Yao Ying was drunk, lost in a hazy stupor. The Gaochang embassy had brought wine from Wulin and Bafeng Valley. At the banquet where the Ma Lu Kingdom and Wei Dynasty exchanged diplomatic letters, Princess Manda had plied her with several cups. Li Zhongqian was usually strict, so she had only drunk a few cups. She felt fine on the way, but after entering the inner chamber, her head inexplicably grew even more dizzy, perhaps because she hadn’t touched alcohol in years.

In the dim candlelight, Tanmoluojia’s solemn figure remained motionless. She knelt before him, shaking her head slightly. Catching a faint sweet fragrance mixed with medicinal herbs, she unconsciously grabbed his sleeve and inched closer.

Tanmoluojia always carried a subtle fragrance about him. She couldn’t quite place what it was. The palace people loved offering flowers and incense to Buddha, and he often stayed in the hall. Over time, his body had absorbed that austere, ethereal fragrance of the Buddha hall.

When she smelled this scent, Yao Ying felt at peace, like that moment of waking from a nightmare to realize it was just a dream, letting out a long sigh as all the pain from the dream dissipated into smoke.

“Master…” she said softly, looking up at him. Her eyebrows curved gently, long lashes trembling, gaze misty – like a flower slowly blooming in moonlight, exquisitely beautiful and dripping with sweet nectar. As her eyes moved, that hint of sweetness immediately overflowed.

The room was filled with her essence, floating ethereally, stirring one’s heartstrings.

Tanmoluojia immediately averted his gaze, but the fragrance still lingered at his nose.

Yao Ying was having trouble sitting steady, leaning against him, soft and boneless, delicate and graceful.

The fragrance seemed to grow stronger.

Tanmoluojia kept his eyes lowered, looking at the Buddhist scripture he had been reading on the table, and asked softly, “Has the Princess been drinking?”

Yao Ying’s reactions were slower than usual. After a moment, she nodded, eyes wide, like a child caught doing something wrong. Her voice dropped to a whisper, “Have I offended Master?”

He couldn’t drink alcohol – if she came to his room after drinking, would that also count as breaking precepts?

Her watery eyes gazed at him trustingly, intimately, with a touch of self-reproach as she released his sleeve.

“Master, I was wrong. I’ll leave first…”

Yao Ying was dizzy and weak all over, too lazy to stand up. She simply turned around on all fours to crawl out, then bang – her head hit the table she usually used. The pain made her gasp, her nose stinging.

She held her forehead, feeling even dizzier than before.

Suddenly her arm was gripped tight. The kasaya sleeve brushed past as long, strong fingers grasped her arm, pulling her up with gentle force to sit.

After a bout of vertigo, Yao Ying found herself kneeling before Tanmoluojia again. One of his hands held her arm to steady her, while the other brushed aside the loose strands of hair on her forehead to examine where she had hurt herself.

Yao Ying stared at him blankly, her cheeks flushed.

The candlelight fell across her face at an angle, revealing a stretch of the snow-white neck through her loose collar, like snow gathered in the moonlight.

Tanmoluojia’s brows furrowed slightly. “Does it hurt?”

Yao Ying shook her head, saying softly, “It hurt a bit earlier, but it’s better now.”

She answered very obediently.

Tanmoluojia’s heart trembled slightly.

So this was how docile she became when drunk. Even in such an intoxicated state, she still thought of him, worried about disturbing him.

A precious jade, as delicate as a flower.

If she went out like this, who would take care of her? When she was drunk, did she act this way in front of everyone?

Tanmoluojia’s brows knitted together as he released Yao Ying. “It’s fine, don’t leave.”

Yao Ying mumbled, “Master, I’ve been drinking.”

As she spoke, she dizzily stood up, wanting to leave.

Tanmoluojia watched her, his eyes darkening: “I said it’s fine.”

He couldn’t join her in worldly pleasures, yet selfishly wanted to possess the snow lotus she offered.

