For a period after returning from the Pei Manor, Ye Zhao frequently slipped out of the house. The reason was simple—it made it easier for him to nurse his injuries.
Recently, a particular piece of news had been circulating through the bustling markets: Li Yunrong, the daughter of Minister Li, was to be betrothed to Jiang Ziqi.
This was truly wonderful news. Ye Zhao sat by the window of his room in the Watchtower, looking out at the clamor of the capital below, and smiled.
***
"Yunrong, are you truly getting betrothed?"
In a side room of the Li Manor, two women, each beautiful in her own distinct way, sat facing each other. Upon hearing the news, Princess Xiyue had rushed over, her first words cutting straight to the point. Her cool, elegant features clearly betrayed a hint of disapproval, though they were mostly filled with doubt.
The two were close friends, so Li Yunrong did not hide the truth. She smiled and said, "Yes."
"Is it truly that Jiang Ziqi?" Princess Xiyue asked again. She had only learned of Jiang Ziqi’s existence while looking into Ye Zhao’s affairs; later, she had heard the name more frequently from her friend.
"Mhm."
Li Yunrong nodded. Seeing her friend fall into a silent, frowning reverie, she guessed what she was thinking. She reached out and patted Xiyue’s hand affectionately, saying softly, "You needn't feel indignant on my behalf. I am marrying him of my own free will."
Xiyue had expected as much. Had she not been willing, Xiyue didn't believe Minister Li would ever agree to marry his only daughter to a man as unremarkable as Jiang Ziqi.
But since it was her friend’s own decision, Princess Xiyue could only respect her choice. "As long as you like him, that is all that matters."
"I knew you would understand me," Li Yunrong said, feeling a sense of comfort. she added, "Initially, my father didn't agree to the match either. But I believe that when a woman marries, she should marry someone who treats her well. Only then will he cherish her like a precious pearl. Such a man is a true partner."
She stood up, walked slowly into the inner chamber, and retrieved several booklets from her jewelry box. Smiling, she placed them in Princess Xiyue’s hands. "In this lifetime, no one will ever treat me better than Jiang Ziqi."
Princess Xiyue took the booklets, puzzled, and began to flip through them.
Beside her, Li Yunrong wore a tender smile, radiating a charm that was both gentle and moving. "Though I was angry that he conspired with Ye Zhao to deceive me, I was even angrier at how foolish he was."
He was so foolish that he had hesitated in place for years, never daring to step forward. He was so foolish that whenever an opportunity to get close to her appeared, he would seize it like a lifeline, regardless of the consequences.
It was enough to make one laugh with exasperation, yet it also brought a strange ache to the heart. Though Li Yunrong was smiling, her eyes were slightly misty. She said, "If there truly is such a thing as fate, then perhaps our mindless childhood chatter was the beginning destined for this life."
These booklets were the records of information regarding Li Yunrong that Ye Zhao had previously demanded from Jiang Ziqi. Now, Ye Zhao had returned them to their rightful owner.
After Minister Li read them, he had tacitly consented to the marriage. As Princess Xiyue skimmed through them now, though she didn't understand the "deception" Li Yunrong mentioned, the clumsy, earnest words on the pages felt as heavy as a thousand pounds—precious beyond measure.
She offered a sincere smile of blessing. "It seems I truly must congratulate you."
Li Yunrong smiled sweetly and turned the question back on her. "And what about you?"
"What?" Princess Xiyue was taken aback.
By any measure, Princess Xiyue was also at the age to marry. Li Yunrong asked, "How are things between you and Pei Yunting?"
How could they be? Recalling the several times she had dropped hints only for him to act as if he didn't understand, Princess Xiyue lowered her eyes. She fell silent for a moment before her expression returned to normal. "...Why bring him up?"
Seeing this reaction, Li Yunrong paused, then ventured a guess. "Is he..."
Was he... unwilling?
She didn't dare ask the question aloud, closing her mouth after the first syllable. She knew Xiyue’s feelings for Pei Yunting all too well.
After a long silence, Li Yunrong tried again. "Xiyue, then what do you think of Yusong?"
