From Nun to Real Heiress: Expert at Turning the Tables

“It’s getting late, have some vegetarian food and rest, the guest room has been prepared for you.”

Jing Yun placed the meal tray on the desk, softly addressing her.

Only after finishing the last character of the verse did Ming Jing put down her writing brush, adjusting her sleeves and looking up at Jing Yun.

“Thank you, Brother.”

The girl’s eyes were dark and bright, calm and restrained.

Ming Jing handed over the scriptures she had written and said to Jing Yun,

“Please keep these safe for me.”

Jing Yun took them, and smiling, said, “Alright.”

Ming Jing carried her meal tray and left the meditation room, Jing Yun pointed to the east, “The guest room is this way, come with me.”

Now the whole monastery was gathering in the Mahavira Hall for evening classes, distantly the sound of chanting could be heard carried on the night wind.

The two walked on a deserted corridor, high evergreen trees aligning both sides of the path and basked in lamplight shedding a mottled play of shadows.

As the wind swept through the treetops, amidst the quiet rustling of their clothes, Jing Yun asked, “Have you memorized the entire Avatamsaka Sutra?” This was truly horrifying.

Ming Jing smiled and said, “The tranquil years in the mountains leave only scriptures as a companion.”

Jing Yun gave her a glance, “You have been raised in Buddhism since birth?”

“On the day I was born, I was abandoned by my parents before the mountain gate. Luckily, the Master took me in, a great destiny.”

So it was.

“Entering into Buddhism, you severed all worldly concerns, as long as you are at peace it will be well.”

When they arrived at the guesthouse, Ye Zhen, hearing the footsteps, rushed out and seeing Ming Jing, exclaimed, “Ming Jing, you have finally come back.” Ming Jing nodded, then looked up to see a young man standing under the eave.

She was taken aback: “Hasn’t he left yet?”

Ye Zhen murmured, “Who knows… he insisted on staying.”

Jing Yun said, “This benefactor is your friend, he asked to stay so we arranged a room for him.”

“Thanks for the trouble, Brother.”

Jing Yun, smiling, shook his head: “Rest well.”

As he finished his words, he turned around and departed, closing the door of the guesthouse.

Hanshan Temple was thriving with devotees and after expansion over the years, had a dozen rooms in both east and west wings of the guesthouse for devotees living away from the monastery. Due to filming in the last few days, the program team had all the guests in the rooms vacate in advance, hence at this moment only four people resided in the guesthouse Ming Jing, Qu Feitai, Ye Zhen, and Tian Long.

It was silent all around, only the unending shrill sounds of crickets in the grass added some elegance to the night.

Ming Jing glanced at him and said indifferently, “You should rest early.”

After saying this, she stepped into the room on the west side where the door was open.

Ye Zhen sighed and hurriedly followed her in.

Qu Feitai stood in the darkness, watching the room’s light turn on and then off.

The cool night wind grew stronger as the night deepened.

Tian Long came out, “Xiao Fei, it’s a call from brother Huang.”

Qu Feitai retracted his gaze and took the phone.

“What business do you have staying in the monastery? Don’t tell me you’re renouncing the world to become a monk. Believe it or not I’ll hang myself right now; you never give me a moment’s peace.”

“Is there something important?” Qu Feitai asked in a cold voice.

Huang Chao was taken aback, “Xiao Fei, don’t scare me. I was just joking, come back quickly. There’s no luxury in the monastery, not even signal, you won’t be able to take it.”

“If there’s nothing, then I’m hanging up.” Without giving Huang Chao a chance to speak, he directly ended the call, handed the phone back to Tian Long, took off his jacket and lay down.

“Xiao Fei? Are you okay?” Tian Long asked cautiously.

For some reason, since coming back in the afternoon, Xiao Fei’s mood had been off. This made Tian Long anxious. “Nothing’s wrong, go to sleep.”

The door closed with a “squeak”.

A slant of moonlight filtered through the windowpane, spilling onto the foot of the bed.

Qu Feitai closed his eyes, a sky filled with blood, a woman was smiling at him, a big hole gushing blood in her chest.

He looked down, a gun in his hand.

He hastily threw away the gun, screaming desperately.A nightmare he could never shake off his entire life.

“Master, how is my brother?”

“The Yang Dry Jia Wood meets Yin Dry Yi Wood, marked by severe calamities.

Appearing weak but mentally strong, this is an omen of great disaster.” “Master, please save my brother, no matter the cost…’

“Defying fate disrupts the Yin virtue. Well, you have shown me kindness, this old man is all alone and has nothing to rely on, I’ll repay this favor to you.”

