Chapter 9: Unexpected Snow in the Capital – Better to Seek Me Than Gods or Buddhas

Xie Qingman thought to herself, aren’t you here too?

But she didn’t ask it aloud.

I came with a friend, Xie Qingman faced him, her tone casual and frank. After the audition, I had nothing to do. My friend wanted to copy scriptures for blessings, and since I was free, I just wandered around.

The early winter daylight was pale and gray, casting dim light into Guanyin Cave, where everything seemed faded.

The scent of incense was thick, permeating the chilly air from outside to inside, covering both of them.

Didn’t you ask for anything for yourself?

I did. I just prayed to the Bodhisattva to eliminate the impure and welcome good fortune, and to protect me from encountering ill intentions, and then— Xie Qingman paused slightly, meeting his gaze as she curved her lips into a smile, I ran into you right here.

So she had left him with the ill intentions jab.

Ye Yansheng let out a soft tsk, his aloof eyes darkening. You’re quite good at throwing shade.

His expression cooled slightly, a faint, teasing smile tugging at the corner of his lips—flippant yet oddly somber. Little girl holds a grudge, huh.

Not at all, I should be thanking you. Xie Qingman blinked her thick lashes, her tone gentle, three parts sincere and seven parts feigned. I was serious about thanking you for helping me out last time. You’re just overthinking it.

She was always like this with him.

Speaking with a pointed, almost theatrical flair.

Ye Yansheng scoffed lightly.

He said her perfunctory act was too fake. How are you going to act in the future if you’re like this?

Just chasing a dream, Xie Qingman didn’t care what he thought. Not everyone is after fame and fortune.

That statement was a bit lofty, to be honest.

But she truly was interested in performance, which was why she wanted to be an actress.

In the past, she had gotten everything she wanted without effort, her mind far from the family business. She had an older brother from the same mother, a natural business mind who, despite his youth, wielded iron-fisted authority with high prestige, absolute say, and decision-making power on the board. Back then, she had little ambition, and with a good sibling relationship, she didn’t need to fight for anything—she could reap the benefits effortlessly. Even if a illegitimate child showed up to claim a share, it wasn’t her concern; her brother could handle everything.

According to her original life plan, she wanted to experience being an actress and director, from the spotlight to behind the scenes, and then try her hand at investing.

After all, she was young and could afford to play around before returning home. Eventually, she’d take a turn in management, preferably overseeing a part of the family’s commercial empire; if she couldn’t handle it, she’d leave it to professional managers, lie back and collect dividends, and pursue her dreams in another field.

But life doesn’t always go as planned.

Even if her past passion was genuine, now, stretched thin and regretting her earlier indulgences, that regret was just as real.

Xie Qingman lowered her long lashes, subtly concealing the emotions in her eyes.

Actually, ever since I saw you last time, I’ve been curious, she tilted her head slightly. Can I ask you a question?

No.

Xie Qingman was taken aback. I haven’t even said what it is yet.

The refusal was expected, but he had shut it down completely.

Outside Guanyin Cave, a steady stream of worshippers continued, with three tall incense sticks being lit anew and someone arriving with red silk ribbons for blessings. The two of them moved outward.

To the north of the temple, Buddhist halls rose layer upon layer, majestic and solemn, interspersed with towering ancient trees that created a visually stunning effect. Yellow and green glazed tiles covered the roofs, with upturned eaves and corners, spreading phoenixes and twirling dragons, while faint chants and Sanskrit hymns echoed above, unceasing.

Xie Qingman followed behind Ye Yansheng, unwilling to give up. How about we trade? You can ask me something too.

She reached out to tug at his sleeve. Or you can ask me first.

Ye Yansheng’s gaze was calm as he stopped and looked at her. For a brief second or two, his eyes drifted downward, sweeping past her face before settling on her hand gripping his sleeve. The darkness in his pupils deepened slightly.

Under the thin daylight, his features appeared icy and somber.

Xie Qingman remained oblivious to his mood, merely withdrawing her hand awkwardly with a muttered Never mind.

Just as she was about to pull her hand back, Ye Yansheng asked instead, What’s your name?

What kind of question was that?

Xie Qingman paused mid-motion, forgetting to retract her hand. I thought all information about people you’ve encountered would be laid out before you.

