Yujing’s Buddha Bathing Festival happened to coincide with a season of clear and mild weather, with warm southern breezes and grass gently brushing against the reins of passing travelers.
As evening fell, the Prince of Jing, having finished handling his official duties, arrived as promised by carriage, parking outside the Prince’s Manor to wait.
Hearing that the Prince of Jing intended to celebrate the Buddha Bathing Festival together with the Princess Consort, Consort Yun had instructed Wangjiang Courtyard early that morning to brew a spiced herbal sugar water, which was sent over to Xunchun Residence as a gift for Shen Lizhuang.
Deeply moved, Shen Lizhuang used a landscape painting she had completed just the previous day as a return gift, also sending it into Wangjiang Courtyard via Madam Zhou. “My humble work is unfit to be seen, but I hope Her Ladyship will not disdain it.”
Madam Zhou presented the painting to Consort Yun, untied the fine cord, and rolled out the three-foot-long ink wash painting before Consort Yun’s eyes.
The moment the painting came into view, a light of astonished admiration brightened in Consort Yun’s pupils. “Is this a portrait of me?”
Madam Zhou had not looked closely when she received the painting, and now she peered curiously into it. Within the scroll, she saw a fragile, delicate beauty whose skin was like the blossom of the hibiscus and whose brows carried a lingering, graceful charm. She was leaning at a slant against the red railing of a weeping willow pavilion, with wide sleeves scattering a handful of gold-dust-like petals, her garments similarly filled with the soft, rustling pink blossoms of spring.
“It truly is Your Ladyship,” Madam Zhou exclaimed in wonder.
Consort Yun had a good eye for people; Jiaojiao possessed both talent and a proud disposition. It was just that her son had always been somewhat arrogantly impolite, and coupled with the fact that he had never interacted with young women before, meeting hardness with hardness might mean the path of true love would be strewn with difficulties.
Tonight, they had actually agreed to go to Ci’en Temple together to spend the Buddha Bathing Festival—this genuinely surprised her, and perhaps it was the beginning of a turn for the better.
Her days were limited, and she only hoped to live to see the day when Herqiu and Jiaojiao were of one heart and mind. Then she would have no regrets left.
Shen Lizhuang put on the outfit she had selected during the day, left her quarters alone, and slipped into the carriage where the Prince of Jing had been waiting for a long time.
The space inside the carriage was expansive, easily seating the Prince of Jing with plenty of room to spare.
Now, the moment she caught sight of the golden jade belt cinched tightly around the Prince of Jing’s waist—the one that kept the latent, fiery muscles of his abdomen from bulging forth too wantonly—her heart would flutter with apprehension and her legs would tremble. She deliberately tried to distance herself from him, but no sooner had she shuffled a bit further away than the sharp-eyed Prince of Jing detected it. His long, muscular arm effortlessly swept across half the carriage, pulling the hiding, timid woman straight into his embrace.
Only by pressing her against his chest and forbidding her to fidget any further could he find a shred of peace in his heart.
Otherwise, amidst the noisy, bustling sounds of the carriage in motion, his hearing—not as sharp as when it was completely quiet—made it difficult to discern her breathing. He might not even know if she was still there, or when she might suddenly vanish.
“Don’t move,” Ji Mu’s palm clamped around her slender waist as he slightly knitted his brow, speaking with his magnificent, deep voice. “If you don’t want to desecrate the purity before the Buddha with me before the Buddha bathing ceremony even begins, behave yourself.”
Shen Lizhuang was truly being saddled with a massive, unprovoked grievance! Desecrating the purity before the Buddha—was that something she would even think of?
Yet she truly did not dare to move, fearing a repeat of yesterday. He had been holding her in his arms, explaining examination questions to her, when suddenly Shen Lizhuang sensed something and broke out in a panic-stricken sweat. Sure enough, the rolled manuscript dropped from her hand like a falling feather, and the soft chair beneath them creaked incessantly and shook wildly for two whole hours.
While the Prince of Jing was undoubtedly shameless, she now truly dared not act rashly.
Yet being held by him like this left her with very little freedom of movement, so she couldn’t help negotiating with him: “Since Your Highness knows about the purity before the Buddha, when we reach the Buddha Bathing Festival a moment from now, please do not get too close to me. Otherwise, if the Buddha sees it and becomes displeased, blaming me for not being devout—and I am very devout indeed.”