“Qu Lanzhou, Zou symbolizes a lone ship on the river and sea. Your name suggests isolation and it conflicts with your destiny. To change your fate, you have to change your name first.”

“In essence, the Bodhi has no tree, the bright mirror is not a stand, delusions arise from muddled thoughts, dust starts because of the mind. Dust signifies delusion. Once one has attained enlightenment, one becomes fully pure, essentially empty – arising and ceasing due to conditions, and being extremely comfortable with it.”

“Half life enlightened, fortune is paramount, every wish is granted, only….” “Only what? Master, please say.”

“Only one obsession can give birth to demons, this is due to karmic entanglement, everything is subject to the cycle of cause and effect, unsolvable. By serving the lotus with your body, you may help him attain Buddhahood…”

The boundless night seemed like the gaping maw of a beast, capable of devouring everything.

“With the death of the heart and body, there will be no resurrection after countless calamities….

The young man suddenly opened his eyes, breathing deeply in the darkness.

The silver moonlight fell on his hand gripping the quilt, his long fingers and protruding knuckles on the back of his hand were visible.

The young man gasped like a drowning person, inhaling wildly.

Obsession, obsession… Why does everyone remind him of it?

So what about obsession? So what if his heart and body die? So what if he never returns after countless calamities?

Being born as a human, he chases an unreachable love, even if it means complete destruction, he would not regret it.

He reached out, trying to grasp the silver light, feeling the cool night breeze passing over his fingertips, like her jade-white skin.

“Ming Jing…” he muttered.

An unreachable person, a dream from a drunken nap.

In the meditation room, slender fingertips brushed over the ink marks on the rice paper, as if caressing a rare treasure.

“Senior brother, is this the Avatamsaka Sutra copied by Senior sister Ming Jing?” Jing Feng asked after a glance, surprised.

The beautiful and elegant handwriting in small regular script was remarkably beautiful. Compared to the stern and orderly engraved on the scripture, the subtleness and resilience between lines, with its elegance, dust-free style, it was trulv entrancing.

“Yes.” Jing Yun had a faint smile on his lips, his peach blossom eyes warm and tender.

“Senior sister Ming Jing is so amazing, she managed to copy over two hundred pages in one day. If it were me, my hand would be crippled. Why do you think the master is intentionally making things difficult for her? Senior sister Ming Jing is so gentle and beautiful….”

Jing Yun gave him a faint glance, causing Jing Feng to cheekily stick out his tongue, immediately starting to chant, “Form is emptiness, emptiness is form…

Furtively observing the young man under the lamp, his face as beautiful as jade, tall and straight as bamboo, his eyes slightly closed, and a hint of cinnabar on his brows, he exuded serene nobility beneath his compassion.

Jing Yun, the oldest disciple, was the master’s favorite student whose abilities far exceeded his age. He was the outstanding one among the younger disciples, in the future to inherit from the master, assuming the great responsibility of promoting Buddhism and enhancing Hanshan Temple.

Jing Yun rolled up the sutra and said softly, “It’s late.”

Ming Jing stayed in the monastery for three days. She would get up as the morning bell tolled, transcribing the sutra every day, her diligence never slipping.

The temple had many disciples and, despite being practitioners of Buddhism, gossip still spread. The rumor about a beautiful, young nun with deep understanding living in the guest quarters who can write the eighty volumes of the Avatamsaka Sutra by memory, and had already written nearly a third in just three days, quickly circulated among the disciples.

The rumors among the monks were buzzing. Some said being penalized to copy the Avatamsaka Sutra was an inhumane punishment. They’d rather be whipped than spend time writing the sutra as it felt like an impossible task.

Yet the young nun had such an unyielding spirit, something they could hardly comprehend.

Every evening, after the prayer, she would walk down the pathway lined with tall and leafy trees, stepping on the falling flowers that hadn’t been swept away, and sit down in Luohan Hall next to the Mahavira Hall to listen to the scriptures and contemplate Zen. Then take her leave before everyone else, leaving only her silhouette for others to see – her white skirt slowly disappearing into the night, just like a silver lotus blooming in the quiet evening, pure and free from dust.

On the fourth day, Qu Feitai left Hanshan Temple.

He saw Ming Jing once. At that moment, she was sitting at the desk, dutifully copying the scriptures with a serene expression.

“I’m leaving.”

The young woman behind the desk didn’t even lift her head; her arm floated above the paper, with the tip of the pen flowing through the paper, the brush strokes like a dancing dragon and snake, flowing elegantly.

“A safe journey.”

Qu Feitai quietly looked at her, clenching then unclenching his fists.

A beam of sunlight pierced through the doorframe and shone in front of the door, with every detail of the ancient and worn -out brick glistening in the light.

Appearing like a silver river, standing between you and me