Xishan Zen Temple.
Under the shroud of night, the Buddhist temple appeared crisp, clean, and pure.
Inside the abbot’s monastic room, Puding stood respectfully by his master’s side, his figure exuding a desolate aura.
Today, due to official business requiring a distant journey, Pei Yaoguang had sent Puding back to the temple before being summoned over by the abbot shortly thereafter.
“It now appears that Pei Yaoguang is intentionally making things difficult for you. Do you have any plans?”
“Master, this disciple is ashamed, but I will never implicate the Zen temple or my fellow martial brothers.”
“You need not blame yourself too much; this is not your fault. Master was wondering would you consider seeking shelter and protection from your family?”
Puding shook his head, gazing toward the golden Buddha statue upon the desk.
“My family’s influence has declined, and we hold little prestige within the court. The only person we can still rely upon is Imperial Noble Consort An, yet that eunuch holds the Consort’s vulnerability in his hands. Better not to drag others into this.”
“Oh? Then do you have any plans?”
Puding joined his hands together: “Since I have chosen the path of cultivation, I will naturally face difficulties with equanimity when confronted with predicaments. No matter how many winds and rains blow, this disciple’s heart remains undisturbed.”
Huiru stroked his white beard: “If you can think this way, that is for the best it is simply that you have been wronged.”
“These are all contributory conditions bestowed upon disciples by the Buddha. Cultivating patience amidst adversity allows one to attain the perfection of patience, so that one may ascend to the Land of Ultimate Bliss early hereafter.”
“Very good, very good! If you can think thus, then this master can rest at ease.”
Returning to his monastic room without a moment’s delay, Puding took up his brush and wrote a carrier-pigeon message to Imperial Noble Consort An in the palace, reminding her to fabricate Consort Zheng’s exit records from eight years ago without fail.
He let out a long, heavy sigh. Gazing at the white pigeon in the sky, he wondered from what point onward his life was destined never to go smoothly.
Deep in the quiet of night, Puding tossed and turned upon the luohan couch, wondering what Xiaobai’s current situation might be. He had said that he could perish at any moment, and at this thought, a dull ache twitched within his chest.
Suddenly, a remark Xiaobai had once made to him echoed in his mind.
[Upon ingesting ‘Undefiled’, one must never harbor romantic attachments; otherwise, falling in love will cause heartaches akin to being gnawed by ten thousand worms.]
His chest had throbbed with pain just moments ago could it be… that even friendship was not permitted?
In the end, it was yet another sleepless night for him…
Several days later, a commotion sounded outside the door.
“Who is it?” Puding concentrated his focus. Could it be Xiaobai?
Pushing open the door, he saw a dark shadow flitting past overhead, revealing Xiaobai covered in wounds with his tendons and bones fractured.
His appearance looked extremely delicate and frail, stripped of his usual heroic vigor and spirit, evoking immediate tenderness and pity in anyone who laid eyes upon him.
Hastening forward, Puding reached out to grasp his elbow: “How did you end up getting hurt this badly?”
“It’s nothing, some ointment will do. First, help me pull out that poisoned arrow.”
With trembling hands, Puding slowly stripped away his night-walking attire, revealing his pristine white brocade under-shirt stained and mottled with blood clots.
His pupils contracted as his hands began to tremble uncontrollably.
The poisoned arrow went straight from his shoulder blade into his heart; within a moment or two, the venom would infiltrate his heart and claim his life.
Dazed for a brief second, Puding immediately reined in his focus: “Bear with it.”
With a sudden jerk, he pulled out the poisoned arrow, accompanied by sporadic splatters of blood.
Letting out a muffled grunt, Xiaobai spat out a large mouthful of toxic black blood, immediately collapsing into unconsciousness as his eyes closed shut.
The fresh blood had soaked his face mask. With trembling hands, Puding slowly reached out to remove his mask, his heart already stirred by intense agitation.
With this single lift, he would be able to properly gaze upon his Qingyi little brother with his own eyes, yet under the current circumstances he could not acknowledge Qingyi, rendering the myriad bitterness in his heart impossible to voice or fully comprehend.
His fingertips lifted upward, brushing against his sensitive nerves.
The man’s pupils gradually dilated, suffused with shimmering moisture that presented a bright, crystalline luster.
His nose was a high, upturned bridge, and his lips were cleanly chiseled and well-defined.
Yet his face was entirely different from Xie Qingyi’s.
He wasn’t him after all? How could this be?
With no time to ponder further, Puding panicked slightly as he staggered over to the medicine cabinet and retrieved several bottles of medicine.
Yet merely taking medicinal pills was ineffective, as their impact was minor and incapable of thoroughly purging the toxins lodged within his heart.
He still required a medicinal bath.
