Chapter 103: Can Purify the Heart

The indigo tiles and the clear white walls, the verdant bamboo branches and the young man in white, so handsome—all before me seemed insulated from the clatter of the bustling world, so serene that only the sound of boiling water could be heard.

Gurgle gurgle, the sound was ceaseless.

Atop the small red clay stove, although there was no green plum wine, the water inside the purple clay teapot was churning, constantly emitting white steam which quickly dispersed into the greenery around.

The young monk tending to the stove wore old, white clothes, as if draped in the ancient hue of moonlight, his motions leisurely as he lightly fanned with his feather fan, his drooping eyebrows softening the handsome lines of his face, a dot of cinnabar at the center of his brow, tiny as a grain of rice, brilliant, tranquil, and exquisite.