Ye Yansheng narrowed his eyes slightly and let out a soft laugh. I don’t have that kind of free time.

He truly didn’t have the time to investigate everyone he came across, but everything that happened during that rainy night in Hong Kong was far too coincidental. Given his family’s status and position, he’d encountered all sorts of people with ulterior motives—how could he not harbor any suspicion about so-called chance encounters?

Xie Qingman saw through it but didn’t voice it.

Xie Qingman. The ‘Qing’ as in ‘rising straight up the ranks’— she said briskly, while lowering her half-gripping hand to trace characters on his knuckles, and the ‘Man’ as in ‘winding corridors’.

Her fingertips were cold.

Subtle emotions and obscure thoughts, like embers on the verge of extinguishing, sparked uncontrollably at the slight contact.

Ye Yansheng reversed his grip and locked onto her wrist. His hold was too strong, and when he looked at her silently, his eyes held a sharp, piercing coldness.

But he detected no clues—her expression remained completely natural, without a trace of deliberate emotion.

Their gazes collided wordlessly in an instant.

The overly close distance turned ambiguity into a lethal weapon. Yet the reversal of active and passive roles let oppression dominate, crushing all ambiguous sensations completely.

Xie Qingman instinctively struggled but couldn’t break free.

What, she retorted half-jokingly, are you particular about men and women not touching?

Ye Yansheng didn’t respond, nor did he show any intention of releasing her.

The situation was too delicate.

Yet Xie Qingman acted as if completely unaware, allowing him to hold her hand while her clear eyes reflected his figure.

You still owe me a question.

I never agreed to that.

…

Having her words blocked, Xie Qingman didn’t press the matter. Fine, considering you’re in a bad mood today, pretend I never said it.

Ye Yansheng quirked his lips—whether in mockery or something else was unclear. And how would you know whether I’m in a bad mood or not?

Xie Qingman actually wanted to say he’d been particularly prickly today, with his displeasure practically written on his face. But she always spoke tactfully. When people pray to gods and Buddhas, it’s either because they want something or they’re troubled. Otherwise, why would you come to a temple?

Ye Yansheng loosened his grip, his voice deep with a faint scoff. I don’t believe in gods or Buddhas.

Seemingly guessing her thoughts, he relaxed with a lazy indolence. Just to humor the old lady. My grandmother believes in this stuff.

This stuff?

With that attitude of yours, completely lacking devotion, Xie Qingman couldn’t resist undermining him, it’d be hard for the old lady to be happy if she heard you.

TanZhe Temple’s location was remote enough—unlike Yonghe Temple within the Second Ring Road. But perhaps burning incense also depended on fate.

The former is a Han Chinese Buddhist temple, while the latter is a Tibetan Buddhist temple.

They differ in origin and lineage, representing the distinction between the Exoteric and Esoteric schools of Mahayana Buddhism. Han Chinese Buddhism is more localized, integrating the cultural philosophies of Confucianism and Taoism. The enshrined Buddhas and Bodhisattvas mostly appear benevolent and are mainstream in the Central Plains region.

Older generations likely have such considerations. If they heard their grandson spouting nonsense here, they would surely scold him.

Lost in thought, a cold sensation suddenly descended from above. The chill landed on her forehead, startling her. She instinctively reached out to catch it.

It was snow.

The snow in the capital had arrived unexpectedly.

The first snowfall of the winter descended silently, growing denser by the minute. The grayish-white sky darkened compared to when they had arrived. Snowflakes drifted throughout the temple grounds, floating like willow catkins or mist, enveloping the golden halls, lofty pavilions, distant mountains, and dense forests in a hazy veil.

Soon, the surrounding crowd began to react.

Some cheered excitedly nearby, others exclaimed in surprise, and a few emerged from the main hall, gathering in small groups, waiting to take photos.

Incense still burned in the bronze censers shaped like beast heads, its faint smoke curling upward. In the snowy weather, its traces grew fainter, pale and illusory.

Xie Qingman loved snowy days.

Snow never fell in Hong Kong, so every year she would go to Courchevel to ski and skydive, waiting for snowfall at the White Horse Manor. Alternatively, she would fly to Northern Europe with friends for Christmas, drinking Margaux Cabernet Sauvignon, unwrapping gifts under mistletoe, soaking in hot springs in Iceland, and watching the auroras and stars meet in the night sky.

