The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

The wind and snow gently yet stubbornly covered Tang Xixue's shoulders the moment she stepped out of Liuying Palace.

She pulled her snow cloak tighter and was about to step into that vast expanse when her gaze was quietly drawn to an open, carved jade window to the side.

Inside the window, the snow-white gauze curtains fluttered in the wind, like the rising and falling breaths at the edge of a dream.

Below, a young monk in a moon-white robe sat quietly with his eyes lowered, his figure like a lingering ray of moonlight. Against the backdrop of the warm yellow candlelight filling the hall, he appeared somewhat lonely and cold.

The fabric was extremely soft, flowing down, each fold reflecting the unique cold white glow of the snowy night seeping in from outside the window.

He was as still as a piece of porcelain placed before the Buddha—his bone structure at sixteen or seventeen still retained the soft contours unique to young people, not yet completely covered by a solemn and dignified appearance.

Her skin was like the finest white jade, soaked in mountain streams for a thousand years and bathed in the moonlight of the whole night. It was thin and translucent, as if one could glimpse the pale blue veins beneath it, flowing like deep, still water.

It gives the impression that with just a slightly heavier tap of the fingertip, this tranquil porcelain piece would emit a clear sound and reveal invisible ice patterns.

The eyebrows are like the last touch of dark blue at the end of a distant mountain, slender and graceful, resting peacefully beneath a full forehead.

His eyelashes were exceptionally thick and long, casting a small, Zen-like shadow on his eyelids when they drooped, rising and falling slightly with his breathing, like a butterfly resting with its wings folded by a cold pond.

"Not clear."

She stopped and called out.

Her voice, carried by the night breeze, sounded like the gentle tinkling of silver bells on the eaves, carrying both the crispness of snow and the soft warmth of melting spring water.

The meditating boy responded and slowly lifted his eyelids.

In that instant, it was as if a beam of heavenly light had gently pushed open the tightly closed doors of a silent ancient temple, doors adorned with painted ceilings depicting flying apsaras.

The pupil is the color of the clearest sky after the rain, extremely clear, yet bottomless.

It doesn't contain the joys and sorrows of human life, but rather seems to have absorbed the vast emptiness that has been cleansed by the autumn sun, so pure that it makes the gazer's heart tremble suddenly.

"Sister Zhi, it's been a long time."

Sheng Feiming's voice is ethereal and mellow, as if it has been soaked in countless chants and ancient springs in the deep mountains, exuding tranquility.

However, when those clear eyes clearly reflected the figure of the girl in white outside the window, a faint warmth belonging to the human world seemed to quietly spread across the bottom of those boundless, empty eyes.

He practiced asceticism at Lintai, but also went out into the world. Over the years, he had seen the eccentric Princess Mirror.

But he knew it wasn't her.

"Yes... It feels like a lifetime has passed since we last met, as if we were still in the other shore of the Buddha's Pure Land."

A gentle ripple of memories stirred in Tang Xixue's eyes.

The young monk was only nine years old at the time, and his white Buddhist robe was still too big for him.

To protect a group of infants who had been kidnapped by evil cultivators and intended to be used in alchemy, he bravely stood in front of the villains with his frail body, only to be kidnapped along with them.

On the other side of the Moonlit Continent, the golden sand was scorching hot. In the vast sea of ​​sand, she first heard the helpless sobs of a child, and then she saw a small figure whose clothes were tattered and whose face was covered in dust, yet who still opened his arms to protect the younger ones behind him.

That year, she was twelve years old, the time when the old medicine god took her out of the valley to practice medicine and help people everywhere.

She came wielding a sword, her robes billowing like clouds, her sword flashing like snow, and she slew all the villains.

The setting sun, like blood, reflected the blood droplets falling from the tip of her sword and her pristine profile.

The young monk sat down on the sand, looking up at the girl who was coming against the light, as if he saw the true Buddha manifest, his body bathed in boundless compassionate light.

"Little master, you are very brave."

She sheathed her sword, bent down and reached out her hand to him, her eyes reflecting the desert sunset, more dazzling than the Milky Way.

"Little monk, the Holy Spirit is not clear."

He grasped that hand; the palm was warm, his voice still trembled with the faint tremor of someone who had survived a near-death experience, but his eyes shone with an astonishing brightness.

