Bisuo hurried to the great hall, where guards checked his bronze token before letting him enter.

The atmosphere in the hall was solemn and dignified, with prayer flags waving and sandalwood incense curling through the air.

The front of the hall was crowded with people. Prajña stood at the entrance announcing visitors as diplomatic envoys from various countries entered, in turn, to formally present their credentials.

Inside the hall, Buddhist chants spiraled upward as candles flickered, with Buddha statues and precious vessels gleaming golden. Tanmoluojia sat upon the dharma platform wearing crimson kasaya robes, surrounded by monks in religious garments who chanted sutras in unison. Bathed in Sanskrit chants and candlelight, his features were sharp and handsome, his expression serene, as if dwelling high among the clouds, pure and sacred.

Members of the Piluomoluo national delegation, wearing brocade clothing and golden crowns, came forward one by one to bow and worship before the Buddha statue.

After paying respects, the Piluomoluo envoy approached to bow to Tanmoluojia and then gestured to his attendants.

The sound of jingling ornaments arose as a woman stepped forward wearing a long silk dress embroidered with pearl and turquoise-trimmed vine patterns in gold and silver thread. She removed her veil and gracefully bowed.

The woman had brown skin and distinct features, with a delicate figure. Her robes were brilliantly colorful, with a jewel adorning her forehead and gold bracelets and ornaments on her neck, hands, waist, and feet. After entering the hall, she slowly raised her eyes—grey-green in color—to look at Tanmoluojia. Her gaze shifted subtly as every gesture and movement seemed to flow rhythmically with a swaying waist, creating an enchanting allure.

The members of other countries’ delegations watched her with undisguised fascination.

The Piluomoluo envoy listened with satisfaction to the barely suppressed sounds of admiration around him and said proudly, “This is Princess Manda of our humble country.”

A stir went through the crowd outside the hall, with whispered conversations.

Under everyone’s gaze, Princess Manda held a golden tray bearing flowers that were extremely rare for this season. With delicate steps, she approached the dharma platform to present the flowers. Her grey-green eyes fixed on Tanmoluojia for a moment before she suddenly smiled and lowered her gaze, appearing shy and bashful, the very picture of enchanting beauty.

The delegation members were all entranced.

Tanmoluojia’s eyes lowered slightly, his gaze sweeping briefly over Princess Manda as he gestured for monks to place the golden tray before the Buddha statue.

Princess Manda’s expression froze.

She was naturally beautiful with outstanding features. Since childhood, she had learned dance from the temple’s finest dancers, becoming exceptionally skilled. Her Dance of the Heavenly Demon could make half the noblemen in the city kneel at her feet, ready to grant her every wish. She had seen all kinds of men—from noble royalty to shrewd merchants to disciplined monks—and all men’s gazes betrayed desire when looking at her. Yet this royal court ruler’s gaze was so cold, without joy or sorrow, without a ripple of emotion.

The royal court ruler was unlike any monk she had met before. Those monks would avoid her gaze, not daring to look at her, but he didn’t waver at all. Seated on the dharma platform, looking down at her as if she were merely a flower, a clump of grass, a stone—just another ordinary person no different from others.

Such a solemn gaze Princess Manda had only seen on temple Buddha statues.

Her heart sank slightly, realizing this royal court ruler would be very difficult to move.

The envoy hadn’t noticed Princess Manda’s rigid posture and said with a smile, “Princess Manda has studied Buddhism under temple monks since childhood and is a upasika. The Princess has long admired the Buddhist Prince and has studied the sutras he translated, thinking of them day and night. The Princess has come to the royal court wishing to follow Matangi’s example and enter the temple for cultivation. We hope the Buddhist Prince will permit this.”

In an instant, the atmosphere turned silent.

People in the hall raised their heads one by one, struggling to hide the jealousy and unwillingness in their hearts: although their princesses were all beautiful, none could compare to the Indian princess. Princess Manda was not only beautiful, but every movement carried an ineffable enchanting charm. If the Indian princess stayed, other princesses would become mere background—how could the Buddhist Prince spare them a glance?

Outside the hall, Bisuo and Yuanjue frowned deeply, while Prajña, who had been announcing visitors, raised his eyebrows in anger, wanting to jump up and curse.

