CHAPTER 144: BACK OF THE JADE RULES SCRIPTURES (2)_1

The Ancient Temple’s Grand Treasure Hall had a soaring 8-meter-high ceiling. The north wall was adorned with the images of ten thousand deities, and the west wall featured the eighteen Arhats, their paintings vibrant and lively.

Atop the altar rested a genuine Han white jade Buddha, its niche crafted entirely from redwood—a unique treasure within the country.

「Before the Incense Altar.」

A pear wood chair stood with a matching pear wood table. After offering incense, Shen Jing lit a lamp filled with fragrant oil and lifted her hand to grind the ink.

She meticulously copied the scriptures as she read them, her calligraphy neat. The Old Madam wouldn’t check her work, but Shen Jing was taking it seriously nonetheless.

Zhou Luchen sat beside her, not reminding her. He lowered his head to peel an apple, sliced it neatly, and fed it to her.

She bit into it, her cheeks puffing slightly. "President Zhou, transfer the payment."

The aristocratic young master remarked with an air of refinement, "Ask the Buddha if talking about money right now would hurt our feelings."

Zhuang Ming would normally handle an amount like this.

Shen Jing glanced at the stack of scriptures on the desk. Was she brought here just to help him copy scriptures?

Suddenly feeling indignant, she said, "You’re the one being punished, not me."

Zhou Luchen’s gaze swept over her. "Sit properly and copy with some decorum."

His voice was deep, carrying a hint of an order that couldn’t be refused.

Shen Jing immediately straightened her back, her lips puckering playfully.

In fact, it didn’t matter whether she copied them or not. Zhou Luchen, however, enjoyed watching her copy the scriptures; she looked like a diligent student.

Dressed in a pleated miniskirt and Chanel’s latest cardigan, she looked like a high school girl sitting in a classroom.

It was hard to deny that when he saw her write the first character, an image had formed in Zhou Luchen’s mind: her with a ponytail, wearing a blue and white school uniform, copying homework in a classroom. A well-behaved, naturally tranquil girl—young, tender, and lively.

The more he thought about it, the more this face, both innocent and subtly seductive, felt familiar.

"Have we met before?"

Shen Jing didn’t understand why Zhou Luchen would ask such a question. They had indeed met five years ago in the hospital. She took a bite of apple. "Sort of."

What did "sort of" mean?

Zhou Luchen couldn’t be bothered to dwell on it. He leaned back in his chair, his arm resting lazily on the backrest. His gaze swept briefly over her ponytail before retreating.

Perhaps someone around him in the past had also worn a ponytail; he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t even quite recall the faces of the women he’d been with. Had there been a university student among them?

Zhou Luchen’s fingers toyed with the long hair of her ponytail. The ends were slightly curled, a soft, honey-black color.

His tone was relaxed. "Little sister, did you ever have a puppy love?" The term "little sister," as he said it, carried a flirtatious and somewhat forbidden undertone.

"Yeah," she lied.

Zhou Luchen chuckled, his eyes crinkling slyly. "Tell me about it."

Shen Jing had never actually experienced anything like that, so she made something up. "I had a crush on a senior from my department, but I couldn’t win him over."

When she lied, she didn’t dare to look him in the eye, her gaze always darting away like a timid rabbit. Fully aware she was lying, Zhou Luchen teased, "There are men you can’t win over?"

"Yes." Shen Jing turned her head to look at Zhou Luchen. "He’s the house, the kind of player who’s also the most heartless man in the world. He never genuinely invests his feelings, and when others offer him theirs, he couldn’t care less. Gamblers who go up against him almost always lose everything."

It was a long speech, and Zhou Luchen wasn’t one for such conversations, so he only listened to half of it.

He went to the backyard to ask a bodyguard for a cigarette, simply stretching out his hand.

The bodyguard had already reached into his pocket, but remembering the Zhou Family’s advice, he hesitated. Then, meeting Zhou Luchen’s indifferent gaze, he dared not refuse. "We don’t have ’Heaven and Earth,’ sir, only the mild brand."

Zhou Luchen took one, leaned against the wall, lit it, and exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Have someone bring in some milk tea."

The bodyguard, who had already taken two steps away, stepped back. "Is that for you, sir?"

Zhou Luchen tapped off the ash, took a drag from the cigarette held between his fingers, and glared coldly at him.

The bodyguard had never seen him touch anything sweet, so it clearly wasn’t for him.

"Understood."

By the time Zhou Luchen finished his cigarette and returned, Shen Jing had already densely filled a whole page with copied text.

