Before dawn, Yaoying was awakened by Xie Qing. She remembered that today was the day Dammo Luojia would be giving a sermon. She got up to wash and dress, wearing plain cloth robes, nibbling on a sesame flatbread while reading scriptures by flickering lamplight, silently memorizing.

The bell sound carried over the flower walls, muffled and distant through layers of intertwined branches.

As dawn broke, Yuanjue came to escort Yaoying to the main hall. Seeing her simple attire, her black hair fastened with a modest jade hairpin and no other gold or jade ornaments, he nodded in approval.

Yaoying’s courtyard was in the northeast corner of the temple, far from the main hall. They passed through several long elevated corridors. She pointed at several courtyards below, asking curiously: “What’s that place?”

These days she had discovered many buildings of varying heights around the temple’s outer perimeter – some government offices, some guest houses, some inns, and some retreats for nobles. Her courtyard belonged to the latter category, so strictly speaking she wasn’t living in the temple proper, which was why she could come and go freely.

The temple was where successive rulers of the court practiced, spanning a vast area. Monks gathered here, soldiers stood guard everywhere, and many commoners came daily to worship and pay respects. It was very lively, but there was one courtyard that remained empty, quiet, and cold, with few people entering or leaving.

It was the courtyard below her.

Following Yaoying’s gaze, Yuanjue said softly: “That’s the Hall of Punishment.”

Yaoying didn’t ask further.

She vaguely remembered that Dammo Luojia had been confined in the temple since birth. The nobles, wanting to frighten him and break his spirit, deliberately imprisoned him in the Hall of Punishment until he was thirteen.

The Hall of Punishment was dug below ground level. The morning light fell into those dark courtyards like it was falling into a bottomless ancient well, with no trace of brightness visible in the gloomy cold.

How miserable must it have been to live in such a place for ten years?

As they approached the main hall, the sound of chatter reached Yaoying’s ears.

Dammo Luojia allowed common people to enter the temple and listen to the sermon, regardless of status or gender. From early morning, devout commoners had gathered below the hall. Despite everyone deliberately keeping their voices low, there was still a constant buzz of conversation.

The sermon was about to begin.

The main hall was built on a raised platform, unlike Central Plains temples with their wreaths of incense smoke. The court’s Buddhism had incorporated many local traditions during its spread, just like Buddhism in the Central Plains. The four walls were covered in intricate murals, the dome painted with large elegant blue flowers. The hall was spacious and clean, imposing in its grandeur, with narrow passages around the perimeter wide enough for two people to walk side by side.

A high platform was set up in the hall, with monks seated below. In the front left were seats gleaming with gold – a group of richly dressed nobles. Warrior monks stood guard in the corridors, while commoners below occasionally stood on tiptoes to peer inside.

Yuanjue led Yaoying to sit in a corner. Countless gazes turned toward her, but she remained composed, smiling back at them.

Those people’s expressions stiffened.

After Yaoying sat down, she looked around. Most of those watching her were nobles and commoners – the monks showed better composure, merely glancing at her briefly before quietly looking away.

The noble ladies gave her sidelong glances, exchanging meaningful looks.

Yaoying kept her eyes down, focusing on her breathing. Her foreign language skills weren’t good enough to understand the ladies’ whispers, which gave her some peace.

Soon, the monks escorted Dammo Luojia in.

Yaoying’s eyes widened, momentarily stunned.

Dammo Luojia walked in wearing loose crimson robes, prayer beads in hand, his steps unhurried and ethereal, his gaze clear and otherworldly.

This was the first time Yaoying had seen Dammo Luojia walk, and she felt a strange sensation in her heart, her gaze fixed on him.

He was tall and straight, with eyes like cold stars and an elegant bearing.

Yaoying thought of his legs, which had been swollen black not long ago. The loose robes hid his figure – she wondered how his legs had recovered.

Judging by his graceful steps, they must have healed well.

Monda Tiva had returned to India – she didn’t know what illness he had suffered from. The water hemp grass was essentially fighting poison with poison; long-term use would surely have hidden dangers.

Some coughs and giggles came from nearby, and Yuanjue quietly reminded Yaoying: “Princess…”

She had been staring at Dammo Luojia too intently.

Yaoying came to her senses and realized all the women in the hall were looking at her. Aware of her impropriety, she withdrew her gaze.

Dammo Luojia stood on the high steps, ascended, and took his seat. He led the monks in chanting sutras, his countenance solemn.

The nobles and commoners outside the hall also composed themselves and sat properly, joining in the chanting. Looking out at the crowded masses, every face showed devotion.

The Sanskrit chanting was clear and distant, solemn and dignified, truly moving the heart.

Yaoying couldn’t help but hold her breath, sitting up straight and chanting along with Yuanjue. After she had recited the scriptures she had hastily memorized these past few days back and forth three or four times, the chanting stopped.

A young monk reverently brought scrolls to the high platform. Dammo Luojia casually drew out one scroll, and the young monk read out a name.

