Qu Ling was staring blankly at Chi Yuan when she suddenly felt a clear, penetrating gaze fall upon her.
She saw Huaisu Dashi smiling as he looked at her.
He possessed extraordinary elegance—rosy lips, pearly teeth, and features as exquisite as a painting. His monastic robes made him appear even more transcendent and detached from worldly affairs.
Huaisu Dashi’s gaze rested on the Buddhist beads around Qu Ling’s wrist, and a gentle smile appeared on his face. “Esteemed benefactress, may this humble monk take a look at the beads on your wrist?”
Qu Ling snapped out of her daze and hurried forward, removing the beads and handing them over.
Huaisu Dashi accepted the beads, his fingertips gently tracing the patterns on them. A flicker of nostalgia passed through his eyes. “These are my master’s beads.”
“Master, are you saying that old monk from Nanchan Temple is your teacher?” Qu Ling asked in astonishment.
“Indeed,” Huaisu Dashi nodded.
He looked toward Chi Yuan, the smile in his eyes deepening. “Magistrate Chi went to Nanchan Temple precisely to visit my master on my behalf.”
Qu Ling quickly explained, “When I was in Jiangzhou, I often went to Nanchan Temple to listen to his sutra recitations. Seeing my troubled mind, he gifted me these beads, saying they could calm and focus the spirit.”
Indeed, she had been unsettled because she had killed someone.
And that old monk had likely discerned the blood on her hands.
Could Huaisu Dashi see it too?
“Master has always been compassionate. For him to gift you these beads, you must share a karmic connection.”
As he spoke, Huaisu Dashi returned the beads to Qu Ling, his gaze gentle. “Since you’ve received Master’s beads, you can be considered his nominal disciple. In that case, I should address you as Shimei.”
Qu Ling was taken aback, then blushed. “Master, you jest. How could I dare be your Shimei…”
Her worldly attachments remained unresolved, her karmic debts unpaid.
“It’s no matter,” Huaisu Dashi waved his hand. “Buddhism emphasizes karmic connections…”
He cast a meaningful glance at Chi Yuan. “Magistrate Chi is also my good friend. That you know him shows your connection runs even deeper.”
Hearing this, Chi Yuan’s lips curved slightly. His gaze lingered on Qu Ling’s face for a moment before turning to the chessboard. “Master, it’s your move.”
Huaisu Dashi chuckled softly, picking up a white piece but hesitating to place it. “You seem preoccupied today. How about stepping aside and letting me finish this game with Shimei?”
Understanding the implication, Chi Yuan stood and yielded his seat, his gaze lingering on Qu Ling for another moment.
Qu Ling frowned slightly but still sat down opposite Huaisu Dashi.
Without asking if she knew how to play chess, he simply pushed the black pieces toward her and said calmly, “Shimei, your move.”
Qu Ling looked down at the board, picked up a black piece, and placed it firmly.
Huaisu Dashi smiled faintly and began moving his pieces rapidly.
They went back and forth, black and white intertwining across the board like a silent contest.
“Shimei’s playing style somewhat resembles Master’s,” Huaisu Dashi suddenly remarked.
“Master often said that chess is like life—once you place a piece, there’s no regret.” He paused, his gaze profound. “Shimei seems to harbor attachments. Though your moves are steady, they lack some ease.”
Qu Ling’s hand holding the piece hesitated slightly as she looked up at Huaisu Dashi. “Why do you say that, Master?”
Huaisu Dashi sighed softly. “Deep attachments easily give birth to inner demons.”
“Why must Shimei cling to past grievances? Only by letting go can one find liberation.”
Upon hearing this, Qu Ling’s expression changed.
She abruptly threw her piece onto the board with force, scattering the black and white pieces into disarray.
“Whether one can let go, or whether one should let go—only oneself truly understands,” Qu Ling rose coldly. “Many in the capital wish to hear such wisdom from you, Dashi. There’s no need to speak it to me.”