She needn’t observe any precepts for his sake. If she wanted to drink, let her drink; if she wanted to get drunk, let her get drunk… She shouldn’t have to consider anything, yet she held back because of him.

Yao Ying turned back, blinking as she tilted her head to look at him, expression confused.

Tanmoluojia grabbed her arm and pulled her to turn around, using more force than before.

Yao Ying was still in a daze. His pull made her head spin, and she fell into his embrace, his scent suddenly enveloping her.

She heard his breathing and felt his solid arms and thighs beneath the kasaya. His heartbeat remained slow and composed, deep as ancient waters.

The body under the kasaya went rigid.

Yao Ying came to her senses and looked up, finding herself sitting properly on Tanmoluojia’s firm legs, face to face with him. Her arms draped over his shoulders, her whole body pressed against his chest, her slightly flushed face reflected in his clear jade eyes.

So close, their gazes met.

Tanmoluojia lowered his eyes, expressionless like a Buddha statue, perfectly still.

His breath was cool, hers sweet – the two slowly intertwined, tangling, merging, inseparable.

A flash of bright lightning crossed Yao Ying’s mind. She suddenly remembered the bronze Buddha statue she could never sell, and those picture books Princess Manda had forced on her.

The fierce, wrathful Vajra and the graceful, alluring Dakini embracing, making love naked – it seemed to be this same position… The picture books showed even more detail, with accompanying scriptures about vajra and lotus… supreme bliss and nirvana… experiencing wonderful joy…

Buddhist sects in India were complex, their temples worshipped more than one deity. Princess Manda hadn’t specified which sect…

Tanmoluojia’s scent was so pleasant.

The effects of alcohol gradually rose. Yao Ying felt even more intoxicated and laughed softly, tightening her arms.

“Master isn’t angry?”

When she had first entered earlier, he had sat by the candlelight with a stern face, looking ready to rebuke her.

Tanmoluojia kept his eyes lowered and shook his head.

Yao Ying’s lips curved upward. “Then Master won’t be angry if I do this either?”

There was something she had wanted to do for a long time.

Tanmoluojia’s body suddenly jolted, going completely rigid.

A pair of soft hands pressed against his head, gently caressing, smooth fingertips tenderly rubbing the short stubble of hair.

He froze.

Yao Ying’s face showed a smile of achieved desire as she said in a playful tone of mischief: “I’ve wanted to touch it for so long…”

Tanmoluojia came back to his senses, gripping his prayer beads tightly.

Where her fingers gently stroked seemed to crackle with electricity. A strange sensation he had never experienced before surged up like a burning fire, making his whole body heat up.

Pink-tinged snow jade nestled in his arms, soft as spring water.

The next moment, Tanmoluojia’s mind went blank.

A pair of hands pressed his neck, making him lower his head. She sat up straight in his arms, her bright eyes brimming with moisture. Then something soft and fresh, more delicate than the honeycomb, brushed across his head.

It was just an instant, quick as lightning, so fast it might have been his imagination.

But that gentle touch lingered in his mind, replaying over and over.

Tanmoluojia remained motionless, muscles tense beneath his kasaya. The surge of vital energy that usually only appeared during practice now coursed through his entire body.

Her fragrance grew increasingly intense, seeping in thread by thread.

He held his breath, and closed his eyes for a long while, reciting scriptures. When he opened them again, turbulent waves roiled in their depths. He grabbed Yao Ying’s hands, one hand supporting her neck as he laid her down on the velvet rug.

Yao Ying’s consciousness was hazy. She let out a soft gasp as she watched him press down toward her.

Tanmoluojia’s back was to the candlelight, his expression unclear, but his jade eyes churned with dark light.

She blinked blankly, not struggling.

His slightly cold breath fell on her face as one hand propped beside her cheek, his eyes deep and icy.

“Where did the Princess hear about dual cultivation?”

Yao Ying stared blankly, eyes widening.

Tanmoluojia closed his eyes briefly, composing himself before asking: “Did the Princess want to use this method to heal my injuries?”

His voice was hoarse.

Yao Ying’s gaze was misty as she shook her head, looking somewhat aggrieved.

