Fragrant incense curled through the air.

The meditation room was extraordinarily quiet, with only the soft scratching of writing.

Yaoying rested her chin in her hand, staring at the brush in Tanmolouqie’s hand for a long while.

He didn’t speak, and neither did she.

Banruo entered carrying a large stack of books, kneeling before the desk to organize them. Yaoying remained motionless, prompting him to glance at her, gesturing for her to leave and not disturb Tanmolouqie.

Yaoying looked up at Tanmolouqie.

“Leave.”

Tanmolouqie stopped writing and spoke softly, though his words were directed at Banruo.

Banruo looked bewildered, set down the books, and respectfully withdrew, throwing a reproachful glare at Yaoying before leaving.

Yaoying ignored him, her bright eyes focused intently on Tanmolouqie, lost in observation.

Tanmolouqie kept his eyes lowered, picking up his brush again. He wrote several characters before realizing he was copying sutras instead of reviewing official documents.

Half the silk was covered in sutra text.

His face remained impassive as he stopped writing, moved the silk aside, and took up a blank sheet of lotus-patterned paper.

“When Haidou Aling was set to attack the Holy City, the Princess’s return involved great risk,” Tanmolouqie suddenly said.

“The Princess should have stayed in Sand City.”

Yaoying made a sound of acknowledgment and said: “Master’s strategic planning was thorough. Whether I returned or not wouldn’t have affected the bigger picture, but Haidou Aling had such incredible luck that I feared something unexpected might happen. With the Regent far away in Samu Valley, unable to attend to the Holy City, I decided to return.”

Tanmolouqie raised his eyes: “I did not mean to reproach the Princess.”

Yaoying looked at him, “I understand. Master is concerned for my safety, afraid something might happen to me.”

She paused, “I also worry for Master’s safety, afraid something might happen to Master.”

Silence filled the room for a long moment.

Tanmolouqie gazed at her, his eyes clear and mild. After a moment of silence, he shifted his gaze away, “Thank you for the Princess’s concern.”

Yaoying smiled, “Master has emerged from seclusion. Knowing Master is safe puts my mind at ease.”

Tanmolouqie lowered his head, looking at the paper, his eyes deep, and asked: “Where has the Princess’s brother reached?”

Yaoying came back to herself and said: “According to Yang Qian’s letter, he’s coming directly to the royal court. I don’t know his exact location and fear missing him, so I’ve sent several teams of personal guards to meet him. Now that the crisis in the Holy City is resolved, I’ll depart immediately to wait for him in Sand City. With the Northern Rong in chaos, it’s the perfect opportunity for the Western army to reclaim lost territory. After I meet my brother, we’ll join up with Yang Qian.”

She didn’t know Li Zhongqian’s exact whereabouts now. Since he knew she was at the royal court, she had dispatched several teams of personal guards to wait at all possible routes he might take, arranging to meet in Sand City to ensure they wouldn’t miss each other. With the Northern Rong territories in such chaos, she didn’t want any further complications.

Tanmolouqie focused on writing, his kasaya sleeve brushing across the desk.

Despite his deliberate avoidance and various complications, he still couldn’t avoid her coming to bid farewell in person.

“I’ll have the temple troops escort the Princess to Sand City.”

He said coolly, his tone cold.

Yaoying waited a while, seeing his complete indifference, and sat up straighter, speaking each word deliberately: “Master’s deep kindness and righteousness toward me these past days will forever remain in my heart.”

Tanmolouqie looked up at her, his face expressionless, his eyes showing neither joy nor sorrow, without a trace of worldly sentiment.

“It was nothing worth mentioning. The Princess is blessed by heaven and need not dwell on it.”

Yaoying met his gaze, their eyes locked. His jade eyes were clear and distant, and she smiled slightly, rising to take her leave.

“Master, I’m leaving.”

Her voice was gentle.

“Take care.”

Tanmolouqie made a soft sound of acknowledgment, lowering his head to continue reviewing memorials.

Yaoying walked step by step out of the meditation room, out of the courtyard, and looked back. The hall doors were open, the felt curtains hung high, and Tanmolouqie sat at his desk, golden light floating on his kasaya, ethereal and sacred as if seated in a lofty Buddha hall.

She stood lost in thought for a moment before turning to leave.

Before the corridor, light and shadow intertwined, her ornaments tinkling, her pomegranate-red skirts rustling softly as she gradually disappeared from Tanmolouqie’s view.

Only dappled tree shadows and a faint sweet fragrance remained. On the walls along the corridor, the green bodhi treasure trees grew thick and verdant, elegant and solemn.

He set down his brush, bathed in soft golden light, sitting alone in melancholy.

…

In the afternoon, the room was unlit and dim.

