Puding knelt upon the rush mat, chanting the Ksitigarbha Sutra. The lamplight on the desk flickered as a cool breeze swept past, and a dark shadow hung upside down from the topmost beam.
“You’ve come.”
“Mn, come to sleep at your place for a night.”
Treating this place like an inn?
“This poor monk still doesn’t know what to call you. How about I call you… Little White?”
Two silhouettes projected onto the wall, their distances appearing close yet far.
Little White relaxed slightly: “My name is”
Before he could finish, Puding hastily stopped him: “No need to tell me. The fewer people who know, the safer everyone is.”
Little White stripped off his black night-walking clothes, beneath which he still wore that white brocade robe.
“Your undergarment is stained with blood; why not take it off and change out of it? I’ll wash it clean for you tomorrow,” Puding said in an exceptionally gentle voice.
He always spoke softly, sounding like spring rain pattering against branches and leaves, or bubbling spring water nourishing the heart and soothing away a day’s fatigue.
It felt immensely comfortable, making one want to speak with him for a while longer.
Throughout his life, Little White spoke very little; his conversation with Puding last night was the most he had spoken since he became an assassin.
“No trouble needed; it’s a bother.”
The clear moonlight of the night shone upon his half-concealed face, his eyes radiating a cold gleam.
“You wearing this undergarment right against your skin actually suits you quite well.” Puding saw that his build was similar to his own, figuring it would fit him just right.
“No need, thank you.”
Noticing a hint of bottled-up gloom between Little White’s brows, Puding asked again, “How is the situation outside?”
“Just as you said before, that eunuch is guarding the place extremely tightly!” A trace of irritation colored Little White’s expression.
Puding asked without missing a beat, “Then where have you been hiding all day long?”
Little White lay flat on his back, cradling his treasured sword against his chest.
“Aside from occasionally going out to scout out the situation, most of the time I’ve been right here in the temple.”
Puding lowered his gaze: “Have the monks in the temple discovered you?”
“With my lightness skill, no one will ever discover my presence.”
He was so confident, even bordering on arrogant.
Puding asked: “Then have you eaten any pastries?”
Hearing him put it that way, Little White’s stomach began to rumble loudly.
Puding scratched the back of his head and smiled: “I’ll go cook a bowl of noodles for you.”
“Don’t! If you go to the kitchen in the middle of the night, you’ll draw their attention, and there’s no telling if someone in the temple has already been bought off by the Commandery Guard.”
He paused: “Besides… I want to eat meat.”
Even in such dire straits, he was still thinking about eating meat; a touch of amusement rose within Puding’s heart.
This remark truly put him in a difficult spot.
“Even going outside to buy you some meat dishes wouldn’t be convenient.”
Little White turned onto his side: “I just said it offhandedly; I don’t actually have to eat it.”
Though he was an assassin, his diet had never lacked rare delicacies and fine wines.
The jade tablet on the sword tassel in his arms gleamed with shifting brilliance as the outlined character “Heart” (Xin) caught Puding’s eye.
Remembering something, Puding retrieved the gold-Chuang ointment from the medicine cabinet.
Little White sat up: “I’ll do it myself.”
He took the medicine bottle from Puding’s hands, pulled open his lapel, exposed his entire right arm, swept his dark hair at the back of his neck down over his left shoulder, and sprinkled the powder skillfully onto the wound.
Scattered flecks of medicinal powder floated in the air, and a rich, pungent medicinal scent diffused all around.
Little White coughed twice and raised a hand to fan the air.
His dark hair fluttered slightly past his side profile, and under the shimmering light, even his strands of hair looked clear, moist, and soul-stirring.
Puding quietly watched him apply the medicine.
Under the enchanting moonlight, that skin which was already glowing white emitted a translucent luster.
Silver radiance spilled across his rugged butterfly shoulder blades, making him look like a falcon with an injured wing.
Once Little White finished tending to the wound, Puding took the medicine bottle back from his hands and returned it to the cabinet.
Lying on his side with his back turned outward, Little White murmured, “Monk, are your family members still around?” he asked coldly.
“Still around, both parents are living.”
“Why did you choose to become a monk?”
Dead silence absolute silence enveloped the surroundings.
“If it’s inconvenient, never mind, I was just asking casually.” He lay motionless on his side, his back radiating a trace of desolation.
Puding slowly spoke: “Too much slaughter, just pitying all living creatures.”
Little White let out a cold snort in his heart; he didn’t believe it!
People were inherently self-serving; he had never seen anyone truly purely benevolent.
Such high-sounding words were hard for him to believe.
Puding lowered his eyelids, a ripple flashing across the depths of his gaze when he saw that Little White said nothing more.
He sat down in the sandalwood chair and reached out to rest his hand on the armrest: “And what about you? Are your parents still alive?”
“No longer here.” A trace of regret tinged Little White’s tone.
“How old are you this year?” Puding asked.
“Seventeen.”
“One year younger than me.” Puding leaned back against the chair’s backrest.
