Shen Jingshi never expected to survive Xihe’s Judgment Platform.

He also never expected to survive.

When someone from Kunlun’s Young Master Lu Qin’s side came to save him, he was studying the silver clasp on his wrist with great interest. This was a unique spiritual instrument of Xihe, specially used to lock the most heinous criminals. Ordinary outsiders indeed couldn’t access such things.

Having dealt with vicious criminals year-round, the Six Sacred Lands had always been intolerant of those who committed crimes. Kunlun’s interior was dominated by humans, making this especially severe.

The person escorting him to Kunlun spoke harshly, roughly yanking off his hand and foot chains: “Get up, walk yourself.”

The silver clasp fell with a sound.

Tsk.

Looking at his freed hands and feet, Shen Jingshi couldn’t help thinking that the mouth of that person in prison was extraordinarily venomous.

This mortal world was truly unpredictable – those who wanted to live fought with everything they had, crying and pleading to heaven, yet couldn’t survive, while those seeking death lived daily without interest, yet somehow continued living by chance.

Shen Jingshi glanced at the gray, overcast sky, shrugging indifferently as he stood up, pulling at the bowl-sized scar on his calf, which immediately bled profusely.

No one cared.

Shen Jingshi was all too clear what he would face after reaching Kunlun. He would undoubtedly be assigned to the most dilapidated quarters, tending to menial tasks and left to fend for himself.

And his injuries… just a few rainstorms would rapidly worsen them, causing festering sores and full-body infection.

Dying atop Kunlun’s famously beautiful snowy peaks, facing ice springs as he closed his eyes, would be quite nice too.

Thinking this, due to his serious injuries, he walked unsteadily, step by halting step. The person who came to fetch him frowned impatiently, harsh reprimands already at his lips, then swallowed them back.

A female attendant with bright vermilion between her brows, wearing gentle Buddhist robes, walked up to them. She smiled peacefully, her words carrying no worldly air: “Please, people of Kunlun, stop. Holy Son Lu Qin commands that human Shen Jingshi be temporarily taken over by Buddha Province, brought to the Northern Wasteland.”

Buddha Province, Northern Wasteland.

Shen Jingshi silently repeated these two terms twice. After the female attendant handed him a clean healing porcelain bottle, he couldn’t help tightening his lips and pulling up the corners of his mouth.

He probably couldn’t die again.

These words proved prophetic.

The female attendant who brought him back was Yun Que, a close attendant of Buddhist Maiden Shan Shu. She said bringing him back to Buddha Province this time was to trouble him with helping Buddhist Maiden Your Highness overcome tribulation.

To say “trouble” to a dying prisoner, counting throughout the world, only the Northern Wasteland would do such a thing.

Shen Jingshi’s background was extraordinary, which destined him to know many things ordinary people didn’t know – about the Northern Wasteland, and about that renowned Buddhist Maiden, Your Highness of the Northern Wasteland.

The Northern Wasteland had two Your Highnesses.

Buddhist Maiden Shan Shu and Buddhist Son Jia Xi, like the Holy Son and Holy Maiden of Chi Shui, cooperated and complemented each other. But unlike those two who had a subtle competitive relationship, Your Highness Shan Shu was born at the Eye of Buddha Province with natural supernatural phenomena. Almost from the time of her enlightenment, she was already the Northern Wasteland’s designated future Buddha Lord.

No need to compete for anything at all.

Compared to other Sacred Land successors who made great impressions, this Your Highness was extremely low-key, mysterious to a degree comparable to that cold, unapproachable Xue Yu of Yedu.

Because of the mystery came particular curiosity.

People needed to live – even living half-dead, they always needed something to sustain their breath. Shen Jingshi had no expectations, no faith, only remaining with a bit of curiosity that grew stronger in the face of danger.

But unfortunately, this Buddhist Maiden, Your Highness, didn’t return to the Northern Wasteland for over a month.

During this time, Shen Jingshi was arranged to live in a small meditation room in Buddha Province’s Miaoluo Hall. Daily, Yun Que would send small Buddhist attendants to lead him to burn incense before Buddha.

Besides this, the other thing requiring his participation was recuperating from injuries.

