Fan Xian lowered his head and walked towards the side hall, but the corner of his eye caught the Altar of Heaven in the main hall. He was curious who was praying there that could command that middle-aged expert. He knew the other party's background must be unfathomable, and he just wanted to see the Qing Temple, so there was no need to fight for this argument, even though his name was Fan Xian.

His right hand was still covering his lips, coughing from time to time, but after he circulated his true qi around his abdomen, he confirmed that his body had not suffered any substantial damage. It was just that when the qi went in reverse, it ruptured the fragile membrane in his throat, rather than damaging his lungs or upper bronchi.

He walked and coughed, looking at the spots of blood on the white handkerchief. He thought of Lin Daiyu, thought of Su Mengzhen, thought of Zhou Yu, and thought of many coughing predecessors like Lin Qinnan—well, Lin Qinnan didn't have the tragic beauty of the first three.

By the time he reached the side hall, the true qi had already repaired the small injury by about 70 or 80 percent. Fan Xian regretfully put away the handkerchief, glanced back at the Altar of Heaven, and walked into the side hall.

The side hall was a slightly smaller temple, surrounded by a cyan stone wall, and there was no one inside. Fan Xian was slightly disappointed that he didn't see the legendary ascetic, and casually walked into the hall. He was even more disappointed to find that this temple didn't enshrine the common deities of his past life.

But on second thought, it was normal. Since they were worshiping Heaven, no one knew what Heaven looked like.

In the center of the temple stood an altar. The altar was extremely wide, with pale yellow satin hanging down to the ground, covering the bluestone slabs below.

Above the altar was a delicate porcelain incense burner, with three incense sticks inserted in it. The incense sticks were mostly burned, and the entire room was shrouded in a refreshing fragrance that calmed the mind.

Fan Xian casually strolled around the hall, his eyes sweeping over the colored paintings on the walls. He found that the style of these murals was very similar to that of later generations' oil paintings, but the deities in the pictures, whether standing on mountain peaks, floating on the sea, or meditating on volcanoes, did not have clear faces, and were slightly blurred and deformed, as if the painter had deliberately arranged it this way.

After taking a look, he found that these murals told only the ancient myths that had been mentioned in the scriptures, including things like Yu the Great controlling the floods, and some other things. But no matter how Fan Xian looked at them, they never matched the scriptures.

He shook his head, gave up the idea of finding some answers here, found a futon next to the hall, threw it in front of the altar, knelt down, put his palms together, closed his eyes, faced the rising green smoke in the incense burner, and moved his lips slightly, constantly praying.

Fan Xian in his previous life was naturally an atheist. But Fan Xian in this life was a firm believer. This change happened very naturally. Anyone who encountered his kind of strange experience would probably have the same psychological change as him.

So he knelt down very piously, praying that the ethereal Heaven, the traceless temple, could explain why he came to this world, and at the same time, he more sincerely prayed that Heaven could give him a lot of silver and a very peaceful life.

...

...

As if tangible and substantial, the green smoke suddenly dissipated slightly. Fan Xian's ears twitched slightly, as if he had heard something. He opened his eyes in disbelief, looking at the small porcelain burner on the altar that was shaking slightly, incredibly shocked. Could it be that his seemingly pious, but actually absent-minded prayer, had really been noticed by Heaven?

His gaze rested on the wide altar, and Fan Xian finally discovered the problem. A gleam of light flashed in his eyes, his left hand pressed on the boot where the dagger was hidden, and he slowly and firmly reached out his right hand and pulled open the curtain hanging under the altar.

———————————————————————————

After the curtain was pulled open, what came into Fan Xian's eyes was a scene that surprised him greatly.

A girl wearing a white right-lapel dress was squatting in a corner under the altar, looking at Fan Xian in surprise.

The girl's eyes were big and her eyes were very soft, like the calm surface of a quiet lake that made people want to sleep forever. And her features were extremely delicate and beautiful, with fair and tender skin and long eyelashes, looking like a person from a painting had walked out.

Fan Xian was stunned. His gaze stayed on the other person's face, and he gradually realized that the girl's forehead was a bit big, her nose was a bit sharp, her complexion was a bit too white, and her lips seemed to be a bit thicker than those of ordinary beauties. There were still many imperfections, but when combined together, with a slightly shy expression and a natural sense of shyness, Fan Xian's heart was still moved.

His heart was moved.

The girl curiously looked at this young man who was piously worshiping Heaven, and discovered that the other person's face was actually so beautiful, ethereal and otherworldly, even his eyelashes were so long, and she couldn't help but stare at him a few more times.

After looking at him, the girl realized that it was inappropriate. A faint red color quickly smeared on both sides of her cheeks, and then quickly spread out, even making her earlobes turn red.

But she still couldn't bear to move her eyes away, and was curious in her heart, whose young man was this, who was so good-looking.

...

...

The temple in a corner of the Qing Temple was quiet. Fan Xian's hand was still pulling the curtain, his gaze was still staying on the girl's face, and the girl had also mustered up the courage to look at him. They just looked at each other like this, not knowing how long it had been, still in silence.

Fan Xian's gaze gently swept across the girl's face, and the girl finally became too shy and slowly lowered her head. Fan Xian's gaze finally fell on the girl's lips, and he realized that the other person's lips were unusually shiny.

He curiously looked at it twice more before he discovered the reason, the reason that made him remember it for a long time afterwards - the girl was holding a greasy chicken leg in her hand, and the oil on her lips was obviously stained when she was gnawing on the chicken leg.

Such a pure and refined woman in white was actually hiding under the altar of the solemn Qing Temple to steal chicken legs! This strong contrast made Fan Xian open his mouth wide and couldn't speak for a long time.

After a long time, there was finally a sound inside and outside the altar, which was quiet, awkward, silent, and subtle.

"You...you...who are you?"

These beautiful men and women spoke at the same time, and even their slightly trembling voices were extremely similar.

It was the first time Fan Xian heard the girl's voice, and he only felt that it was soft and weak, and he couldn't feel any strength. That feeling was very comfortable, but it also made people feel very unsettled. His chest was stimulated, and he actually spat out a mouthful of blood.

"Ah!" The girl was startled when she saw him spit blood, but not because she was afraid. Extremely strong pity naturally flowed out of her eyes, as if the suffering Fan Xian had suffered was hurting in her heart.

Fan Xian looked at her worrying about him, and his heart was filled with warmth. He smiled and comforted her: "It's okay, spitting and spitting, it will become a habit."