He hadn’t expected that someone so young had already braved the dangers of the jianghu, and a surge of pity involuntarily rose within his heart.
He let out a soft sigh.
“Why are you sighing?”
“This poor monk is lamenting that there are far too many pitiful people in this world.”
Little White shifted his posture and turned to lie flat on his back: “Every pitiful person certainly has something hateful about them.”
On second thought, however, he mused: Don’t monks all detach themselves from worldly affairs? Why does he look so sentimental instead?
Hah, what a man of true feeling he is indeed!
The next day, just like the day before, Little White departed before dawn had broken.
Past noon, Puding descended the mountain alone. Passing by a steamed bun shop without blinking an eye, he bought sheep-eye stuffed buns, emerald-green shaomai dumplings, beef buns, and more.
Seeing a monk buying items containing meat, the shopkeeper assumed he was a fake monk, letting a lingering, meaningful look show in his eyes.
Puding hardened his scalp, not daring to say much more; if he was misunderstood, let him be misunderstood it didn’t matter anymore.
Returning to the temple, he placed the bundle on one side of the couch, turned around and left the quarters to head to the main hall to prepare for Noble Consort An’s visit to the temple to offer prayers the following day.
Inside the Great Buddha Hall, all kinds of fresh floral offerings were neatly and orderly displayed. Aside from water and vegetarian food, the offerings also included various treasures such as giant clam shell, agate, coral, and other items of the Seven Treasures.
When he returned, seeing that the bundle had been opened and the steamed buns inside had vanished without a trace, he knew Little White had been back.
The corners of Puding’s lips curved upward; it was good that he had eaten them clean—he had been afraid Little White might not like them.
Clearly, he must have been starving.
At that moment, heavy footsteps sounded outside the door. The abbot, supported by a young monk, arrived at the threshold and knocked on the door.
“What instructions does Master have?”
“Noble Consort An once asked this old monk whether you have any intention of returning to secular life. If so, tomorrow you may return to the capital along with her.” Huiru looked at him, speaking word by word.
“Master, I took monastic vows at fourteen and never thought of returning. My entire life will be dedicated to the Buddha, praying that our dynasty enjoys national peace and people’s security, free from disasters and hardships.”
“It is rare for your Buddhist resolve to be so firm; this master is deeply gratified.”
Seeing that his mind was made up and knowing where things stood, Huiru rose and departed.
A dark shadow flashed into view.
“He truly ate meat; my body feels much better. If I could just have a sip of hot drink or strong liquor, it would be even more perfect.”
How could this person keep pushing his luck? Did he really not know whether he was here to hide from disaster or to enjoy himself?
“You’d better look at your own situation first; getting anything to eat at all is already a blessing,” Puding said expressionlessly.
Hearing this, Little White raised his eyes—this monk actually satirized him and even wanted to shut him up.
“The Buddhist Dharma exists as a matter of expedient means, not rigid and inflexible like you! That is not spiritual cultivation, but rather a tangled accumulation of karmic obstacles!”
He thought to himself: Not only will he eat meat and drink alcohol himself, but one day he must definitely make this monk taste all sorts of worldly flavors.
He simply refused to believe a human being could push self-discipline to such an absolute extreme.
Early the following morning, everything within the temple was prepared in orderly fashion, awaiting Noble Consort An’s imperial arrival.
The monks lined up neatly at the temple entrance. After the span of an incense stick, a grand procession from the palace marched majestically to the spot; alongside the imperial guards, this trip also included a detachment of Commandery Guard escorts.
“Amitabha, this old monk respectfully welcomes Noble Consort An.”
Supported by a young monk, the abbot stepped forward to greet her and bowed to Noble Consort An.
Noble Consort An possessed a tall figure and skin as white as milk foam, dressed in a set of lavish purple robes that made her look peerlessly exceptional.
She resembled precisely the painted celestial maidens carved upon the beams of the great hall’s ceiling, looking like an immortal flying down from a mural.
“Master, greetings.” Noble Consort An pressed her palms together, entering the temple alongside the monks.
Pei Yaoguang walked by the consort’s side, casting a sidelong glance at Puding. His eyes radiated a trace of warm heat, and recalling the warmth of his touch that night, the corners of his mouth involuntarily curled upward.
Puding didn’t even want to glance at him, feigning complete blindness and treating him like air.
He could not forget the humiliation Pei Yaoguang had inflicted upon him that night, nor the blow to his self-respect as a man. Seeing his face and hearing his voice was nothing short of self-torture.
The feeling of physical and mental exhaustion was precisely like this.
Amitabha, Amitabha, Puding chanted unceasingly in his heart, recalling and reciting the Buddha’s name.
When karmic obstacles manifested, one was always at the mercy of circumstances—that was the very meaning of spiritual cultivation.
He thought to himself: I should not feel vexed, but instead treat this as a favorable condition for spiritual advancement.
Inside the Great Buddha Hall, white smoke billowed and the sound of wooden fish drums echoed thunderously.