Unlike today’s unexpected encounter with the scenery.

She framed the first snow in her phone’s camera.

The two stood under an ancient tree, its dense pine branches shielding them from most of the falling snow.

Perhaps it was because they were in a temple that he and she could stand together so peacefully.

Watching her capture the scene, Ye Yansheng’s eyes darkened with an indescribable emotion.

He suddenly responded to her earlier skepticism: It’s not devout enough. But what is sincerity, anyway?

That’s because you’ve had smooth sailing and need nothing, Xie Qingman scoffed softly, inwardly dismissing his remark. If there ever comes a day when you desire something, I’m afraid no one can avoid being mundane.

Upon hearing this, Ye Yansheng merely let out a low chuckle.

Praying to gods and worshiping Buddhas.

He repeated the phrase slowly, lacing his tone with a hint of mockery.

His eyes cold and his smile faint, he cast a sweeping glance over the golden statues and jade figures in the temple, uttering his audacious words with an air of nonchalance:

Praying to gods and worshiping Buddhas is inferior to praying to me.

Xie Qingman’s fingers twitched slightly, and she instinctively turned to look at him.

Under the dimly lit dome of the sky, the air felt thin. The fresh snow, crisp and dense, fell softly in the serene, distant chime of the evening bell.

The faint light outlined the man’s tall, upright figure, unable to conceal the cold melancholy and arrogance surrounding him.

Ivy!

A familiar voice called from not far away, interrupting her thoughts. Xiang Baozhu stood under the courtyard gate, waving in Xie Qingman’s direction.

My friend is here.

Xie Qingman paused. She wasn’t particularly close to him, so saying goodbye would feel somewhat presumptuous.

I’ll take my leave now.

Ye Yansheng glanced at her, his eyes dark and unreadable. He didn’t respond but instead signaled to someone behind him with a look.

A few meters away stood his subordinate.

His subordinate, understanding the cue, stepped forward and handed a black umbrella to Xie Qingman.

The other party’s attire and behavior were extremely low-key; before this, Xie Qingman hadn’t even noticed anyone following her. Yet his strong, upright frame carried a palpable tension, with gun calluses on his index finger and the web of his thumb—clear indicators that this man was skilled and likely had military experience.

Ye Yansheng tilted his chin slightly toward her, his tone calm. Take it.

At this point, putting on airs would seem absurd. Xie Qingman didn’t feign reluctance either. Fine, I’ll return it when our paths cross again.

Return it? Ye Yansheng raised an eyebrow.

He didn’t care about the umbrella itself—he was just curious where she planned to find him for its return.

I’ll mail it back to Barker Road, Xie Qingman replied without looking up, answering without hesitation. But it’ll have to wait until my next trip abroad.

With a snap, the umbrella ribs expanded.

The black umbrella in Xie Qingman’s hand pierced through the snow-laden wind, the flakes tearing through the air like scattered cotton.

Holding the umbrella with one hand, she typed a response to Xiang Baozhu’s urgent message with the other, completely missing the fleeting emotion in Ye Yansheng’s eyes.

Just as she turned to leave, his voice stopped her: Give me your phone.

Huh?

Her movements outpaced her thoughts—Xie Qingman complied almost instinctively.

But the moment she extended it, she sensed the impropriety and hesitated, her hand hovering mid-air in an awkward half-retreat.

So obedient, Ye Yansheng chuckled.

There was a hint of mischief in his laugh, mixed with an indescribable languid charm.

He gave her no time to second-guess. Dropping his shoulder slightly, he leaned halfway under the umbrella and, following her motion, cupped the phone in one hand to type a few characters.

Only after sending a friend request via the search function did he release her—smoothly, seamlessly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. So fluid that no one had time to register how peculiarly intimate those few seconds felt—

Her fingertips had been enveloped in his palm.

The contrast between their hands was striking: his palm was broad and powerful, easily engulfing hers, making her slender fingers appear all the more delicate.

Much like the difference in their builds.

Even with deliberately gentle pressure, his grip felt effortlessly controlling—firm, restrictive, and so intensely present it was inescapable.

Xie Qingman wanted to step back.

But she suppressed the reflex:

He had already created distance; reacting now would be unnecessary, almost like overcompensating.