"Bodhi has no tree, nor is the bright mirror a stand. Originally there is nothing, so where can dust alight... What a fine name."

Her smile was faint.

"Let's go home."

She took him and the babies back to the Floating City.

Soon after, a terrible plague swept through the kingdom like a gray tide, and prosperity withered instantly. The chanting of scriptures and prayers continued day and night, but they could not suppress the shadow of death.

Pilgrims and believers prostrate themselves before the little holy monk on the lotus platform, praying day and night for blessings. Their foreheads touch the cold ground as they beg for good fortune.

All he could do was chant scriptures incessantly, his chanting concealing a deep-seated, unspoken anxiety.

Why doesn't Buddha open his eyes?

Until the name of the Heavenly Physician of Destiny spread like a gentle breeze through the desolate city.

She personally tested the medicine, staying up all night, and finally snatched thousands of lives back from the clutches of death with bowls of bitter medicine.

At that moment, the young monk stepped down from the high lotus platform, shedding the compassionate image that all beings looked up to, and silently followed beside her, taking the medicine bowl and handing it to each trembling hand.

Watching the withered city breathe anew, his ashen face regaining its vitality, he suddenly understood amidst the fragrant medicinal aroma:

Those who save all sentient beings may not only be found in golden statues.

Therefore, when the Kunlun Sword Immortal, who did not believe in gods or Buddhas but whose pride could be broken for one person, traversed the thirty-three heavens, worshipped all the illusory golden bodies, and finally came before him, covered in snow and despair.

"Holy Monk, I want to save someone, someone who is a thousand times more important than the Way of Heaven, more important than fate, more important than myself... but I don't know where the way is."

Beneath the thousand-year-old ginkgo tree adorned with golden leaves, he paused slightly, holding a dark brown bodhi seed in his hand.

The secrets of heaven, like a spider web, were clearly reflected in his eyes that could see destiny.

"Heaven sets up obstacles, making it difficult for the soul to return."

He finally whispered the forbidden words.

He should have remained untouched by karma and detached from worldly affairs, yet he still spoke out.

It was all for that selfish desire that once shone with the light of the true Buddha, and for that lingering attachment that never faded through the silent years.

Xie Jinlian did not disappoint him.

With only one person and one sword, his robes fluttered in the winds of the void, yet the sword light shone so brightly it tore through the chaos—he was truly, with a mortal body, wielding his sword against the supreme laws of heaven.

This world is blessed with abundant fortune and outstanding talents, producing many children of destiny, each with their own brilliant path.

His sister Zhizhi was once the most dazzling and special one among them.

From the moment she was born, her destiny was so extraordinary that it was like a cascading galaxy. Not only did she shine brightly herself, but she also illuminated the destinies of those around her, as if she were a star destined to shine throughout the universe.

Every husband is not guilty, and he is guilty of his crime.

Her good fortune attracted the covetousness of the Heavenly Dao of this world.

The shackles of Heaven imprisoned her soul, and the system of destiny, using a soul from another world, attempted to seize her body and plunder her destiny.

They even promoted a new chosen one, attempting to seize the destiny of this world and steal their fortune.

However, it was clear that it did not succeed; she did not follow the plot of the Book of Fate and did not become a sacrifice.

Now, his sister Zhizhi has returned from the depths of hell, having broken free of her shackles.

"Sister Zhi."

A faint smile appeared on Sheng Feiming's lips.

That smile became the most vivid stroke on his pure and white face.

Her nose was straight and elegant like the ridgeline of a snow-capped peak, and her lower lip was as pale as a lotus flower. The cinnabar between her brows remained the most intense and sacred mark on her face.

He sat there quietly, as clean as a drop of dew that had never been tainted by dust, as beautiful as a jade statue that had been quietly admired by the ancient breeze and moonlight, and thus gained a spiritual quality.

"I have a bright pearl, which has long been locked away by worldly troubles."

He gazed at her, his eyes still clear, yet her image was clearly reflected in them.

Each word, spoken with the gentle warmth of chanting scriptures:

"Today, the dust has settled and the light shines forth, illuminating countless mountains and rivers."

Welcome back, my light.

The last whispered words vanished into the stillness where wind, snow, and candlelight intertwined, never uttered.

Outside the palace, snow fell silently, and the world was a pristine white.