Tanmoluojia fell silent, lifted Yao Ying, and left the room. His long sleeves swept past, stirring a breeze that extinguished the room’s candles and incense.

Yao Ying had no strength left, curling up in his arms. His body was rigid as he carried her to an empty inner chamber and laid her on the couch, pulling up a brocade blanket to wrap around her. He turned his back to her, collected himself, and reached out two fingers to check her pulse.

There was nothing abnormal about her condition.

Tanmoluojia’s brows furrowed as he walked out of the inner chamber and called for Yuan Jue: “Remove all the incense, candles, and herbs from the room. Take away any furnishings and decorations that were added these past two days as well.”

Yuan Jue was bewildered but complied with a yes.

Tanmoluojia returned to the room, wrung out a cloth in cold water, and wiped Yao Ying’s face.

Princess Manda was skilled with spices and medicines – she must have added something to her drink that, when combined with the incense and herbs in his room, triggered an effect, causing her unusual behavior after returning to the chamber.

Yao Ying was in a daze, thinking of how he had gazed at her earlier. “Is Master angry?”

In her drunken state, she was especially childlike, pouting with a hint of grievance.

This was how she should be – laughing and pouting freely, without restraint.

Tanmoluojia sat beside the couch, poured a bowl of water, and helped her drink it.

“No,” he said softly.

Yao Ying felt waves of heat, unconsciously pushing aside the brocade blanket. Tanmoluojia held her down, letting her lean against him as he patiently wiped her with the cold cloth.

His body was slightly cool; leaning against him made her feel a bit better.

“Did Princess Manda teach you about dual cultivation?” he suddenly asked.

Yao Ying guiltily countered, “How did Master know it was her?”

Tanmoluojia glanced toward the couch.

Following his gaze, Yao Ying saw a bronze statue and several picture books placed on the carpet beside the couch.

She blinked and smiled. Last night, out of curiosity, she had studied the contents of the picture books, then hidden them away, planning to have her guards sell them… She hadn’t expected Tanmoluojia to discover them.

“These things are nonsense…” Tanmoluojia held her, speaking gently. “This method is just some sects’ way of self-cultivation. It has no healing effects, nor can it strengthen the body.”

Yao Ying smiled, tugging at his sleeve. “I know…”

Tanmoluojia looked at her. “Then why did the Princess ask Mandadeva?”

Yao Ying looked up at him with her flushed face. “I knew it wouldn’t work… but checking with Mandadeva would put my mind at ease. What if India did have some secret method? Master’s cultivation technique originally came from India…”

Tanmoluojia’s cloth passed over her cheek, his fingers brushing her soft lips.

She trembled slightly.

He withdrew his hand naturally.

If Mandadeva had said this method would work, she would surely be willing to sacrifice herself for him. She had come to the royal court just to cure his illness, to leave him without regrets.

Yao Ying squirmed in his arms. “Rāgika…”

Calling his name in her dazed state, her voice playful and coquettish.

Tanmoluojia’s fingers trembled.

“Are the scriptures in the picture book useless?”

Yao Ying asked hopefully. When studying the books last night, she had noticed the scriptures seemed to be about internal martial arts. As a martial artist, he should be able to see their merit.

Tanmoluojia declared firmly: “Useless.”

Yao Ying frowned, letting out a disappointed sigh. “If only they worked…”

Tanmoluojia’s brows furrowed tightly as he set aside the cloth and gripped Yao Ying’s shoulders, looking into her eyes.

“If they worked, would the Princess offer herself as medicine?”

Yao Ying nodded, “As long as it could help Master…”

Her tone is matter-of-fact.

Tanmoluojia’s expression darkened slightly.

“What if after I recovered, I no longer needed the Princess?”

Yao Ying replied calmly: “Then I would leave and never disturb Master again.”

Turbulent waves stirred in Tanmoluojia’s eyes.

She answered so naturally – she must have thought about this many times.