I don’t often stay on Barker Road. And,—Ye Yansheng noted her stiffness, his lips quirking in a faint, ambiguous smile as he shifted topics—your friend is waiting.

A new message popped up on her phone screen:

Isabella:

【What! Are! You! Doing! A Yin, are you trying to freeze your brilliantly clever friend to death in this icy wilderness?!】

A perfectly normal reminder. But since Xiang Baozhu occasionally used her real name, he seized the opportunity to add:

A Yin.

His voice was cool, his tone not particularly affectionate, yet tinged with a trace of amusement—that single A Yin felt unbearably intimate.

Like the lingering afterglow of an intense entanglement, ambiguously captivating.

A tingling sensation shot up from behind her ears.

Damn it.

Xie Qingman shot Ye Yansheng a glare, her eyes holding a blend of feigned and genuine reproach.

Silently, she lowered the black umbrella, cutting off his line of sight.

They passed each other.

A soft laugh trailed behind her, betraying his amusement.

Xie Qingman pretended not to hear, hurrying through the curtain of snow toward Xiang Baozhu, who stood waiting under the opposite courtyard gate.

What were you talking about for so long?

Xiang Baozhu glanced suspiciously behind her, her gaze inadvertently falling on the umbrella in Xie Qingman’s hand.

The carved agarwood handle bore subtle patterns, its base adorned with a black-gold beast head clutching a Kashmir cornflower blue sapphire in its jaws. An unfamiliar Pasotti design—likely custom-made.

Who was that? Xiang Baozhu couldn’t contain her curiosity. You two seemed quite familiar.

A stranger.

Don’t fool me. What stranger would lend out such an expensive umbrella… Xiang Baozhu eyed her suspiciously. And why would you stand so close to a stranger while talking?

But the person had already vanished into the distance, leaving no trace.

No matter how curious she was, Xiang Baozhu couldn’t chase after them for answers.

Xie Qingman had no interest in feeding her gossip. She merely smiled lightly. Really, we’re not acquainted. We just exchanged a few words.

They were meant to be strangers with no connection.

Inside the temple, Buddhist chants resonated as snow drifted through the courtyard. Gazing at the heavy snowfall, Xie Qingman’s mind echoed with his words—

Rather than praying to gods and Buddhas, you’d be better off seeking help from me.

How audacious.

Her gaze lowered, delicate lashes fluttering like cicada wings, veiling the emotions in her eyes.

Ambition and desire surged wildly within her.

Yet they flickered in and out of existence, buried beneath the heavy snow.

–

The next day, at Beijing Capital International Airport, VIP terminal.

The lounge was tranquil, the faint lingering fragrance in the air subtly intensified by the warm breeze, creating a mildly intoxicating illusion.

Xie Qingman rested with closed eyes while waiting.

Thanks to Xiang Baozhu, her previous day had been a relentless marathon.

After leaving the temple, she attended a perfume launch gala, soaked in a private hot spring, and on the way back, dropped by a friend’s newly opened club to show support. Bored this morning, Xiang Baozhu had impulsively ordered a Bisten series black-and-white monogram hard trunk and this year’s runway Arc de Triomphe piece. LV representatives even visited to conduct a flower arrangement tutorial for her…

Time slipped away until they reached the airport. Not long after settling in, a call that hadn’t gone through in the morning finally connected.

What is it?

Just remembered to give you a heads-up—trust lawsuits are notoriously difficult to win.

Xie Qingman kept her eyes closed, resting the back of her hand against her forehead, her tone laced with irritation. If that approach worked, you wouldn’t have had the chance to play the devoted grandson in front of the old lady.

Obtaining a court injunction to restructure the family trust could indeed purge many upper-level influences.

But that path was practically impassable.

Although she preferred to be a hands-off manager and let others take full control, the commotion in Hong Kong had grown too conspicuous. External speculation and media reports were proliferating, making it impossible to remain idle.

On the other end of the line came a lazy chuckle, tinged with mockery and a hint of warning: The old lady isn’t likely to appeal to familial bonds with you.

Xie Qingman opened her eyes.

Watching the light pierce through the glass, casting peculiar shadows, she curled her lips soundlessly. Her eyes gleamed with cold mockery:

True. When it comes down to it, the blood of the Xie family still runs through my veins.

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