Footsteps sounded at the side door.

Bisuo crept stealthily into the hall, “My Lord, I specifically left through the main gate, walked around outside the city, and changed clothes before returning. The Princess shouldn’t be suspicious…”

He had disguised himself as Su Dangu, leading the leopard past Li Yaoying, riding out of the city, and taking a large detour to make everyone believe the Regent had gone to pursue Khan Wahan.

As Bisuo spoke while entering the meditation room, he suddenly felt a fierce killing intent and stopped abruptly, raising his head.

Tanmolouqie sat at his desk, holding his prayer beads, expressionless, cold light flickering in his jade eyes.

“Has she left?”

He asked, his voice deep.

Bisuo’s heart sank as he carefully studied his expression, not daring to step closer: “My Lord… the Princess just left the city.”

He had seen Yaoying leave the Holy City surrounded by her guards as he returned.

“My Lord, if you command it, I can bring the Princess back.”

Tanmolouqie’s gaze was icy as he said softly: “I am a member of the Sangha.”

Bisuo sighed inwardly, not daring to persuade further, and carefully reminded him: “My Lord, you should release your qi.”

He had emerged from seclusion before dispersing his qi, and while still ill. Now he was truly at risk of losing control.

Tanmolouqie stood and walked toward the entrance of the secret passage, his figure stern and murderous.

The secret passage was dark and narrow.

He descended the long stone steps. A golden arc of light flashed in the passage, followed by the leopard’s low growl as its furry head came close, gently nuzzling his palm.

Tanmolouqie’s aura grew increasingly cold. He ignored the leopard, walking alone in the darkness, passing through the long, narrow, winding tunnel, avoiding stone crevices that could barely fit one person. The path suddenly opened up ahead, with daylight falling through cracks in the cave ceiling, illuminating the outline of the cave. Inside was a hot spring, its waters clear and sharp, steam rising vigorously, shrouding the entire cave in misty vapor.

He walked to the stone platform and sat cross-legged, cultivating and regulating his breath.

Time passed unknowingly as the mist dampened his kasaya. Several streams of moonlight flowed down like water, falling on the wet stone platform before him.

In the stillness, a series of footsteps suddenly came from deep within the dark passage, something soft stepping on the wet blue stones.

A blurry figure gradually approached the cave.

Tanmolouqie opened his eyes, dark blue light flickering in his pupils, and called out clearly: “Ali.”

The sound stopped.

Tanmolouqie continued cultivating. After a moment, the dark light in his eyes faded and he slowly stood, removing his kasaya. This cave was his place of recuperation. After each time he dispersed his qi, his legs would swell painfully, and the hot spring water could ease his suffering.

A faint sound came from behind the mist, followed by suppressed breathing.

Tanmolouqie suddenly stopped undressing, raising his eyes, his gaze electric as he swept it toward the corner.

“Come out.”

The dark figure trembled slightly, slowly emerging from the darkness. As moonlight flowed quietly and mist dispersed, her beautiful features gradually became clear.

She stood in the cold moonlight, her hair thick and black as lacquer, her skin white as snow, her eyes bright and rippling with emotion.

He stood on the stone platform, his kasaya half removed as he prepared to step into the pool.

Through the curling, damp mist, their eyes met.

Tanmolouqie said nothing.

…

Water trickled softly.

Yaoying stood before the stone platform, enduring Tanmolouqie’s ice-cold gaze, sweating profusely from embarrassment.

She had planned to go to Sand City to wait for Li Zhongqian right after Su Dangu and Bisuo returned to the Holy City, and had already packed her belongings. After seeing Tanmolouqie, she left with her guards, but just outside the city, temple troops found her, saying Banruo had something very important to give her and insisted she return in person to receive it.

The troops spoke with such urgency that Yaoying, remembering something she had forgotten to tell Tanmolouqie, turned her horse back toward the city.

At the King’s Temple, Banruo acted mysteriously, sending others away and leading her to a secluded spot, telling her to wait while he delivered this item that no one else could see.

Yaoying waited in the long corridor for ages with no sign of Banruo. Seeing it was almost dark, she suspected he had forgotten about her and walked around the corridor hoping to find a temple soldier to ask. There was no one around, but a shadow moved in the corner as a leopard suddenly leaped down from the wall, snarling and roaring at her.

She was startled, realizing Banruo had led her into the leopard’s territory. Her hair stood on end, but before she could retreat, it was too late.

The leopard arched its back, forcing her down the stone steps, its eyes glinting with cold light. Afraid of provoking it, she stepped backward gradually, losing her way until she was forced into a narrow passage. Seeing a faint light at the other end that might be an exit, and hearing voices, she hurried toward it.