Retrieving medicinal herbs stored over many years from his chest box, he filled the wooden tub inside the room with hot water.
Exerting brute strength, he lifted Xiaobai into the wooden tub with a splash, water flew in all directions, some of it spattering across his own face.
Rolling up his sleeves to brush the water droplets from his face, Puding knelt down before the straw mat and chanted Buddhist chants, praying for the Buddha to protect Xiaobai and grant his recovery.
A quarter of an hour later, beads of sweat broke out densely across Xiaobai’s brow, rolling down to slide across his sturdy, blood-smeared chest.
Dropping his eyelids slightly, Puding kept chanting Buddhist chants continuously in his heart.
At that moment, hearing a heavy snort of breath, he turned his head and discovered that Xiaobai showed signs of regaining consciousness.
“How do you feel?” Rising to his feet, Puding hurried forward to gaze at him with burning anxiety.
He saw that his lips were pale and his complexion entirely devoid of color.
“You look as though you’re suffering terribly?”
“Cold, so cold!” Xiaobai forced the words out with difficulty from his throat.
Puding paused briefly, thinking silently to himself: Then this is the only way! May the Buddha forgive me, for this disciple is truly compelled by circumstances.
Shedding his monk robes, he stepped into the water with a splash, nestling close into Xiaobai’s embrace and wrapping his arms tightly around him to transfer the warmth of his own body completely to him!
Cold meeting heat, relaxation merging with tension.
Intense warmth intertwined with bone-deep chill.
After a moment, Puding rasped in a hoarse voice: “Are you feeling somewhat better?”
Lifting his head, he rested his chin against the crown of Xiaobai’s hair.
With trembling eyelashes, Xiaobai asked in a hazy daze: “Why are you holding me like this?” His cheeks flushed abruptly with a rosy flush.
Stunned for a moment, Puding replied: “Aren’t you cold?” He hurriedly loosened his arms.
“If anyone else saw this, they’d laugh at us,” Xiaobai remarked.
Puding wanted to say something, but it felt like a fishbone stuck in his throat, rendering him completely speechless.
“This poor monk…”
Xiaobai: “I’m much better now; you should get up quickly.”
Taking a closer look, Xiaobai finally noticed that his body was covered in dense, light, shallow scars.
Shocked by the sight, he inspected him carefully from front to back, finding it somewhat hard to believe what he was seeing.
Stirred by an inexplicable anger that accelerated his heartbeat, a trace of sorrow flickered through Xiaobai’s expression: “How did you get these injuries all over you?”
A sour ache welled up in Puding’s heart as all his grievances flooded in all at once. Tears misted his vision, and his palms clenched into tight fists.
“Bestowed by Pei Yaoguang…”
He recounted how he had been humiliated and tormented by him, detailing everything one by one.
Xiaobai felt a sharp, piercing pain in his heart, more agonizing than being pierced by ten thousand arrows.
He couldn’t tell whether this heartache stemmed from hatred toward Pei Yaoguang or pity for Puding.
“Damned eunuch, sooner or later I’ll take his life with a single sword stroke.”
“You are already struggling to protect yourself—why dwell on such thoughts? You’d do better to properly live through your present days.”
Xiaobai’s gaze deepened: “I am merely a walking corpse; living is solely for the sake of revenge.”
Hearing this, Puding didn’t know what to say. He knew he must have experienced exceedingly painful trials, but he didn’t care to ask further knowing less was safer for both of them, and for everyone involved.
“Some matters are not convenient for me to ask you about, so I wouldn’t know how to comfort you.”
Slowly extending his fingertips, Xiaobai gently stroked the scars across Puding’s chest, taking care lest he cause him pain.
“These injuries of yours don’t look like recent wounds.”
“They were inflicted just these past two days. He used the finest medicines to treat me, which is why they healed so rapidly.”
“Using the finest medicines?” Xiaobai didn’t quite understand.
“Because he still wishes to subject me to repeated torment. If it weren’t for his busy schedule, I wouldn’t have been sent back to the Buddhist temple so quickly.”
“Fortunately you were injured only after I returned, otherwise you might have… alas!”
He had nearly lost his life.
Xiaobai’s gaze darkened: “There will be a next time? Why does he take pleasure in humiliating you?”
“He… he is fond of male beauty…”
The moment those words were uttered, it hit like a bolt from the blue, leaving Xiaobai stunned and unable to recover from his shock for a long while.
Outrageous!
A mere eunuch actually wished to take pleasure in toying with men!
“A wretch as devoid of conscience as him will surely meet his deserved retribution sooner or later!”
Puding let out a long, heavy sigh: “I simply treat this as an adversity bestowed by the Buddha to elevate my spiritual practice and serve as a contributory condition along my path of cultivation.”
With a chilly smile, Xiaobai gazed at him deeply: “What contributory condition? In my view… it is your nightmare!”