Yao Ying laughed softly, reaching up to pinch his cheek. “Master, it’s alright, I don’t mind these things…”

Tanmoluojia asked gravely: “Why don’t you mind?”

Yao Ying thought for a moment, then smiled brightly: “Because that person is Rāgika!”

Tanmoluojia remained silent for a long while, jade eyes fixed on her.

“The scripture says, that rather than suppressing desire, one should fulfill it. At the moment of fulfillment, desire melts like snow in the sunshine, and attachment to desire naturally disappears…”

Yao Ying shook her head, speaking intermittently, “Rāgika is an accomplished monk… temporarily troubled by emotion, he will understand later… He is Buddha’s disciple, he cannot return to secular life… I know all this… If he can let go, I’ll face the world’s reproach with him. If he can’t let go, I’ll leave. Being able to walk with him for a while, I have no regrets… Later, I will meet others…”

Tanmoluojia’s pupils dilated, his hands tightening slightly on her shoulders.

“I mind,” he said softly.

Yao Ying froze.

Tanmoluojia released her, helped her lie down, brushed aside her disheveled hair, and continued wiping her face.

She didn’t mind, others didn’t mind. Bisuo and the others said as long as he didn’t publicly break his vows, they could continue like this.

He minded.

“Moreover, this method isn’t suitable for me.”

Yao Ying stared at him blankly.

Tanmoluojia lowered his head, speaking word by word: “Princess, fulfillment cannot dissolve attachment.”

If he chose to follow his desires, he wouldn’t achieve great enlightenment as the scripture claimed. He would only become more attached, never able to let go in this lifetime.

So, he couldn’t touch her.

The current him couldn’t give her any promises.

He tucked the brocade blanket around Yao Ying. “Don’t think about these things anymore… whether it’s dual cultivation or curing my heart’s ailment…”

Her well-being was his best medicine.

Yao Ying responded unconsciously.

Tanmoluojia watched over her as she fell into deep sleep, and checked her pulse again, his gaze falling on her face.

Her brows were slightly furrowed, her countenance flushed and misty, her lips red and moist.

Those lips that had pressed against his head were softer and smoother than the finest silk.

That strange impulse surged up again.

Tanmoluojia gripped his prayer beads tightly, turned and left, called his guards to give some instructions, and then went to the meditation room to sit in meditation.

…

The night was cold, the room unlit. The wind blew through the cracks, making the curtains sway, shadows floating.

Tanmoluojia sat cross-legged before the Buddha statue, gradually breaking into a sweat, his forehead covered in beads of perspiration.

A fresh breeze lifted the curtains, bringing waves of ethereal fragrance.

Footsteps approached, elaborate skirts brushing the ground with rustling sounds. A graceful figure stopped before him, bending slightly, curves alluring, soft snow-white arms draping over his shoulders.

“Master…” she called softly, her tone tender.

Tanmoluojia kept his eyes closed.

She seemed somewhat aggrieved, sitting on his lap, her soft body twisting against his kasaya.

Tanmoluojia opened his eyes, the corners slightly red.

The person in his arms was hazily drunk, beautiful as a peach blossom, her eyes moist, unable to sit steady after much fidgeting.

He closed his eyes briefly, and embraced her, their four arms entwining, bodies intertwined.

In the paradise of supreme bliss, in a pool of seven treasures, a lotus flower swayed gracefully in the wind.

He stepped into the pool and reached out to touch the white lotus.

Layer upon layer of petals unfurled in the clear breeze, revealing the tender pistil, radiating brilliant light.

Wind chimes rang, dew descended, the lotus trembled in the wind and rain, petals falling one by one as if overwhelmed.

Sunlight and shadow merged. The jade-like smooth skin of the person in his arms exuded crystalline sweat, hair at the temples wet and clinging to her face.

Tanmoluojia trembled as he held her tight.

…

The wind made the felt curtain rustle lightly.

In the meditation room, Tanmoluojia slowly opened his eyes, removed the prayer beads from his wrist, pressed his palms together, and recited prayers of repentance.

Everything had been his wayward thoughts, unrelated to her in the dream.