The Piluomoluo envoy paid no attention to the scornful looks around him, appearing quite pleased with himself. Princess Manda had visited various countries, and in each one, the kings and princes had been enchanted by her. He was confident that this time the royal court ruler would not be able to resist the Princess’s beauty.

Amid the silence, Tanmoluojia raised his eyes.

Princess Manda looked at him, feeling unexpectedly nervous.

Tanmoluojia said coolly, “Since the donor is an upasika, she should focus on studying Buddhism.”

After speaking, his gaze swept around, causing everyone in and outside the hall to hold their breath.

“Do not mention this matter again.”

His tone carried implicit authority, brooking no argument.

This time, the hall was especially quiet, everyone staring in shock, speechless for a long while.

The Piluomoluo envoy hadn’t expected Tanmoluojia to refuse so directly and was stunned, wanting to argue: if the Han Princess Wenzhao could stay, why couldn’t Princess Manda?

Before he could speak, meeting the gaze of the armed guards at the front of the hall, the envoy suddenly came to his senses, his limbs stiffening.

He had almost forgotten—the Buddhist Prince was the royal court ruler. When the Buddhist Prince refused directly and said not to mention it again, how could visiting countries dare to make trouble before him?

The Buddhist Prince could keep whoever he wanted to keep—they had no right even to question.

The envoy calmed down, wondering: Princess Manda was so beautiful, yet the Buddhist Prince wasn’t moved at all. Just what kind of extraordinary person was this Princess Wenzhao, to make the Buddhist Prince make an exception?

While he was puzzling over this, a tribal envoy couldn’t help stepping forward and calling out, “Since your country can keep the Han Princess Wenzhao, why not our princesses? We have had close relations with your country for nearly a hundred years, with deep friendship—surely we count for more than the Han territories thousands of miles away? Your country cannot show such favoritism!”

The envoy’s mouth twitched. In international relations, powerful countries could indeed show favoritism. These small tribal people were truly crude to ask such a question out loud.

While looking down at them, he raised his eyes to Tanmoluojia, wanting to hear how he would answer.

Other national envoys had the same reaction, countless gazes once again converging on Tanmoluojia.

Tanmoluojia’s expression remained calm as he said, “There is only one Matangi.”

At these words, people could hardly believe their ears, while monks in the hall also showed surprised expressions.

Outside the hall, Bisuo felt as if struck by a whip, almost unable to stand steady.

…

After receiving gifts presented by various countries, Tanmoluojia rose to leave.

The national delegations withdrew from the great hall, discussing among themselves.

Someone cast a mocking glance at the Piluomoluo envoy, who felt annoyed. Looking back at Princess Manda, he said, “We still have a chance. Once he sees your Dance of the Heavenly Demon, even the Buddhist Prince will be moved.”

Princess Manda asked softly, “Have you seen Princess Wenzhao?”

The envoy said, “No. Since the ceremony began, this princess has rarely appeared. The few times she goes out, she wears a veil—our people haven’t seen her true face.”

He gave a light laugh, his tone conveying disdain.

“How could a Han princess compare to you?”

Princess Manda shook her head: “You’re underestimating the enemy. I had my maids ask the Buddhist Prince’s guards about Princess Wenzhao. Do you know how they described Princess Wenzhao’s beauty?”

The envoy frowned.

Princess Manda said slowly, “They said Princess Wenzhao is radiantly beautiful. When they see her, they think of pomegranates and honey, of the bright moon, of the azure sea, of Jetavana Grove paved with gold. Her smile can turn every battle-hardened warrior into a youth.”

The envoy’s expression grew serious: “I underestimated the Han princess. If she is truly as beautiful as the legends say, no wonder the Buddhist Prince said there is only one Matangi.”

Princess Manda put on her veil and said, “Have your people watch Princess Wenzhao and find out what’s so special about her.”

The envoy nodded.

…

Meanwhile, just as Yao Ying returned to her courtyard, her guard immediately came forward: “Princess, have you heard? That Indian princess came to the royal temple today!”

Yao Ying started, “Indian princess?”

Was that why Yuanjue didn’t want her to go to the great hall—for fear they would quarrel?