The heavy sandalwood door opened. The smell of smoke on him wasn’t strong; instead, a crisp scent mingled with the autumn wind streamed in, and Shen Jing couldn’t help but look back.

Seeing him sit down beside her, Shen Jing handed the brush pen to him. "My wrist is sore. Your turn."

Zhou Luchen asked nonchalantly, "What do you want me to write?"

"The scriptures." Shen Jing was also curious to see what kind of calligraphy Second Young Master Zhou would use to copy the Jade Rules Scriptures. She had seen him sign contracts before; his handwriting was bold and fluid.

Leaning on his shoulder, she watched him lower his head and roll up his sleeves. He turned over a blank page of the Jade Rules Scriptures, placed a paperweight on it, dipped the brush in ink, scraped it twice against the inkstone, and then began to write.

———Shen Jing.

Shen Jing was taken aback for a moment.

He wrote again: Shen Jing.

And again.

His strokes were methodical, his calligraphy neat and precise.

Shen Jing smiled, her gaze fixed on the Xuan paper. She couldn’t find the words to describe her feelings, even though she knew it was his perverse mood that had resulted in this page filled with her name.

What repentance could you expect from this scion of a noble family? Being here at all was already the greatest respect he could show the Old Madam. Did he regret it? Would a man who indulges in worldly pleasures regret his actions? If he regretted it, he wouldn’t have done it in the first place.

Across the fine, white Xuan paper, only her name, Shen Jing, appeared again and again—not a single stroke dedicated to the penitential scriptures.

Shen Jing turned her head to look at him. There was so much she wanted to say, yet she didn’t know where to begin.

Watching him like this, as the smoke from the incense burner swirled and partly obscured his profile, he seemed like an enigma shrouded in mist. Shen Jing found him even harder to fathom.

He was lonely and tired, misunderstood by everyone, and he didn’t expect anyone to understand him. The side he showed the world was just one: that of a man treating life as a game, detached and without warmth. But he had another, hidden side, unknown to others—like the one she was seeing now.

Often, the more nonchalant and carefree someone appeared, the deeper the secrets they concealed.

Shen Jing yawned. Her head drooped as she hugged the man’s waist and rested her head on his lap. "I need to rest for a bit."

Zhou Luchen raised his hand, the brush still poised over the paper, ink glistening on its tip. "What would you like for dinner?"

"Stir-fried shredded carrots and potatoes."

He hummed in acknowledgment and glanced at Zhuang Ming.

Zhuang Ming turned and left, closing the large door behind him.

「Dusk fell.」

There were no electric lights in the room, only the orange glow of candles and the faint light from the Buddha statue illuminating the space.

Shen Jing slept peacefully, occasionally nuzzling against his abdomen. The metal of his belt buckle pressed against her nose, making her grunt softly in discomfort.

Zhou Luchen’s eyelids fluttered open slightly. He gazed at the beauty sleeping soundly in his arms, her nose now a little red.

A hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. "Aren’t you afraid of ruin, being with someone like me?"

Was she afraid? She didn’t know.

Though barely able to stay awake, after hearing his question, Shen Jing’s mind filled with memories of their time together.

Being with him like this... if this wasn’t ruin, then what was it?

Shen Jing even remembered his words: "Even if I marry someone else in the future, if you still want to be with me, I can shield you from all gossip and slander."

She tightened her arms around him and lifted her small face, her eyes barely open. "Am I staying here with you tonight too?"

Zhou Luchen touched her forehead with the wolf-hair brush, leaving a small dot of black ink. It made her look exceedingly innocent and endearing.

"You’re not going anywhere."

Shen Jing touched her forehead, a smile flickering in her eyes. "What kind of penance and remorse is this?"

Zhou Luchen shifted his long legs, patting his lap. "Come here."

Shen Jing moved from her seat and settled into Zhou Luchen’s lap.

"I’ll teach you to write your name," he said, his voice hoarse.

He rested his chin on her shoulder and took her right hand in his, his broad palm enveloping hers. He guided her hand to pick up the wolf-hair brush and dip it into the ink.

Shen Jing turned her head, smiling as she watched Zhou Luchen.

His gaze was lowered, focused, as if he were earnestly teaching a three-year-old child to write.

From regular script to Yan style, and then to Su Shi’s running-cursive script. Each stroke flowed into the next.

The window shutters in the west chamber were ajar.

An old Monk, passing by, glanced in Zhou Luchen’s direction and softly chanted, "Amitabha."

He was supposed to be abstaining from desire and indulgence, yet here he was, flaunting his worldly attachments before the Buddha.

The old Monk sighed helplessly, closed the window shutters, and walked away, fingering his Buddha Beads. Let him be.