"Hmm?" Princess Xiyue was startled, her eyes widening in surprise. "What does this have to do with Xie Yusong?"
Li Yunrong pondered for a moment. "Don't you... think Yusong is also very good? He grew up as a childhood friend to you just like Pei Yunting, and he has spent even more time by your side. Whether in temperament or talent, he is beyond reproach. Do you really have no other thoughts about him?"
Though her words were subtle, her meaning was clear. Princess Xiyue would have to be truly dense not to understand.
She pursed her lips, her expression turning half-earnest and half-solemn. "Yusong and I are just friends. Don't let your imagination run wild."
But based on the signs over the years, Li Yunrong didn't think the other party felt the same way. She asked, "Why is it that Pei Yunting is acceptable, but Xie Yusong is not? It's as if you've only ever acknowledged Pei Yunting, excluding everyone else. Why is that?"
Her eyes were full of confusion as she looked at Princess Xiyue. She had felt this more than once—it was as if Xiyue’s heart and mind were set solely on Pei Yunting, while everyone else was deliberately shut out. This affection seemed to arise from nowhere, yet it was both deliberate and resolute, making it impossible to understand.
Faced with Li Yunrong’s question, Princess Xiyue fell into deep thought. A sense of aimless frustration rose in her heart, and she sighed. "There aren't always reasons for everything. Just as Jiang Ziqi feels for you, or as I feel regarding Pei Yunting, matters of the heart are always unpredictable."
"That is true," Li Yunrong conceded.
After all, she couldn't truly experience another person's state of mind. Perhaps Xiyue’s feelings for Pei Yunting were already as deep as the sea; she just didn't know what the other man was thinking...
***
At the end of June, on Ye Zhao’s birthday, the family took a rare trip out of the city. However, they weren't headed for Bushi Mountain, but rather toward a temple on a different peak.
In Ye Zhao’s eyes, this was nothing short of red rain falling from the sky. Had his parents finally converted to Buddhism?
In the early morning, as the green birds first began to chirp and the rosy clouds rose, few people had arrived at the mountain gate to offer incense. The Ye family arrived early, just in time to see a young novice monk sweeping the stone steps. The sound of chanting drifted from the temple, and everything felt peaceful and serene.
"Ha—" Ye Zhao climbed the steps and let out a yawn, his face still clouded with sleepiness.
Ye Father and Ye Mother stepped forward to greet the novice at the gate with palms pressed together. After stating their purpose, the three were invited into the temple.
At this hour, the monks were performing their morning lessons. After the three of them offered incense in the main hall, Ye Father and Ye Mother said they were going to seek someone to discuss Zen with, leaving Ye Zhao to wander around on his own.
Happy to be free, Ye Zhao found a good spot and settled in for a nap, completely unconcerned about his safety. After all, he had the Yulin Guards and hidden guards following him.
After an unknown amount of time, Ye Zhao was awakened by a call of "Amitabha."
Sleeping under a tree, Ye Zhao opened his eyes blearily. Intense sunlight pierced through the branches into his eyes; he closed them uncomfortably before turning toward the source of the sound.
A gleaming bald head reflected the light so sharply it nearly made Ye Zhao look away again.
Looking closer, he saw a fat monk with white eyebrows and no beard smiling radiantly at him. The monk had a round head and a round face; his faded, off-white robes hung loosely on his frame, dotted with several patches. A grass rope was tied around his waist, holding a gourd, and the faint scent of alcohol wafted from him.
After sizing him up, Ye Zhao thought: *...This is not a proper monk.*
Seeing that he was awake, the improper monk smiled and said, "Benefactor, it has been a long time."
Ye Zhao still had the haze of sleep on his face. He propped his head on one hand, reclining under the tree, and looked at the man through half-lidded eyes. His voice was slightly raspy. "You have the wrong person."
"Does the benefactor not remember this humble monk?" the man asked.
Not really wanting to deal with him, Ye Zhao replied lazily, "We were never acquainted, so how could I remember you?"
The monk seemed to ponder something before pressing his palms together and introducing himself. "This poor monk is Wuzhen. Greetings, young benefactor."
Ye Zhao: "Greetings, Great Monk."