The guard said, “Princess, I heard these delegation princesses are each more beautiful than the last. If they all stay, what will you do?”

Yao Ying shook her head, sat down inside, and took up a brush to write a letter, saying, “The Master is a high monk. No matter how beautiful those princesses are, in his eyes, they are merely physical forms.”

Once there had been an old woman with a crooked mouth and squinting eyes, ugly in appearance, worshiping outside the hall. While others kept their distance, Tanmoluojia didn’t mind her ugliness or smell at all, blessing her—in his eyes, there was no distinction between beauty and ugliness.

The guard placed a brazier near the writing desk and said softly, “Princess, even high monks are human. On the day of the martial arts competition, the Buddhist Prince will attend the ceremony as ruler. The Indian princess will dance for him then. I heard that after seeing the Indian princess’s Dance of the Heavenly Demon, even stones would be moved.”

Yao Ying’s hand stopped, “Dance of the Heavenly Demon?”

She recalled the mural “Subduing the Demon,” which included a scene depicting the Demon King sending his three beautiful daughters to tempt the Buddha. The demon women’s bodies were naked except for transparent gauze as they danced around Buddha, making seductive gestures, the very picture of alluring beauty.

“The Indian princess wants to seduce Tanmoluojia, to shake his will?”

Yao Ying’s brows furrowed slightly.

She knew Tanmoluojia wouldn’t be moved, but this matter had ultimately arisen because of her. It was precisely because he had made an exception for her that these disturbances had occurred.

Yao Ying pondered for a moment, then asked, “Is everything I requested prepared?”

The guard said, “Everything is ready. Old Qi handled it personally.”

Yao Ying nodded, took out some gold-flecked paper that the shop had recently produced, and wrote a proper birthday greeting, waiting for the ink to dry.

The next day, she took the state letters to find Yuanjue.

People along the way all stared at her.

Yao Ying thought secretly that lately, people in the royal court had been looking at her with hostility—she needed to find a way to leave the royal temple soon.

…

Yuanjue was on duty in the meditation room when he heard Yao Ying was looking for him. He told the messenger, “Please ask Princess Wenzhao to return. I’ll be free at noon.”

Tanmoluojia, who had been reviewing memorials, heard this and glanced up at him.

Yuanjue hurriedly stepped forward, bowing to explain: “My Lord, Princess Wenzhao has matters to discuss with me.”

Tanmoluojia lowered his eyes to look at the parchment and said, “Let her in, you go out to meet her.”

Yuanjue started, then acknowledged.

Soon, the messenger led Yao Ying over.

Yao Ying, not daring to disturb Tanmoluojia, stood outside the hall waiting for Yuanjue to come out. She asked quietly, “I heard that on the first day of the ceremony, ministers, common people, all tribes, and delegations will present gifts to the Buddhist Prince?”

Yuanjue nodded.

Yao Ying asked further, “The Indian princess will dance that day?”

Yuanjue’s expression changed suddenly, and he said in one breath, “The Lord has already said the Princess is the only Matangi. The Indian princess won’t succeed—Princess, please don’t worry!”

Yao Ying was stunned.

“What does it mean to be the only Matangi?”

Yuanjue also froze: “The Princess hasn’t heard?”

He explained yesterday’s events, finally saying, “After the ceremony ends, all princesses must leave the Holy City and return to their tribes and countries by the end of the month, including the Indian princess.”

Yao Ying stood before the hall, lost in thought for a moment.

If Tanmoluojia had rejected her directly like he did the Indian princess, she wouldn’t have escaped from Haidu Aling’s grasp.

…

After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, Yuanjue returned to the meditation room and stood in the corner.

Without looking up, Tanmoluojia asked, “What matter?”

Yuanjue guessed he was asking about Li Yao Ying and answered, “Princess Wenzhao said that on the day of the ceremony, she also wishes to present a gift to my Lord. She asked if I could arrange a seat for her—the Princess has even written the tribute… I was about to ask my Lord if we should add a seat for Princess Wenzhao?”

Tanmoluojia’s brush paused briefly.

Yuanjue scratched his scalp and tentatively asked, “Add one?”

Tanmoluojia continued writing and gave a slight nod.