Hearing the malicious intent behind her words, Ji Mu retorted, “You actually use my own words to block me? And you’ve even learned to borrow strength to strike back; it seems this month’s progress has indeed been real.”
With a strained expression and a drumming heart, Shen Lizhuang cupped her fists and offered a stiff salute. “A great teacher produces a brilliant student. Heh-heh.”
A trace of displeasure was visible across Ji Mu’s features. “This kind of thing requires a sense of propriety on my part; you need say no more.”
With that, he raised his palm and stroked across the space where her face should be.
Shen Lizhuang was once again astonished by the Prince of Jing’s precision. It was as if he could actually see, always managing to accurately touch her face.
His palm, a layer of soft warmth wrapped over hard bone, pressed the base of his hand against the bridge of her nose and slid lightly toward her cheekbones.
“Could it be in your heart that this Prince is simply a dissolute, frivolous man whose greedy desires can never be satisfied?”
Shen Lizhuang did not dare admit it, but she had absolutely no desire to deny it either, especially since she had suffered so much hardship at his hands. Unable to stop herself, she mumbled, “I didn’t say that. Those are Your Highness’s own words.”
Ji Mu let out an ambiguous chuckle.
Her boldness had grown to such an extent that she actually dared to talk back to him like this.
Shen Lizhuang was also filled with trepidation, worrying that he might petty-mindedly hold a grudge over her words. But stealing a glance at him, she saw him sitting in the swaying carriage, eyes lowered as he twirled the ring on his finger, seemingly not taking her disrespectful retort to heart. She let out a small sigh of relief.
The carriage rolled smoothly onward with minimal shaking, heading toward Ci’en Temple.
Ci’en Temple was built outside the West Gate, a mere hundred paces from the city ramparts. Ordinarily, it was considered a quiet and secluded spot. However, because the right to host this year’s Buddha Bathing Festival had fallen to Ci’en Temple, the believers arriving to attend the ceremony tonight suddenly swarmed in like a multitude, packing the areas inside and outside the temple almost to the point of being impassable.
Incense-bearers from all walks of life struggled mightily through the crowds, striving solely to pour a basin of Buddha-bathing water devoutly over the golden body of the Buddha.
As they alighted from the carriage, lotus lanterns of every description could be seen held high above people’s heads in the distance, their densely packed basins reflecting countless metallic sheens from the lotus lights, glittering in the eyes of passing pedestrians.
Shen Lizhuang was somewhat dumbfounded, and her mental retreat drums began to beat quietly. Swallowing hard, she asked the Prince of Jing, “There are too many people. I’m afraid we won’t be able to squeeze our way in easily. Perhaps we should…”
Ji Mu took her hand, feeling an equal sense of impatience toward the noisy and clamorous sounds filling the air. Frowning, he said to her placidly, “We do not need to squeeze through the main gate.”
Shen Lizhuang suddenly understood. Ci’en Temple was built under the grace and favor of the imperial Ji clan, and the Prince of Jing was an honored guest of the temple; there was no need for them to crowd with ordinary pilgrims.
She followed Ji Mu into the temple grounds via a side door of Ci’en Temple. Along the way, young novice monks with pure, clear features and Buddhist names like Huitong guided their path.
The novice monk introduced the centuries-old architecture within Ci’en Temple, noting how the painted beams and murals retained their vivid colors to this day, particularly some of the polychrome mineral pigments that flashed with multicolored splendor, resembling golden and jade treasures.
Ji Mu held his blind staff in one hand while offering his other arm for Shen Lizhuang to lean on. After the novice monk departed, he heard a complaining voice murmur beside him: “Such a pure sanctuary of Buddhism…”
Ji Mu’s arm slipped downward, capturing her hand. “This Prince has a sense of propriety. Come here. I will teach you how to bathe the Buddha.”
The entire Ci’en Temple seemed bathed in the resplendent, sacred radiance of golden light. Sanskrit chanting accompanied the evening drums and morning bells, lingering refreshingly and soothingly among the carved beams and painted pillars. Amidst the sea-like crowds, he somehow produced a jade-porcelain vessel filled with Buddha-bathing water, a willow twig leaning obliquely within the liquid, exactly like the sweet dew of the willow branch nourished within a purification vase.