The Northern Wasteland’s atmosphere was excellent. The aloof extravagance of other Sacred Lands was essentially nonexistent in this important Buddhist land. Even toward a serious criminal rescued from the Judgment Platform, the natives maintained a reasonably friendly attitude.

Shen Jingshi was sweet-tongued and eloquent, able to chat about anything from north to south. He also had a youthfully attractive face, without much grooming, and a casual smile revealed the spirited, well-dressed young master’s demeanor.

Everyone in Miaoluo Hall, high and low, liked chatting with him.

Shen Jingshi’s injuries were serious but not fatal. After a few days, someone in the hall helped reconnect his meridians.

Logically, under such circumstances, as long as he took medicine on time and rested cooperatively, it wouldn’t be long before scabbing and healing occurred.

But strangely, his injuries were unpredictable, with a persistent high fever. Later, it became more serious – coughing would lead to vomiting blood and unconsciousness.

The day Shen Jingshi first met Shan Shu, two consecutive snowfalls had just ended. Buddha Province’s temperature dropped to its lowest, with eave water freezing before it could drip down.

That small meditation room was very quiet, without any movement. When he could barely open his eyes a crack, only occasional howling north winds reached his ears, crying like children, wave after wave.

During his most feverish delirium, the door seemed pushed open from outside with a creak. Several light, slow footsteps entered, followed by lowered murmurs, then complex movement.

The entire room seemed to suddenly become lively due to someone’s entrance, causing quite a commotion.

This wasn’t an illusion.

When his consciousness gradually cleared, his vision showed a dim, vast blur, making the woman sitting by the small window appear fuzzy, with only the silver patterns pressed onto the two begonia-colored borders of her skirt hem somewhat clearer.

He sat up against the soft pillow. The woman quietly turned, setting the book in her hands face-down on the table, walking close to carefully examine his pupils, saying gently to someone beside her: “Go get some vine grass, and please trouble the Buddhist attendant to bring two basins of hot water.”

Yun Que silently nodded, closing the door as she withdrew.

Seeing this scene, what didn’t Shen Jingshi understand?

That Buddhist Maiden, Your Highness, who specifically requested his help in overcoming tribulation, had returned to the Northern Wasteland.

He finally knew where all the “trouble,” “bother,” and “please” expressions throughout this famously pure land originated.

“Your injuries have been recurring with a persistent high fever. I just examined them – the wounds have festered.” Each syllable she spoke seemed gentle, the vermilion between her brows deep and full, much darker than Yun Que and others. “You’ve been silent about it – do you harbor thoughts of death?”

Honestly, this was the first time Shen Jingshi had heard someone speak of “death” so transcendently.

He raised his lip corners, eyes crinkling with the pure fearlessness of a seventeen-year-old: “Your Highness jests.”

“Who would want to die if they could live?”

Unlike the Sacred Land, ancient immortals’ centuries or millennia of long life, the person before him had truly only witnessed seventeen springs and autumns, four seasonal cycles.

Years were indeed too short for him.

Shan Shu ignored the habitual defiant energy in his tone, also smiling as she said softly: “Shortly, I’ll have the Buddhist attendant treat your wounds and apply some medicine.”

“How do you need me to help Your Highness overcome tribulation?” Shen Jingshi spoke as if challenging something extremely difficult, his tone casual with a hint of eager anticipation.

The words “Your Highness” from his mouth carried no reverence whatsoever, showing familiar intimacy, clean and pure, without flattery, let alone deliberate ingratiation.

Shan Shu looked at him, saying warmly: “I’ve reviewed the case files Xihe sent. The dam collapse caused over two hundred deaths. I know your heart is kind – this matter was perhaps unintentional.”

“But this is karmic debt requiring repayment.”

After his injuries healed, he would go to the mortal world to save multiple of people, perform countless good deeds. When one day merit offsets fault, only then would karma be resolved.

Shen Jingshi had no objection to these arrangements.

His framing by Qiu Tong was probably ironclad, but for a prisoner condemned to death without even his birth parents asking questions, speaking or not made no difference.

He quickly skipped her other words, seizing on one point with slightly lowered tone: “Kind-hearted, good?”

The questioning tone was careless, as if she’d said something laughable – even repeating it felt absurd to him.

