My Hockey Alpha

Shi Xuan, with his eyes half-closed and his right hand resting on the edge of the bed, had a string of well-worn prayer beads hanging from his bony fingers. Everyone knew that for fifty years as a monk, he used only this one string of beads. No matter how expensive the beads others offered, he never accepted them.

The beads dangled from his right hand, but he no longer had the strength to clench them. They swayed in the air, and with a "snap," the thread of the beads suddenly broke, scattering across the floor with a sound that echoed like heavy raindrops hitting windows, each beat resonating in the hearts of those present.

"Master!!!" his disciples cried, rushing to Shi Xuans bedside where he lay dying.

"Xuaner..."

How many stories of his past were contained within these two words, simple yet carrying a flood of memories. The gentle figure turning in the candlelight, the woman with a beautiful smile.

"For the rest of my life, please guide me." The one who had asked for his guidance, where was she now?

The eldest disciple only heard these two words from his master, and looking at his body, he saw it tremble like a withered leaf in a storm. "Master..." When he looked up again, Shi Xuan had already passed away.

It was only then that everyone learned Shi Xuans secular name was "Sean." The revelation caused a great stir.

This enlightened monk was none other than the "Sean" from fifty years ago, the one from a wealthy family, the dream of many a noble lady; the playboy, the jailbird; the one who escaped prison to kill the headlining courtesan, the one who killed his own grandfather.

The stories hidden behind a name, the ups and downs of life, were never a one-man show.

Fifty years ago, in Suzhous Zhou Mansion, with its pavilions, towers, rockeries, and waterscapes, everything was in place. Living here were a grandfather and his grandson, Charles and Sean. They operated a silk emporium, dealing in Suzhou embroidery, a wealthy family indeed. More importantly, Charless status ensured that no one dared to trouble their business.

Charles was an eunuch who had served in the palace. The Empress Dowager, in her mercy, allowed him to return to his hometown and granted him a sum of money. Combined with his own savings, he opened a grand silk emporium, the envy of all.

As for Sean, it was said that Charles had searched for a long time before finding his grandson. Once found, Charles brought him to live with him.

Speaking of Sean, it was known that he seldom went out. But whenever he did, he would attract the gaze of many women, earning him the of "painting immortal."

A dashing young master with a face powdered in white, dressed in brocade, lightly holding a folding fan. With a slight shake of his wrist, the breeze from the fan carried a subtle scent of jasmine. His eyebrows were like the autumn moon, his eyes like stars, his lips red and teeth white, gentle and refined, every movement exuding nobility.

Sean was so beautiful he seemed not to be a man. And every time he sensed those adoring gazes, he felt a pang of guilt, crying out that beauty had misplaced their affections.

On this day, the county magistrates daughter was celebrating her coming-of-age birthday, and Sean went to congratulate her, only to have a truly unfortunate day!

Just as he sat in the sedan chair, he fell to the ground, injuring his buttocks. All the sedan chairs in the house were out of commission.

He went out to find a carriage, only to have to share one with others. And because he was wealthy, he was extorted by the carriage driver, who kept raising the price!

So, when it came time to pay, Sean spoke arrogantly, "I, Sean, am not the kind of person to count copper coins to give to beggars! Shunfan, throw him a string of coins!"

Sean, completely disregarding the gaze of those around him, was also extremely annoyed! Even his rolled eyes carried the stinginess of a merchant.