Shen Lizhuang’s fingers supported the jade porcelain vessel, and under his guidance, she walked toward the tallest and largest golden Buddha statue beneath the courtyard corridor, reciting the Buddhist verses he had taught her three times with sincere devotion. Reaching the pool where the golden Buddha was enshrined, she poured the vessel of Buddha-bathing water over the Buddha’s flower-holding fingers.
It was likely an illusion, but she felt as though, after this water was poured onto the golden body, the Buddha’s expression became even more vivid and lifelike, and even his brows and eyes grew clearer and warmer.
Holding his blind staff in the corridor, surrounded by pilgrims darting about like schools of fish, Ji Mu’s shoulder was inadvertently bumped by a burly, stout man passing by. Ji Mu frowned and instinctively called out, “Longzhou.”
The surroundings were a chaotic and noisy clamor. After losing his sight, Ji Mu intensely disliked such bustling crowds.
Receiving no response after calling once, Ji Mu suddenly remembered that neither Longzhou nor Li Mao was by his side today; he had come out alone with the Princess Consort.
And as for the Princess Consort, goodness knows where she had wandered off to.
Ji Mu was bumped against a corridor pillar, using it to completely steady his posture. His blind staff failed to probe even a foot into the crowded mob, and the clamor all around him deprived him even of his sense of direction.
“Lady Shen,” a sudden surge of irritation rose in his heart as he struck the floor with his staff, demanding that Shen Lizhuang—who should have finished pouring the Buddha-bathing water—return swiftly to his side.
Yet this call also went unanswered.
Ice and frost gradually gathered within his phoenix eyes, and he shouted with near-sink-or-swim severity: “Come here!”
Could it be that she had grown playful and was no longer here?
She had actually abandoned him in the crowd, paying him no mind whatsoever.
At this thought, Ji Mu’s lungs suddenly burned with a searing pain, and an irrepressible surge of restless anger and violent intent flared up, his chest heaving irregularly.
The Shen family had deceived and hoodwinked him; Shen Meizhuang had eloped, abandoning her husband. Since she had taken Shen Meizhuang’s place in marriage, she ought to have compensated him with everything she had! How dare she run off! Could she have learned Shen Meizhuang’s tricks, intending to vanish without a trace right under the nose of a blind man?
Unlike Shen Meizhuang, however, he would never let her go.
In that single instant, Ji Mu angrily turned over in his mind every single one of the eighteen forms of punishment he would inflict upon her once he tracked her down.
Shen Lizhuang had not heard the Prince of Jing’s voice at all. After finishing her pouring of the Buddha-bathing water, she had been swept away by wave after wave of surging crowds. Lacking the divine power described in storybooks to cleave the currents and part the seas, she had no choice but to be swept along with the general flow toward the main hall.
By now, the ceremony had already begun. Entering the hall, her field of vision widened slightly. Here, pure tones drifted softly and incense smoke curled gracefully. According to the Buddha Bathing Festival rituals of the Great Qi dynasty, the ceremony featured a Guanyin bestowing water segment.
A dozen young women draped in white gauze, disguised as dignified manifestations of Guanyin, were sprinkling willow-branch sweet dew from their purification vases upon the passing pilgrims within the most bustling corner of the hall.
The young novice monk who had guided Shen Lizhuang earlier spotted her standing there entranced, hurried over, and asked, “Why is the benefactor not accompanying His Highness? He has an eye affliction and is unsuited to lingering long in crowds. The benefactor should quickly go find him; if you wish to observe the ceremony, you may come with him.”
Shen Lizhuang’s chest gave a violent jolt. She had actually forgotten where she had left Ji Mu behind, and instantly turned her head in a hurried panic.
Yet with this single turn of her head, she abruptly caught sight of the edge of a Guanyin’s white veil being fluttered by a corner breeze, briefly revealing a face beneath the white veil—a face resembling pure white snow blanketing red plum blossoms, complete with that pair of crystal-clear, exceedingly familiar eyes upon her cheeks.
Shen Lizhuang’s footsteps came to an abrupt halt. As the other person lifted her gaze to look toward her and hurriedly covered her face with the veil, Shen Lizhuang’s stalled mind snapped like a broken lute string, and she stared in astonishment toward the corner.
That was actually the Eldest Miss!