When Jing Yi returned to the small hotel booked by the film crew from the detention center, it was already dark.
The crew seemed to still be working, but Xue An had already received the new script sent by the screenwriter.
Xue An immediately forwarded it to Jing Yi.
“After all this trouble, you must be hungry. Should we eat first before reading the new script?”
“Mm.”
Jing Yi was still fiddling with his phone, responding to Xue An with his head lowered, appearing quite docile.
“What would you like to eat? I’ll order takeout.”
“Takeout? What is takeout?” Hearing another new term, Jing Yi looked up. “Does Benefactor Xue An enjoy eating takeout?”
“Uh…” Xue An rubbed his nose. “Just tell me what dish you’d like. Here, take a look yourself.”
Jing Yi took Xue An’s phone that was handed to him.
He scrolled through the screen, carefully examining it from top to bottom, then pointed at the cheapest hand-shredded cabbage: “This humble monk would like to eat this dish. Will it… run out from inside?”
“Haha, no. Someone will deliver it after we place the order.” Xue An laughed and asked again: “Are you sure you only want to eat this today?”
“No, there’s also this.” Jing Yi pointed at the rice, his tone troubled. “It’s so small. This humble monk won’t be full.”
“Rice makes you gain weight easily. Celebrities need to maintain their figure… Ah, never mind. I’ll order an extra bowl for you.”
Xue An placed the order, and the food arrived thirty minutes later.
Jing Yi ate very quickly.
He was indeed hungry – the previous acupuncture session had consumed much of his internal energy and physical strength. Two bowls of rice plus one serving of vegetables still didn’t feel quite enough.
Jing Yi felt too embarrassed to ask for more. After cleaning up the empty bowls, he asked: “Benefactor Xue An, should the bowls be washed in there too?”
He was looking at the bathroom, where Xue An had previously taught him how to use the facilities.
“No need to wash them.” Xue An had grown accustomed to Jing Yi staying in character. “Just throw them in the black trash can.”
Jing Yi looked at the black trash can Xue An mentioned and saw it was full of dirty things. He touched the bowls, particularly reluctant to discard them.
They weren’t broken or damaged, so why throw them away? When he was young in the temple, his senior monks played a trick on him and he accidentally chipped a bowl. He had kept using that bowl until now.
While eating, Xue An looked up and saw Jing Yi bowing his head while holding the bowls, lost in thought.
“Throw them away quickly. These bowls and utensils become poisonous if reused.”
“Poisonous?” Jing Yi’s expression turned grave.
Since they were poisonous, it would be better to discard them.
After throwing away the bowls and utensils, Jing Yi continued fiddling with his phone.
There were many images called “photos” in the phone – besides the original Jing Yi’s pictures, there was also a gentle-looking woman. This woman should be the original Jing Yi’s mother.
When Jing Yi entered the temple, he was only three years old and didn’t have deep impressions of his own parents.
After viewing the woman’s photos, he opened the script.
Somehow, he must have pressed something, as the phone suddenly produced sound.
Hearing this, Xue An knew Jing Yi had activated the phone’s automatic reading function. He smiled and said: “Alright, you listen to the script first. I’m going back to my room to sleep. I’ll wake you up at the right time tomorrow.”
After Xue An left, Jing Yi listened to the script twice, then read through the entire script several times aloud.
His memory had always been good, and soon he had memorized the script content completely. Then he entered the bathroom to take a shower.
After bathing, he washed his clothes with cold water, changed into new clothes from his suitcase, and Jing Yi attempted to enter meditation.
In that state between meditation and wakefulness, solemn chanting suddenly came from somewhere.
Jing Yi discovered he could suddenly see and hear, and what he saw was actually another Jing Yi who looked exactly like him.
Jing Yi, dressed in monastic robes, was running through the dense forest in disarray, pursued by fierce bandits brandishing swords and knives.
The bandits, with menacing glares in their eyes, closed in on him from all sides.
Jing Yi couldn’t dodge in time…
Amitabha.
Jing Yi opened his eyes and lowered his gaze.
“I did not kill the man, yet the man died because of me.”
He sighed, clasped his hands together, and began chanting the Heart Sutra once more. As the Buddhist scriptures resonated again, the scene shifted.
Jing Yi saw the “Sword Casting Manor,” and inside a room, a couple sighing.