With a splash, Puding stood up, sending water cascading down from his body to strike the surface of the water with a rhythm that set one’s eardrums throbbing and filled the body with sudden heat.
Putting on a new pair of trousers and donning his monk robes, Puding raised his eyes inadvertently, only to find Xiaobai’s face blushing with intense embarrassment.
Only then did he realize that his bright, smooth, clean torso had been completely exposed to his view.
His lower abdomen was flat, faintly displaying an eight-pack of abdominal muscles as sparkling water droplets slid slowly down his chest, dripping toward deeper and hotter regions…
“This poor monk has been impolite.”
With trembling eyelashes, Xiaobai murmured quietly, “Your face… was ultimately seen by you after all.”
Clenching his robe at the hem with his fingertips, Puding lowered his gaze slightly: “Your mask was drenched in fresh blood, so I had no other choice.”
“Rest assured, I will not tell a soul.”
He knew he wouldn’t speak of it, and he had no need for him to make promises.
Pausing briefly with a furrowed brow, Xiaobai asked, “How much longer must I soak? The water temperature is nearly cold.”
Stepping forward to check his pulse, Puding said, “The heart poison has been purged; there is no further obstruction. Get up, you can stop now.”
A long, fair leg stepped out, staggering past him as the water droplets from his soles left damp footprints across the floor, filling the room with rising mist.
Xiaobai draped his clothes over himself, but due to his weakness and lack of strength, his body tilted to the side, causing him to stumble and crash directly into Puding’s embrace.
Puding’s cheeks flushed slightly as his gaze rippled, and he abruptly pulled his hand back: “Watch your step it’s slippery.”
Lifting his gaze, Xiaobai asked with a hint of confusion, “Why is your face so red?”
“Perhaps from soaking too long; it was fumigated by the steam.”
Hearing this, Xiaobai’s face began to flush faintly as well, feeling that two people embracing each other felt rather strange and thoroughly awkward.
Suddenly, a muffled groan escaped Puding as he felt a slight ache from his wounds. Frowning slightly, he quickly regained his composure.
“What is it? Does the wound hurt?”
“It is nothing, just soreness from soaking in the water too long,” Puding stated with composure.
Pondering briefly, Xiaobai said, “I have already prepared the medicinal ingredients for you; I will bring them to you when the time comes. You must take a medicinal bath daily, and I will check your pulse again in a month.”
Hearing him bring this up, Puding’s earlobes gradually reddened, and he offered a shallow smile: “Very well, there is no need to rush.”
“Mhm.” Xiaobai couldn’t help muttering inwardly to himself: How could one not rush? That happens to be a man’s most vital possession! It concerns a man’s face and dignity.
By the time the Yin hour arrived and Puding awoke, Xiaobai had vanished without a trace, exactly as expected.
Following the morning meal, Abbot Huiru instructed the monastic community that they would head into the palace on the morrow to chant sutras and offer prayers for the Empress Dowager.
Empress Dowager Xuan had been gravely ill for many days with no sign of improvement, prompting Emperor Yuming to summon the four senior monks of Xishan Zen Temple into the palace to chant sutras, channel blessings, and pray for her early recovery.
That night, rhythmic Sanskrit chants echoed through Puding’s monastic room. Lying upon the luohan couch with his arms propped behind his head and one leg crossed over the other, Xiaobai listened to him chant the Ksitigarbha Sutra.
Knowing that monks chanting sutras ought not to be disturbed, he refrained from having any conversation with him.
Quietly observing Puding, he increasingly felt that he bore a striking resemblance to someone. He suddenly recalled the young man he had encountered at the An’guo Estate during his childhood, feeling that the two of them looked remarkably similar.
Could he actually be that young man?
Bowing three times before the Buddha statue, Puding slowly stood up and informed Xiaobai of his itinerary for the morrow.
Upon hearing that he was heading into the imperial palace, Xiaobai shot upright: “Can you conveniently make contact with the Ninth Highness?”
The Ninth Highness had consistently maintained strained relations with the current Crown Prince, serving as the Crown Prince’s sole competitor and the only person capable of threatening the Crown Prince’s succession to the throne.
All major imperial princes would be in attendance at that time, and the Ninth Highness would be no exception.
“That is not a problem. Do you have any instructions?”
Retrieving a goose-yellow jade pendant from his bosom, Xiaobai handed it over.
Taking the pendant into his hands, Puding could tell at a single glance that it was an item exclusively possessed by members of the royal family.
He thus posed a single question: “Are you… a member of the royal family?” Though it wasn’t his place to ask, driven by the doubt within his heart, he voiced the question aloud.
Nodding in response, Xiaobai replied, “It is inconvenient for me to disclose too much, lest I implicate you and bring disaster upon your head.”