Then she saw a tall man in the mist with his back to her, removing his kasaya to reveal shoulders and back covered in fine sweat.

In the moonlight, he stood naked, the muscles of his back clearly defined, as if coated in oil, gleaming with a honey-colored light. His kasaya was already half-wet, the contours from his waist to his long legs clearly outlined, containing vigorous strength.

Yaoying froze for a moment before quickly holding her breath to withdraw, but Tanmolouqie looked toward her hiding place.

“Come out.”

He said, his handsome face cold and dignified in the mist.

Yaoying couldn’t help but shiver, goosebumps rising on her skin as she walked out and smiled at him, “Master, I was trying to avoid Ali and accidentally stumbled in here.”

Bisuo had previously told her that when Tanmolouqie’s legs were afflicted, he would soak in the hot spring to ease the swelling, especially when he had to handle state affairs while injured and ill.

This cave must be that hot spring.

Tanmolouqie gazed at Yaoying, his kasaya half-removed, his eyes cold as ice.

Yaoying’s scalp tingled under his stare. She had only accidentally seen him undressing, it wasn’t a big deal, right? She had seen him before… he was a monk, he wouldn’t care.

As she was muttering to herself, a soft rustling sound of falling kasaya echoed through the stone cave.

Tanmolouqie watched her, his jade eyes calm as water, and expressionlessly released his fingers, letting the kasaya wrapped around his waist slide down.

Yaoying froze, her eyes widening: What?!

He was still undressing?

She made to step back, but Tanmolouqie’s gaze followed her, settling on her face. Though not fierce, his eyes carried a heavy, oppressive force.

“Come here.”

He said calmly.

Yaoying stood motionless.

Tanmolouqie suddenly fell backward.

Yaoying’s heart jumped, and she instinctively rushed forward several steps.

Tanmolouqie steadied himself against the stone platform and raised his eyes to look at her.

Yaoying noticed something strange in his gaze as if he didn’t recognize her. She asked gently: “Master, what’s wrong? Should I call for Banruo?”

Tanmolouqie ignored her, stood up, and stepped into the hot spring.

Yaoying looked on in confusion as he simply soaked himself in the hot water. She turned to leave, but he suddenly raised his head, his gaze fixed directly on her, poised as if ready to pounce if she moved an inch.

She looked back – the leopard crouched in the corner, its eyes fixed on her with a sinister gleam.

Yaoying stood still.

“Master?”

She called out again.

Tanmolouqie remained silent, soaking in the spring water. Sweat continuously ran down his face and body, his muscles tense, brows furrowed, his expression seeming both pained and lucid as his jade eyes stared at her unblinkingly.

Yaoying glanced at his legs under the water and gasped – they were visibly swollen.

“Master is having an attack? Is there medicine? I’ll call Banruo!”

She turned around, scanning the surroundings, and spotted a pile of medicine bottles on a nearby stone table. She hurried over. Having cared for him before, she found the familiar bottle, sniffed its contents, bit open one pill to taste it herself, and then poured several into her palm. Returning to the stone platform, she fed Tanmolouqie the medicine.

He swallowed the pills, looking at her with particular coldness as he gripped her wrist.

“Master?”

Yaoying leaned closer to examine his complexion.

In the next instant, he suddenly exerted force. Caught off guard, she felt the world spin as she was pulled into the hot spring. The warm water surged around her, immediately soaking her clothes which clung tightly to her skin.

Yaoying coughed from choking on water, wiped the water from her face, and looked up to meet his calm eyes.

He leaned against the pool’s edge, coldly watching her, his hands around her waist burning like hot iron.

Yaoying remained dazed for a long while. A cool breeze blew past, making her shiver as her wet hair clung to her temples and neck. She found herself lying in Tanmolouqie’s arms while he held her, still expressionless.

He was naked, while she wore soaked clothes. The spring water was slick, his burning palms pressed against her waist, only a layer of wet fabric between his fingertips and her skin.

Yaoying stared blankly at Tanmolouqie.

If not for his completely calm face, rigid body, and utterly still eyes, serious as a meditating Buddha, she would have suspected he did this deliberately.

She struggled several times, trying to pry Tanmolouqie’s fingers loose in the water.

He let out a muffled groan, his brows tightly knit.

The force around her waist suddenly loosened, and Yaoying quickly retreated. As water splashed, he said something in a low voice.

Yaoying leaned closer: “Master?”

“It hurts.”

He looked at her and said softly, sweat sliding down his face, his eyes still as a deep well, showing no trace of pain in his expression.

But he had clearly said it hurt.

Had he also been enduring pain earlier when speaking with her during the day?

Yaoying’s throat tightened.