“What if our child gets angry with us for deceiving him when he returns home?”
“Don’t worry, my dear. It’s the heart of all parents under heaven—we just miss him too much. Besides, since the abbot agreed to let him leave the monastery, he must have counseled him.”
After listening to the couple’s late-night conversation by candlelight, Jing Yi sighed again.
These were his worldly parents, yet sadly, they would never see the child they longed for again. Whether it was real or not… they would never meet.
At that moment, the scene before him shifted once more.
A young child running through a village, a child weeping after his parents quarreled, a child reciting lessons in a schoolhouse, a child gradually growing older… All the experiences of this world’s Jing Yi unfolded like a revolving lantern.
Jing Yi still sighed.
Though he could no longer fulfill his filial duties to his worldly parents, since that Jing Yi had met his end at the hands of the bandits, he had taken on his identity and felt compelled to do something for him. First and foremost… there were debts owed to the entertainment company and the bank, totaling five million.
Then there were his dreams in the entertainment industry, as well as apologies to those he had offended with his previous controversial persona.
His mind was too unsettled to meditate further, so Jing Yi simply rose and began practicing martial arts.
Xue An had set his alarm for five o’clock and knocked on Jing Yi’s door at half-past five.
When Jing Yi didn’t answer, Xue An was about to call him on his phone when he heard Jing Yi’s voice from behind: “Xue An, shi… Xue An, good morning. I bought some steamed buns and soy milk. I hope they suit your taste.”
Xue An turned to look.
Jing Yi, wearing a baseball cap and a face mask, was indeed holding steamed buns and soy milk.
“Wow, what time did you get up?” Xue An exclaimed in surprise. “Has our Master Xuan Kong finally snapped out of character?”
A flicker of amusement passed through Jing Yi’s clear, spring-like eyes. “I wouldn’t say I’ve snapped out of character. It’s just that last night, some of my doubts were resolved, while others arose.”
Hearing Jing Yi speak much more “normally,” Xue An teased, “Was it some kind of legendary enlightenment? I felt like you had that vibe yesterday. By the way, is your family from a medical lineage? How do you know acupuncture?”
Jing Yi smiled without answering.
Xue An didn’t mind; he was aware of Jing Yi’s previous image and guessed that Jing Yi might have been forced into certain situations.
After finishing breakfast, the two packed their bags and went downstairs to the hotel lobby to wait for the director and the others to gather. The “Seduce the Monk” crew had a dedicated vehicle that would take everyone to the filming base at 6 a.m. to start shooting.
Soon, everyone had assembled.
Arriving at the filming location in the studio base, Jing Yi changed into his monastic robes and, as instructed, went before the Buddha statue to reshoot the previous day’s scene.
It was still Xuan Kong chanting sutras, and still the fox demon Shui’er leaping onto the Buddha statue to caress it.
“Benefactress, the Buddha statue has no heart and knows neither warmth nor cold.” After saying this, Xuan Kong closed his eyes and paid no further attention to Shui’er beside him.
Shui’er stamped her foot playfully, jumped down from the shrine, and sidled up to Xuan Kong, teasing him with the flowing ribbons of her clothing.
No matter how she moved, Xuan Kong continued chanting scriptures, his voice unhurried and steady, without even a change in tone or posture.
This made the fox demon Shui’er even angrier. She planted her hands on her hips, the deliberately crafted seductiveness on her face fading, and pouted like an innocent young girl.
Jiang Wenwen executed this expression change quite well, and the camera gave her a close-up shot.
The director called “Cut,” indicating the take was approved.
“The following scenes will have significant changes, Jiang Wenwen. It mainly depends on you—you should be fine with that, right?”
Jiang Wenwen hadn’t expected the director to still doubt her acting skills even after the script was revised. Resentful but careful not to show it, she simply nodded and said, “Okay.”
Yesterday, after venting her frustration with her assistant, not only did her chest ache after work, but she was also criticized by her manager upon returning, who lectured her about not throwing tantrums in front of the director.
The implication seemed to be that this director was a disciple of a renowned filmmaker. Though currently only directing web dramas, his future prospects were limitless. Building a good relationship with such a well-connected director would bring nothing but benefits.
Jiang Wenwen desperately wanted to make it big, to see herself on mainstream television, so she resolved to follow the director’s instructions diligently.