…

Soon it was the first day of the ceremony.

The Holy City was empty of people, an unprecedented grand occasion. Inside and outside the training grounds, crowds packed the area, bustling with activity.

Yao Ying followed Yuanjue’s lead into a felt tent on the high platform.

The tent was laid with Persian wool carpets, with noble ladies sitting before tables. At a glance, it was full of pearls and jewels, the whole room gleaming with golden light.

Yao Ying hadn’t dressed up especially today, wearing her usual attire—a brocade robe and long boots, her hair done in a male style without any ornaments except for a single lotus jade hairpin, her face still covered with a veil.

Yuanjue studied her for several looks, secretly wondering: Why isn’t Princess Wenzhao wearing heavy makeup like she did in Gaochang? Although the Princess looks beautiful dressed this way, the other princesses are all wearing head ornaments of pearls and jewels, competing in splendor, yet Princess Wenzhao hasn’t even worn a single flower—isn’t it too plain?

The Princess’s merchant caravans travel the trade routes, and her silk shops change their styles monthly, with noble ladies from all countries rushing to buy—surely she doesn’t lack gold, silver, or jewels.

Perhaps the Princess is deliberately going against convention, intentionally appearing in male clothing to stand out.

Yao Ying, unaware of Yuanjue’s assessment of her attire, found her place and sat down.

The noble ladies and princesses on the platform were wrapped in brocade, with layers upon layers of pearl ornaments. As soon as Yao Ying appeared in her graceful narrow-sleeved robe, she immediately drew everyone’s attention.

Princess Manda and the other country’s princesses all looked her way.

Several princesses from small countries whispered, “That’s Princess Wenzhao from the Han territories…”

“She’s the Matangi the Buddhist Prince spoke of.”

“Is that her?” one princess scrutinized Yao Ying with a critical eye, snorting softly, “Nothing special.”

“She won’t even remove her veil—surely she knows her appearance can’t compare to Princess Manda, so she dares not show her true face.”

“I heard from Hu merchants that Han women know a technique to bewitch men. Princess Wenzhao must have used such methods to win the Buddhist Prince’s favor.”

“Yes, Han women practice sorcery!”

These mocking words drifted into Yuanjue’s ears. He looked around, frowning, then stepped out.

Yao Ying knew the various princesses would attend the ceremony today and had looked their way as soon as she entered the felt tent.

She couldn’t understand the princesses’ whispers, but seeing their expressions, she knew they were discussing her. She smiled slightly, her eyes bright and sharp.

Because of her smile, the entire tent suddenly seemed brighter.

The princesses, remembering rumors of Yao Ying whipping the Northern Rong princess in the street, saw her composed demeanor and feared she might take action. They were startled, their gazes shifting away, not daring to look at her.

Yao Ying swept her gaze around, making the nervous princesses from small countries blush. Feeling a gaze fixed steadily on her, she looked back openly.

Princess Manda reclined against an armrest, meeting Yao Ying’s gaze. Today she wasn’t wearing a veil, her grey-green eyes studying Yao Ying for a moment before looking away.

Yao Ying sat perfectly straight, continuing to observe the other princesses with a smile.

The princesses from small countries felt their scalps tingle and fell silent.

…

Yuanjue hurried into the main hall on the high platform. Tanmoluojia had already arrived and was speaking with Mo Biduo, who was dressed in military attire.

After Mo Biduo withdrew, Yuanjue stepped forward and said quietly, “My Lord, I think we should change Princess Wenzhao’s seating arrangement.”

Tanmoluojia raised his eyes to look at him.

Yuanjue said, “Those princesses and royal court ladies are all gossiping about Princess Wenzhao—some words are unfit to hear.”

He feared Princess Wenzhao might if provoked, have her guards deal with them as she had with the Northern Rong princess.

Tanmoluojia looked toward the ladies’ felt tent and said, “Invite the Princess here.”

Yuanjue was stunned.

…

A moment later, Yuanjue came to the tent and gestured for Yao Ying to follow him.

Yao Ying looked puzzled but rose to follow him, ascending the long steps into the main hall on the high platform. Guards stood strict watch all around, white banners waving in the wind with a fluttering sound, solemn and quiet.