“Buddhist people can best distinguish good from evil.” Shan Shu tucked his blanket corner, turning to summon attendants outside, then completed her words with curved eyes: “Even Northern Wasteland Buddha Province people wouldn’t randomly extend compassion to save truly evil persons.”

How ridiculous.

Unknown Sacred Land people still trusted him somewhat – what about his birth parents? Not a single question, only finding him shameful.

Shen Jingshi still survived, but that mixed indifference – this works, that works too, anything works – personality became even more extreme.

He was good-looking, articulate, able to chat with anyone – Shan Shu was no exception. Over time, he flourished like a fish in water at Miaoluo Palace.

Shen Jingshi had never seen a woman like Shan Shu who was so devoted to Buddhism, gentle to the point of having virtually no temper. Her tolerance for people and situations reached an almost unimaginable degree.

After one or two months together, traveling north and south, he even followed her on missions. Forget angry expressions – she never even spoke loudly.

She was like a Buddha statue enshrined in a shrine, eyes lowered, smiling down at the mortal world.

Miaoluo Palace’s Buddhist attendants daily worshipped Buddha, always respectful toward Shan Shu, speaking rigidly without daring to overstep by half a measure. Over time, the entire great hall became ultimately lonely and cold.

After Shen Jingshi moved in, one or two days felt like nothing, but after three to five months, much noise and worldly atmosphere filled that cloud-mist corridor.

Everyone who interacted with him liked him.

Others aside, Shen Jingshi was also audaciously opportunistic in seeking out Shan Shu, chattering about everything – whether drinking tea in quiet studies, accompanying sunset viewing, copying Buddhist scriptures, or playing chess.

He had some knowledge of everything, able to offer his insights on anything. Being with him never felt boring. But Shen Jingshi was troublesome – the better someone’s temper, the more presumptuous he became.

Previously it was bearable, but after meeting Jiu Feng, Chao Nian, and Chen Longzhi, the four together could stage a tragicomic drama in under a quarter-hour.

Initially, Shan Shu only quietly watched him. Later, she would call his name once or twice. Later still, when she couldn’t help fanning him with her silk fan, she was startled.

Shen Jingshi didn’t think much of it. He rubbed the fanned arm, temporarily ignoring Chao Nian’s howling, withdrew from battle, and soon was pulled by Chen Longzhi and Sui Jinyu to play flower cards.

After several times, similar fan-tapping situations gradually increased.

Later, as Su You’s identity was revealed and the Judgment Platform matter was vindicated, Shan Shu discovered the inside story of that year’s dam collapse.

Just the day before, she had discussed with Shen Jingshi about temporarily having him serve as regent king in the court.

That day, as the sun set westward with residual glow filling the sky, Shen Jingshi glanced at the overturned case files she had handed over, then pressed them with his finger to push them to the other side of the desk. Before he could speak, Shan Shu frowned: “You needn’t go to the court. I’ll speak with A Yu shortly.”

“Don’t.” Staring at those case files proving his innocence, Shen Jingshi momentarily didn’t know what expression to make: “Don’t we still owe over ten karmic debts?”

Initially, when he said that if Song Heng didn’t want the regent position, he could fill in temporarily, this line of reasoning had convinced Shan Shu.

“These debts aren’t yours, and karma doesn’t fall on you.” Shan Shu picked up those case files she’d held and examined for over an hour, placing them in his palm. Even at this moment, her words remained indescribably gentle: “No need to repay debts or help me overcome tribulation anymore.”

From this moment, with heaven and earth so vast, Shen Jingshi was free.

“Being regent king with great power, able to do things I enjoy – isn’t that quite good too?” Shen Jingshi looked toward Shan Shu. After a moment, seeing those pupils that always appeared calm and peaceful, he spread his hands in surrender: “You’ve also seen what’s written here.”

“Nobody wants me.”

“I also have nowhere to go.”

He often smiled carelessly, taking nothing to heart, almost forming a theater troupe with Chao Nian, Jiu Feng, and others to perform plays. But just this occasional bit of emotion revealed a shocking sadness.

Shan Shu stood by the window for a long while. As the last ray of sunset scattered across the sky, she said softly: “If you’re willing, you can return to Miaoluo Hall anytime.”

