Chapter 1

Page (1/3)

During the plum rain season, the meditation room was filled with a thick, sticky mist, dim and suffocating. The night breeze stirred the layers of hanging ink-wash silk curtains, ushering in a faint, shadowy moonlight that barely illuminated the delicate, fair back of a young girl.

The girl sat barefoot, hugging her knees amidst scattered sutras. Her spring garment had slipped off, leaving only a cascade of dark blue hair draped before her, concealing her modesty.

Behind her, a hand with clearly defined knuckles wielded a wolf-hair brush, slowly tracing ink along her spine, using her back as the paper to write half of the Heart Sutra.

Each stroke of the exquisite regular script fell upon her flawless pale skin, resembling pine and bamboo—pure and untouched by a speck of dust.

When the brush reached the hollow of her waist, the fine tip hesitated slightly, twirling gently, causing the girl to shiver violently.

The crisp clink of iron chains then echoed through the meditation room.

Layer upon layer, they bound the girl, inescapable.

She bit her lips tightly, stifling faint sobs between her teeth, too afraid to sound out, yet her body trembled uncontrollably.

Sweat beaded finely on her back, dampening the vermilion ink; crimson droplets meandered down her waist.

The once neat Heart Sutra became a chaotic mess, resembling a savage beast’s claw marks—ferocious and bloodied.

“Why are you crying?”

The man behind her carelessly loosened his grip; the brush fell, splattering blood-red ink.

His cool, long fingers traced the ink’s path on her back, passed her waist, and gathered a handful of her black hair.

A formidable pressure bore down, restraining her fragile waist. His low, magnetic voice whispered near her ear, “He’s gone. No one will disturb my sister and me reciting sutras and chanting Buddha anymore, isn’t that good?”

His voice and the movement of his palm were synchronized—slow and gentle, coaxing like intertwining vines that clung to her, teasing her, dragging her forcefully into a bottomless whirlpool...

“No! Don’t!”

Within the gauze canopy, Jiang Yunchan convulsed violently and suddenly opened her eyes. Her limbs struggled to break free, inadvertently knocking over the white jade lotus candleholder on the bedside.

Bang! Bang! Crash!

Porcelain shattered all over the floor, and the long-unwashed wax spilled onto the back of her hand, instantly burning bright red.

Jiang Yunchan cried out in pain, awakening from the nightmare. She clutched her swollen hand and gasped, trembling as she said, “Xia Zhu, fetch some well water.”

“Ugh! Such a wild girl from a humble household, lacking even the manners to settle down quietly! Always making a fuss, what nonsense is she whining about now?”

“If she were well-behaved and knew her place, how could she seduce the heir’s disciple right under his nose? Putting on a respectful and obedient act by day, but in her bones, she’s a shameless wanton!”

Below the corridor, the maids cracked melon seeds, their open mockI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.