As for Jing Yi… Since Jing Yi could use the script to make the director criticize her, she could also use the script to retaliate in kind!
After filming the scene of chanting scriptures in the Buddha Hall, it was time for the cleaning scene.
Jing Yi wrung out a cloth in a wooden bucket and wiped the dust off the shrine. He didn’t put on a show—he was genuinely meticulous, cleaning every hidden corner thoroughly.
As the camera moved, the cameraman couldn’t resist focusing multiple times on Jing Yi’s hands.
Those hands were pale and slender. Though they were a man’s hands, every bone and joint was perfectly defined. Even covered in dust, they lost none of their elegance.
After filming the hands, the camera pulled back for a wide shot, then zoomed in again, capturing Jing Yi’s flawless yet intensely focused face.
“Your artist is really impressive,” stylist Xiao Liu whispered to Xue An as he approached. “Even cleaning is performed with such dedication.”
“Of course! As the saying goes, you can tell how dedicated someone is by how early they rise. When I knocked on his door at 5:30, he had already bought our breakfast and returned!”
“Wow, he’s truly turning over a new leaf, starting from the small details!”
As they chatted, they saw Jiang Wenwen, playing Shui’er, enter the scene again.
She hummed a tune, a sly smile spreading across her face, and blew a breath. The wind machine behind her immediately activated, sending the yellow cloth streamers in the Buddha Hall flying in all directions. This shot would later be enhanced with special effects to depict the fox demon using her powers to make the Buddha Hall unclean.
Jing Yi had already understood the intention behind the scene last night.
He turned to Jiang Wenwen, his expression still calm. “Good morning, benefactress. There are steamed buns in the kitchen.”
Jiang Wenwen grew irritated at the sight of Jing Yi’s “Xuan Kong” demeanor.
She scoffed and delivered her line: “Those plain steamed buns? I wouldn’t eat them. I’ve already feasted in the woods. I must say, the rabbits outside your temple are quite delicious, Master.”
“Amitabha,” Jing Yi chanted, mourning the rabbits. “This humble monk will continue cleaning. Please make yourself at home, benefactress.”
He wrung out the cloth again and resumed wiping the Buddha Hall.
Jiang Wenwen stamped her foot in frustration and stormed over to the wooden bucket.
In the plot, to make Xuan Kong show expressions beyond kindness and calmness, the fox demon Shui’er would stop at nothing. When dirtying the Buddha Hall proved ineffective, she would kick over the wooden bucket.
But Jiang Wenwen didn’t directly kick the bucket over. Instead, she lifted the small wooden bucket. Still acting out the fox demon’s indignant expression from the script, she threw the bucket directly at Jing Yi, who was wiping a table.
Xue An was dumbfounded on the side.
He had read the new script—this scene wasn’t in it! In other words, Jiang Wenwen was deliberately altering the scene to bully Jing Yi!
Xue An wanted to warn them, but if he disrupted the filming without the director’s intervention, it would only cause trouble for Jing Yi.
The director indeed remained silent.
The fox demon Shui’er kicking the bucket was meant to bully Xuan Kong, and specifically lifting it to throw at him perfectly escalated this emotion. Forgetting to use magic in anger—wasn’t that more in line with the fox demon’s impulsive nature?
This didn’t contradict the script’s setting.
The only question was how Jing Yi would respond. In the script, Xuan Kong was not only deeply versed in Buddhist teachings but also a cultivator. That is, if it were the Xuan Kong from the script, he should easily resolve this crisis.
Their thoughts spanned only a few seconds, just as the bucket and splashing water were about to land on Jing Yi.
Under everyone’s gaze, Jing Yi turned, his feet shifting positions as he moved to the side of the bucket.
He steadily grasped the bucket’s handle, pushing it forward slightly. The water landed perfectly inside the bucket, not a drop spilling on the ground.
Throughout the motion, Jing Yi’s robes fluttered minimally, and when he set the bucket down, his expression remained utterly unperturbed.
Beautiful!
The director’s eyes sparkled with delight.
It seemed Jing Yi truly had some real skills!
His mentor often collaborated with Actor Lu, who came from a martial arts background. He’d always heard his mentor praise Actor Lu as heaven-sent, needing no martial arts choreography for fight scenes. Now, it appeared Jing Yi was just like Actor Lu!
Such a treasure of an actor—why had he been taking roles in youth dramas before? He was almost overlooked!