Shen Jingshi smiled: “Alright, thank you, Buddhist Maiden, Your Highness, for the accommodation.”

After this incident, for a very long time, both Xue Yu and Shan Shu were quite dissatisfied with Xihe Sacred Land’s new successor, Ji Tingxi.

Xue Yu’s personality showed dislike openly on her face. Shan Shu was famously good-tempered, but during that period, seeing Ji Tingxi was like seeing air – no reaction.

Just such unconsciously revealed favoritism details struck the heart more directly than any earth-shaking confession.

When he began liking Shan Shu, Shen Jingshi himself didn’t know.

A Buddhist Maiden.

She could never be touched by romantic love in this lifetime.

Forget the Northern Wasteland elders hoping she’d inherit the Buddha Lord position – Shen Jingshi himself would be the first to disagree.

From the moment such feelings sprouted, the path ahead was destined. The more he liked her, the more he had to conceal it.

As Book of Heavenly Secrets missions unfolded over the years, Shen Jingshi, following beside Shan Shu, witnessed various forms of love, hate, and obsession – some thought-provoking, naturally others purely beautiful.

Shan Shu’s six senses were pure, but watching Xue Yu and Su You fall into passionate love, she would involuntarily look toward the youth beside her. Once, hesitating, she said: “You haven’t entered Buddhist orders. If someday you have a girl you like, you could also—”

Shen Jingshi absolutely couldn’t bear hearing her say such things. He made a stopping gesture, took a breath: “Buddhist Maiden, Your Highness Shan Shu, please don’t worry about my affairs.”

“In this lifetime, I won’t have a girl I like.”

In this lifetime, he could never tell the girl he liked that he liked her.

After the Mei disaster war ended, heaven and earth welcomed new life. The Fusang Tree bestowed rewards, everywhere showing joyous, lively scenes. The Demon Capital, Yedu, and Tai Hua all sent grand wedding invitations. At this time, Shen Jingshi couldn’t celebrate with universal joy.

His mission was just beginning.

The regent king position needed to be filled.

His meridians and cultivation were personally sealed by Shan Shu.

Shan Shu originally had the Great Elder perform the sealing. That kind, white-haired, childlike-faced chief abbot was ready to act, but before moving, she couldn’t help frowning, sleeves fluttering slightly as she softly instructed: “Third Elder, his meridians were once sealed before, and he has a pure human body, more fragile than ordinary people. Please be careful.”

In just a quarter-hour, Shan Shu reminded the elder to be careful three times.

The elder became exceptionally hesitant from all the reminders.

Shen Jingshi said nothing, leaning against the door laughing, completely relaxed, with a begonia petal somehow stuck to his shoulder – a perfect wanderer image.

Shan Shu carefully examined him, afraid others acting might affect his future unsealing. Thinking it over, still uneasy, she finally sighed softly, waving her sleeve at the Third Elder who was already considering withdrawal, having him wait outside, ultimately deciding to act personally.

“If you can’t bear it, tell me. I’ll pause before continuing.” Shan Shu indicated he should sit on the beauty couch by the window.

Shen Jingshi slowly hummed in agreement and sat over.

This sealing lasted from sunset to dawn. Initially, Shen Jingshi smiled, indicating he could handle this process easily, but the time was too long. Sweat at his temples dripped and dried in the wind, like slowly boiling a frog – torture. By the end, his bones carried lingering pain.

“How many hours has this been?” Shen Jingshi gritted his teeth, turning back: “I remember Xihe’s spiritual vein sealing was very efficient that year – three to five moves and done.”

How could this be endless?

“That rough handling – how much more suffering did you endure afterward?” Shan Shu’s movements were steady, but she truly paused: “Does it hurt?”

Shen Jingshi quickly found the reason. He looked inward and discovered each meridian was individually sealed from beginning to end. This sealing method benefited the sealed person, but was simultaneously like slowly grinding with a dull knife.

He understood what she meant by “somewhat painful.”

With the wind blowing, cold sweat appeared again on his forehead. Smelling the peony fragrance under the small window, he said: “Please be merciful and seal them all at once.”

Shan Shu didn’t speak. She looked at him, her eyes showing some disapproval, her skin so pale it nearly reflected light, pupils finely embedding his cold-sweat-covered face.