A monk below the platform rose in response, bowed to Dammo Luojia, and began asking questions.

Dammo Luojia answered briefly, and the monk frowned in thought, pressed his palms together, and returned to his seat.

Then Dammo Luojia drew another scroll, and the young monk read the name written on the silk. The monk stood up excitedly, asking questions rapidly. Dammo Luojia remained calm, answering just as quickly. The monk kept pressing with questions, almost aggressively, but Luojia’s expression never changed as he answered each one.

Finally, the monk pressed his palms together with an expression of admiration and returned to his seat.

The young monk continued calling names. Each monk called upon rose with excitement, asking Dammo Luojia questions in succession, which he answered one by one in a peaceful voice.

Yaoying watched in confusion.

Yuanjue quietly explained that this was similar to the Buddhist debate. The monks submitted their questions written on scrolls, and whoever Dammo Luojia selected could engage in a brief debate with him about anything – Buddhist doctrine and principles, from nothing to existence, clouds in the sky, grass on the ground, anything could be debated.

Yaoying was amazed and struggled to keep listening. The monks debated with Luojia in Sanskrit, which she couldn’t understand, but the rapid exchange and the monks’ expressions – troubled, secretly pleased, disappointed, or wracking their brains in deep thought – were fascinating to watch.

After Dammo Luojia had selected ten scrolls, the young monk removed the tray. The monks’ expressions below returned to serenity, and the atmosphere in the hall lightened as Luojia began teaching the dharma.

He first spoke in Sanskrit, then switched to the local language, occasionally mixing in another foreign tongue. His voice was clear and melodious, like jade beads falling on a plate, with a gentle rhythm.

Everyone inside and outside the hall listened as if entranced, with women occasionally lowering their heads to wipe away tears.

Yaoying could tell Dammo Luojia was telling stories about karmic cause and effect, but later she couldn’t understand much. Her back was straight, she had been kneeling for so long that her whole body ached, and she couldn’t help but secretly shift position.

A cold gaze swept over her.

It was gentle, yet carried an understated force.

Yaoying jolted and immediately behaved herself, staying completely still as she continued listening.

Dammo Luojia glanced at her glossy black hair before looking away.

This time Yaoying didn’t dare move. After another quarter hour, rising and falling sounds of appreciation and Buddhist chanting came from the crowd. Everyone stood, pressed their palms together respectfully toward Dammo Luojia, and watched as he descended the platform and left surrounded by monks.

After his slim figure disappeared through the hall doors, Yaoying’s heart relaxed: Was that it? He wasn’t going to test her studies?

So she just had to sit quietly and listen to morning lessons.

As Yaoying rose to leave, several figures loomed over her.

Banruo and several monks stood before her, their expressions serious, coldly smiling as they presented several scripture books: “Has the Princess gained anything from her Buddhist studies?”

Yaoying’s mouth twitched: She had rejoiced too early – those who would test her studies were waiting right here!

Banruo stood before Yaoying, his back as straight as a poplar tree, and began testing her on the contents of her scripture books.

He happened to ask about the parts Dammo Luojia had told Yuanjue to remind Yaoying about.

Yaoying was startled, then secretly smiled: The monk was helping her cheat.

Though she couldn’t understand the deeper meanings in the books, memorization wasn’t difficult for her. She answered fluently.

Banruo frowned, opened another book, and continued questioning.

Yaoying could still recite smoothly.

After questioning her on several books without stumping her, Banruo grew somewhat irritated and asked: “Do you understand their meaning?”

Yaoying narrowed her eyes slightly and smiled, saying, “No.”

Before Banruo could say anything, she asked in return: “Do you understand it all?”

Banruo meant to argue, but meeting Yaoying’s smiling gaze, his face reddened. He wasn’t an ordained monk, just a guard following Dammo Luojia – how could he dare claim to understand the scriptures’ meaning? If he gave an affirmative answer, she would surely pursue the matter relentlessly!

He could only shake his head.

Yaoying smiled.

Unwilling to admit defeat, Banruo pressed: “Is this all the Princess has memorized these days?”

Yaoying coughed lightly and said seriously: “I have devoted myself to studying one particular sutra these days.”

Banruo looked at her with doubt: “Which sutra?”

Yaoying recited the Heart Sutra word by word.

The Heart Sutra, or Mahaprajnaparamita Hrdaya Sutra, was brief but profound. Tang Xuanzang’s translation was only about three hundred characters, concise yet infinitely meaningful, as it was the essence extracted from hundreds of Buddhist sutras, condensed from Buddhist texts as vast as a smoky sea of millions of words.

Yaoying had figured this widely circulated Central Plains sutra would be enough to handle the next several months of testing, easily and efficiently.

She recited it fluently, but Banruo looked completely confused: “What are you reciting?”

Yaoying was even more confused: “The Heart Sutra?”