…

Mist filled the air as moonlight poured down from the cave ceiling.

Tanmolouqie raised his head to look at Yaoying, his gaze desolate as if watching a dream.

He thought this was a dream.

Like in previous dreams, a fierce ghost had taken her form, appearing again in his dreams, smiling coyly at him, calling him softly, sitting in his embrace, soft arms around his neck, applying gentle pressure to make him lean down.

Before, she would speak sweet words, coquettishly protest with charm, and use countless alluring methods to tempt him, persuading him to abandon his path of cultivation.

He remained unmoved.

Today, in the silvery moonlight, her gaze was full of tender concern.

“Master, does it hurt?”

A subtle fragrance filled his arms, different from the spring water’s coolness.

Dreams are dreams precisely because they embody one’s desires, one’s heart demons.

Tanmolouqie faced the illusion in his dream, his expression unchanged, and said softly: “It hurts.”

This was his first time conversing with an illusion.

The illusion stared at him, stunned.

After a while, she asked again: “Master, what can I do to make you feel better?”

Tanmolouqie gazed at her for a long time.

The illusion was so real, every smile and frown extraordinarily vivid.

He said: “Stay, keep me company.”

Only by facing the illusion, facing one’s desires, would it disappear.

The next moment, Tanmolouqie closed his eyes, silently reciting sutras, waiting for the illusion to disperse.

…

Water dripped steadily.

Tanmolouqie kept his eyes tightly shut, sweat running down his bare shoulders, completely motionless.

Yaoying climbed out of the hot spring, her clothes completely wet, shivering.

The leopard lay at the cave entrance, its eyes gleaming like phosphorus in the darkness, occasionally making threatening muffled sounds.

Yaoying looked around. She couldn’t distinguish between the winding dark passages, and now it was dark with no lamps lit in the secret passages. Without guidance, she might get lost.

Moreover, with Tanmolouqie in this state, she’d better stay with him until he regained consciousness.

Yaoying sighed helplessly, grabbed a neatly folded kasaya from the stone table, wrapped it around herself, walked to the stone table, found the flint, and after much effort finally lit the wood shavings.

The cave was equipped with a charcoal brazier – Tanmolouqie often soaked in the hot spring here.

As the fire rose, she felt uncomfortable in her wet, sticky clothes. She glanced back at Tanmolouqie, who sat cross-legged in the pool, making no sound.

She moved the brazier to a corner, hid behind a protruding boulder, removed her soaked clothes, put on the kasaya, then picked up the kasaya Tanmolouqie had just removed and hung it by the brazier to dry.

The charcoal fire crackled as she warmed up. She returned to the stone platform, dampened cloth, and gently pressed it to Tanmolouqie’s lips.

Tanmolouqie opened his eyes, jade gaze fixed directly on her.

Soft fingertips gently brushed across his lips.

Yaoying smiled at him and asked softly: “Master, are you feeling any better?”

He remained silent.

Seeing he didn’t seem fully conscious yet, Yaoying stopped asking. She sat by the stone platform, occasionally leaning over to examine his complexion, worried he might faint.

The night passed, and the moonlight overhead gradually faded as pale dawn light leaked into the cave, casting dappled light across the ground.

The spring water remained warm. Tanmolouqie finished his meditation and opened his eyes, his gaze sweeping across the stone platform before suddenly freezing.

Several strands of long hair fell into the pool, the ends wet and tangled together, floating with the water’s movement, softly wrapping around his arm and brushing against his bare chest.

His gaze moved up along the hair.

Glossy black hair, smooth clear forehead, curled long lashes, snow-white nose tip, slightly pouting lips, delicate chin… the young woman lay on the edge of the stone platform, head pillowed on her arms, sleeping soundly, her ink-black hair spread across half the platform.

She wore a loose monk’s robe, the sleeve falling back to reveal half of her jade-white arm, tightly wrapped with a string of cool, clear bodhi prayer beads.

This was not a dream.

Tanmolouqie raised his eyes as everything he had seen in last night’s dream floated through his mind.

Why was she here when she should have left the Holy City?

Each time he let her go, she invariably returned.

From deep in the dark passage came the sound of light footsteps.

Bisuo’s figure appeared at the cave entrance. Hearing the footsteps, the leopard rose and approached. He threw a piece of cooked meat to distract it, then stepped into the cave. Seeing the scene inside, his eyes widened.

Yaoying leaned against the stone platform, wearing an oversized monk’s robe, her hair loose, cheeks flushed, and a string of prayer beads on her arm.

Tanmolouqie sat in the pool, naked, gazing down at her. Sensing Bisuo’s gaze, he glanced up at him.

Bisuo shuddered, set down the tray he was carrying, and silently withdrew.