Shen Jingshi suddenly looked away, exhaling deeply: “Forget it, torment as you wish.”

He had only ever liked this one girl.

And she happened to be the one he most couldn’t like.

When Shen Jingshi entered the imperial city, the court had just learned the truth about ancient times and the Mei clan, shocked by the Sacred Lands’ and the two sacred objects’ attitudes. They opened the palace’s main gates in welcome. Shan Shu stood in the clouds watching him until his shadow completely disappeared, then turned back to the Northern Wasteland.

When Shen Jingshi held the still-swaddled little emperor, his heart immediately went cold.

So small.

How many years until he grew up and could handle things independently?

As the person who once roamed freely at Miaoluo Hall departed, this ancient great hall returned to its former quiet, peaceful appearance, sometimes so cold it lacked any human presence. The Buddhist attendants around Shan Shu changed batch after batch, but never forgot that youth who would leap down from the peach tree before the hall, covered in dew.

For the following fifteen years.

The two met a countable number of times.

Qiu Tong’s foundation ran too deep. Complete removal required careful thought and time. As the emperor gradually matured and got on track, Shen Jingshi began delegating power, busily rushing on his feet, falling ill three times in succession, not knowing how many bowls of medicine he had to drink daily.

The day Shan Shu formally succeeded as Buddha Lord, the communication talisman on Shen Jingshi’s desk lit up. From the other end came Jiu Feng’s noisy activity: “The Buddha Lord succession ceremony just ended. We’re all here. Shen Jingshi, come back quickly to draw cards. Sui Jinyu and Jiu Feng researched a new playing method.” This was Chen Longzhi shouting.

Draw what cards.

Shen Jingshi coldly smiled, extinguishing the talisman, surveying the great hall, feeling truly desolate and miserable.

However, after a casual glance, he steadied himself, alert to the figure at the end of his vision changing from blurry to clear, standing up from behind the desk.

Time never left shadows on ancient immortals.

She looked the same as always – long dress trailing, eyes containing smiles, bright vermilion between her brows. If there was any difference, it was only the several circles of simple bodhi bracelets around her wrist – the Buddha Lord’s symbol.

Shen Jingshi was rarely nervous. Now in his forties, his frame was more upright than before, but fine lines had appeared at his eye corners.

“Succession ceremony – coming to the imperial palace on such a good day?” He looked at her intently, asking.

“The fifteen-year term is up.” Shan Shu nodded, her voice gentle as at their first meeting: “I’ve come to receive you.”

Shen Jingshi couldn’t help raising his lip corners: “I started packing three days ago. Didn’t expect Buddha Lord Your Reverence to be so punctual – not off by a moment.”

This person was troublesome.

As if on Xue Yu and Su You’s wedding night, he hadn’t repeatedly emphasized being truthful and punctual in coming to receive him.

On the teleportation array from the imperial palace back to the Northern Wasteland, three Buddhist attendants formally saluted Shen Jingshi and Shan Shu, the journey so quiet even breathing was clearly audible.

Not long after, Shan Shu said warmly to Shen Jingshi, “The meditation room I kept for you has been expanded by a circle. It might not compare to the imperial palace – see if you find it suitable when you return.”

“Good.” Shen Jingshi paused, then continued: “Is the peach tree before the hall door still there? Tao Zhi visited the imperial palace recently and gave me some new tree seeds. Planting them now, in a few years, when spring comes, the scenery should be quite nice.”

“If I remember correctly, each Buddha Lord designates a ceremonial tea. Can that bitter mountain peak tea that nobody drinks be withdrawn after a while?”

“And the Hanshan Temple halfway up the mountain.” Shen Jingshi emphasized: “Its roof has several holes – it should be repaired. Chu Yaoxiang complains every time she visits.”

Several Buddhist attendants found this curious.

Many people, emboldened by the Buddhist Maiden’s good temper, rushed to make various demands. The Buddhist Maiden usually either gently agreed or ignored them, rarely engaging.

Who would have thought – Shan Shu quietly listened to him finish, then touched his elbow with her bracelet-wearing hand, slowly saying: “Shen Jingshi, I think A Yu was right.”

“You are somewhat noisy.”

Shen Jingshi crossed his arms and laughed several times in succession.