Banruo said firmly: “I’ve never heard of this sutra.”

Yaoying explained: “I’m reciting the version translated by Master Xuanzang from the Central Plains – it might be different from what you study.”

Banruo frowned deeply, exchanging glances with the monks beside him. One of them shook his head at him. After discussing quietly for a moment, they asked: “Has the Princess gained any insights?”

Yaoying pressed her palms together and said: “The sutra is profound. Though I haven’t yet grasped its true meaning, reciting it several times brings peace and tranquility to my mind.”

Banruo was stunned for a moment. If Yaoying had claimed to have gained understanding, he could have debated the truth with her. But with her answer, he really couldn’t find fault.

A monk beside him showed approval, nodding: “That the Princess has such insight shows she is truly devoted to study.”

Yaoying smiled modestly.

Banruo’s eye twitched.

The monks bowed respectfully to Yaoying and left.

Yaoying asked Yuanjue beside her: “Did I pass the test?”

Yuanjue smiled and said: “The Princess performed very well. The rumors in the city should lessen now. As long as the Princess shows she is studying Buddhism, these monks won’t dare deliberately make things difficult for her.”

Yaoying’s heart stirred.

So when Dammo Luojia had instructed her to handle the examination well, it was to help her, to make her days in the Holy City more peaceful.

As it approached lunchtime, Yuanjue escorted Yaoying back to her courtyard.

Footsteps sounded behind them as a guard caught up: “The King requests the Princess’s presence in the meditation chamber.”

Yuanjue acknowledged and escorted Yaoying there.

The courtyard was quiet, the sky deep blue with light clouds drifting by. The blue flowers on the dome appeared azure in the brilliant sunlight, with golden light flickering between the murals.

Dammo Luojia sat at the long table reading a letter. Several dust-covered guards in blue robes knelt in the courtyard, one of them Ashina Bisuo’s attendant.

News had arrived from Northern Rong.

Yaoying walked quickly to the corridor, and paused at the meditation chamber’s entrance, unconsciously holding her breath before stepping inside.

The room was cool and dim. Dammo Luojia didn’t look up, his slender fingers gesturing for Yaoying to sit.

Yaoying knelt opposite him, sitting properly.

After finishing the letter, Dammo Luojia raised his eyes and said: “Haidu Aling has injured his leg.”

Yaoying was startled.

Dammo Luojia glanced at the courtyard. Yuanjue understood and gestured for Ashina Bisuo’s attendant to come forward.

The attendant knelt outside the corridor and slowly said: “When General Ashina arrived in Northern Rong, Prince Haidu Aling had already returned to the royal tent. It’s said he was attacked by bandits on the way, and his leg was crushed by a frightened horse. In the hot weather, the wound festered, and when the shaman treated him, he used the wrong medicine. Prince Haidu Aling’s right leg is now useless. The General said several princes burst into the tent to personally check Haidu Aling’s injury – his leg was covered in maggots.”

Yaoying’s eyelids twitched as she listened.

So Haidu Aling had indeed “crippled” a leg.

Those ambushing bandits must have been a trap set by the princes, and he turned it to his advantage, pretending to cripple his leg.

The attendant finally said: “The General recalled Princess Wenzhao’s warning that Haidu Aling might use self-injury as a strategy. Suspecting Haidu Aling’s leg isn’t useless, he sent subordinates back to ask the King’s instructions and to pose a question to the Princess.”

Dammo Luojia looked at Yaoying.

Yaoying suddenly felt she couldn’t breathe, saying: “I did warn General Ashina.”

The attendant said softly: “The Princess understands Prince Haidu Aling’s nature perfectly. The General would like to hear the Princess’s suggestion.”

The courtyard fell silent.

Meeting the attendant’s expectant gaze, Yaoying steeled herself and said: “Since Haidu Aling is using self-injury as a strategy, perhaps the General should also turn this to his advantage and let Prince Haidu Aling recuperate well.”

Since Haidu Aling was pretending to have a useless leg, Ashina Bisuo could use the other princes’ suspicion of him to make that leg truly useless.

The attendants exchanged glances, and Yuanjue guarding the door showed surprise.

Dammo Luojia seemed not at all surprised by Yaoying’s answer. Without a word, he wrote a letter.

The attendant rose to receive it, bowed respectfully, and hurriedly left.

Yaoying also stood and withdrew from the meditation chamber. As she walked down the corridor, several guards were just bringing in food. She casually glanced at the silver plates and froze.

A plate of beef flashed past her eyes.

Yaoying turned, her gaze following the plate of beef.

The food was placed before Dammo Luojia, and his long, elegant fingers picked up a piece of meat.

Yaoying stared in shock.

In the room, Dammo Luojia noticed Yaoying’s fixed gaze and looked up.

The young woman stood in the courtyard, staring at him with an expression like she’d been struck by lightning.

Dammo Luojia paused, a hint of confusion passing through his clear jade eyes.

Was she hungry?