Ming Mansion, front yard reception hall.
Xia Chan nodded off, her head bobbing, suddenly waking with a start. She quickly slapped her face with both hands to perk herself up.
The old monk, sitting cross-legged alone beneath the post, continued to chant scriptures with his rosary in hand, motionless.
The old monk was certainly not a good person, but her sister had instructed her not to do anything unnecessary, to avoid turning nothing into something, and to simply keep a wary eye on him.
Xia Chan propped her head up and continued to stare at the back of the old monk's head, her eyelids gradually battling to stay open.
At this moment, the others had split into two groups, taking turns to rest.
Skinny tossed and turned, unable to sleep; closing his eyes made his heart race, and he felt restless all over. He kept recalling the stories his mother used to tell him about the Ming Mansion, as well as his mother's lifelong obsession with Aunt Huilan.