“Farewell.”
She turned and left, her receding figure resolute.
Chi Yuan watched her departure, his brow slightly furrowed.
Huaisu Dashi, however, remained unperturbed, gently gathering the scattered chess pieces one by one. “The killing intent about her is too heavy. It startled the koi in my pond.”
Chi Yuan withdrew his gaze. “Her stepmother treats her poorly. I heard when she was driven out six years ago, it was through an act of feigned suffering. Her mother passed away early, her wet nurse died in Jiangzhou, and only the Princess has shown her kindness.”
But the Princess couldn’t look after her constantly.
Huaisu Dashi lifted his eyes to Chi Yuan. “You seem rather concerned about her?”
Chi Yuan smiled bitterly. Concerned?
“I just… find her circumstances difficult.”
Huaisu Dashi chuckled softly, placing the final chess piece back into the box. “You and he share some similarities.”
“Similarities?” Chi Yuan was puzzled.
“Do you not also harbor unresolved obsessions?” Huaisu Dashi sighed. “You and your mother…”
He left the rest unspoken.
At these words, Chi Yuan’s expression darkened.
“My mother… I’ve been distant from her since childhood. Though we lived in the same Hou Manor, we rarely met.”
When Chi Yuan was born, the Old Marquis of Jingwei Hou Manor was still alive and had him taken to his grandmother to be raised by her personally.
His mother, then the Heir Apparent’s Wife of Jingwei Hou, dragged her postpartum body and knelt outside the door until she fainted.
He was her first child, the child she had awaited for four years.
It was precisely this desperate longing that made the grandfather forbid the mother from raising the child herself.
The grandfather said, “A Yuan is also the young master Jingwei Hou Manor has awaited for four years. If raised by your hand, he would surely be excessively spoiled. How could he uphold the Hou Manor in the future?”
No matter how his father and mother pleaded, in the end, he was taken away by his grandfather and grandmother.
His mother’s heart turned to ashes, consumed by melancholy.
He seldom saw his mother.
Even when they met, it was only a distant glance, her eyes filled with nothing but indifference and detachment.
Two years later, she conceived again and gave birth to Chi Yuan’s younger brother, Chi Che.
All her affection was poured into Chi Che.
When Chi Che was young, she would seize everything Chi Yuan had and give it to Chi Che, and she would obtain for Chi Che what Chi Yuan lacked.
As Chi Che grew older, she began to scheme for the position of the Heir of Jingwei Hou.
She wanted the heirship to fall upon her most beloved son.
While the Old Marquis was alive, Chi Yuan’s life was relatively bearable; no one dared to neglect him.
After the Old Marquis passed away, the Old Madam followed not long after, and Chi Yuan truly began a life of isolation and helplessness.
Fortunately, the Old Marquis had left behind many loyal servants who barely managed to protect Chi Yuan until he came of age.
But the bond between mother and son gradually eroded amidst the scheming of the deep manor household.
“You and Miss Qu are both trapped by your obsessions—she by family grudges, you by maternal estrangement. If you do not resolve these inner conflicts, I fear it will only become harder to free yourselves in the future.”
Chi Yuan was lost in thought, his gaze fixed on the path Qu Ling had taken, his mind tumultuous.
Huaisu Dashi closed the chess box and stood. “The time for the scripture lecture is approaching. Will you join me?”
Seeing that Chi Yuan remained silent, he added, “Your mother is also there.”
He knew Chi Yuan had always wished to be closer to the Jingwei Marquis’s Wife.
His visit today was partly for that very reason.
“No,” Chi Yuan said calmly, “I’ve already met the person I wanted to see.”
As for his mother, he had long since stopped holding any expectations for her.
“The person you wanted to see… could it be Miss Qu?” Huaisu Dashi asked in surprise.
Chi Yuan’s lips curved slightly.
She said “see you in the capital,” so of course they had to meet.