Several script-masters sat before the altar, chanting the Amitabha Sutra without stop.
“Thus have I heard, at one time the Buddha was in Sravasti…”
A thousand perpetual lamps gleamed like brilliant stars, and the thriving incense smoke buzzed with activity.
wisps of blue smoke drifted, lingering around Noble Consort An. With just a single glance, men and women alike found it impossible to tear their gaze away.
When the prayer ritual concluded, Noble Consort An walked to Puding’s side, a trace of hidden sorrow lingering between her brows.
“Huaisheng—no, I should call you Master.”
“Benefactor Consort, merits and virtues.” Puding pressed his palms together.
“Are you truly unwilling to return to secular life? Your aunt and uncle have always missed you dearly. This trip, they also entrusted me to properly persuade you. You are the eldest son of the An family; you surely cannot let the An family’s incense lineage be cut off.”
Puding had an elder sister and a younger brother; his elder sister was already married, and his younger brother had likewise taken a wife and had children.
Yet An’s father and mother had never blamed him, knowing he could not accept his own physical condition.
“Benefactor Consort, this poor monk’s mind is made up. Taking monastic vows is to pray for the country, hoping to eliminate slaughter and protect the subjects of our dynasty.”
Noble Consort An rubbed the area around her eyes with a fingertip stained with vermilion nail polish: “Puding, your mother’s meaning is that perhaps you need to try with a woman to know whether you can manage it or not…”
Without trying, he would never know.
The moment such topics were brought up, Puding felt intensely awkward, akin to having a scar ripped open all over again.
“There’s no need. I know my own body very well; I must trouble the Consort to convey this to my mother.” Raising his gaze into the distance, he saw that Pei Yaoguang was staring right at him from the side.
A wave of physical discomfort instantly washed over him.
After settling the Consort into a spacious guest cell, and just as the abbot returned to his quarters to rest, Puding knocked on his master’s door.
Huiru sat in full lotus posture with his eyes half-closed.
He knelt directly before his master, sincerely seeking guidance: “Master, my mind has given birth to demonic obstacles, and I know not how to eliminate them.”
Huiru closed his eyes halfway: “The more you care, the more deliberately you try not to think about it, the harder it is to eliminate.”
Puding listened quietly.
“Treat it as introspection with no attachments in the heart, no terror, and far from upside-down dreams.”
Puding felt ashamed: “Disciple understands these principles, but I find them very difficult to put into practice.”
Huiru opened both eyes: “Then cultivate yourself diligently. Cultivation does not happen overnight; as ordinary mortals, we inevitably carry mortal habits. As long as each day surpasses the previous one, that is progress.”
Puding bowed his head in kowtow to express his gratitude: “Disciple will keep this engraved in my heart. Thank you, Master, for your guidance.”
Leaving the zen room, he walked along thinking: In the end, my cultivation has grown slack. After studying Buddhism for many years, when facing adversity, I still remain unable to transform it.
“Sigh…” He let out a long breath.
A dark shadow suddenly materialized before his eyes, blocking the light from ahead.
Pei Yaoguang stood with his hands behind his back, a hint of ambiguous expression revealing itself across his heroic visage: “Has Master been resting well lately?”
What did he mean by that?
Puding pressed his palms together, not looking him straight in the eye: “This poor monk is just as usual.”
Pei Yaoguang smiled half-heartedly: “Tonight when this Directorate bathes, Master will attend and serve in my stead.”
Pei Yaoguang walked away laughing heartily, looking more spirited and vigorous than ever.
Leaving him standing there stunned as if his soul had been fixed in place.
Could he refuse? Just thinking about it made his stomach churn with wave after wave of nausea.
As Pei Yaoguang walked down the path back to his guest cell, Li Qing suddenly leaped out before him, whispering quietly into his ear.
Seeing today that Puding had gone to the steamed bun shop to buy some food, after Puding left, Li Qing had personally asked the shopkeeper what kind of fillings the monk had bought. After the shopkeeper explained, he figured out that this monk was craving meat.
Hearing this, Pei Yaoguang burst into loud laughter—so this bald donkey didn’t keep the five precepts and had roots that were still unpurified, failing to abstain even from meat!
Interesting, more and more interesting!
He simply loved this kind of duplicitous person, which meant such a person possessed intensely heavy desires!
They were merely being forcibly suppressed for the time being!
He wanted to see what kind of madness and explosion would erupt once the desires buried deep within Puding’s heart broke through!
He was just that kind of perverse and shameless.
At that moment, two Jinyiwei guards passed by. Little White was hiding in the shadows, overhearing the two men whispering to each other.
“Did you hear? That monk can’t function…”
“He’s just good for nothing; no wonder he chose to become a monk.”
As the words fell, the two men burst into unbridled laughter, acting exceptionally gleeful.
Hearing this, Little White’s gaze darkened and his expression stiffened. He thought to himself: If what they said is true, it’s not like there’s no way around it.
His family had left behind a ancestral secret medical technique; given time and treatment, it could help a man recover.