Quick Transmigration: The Yandere Boss Pretends to Be Well After He's Gone Mad

Jiang Xiyu slept soundly through the night, his body drenched in sweat, seemingly both awake and drowsy.

He seemed to have fallen into a cold, misty dream, in which he remained trapped for an unknown amount of time until a distant bell rang out, its lingering sound like a veil being lifted from the mist, instantly clearing his vision to reveal a serene and solemn meditation room.

The meditation room was spotless, with dappled shadows cast by the windows. Occasionally, a gentle breeze would drift in, stirring the pages of scriptures on the table. The words would be reflected in the shimmering light, but would vanish like smoke in an instant, leaving no trace.

Only the incense burning in front of the Buddha shrine wafted gently, intertwining with the floating light and shadows in the air.

Through the faint, ethereal incense smoke, the golden Buddha statue seemed to smile compassionately at him, and in the rising smoke, its lowered eyelashes seemed to tremble for a moment.

He looked at the golden statue in the shrine and, for some reason, felt a strange sense of familiarity.

He couldn't help but step forward and slowly reach out his hand toward the lowered eyes of the Buddha statue.

Just as the fingertips were about to touch it, in the next instant, the golden robes of the Buddha in the shrine lit up, radiating dazzling light.

He subconsciously closed his eyes, and when he opened them again after the Buddha's light dissipated, he saw a Buddha sitting cross-legged in the shrine, holding a lotus flower in his arms.

They sat embracing each other, their limbs intertwined.

The Buddha statue lowers its eyes, seemingly looking at the lotus image in its arms, or perhaps at him, with a compassionate expression.

With just that one glance, as sharp as dew and as powerful as lightning, a shiver ran through his entire body.

The fragrant mist surrounding him seemed to have transformed into invisible shackles, trapping him within them, trapped within that cold and indifferent gaze.

Everything is quiet.

The surrounding shimmering light had dimmed at some point, and the candlelight in the meditation room flickered red.

Suddenly, the double-bodied Buddha statue in the niche turned into a wisp of green smoke.

He looked over and saw that the wisp of smoke had transformed into a familiar figure.

He stood with his back to him at the table by the window, his tall figure blocking his view.

He instinctively wanted to walk closer to him, but saw the figure bend down, as if embracing someone.

Then, he turned around, holding the person in his arms.

A face as bright as the moon, devoid of sorrow or joy.

And the person in his arms...

His pupils constricted sharply when he saw the sleeping face of the person in his arms.

The figure approached, carrying the person in his arms, and as they passed each other, the faint scent of a temple lingered in the air.

His throat was dry, and he opened his lips, but no sound came out.

Suddenly, my vision blurred for a moment, and I felt a dizzying sensation as the world spun around me. When I regained my senses, I found myself completely weak and unable to open my eyes.

He seemed to be in someone's arms, and then gently laid down by someone...

After a long while, a pair of hands gently stroked his eyebrows and eyes, finally resting on the side of his face.

The warmth was both near and far, and above my eyes, it seemed as if a dark shadow was slowly descending.

Everything around seemed to stop—breathing, senses, and everything else…

What is he going to do?

What was he thinking?

Could it be his imagination?

These hidden and unsettling questions seem to be separated only by a thin veil, like the last wing of a cicada.

It's as if a gust of wind could reveal the answer.

Before the spring breeze arrives, the distant clock strikes the hour.

The moment the bell rang, it shattered this hazy and fleeting dream.

Jiang Xiyu suddenly awoke from the shock.

He opened his eyes, his pupils appearing empty and unfocused.

After a long while, as if remembering something, he suddenly sat up and looked around the meditation room.

The windowsill, the desk, the Buddhist grotto... everything was similar to what he had dreamed of. The only thing missing was the figure from his dream who had carried him from the desk to the meditation bed.

He vaguely remembered the warmth of her embrace, and the hands that had caressed his brows and eyes...

The dream, both real and unreal, left him momentarily unable to distinguish between reality and dream.

The only thing that can be discerned is the throbbing and heaviness in my heart caused by the dream.

Therefore, in the face of a heart so heavy it's almost suffocating, those barely perceptible throbbing moments seem... utterly insignificant.

Jiang Xiyu recalled it for a moment, then immediately forgot about the offense.

He looked at the empty meditation room, and felt that the shimmering sunlight was making his eyes hurt.

Jiang Xiyu's pupils narrowed slightly, then he closed his eyes and silently repented for his sins.

After a long while, he got off the couch, just about to go out to clear his head, when he caught a glimpse of the messy bedding on the couch and stopped abruptly.

He hesitated for a moment, then frowned.

After tidying up the meditation bed, Jiang Xiyu fled the meditation room as if escaping.

……

Shiga walked out of the main hall, and Chan followed behind him, hesitating to speak several times.

After the little cat demon returned, the Buddha was inseparable from him almost every day.

For some reason, Jinglian felt that the Buddhist disciple did not seem to have gained enlightenment from this practice; on the contrary, he seemed to be becoming more and more immersed in it.

Not only did they indulge in the illusory companionship, but they also became attached to this spiritual practice.

Jinglian had already resolved not to interfere in the cause and effect between the two, but when necessary, he had to offer a few words of advice from the sidelines.

The Buddha said: Desire is like carrying a torch against the wind; it will surely burn your hand.

Excessive indulgence will only make people more and more irrational and even unable to maintain their rationality. One day, they will also suffer the consequences.

Jinglian didn't want the Buddhist disciple to experience the many pains that love brings for such fleeting pleasure. Furthermore, the presence of evil thoughts made him fear for unforeseen complications and for the disciple's life to be in danger.

So, when he reached the corridor, Jinglian composed himself. Seeing that there was no one around, he stopped Shijia and said, "Buddha's disciple, I have something to say."

Shiga stopped and looked up at him calmly.

Jinglian felt a slight pressure, but still couldn't help but say, "Buddha's disciple, I beg you to return to the Buddha Cave to cultivate."

The sacred Buddhist cave is more conducive to Buddhist practitioners' meditation and cultivation. In addition, the Buddha's light shines everywhere there. As long as the Buddhist practitioners are willing, they will soon be able to restore their magical powers and regain their golden bodies.

If we continue to wallow in this, it will probably be too late.

Concerned for his safety, Jinglian could only plead, "I know you see your feelings for the little cat demon as a form of cultivation, but the time required to comprehend this feeling is far too long, and the price is far too heavy..."

“Now, Buddha, your greed has arisen, and your evil thoughts have grown to an unknown extent. I am worried about your safety. Moreover, even if you don’t care about yourself, you should at least restore your magic power as soon as possible for the sake of the little cat demon.”

He knew that the Buddhist monk would not ignore the safety of the little cat demon.

But this matter will inevitably involve him.

Shiga lowered his eyes slightly, his gaze indifferent.

Jinglian lowered her head, pondered for a long time, and then took a step back.

His tone was heavy, as if he were resigning: "Once everything in the mortal realm is over, if the Buddhist disciple truly cannot let him go, he may be accepted as a disciple and taken into the Buddhist realm to cultivate..."

Shiga did not answer immediately; he simply raised his eyes and looked toward the meditation room.

There was silence.

After a long silence, Shiga's voice seemed to dissipate in the wind; he only uttered one sentence: "He doesn't want to..."

He is unwilling to enter the Buddhist realm; how can he be forced to do so for his own selfish reasons?