist dharma has one fundamental rule: it must not corrupt worldly law. This couplet… is strange!”

Not strange—pointed.

Yan Sanhe thought for a moment and said, “Sleep first. We’ll talk early tomorrow morning.”

The two had just entered the room when Zhu Weixi, leaning against the wall, so thin she looked ready to collapse, said: “Geng Songsheng, can you give me a swift end right now?”

“…”

No response.

Young Master Pei couldn’t bear it and wanted to step forward to help his sister-in-law back, but was pulled back by Yan Sanhe.

Yan Sanhe shook her head, indicating he should wait.

After a long while.

A voice finally came from inside the room: “Wait for Yuanzhao to wake.”

…

Zhu Yuanzhao was pinched awake. Upon waking and hearing that Geng Songsheng had been found, he too stumbled out like Zhu Weixi.

“Geng Songsheng?”

Geng Songsheng walked over and lightly punched his chest. “Zhu Yuanzhao!”

Zhu Yuanzhao staggered back a few steps, his eyes reddening. “You bastard… you made me search so hard.”

“Who told you to come looking? You’re interfering with my boy’s cultivation.”

Master Chan Yue on the kang bed looked completely impatient. “All of you get in here. Say what needs to be said and then get lost early.”

Geng Songsheng shot him a glance, and the master immediately shut his mouth.

Yan Sanhe’s gaze circled between the two men several times. “Ding Yi and Huang Qi, go sleep first. The rest, come in.”

There was nowhere to sit inside.

Fortunately, there were a few meditation cushions in the stone hut. They spread the cushions on the floor and everyone sat cross-legged in imitation of monks in meditation.

Geng Songsheng waited for the water in the kettle to boil, then made them tea.

The tea wasn’t served in teacups but in bowls. Six bowls of tea were prepared, and the entire stone hut filled with a refreshing fragrance.

With Young Master Pei’s status, one whiff of this tea told him it was three grades better than the tea at Huai Ren Manor.

He nudged Yan Sanhe with his knee, but Yan Sanhe paid no attention to such details. Her gaze was entirely on Geng Songsheng.

His shoulders were broad, his chest solid, his glance sharp as a blade, yet his actions were extremely meticulous. With six tea bowls, not a single drop spilled outside.

Clearly, this person was rough on the outside but careful within.

She also noticed that the bowl of tea given to Zhu Weixi had a few fewer tea leaves—probably because he feared too much tea would keep her from sleeping.

After Geng Songsheng finished, he sat cross-legged beside the old monk, picked up his tea bowl and took a sip, his gaze not looking toward Zhu Weixi but falling on Yan Sanhe.

“Speak. What do you want to hear?”

“Why did you cheat?”

Yan Sanhe was not at all polite; her questions were very direct.

“After you were caught, why did you laugh at yourself? Why did you burn your books? Were you framed? That talisman that Madam Mao obtained for you from Mount Wutai—was there something suspicious about it?”

Geng Songsheng was clearly startled. “It seems the young lady knows my past inside and out.”

Yan Sanhe: “Otherwise, why would I make this trip?”

Geng Songsheng suddenly laughed heartily. “I thought the first question would be: why did I become a monk?”

Yan Sanhe: “That’s not my question to ask.”

With these words, the old monk, who had been keeping his eyes closed, lifted his eyelids and glanced lightly at Yan Sanhe.

Sensing this, Yan Sanhe looked up at him. The old monk calmly shifted his gaze away and pulled out a slender pipe from behind his bedding, smiling ingratiatingly at Geng Songsheng.

“Boy, want a puff?”

“Yes!”

The old monk stuffed some dark tobacco into it, lit it over the fire, and handed it to Geng Songsheng like presenting a treasure.

Geng Songsheng accepted it and openly put it in his mouth.

This series of actions left all four people on the floor stunned.

Monks smoking tobacco?

That was the first shock.

An eminent monk serving his disciple?

That was the second shock.

There was also a third shock unique to Young Master Pei.

Looking at the entire world, those in China who smoked tobacco wouldn’t exceed one hand’s count. Tobacco was imported from overseas and absurdly expensive.

As far as he knew, in all of the capital, only the Old Prince behind Jade Sound Pavilion could afford this habit.

These two monks were so poor they couldn’t even build a proper temple—where did they get the money for tobacco?

Yet looking at them, they seemed quite accustomed to it.

Just then, Geng Songsheng exhaled a puff of smoke, and his eyes through the smoke were frighteningly bright.

“Before the spring examinations, someone took something from me.”