The greeting was incredibly perfunctory, but the monk didn't seem to mind at all. Acting as if they were old friends, he sat down directly under the tree.
One sitting and one reclining, the two should have been left in peace, but the monk was indeed not a proper one. He didn't follow the rules; he unhooked the gourd from his waist, held it out to Ye Zhao, and asked quite brazenly, "Would the benefactor like a drink?"
Ye Zhao: "..."
He turned his head to look at the man. The monk’s face was full of sincerity and friendliness, warm and natural as if he were treating a friend. Ye Zhao silently turned his head back and uttered two words: "I don't."
"Oh..."
The monk acknowledged the answer. Then, holding the gourd himself, he began to gulp it down—*glug, glug, glug*. After a hearty drink, he let out a satisfied sigh.
Ye Zhao: "..."
*We are still in a temple, right?*
"Monk, what did you say your name was?" he suddenly asked.
The monk replied, "Wuzhen."
Ye Zhao: "Why aren't you called Wuneng?"
The monk was puzzled, his expression somewhat innocent. "Because the Dharma name my master gave me is Wuzhen, not Wuneng."
With a *pfft*, Ye Zhao burst out laughing. He joked, "Then do you have any fellow disciples named Wukong or Wujing?"
"There is no one named Wukong, but this poor monk does have a junior brother named Wujing," the monk replied with a smile.
Ye Zhao laughed. "If you had a Wukong as well, the three of you could take your master and head to the Western Heaven to fetch the scriptures! Hahahaha..."
He was dying of laughter.
The Yulin Guards, disguised as pilgrims standing nearby, felt a question mark slowly rise over their heads. *What on earth are they talking about?*
Ye Zhao laughed, and the monk laughed along with him.
When Ye Zhao’s laughter subsided, he asked, "What are you laughing at?"
Could the man actually get his joke?
*Impossible!* Ye Zhao denied it in his heart.
The monk’s laughter also stopped, but a bright, hearty smile remained on his face, projecting an air of ease and joy. "This poor monk laughs at the joy of meeting an old friend again."
He looked up at the brilliant sunlight, but the words he spoke were incomprehensible to Ye Zhao.
"You monk, you're quite strange," Ye Zhao muttered.
The man wasn't offended. He smiled and replied, "This poor monk is not strange; it is the benefactor who is strange."
Caught off guard by the retort, Ye Zhao paused before immediately snapping back, "What kind of monk are you!"
The monk, who had just been told he wasn't a monk, replied with a grin, "And what kind of person are you!"
Ye Zhao stared at the fat monk, and the monk stared back at Ye Zhao.
Their eyes met, with only the sound of the wind rustling the leaves between them.
Ye Zhao: "Do you want to pick a fight with me?"
*Come on, I'm ready! I'll satisfy your urge to get beaten.*
The monk smiled and shook his head. "No, no, no. This is a pure land of Buddhism. How could this poor monk engage in fighting?"
Ye Zhao looked at him with a flat expression. Why did those words sound like he could fight as much as he wanted once they left the temple?
"Didn't you drink alcohol anyway?"
The monk: "Drinking is drinking; fighting is fighting."
Ye Zhao debunked him: "Isn't drinking also breaking the precepts?"
"The precepts broken by drinking and fighting are different," the monk said solemnly.
Ye Zhao arched an eyebrow. "Both are breaking precepts. Since you've already drunk the wine, why do you care about a fight?"
It wasn't a life-or-death struggle; surely that was a lighter offense than his drinking?
The monk answered honestly and seriously, "I don't care about the fighting, but why should this poor monk fight the benefactor?"
Ye Zhao: *Because you're asking for it.*
But in truth, Ye Zhao had no intention of actually making a move. He was just playing around with the monk.
Scenting the faint aroma of sandalwood in the air—a scent Ye Zhao didn't hate, but didn't particularly like either—he realized the whole temple smelled of it.
He rolled over to lie flat on the edge of the tree planter, watching the leaves sway above him. He was getting a bit bored. He wondered what time it was; why hadn't his parents come to find him yet?
"Benefactor, my junior brother Wujing is here," the monk suddenly said.
Ye Zhao turned his head and saw Ye Father and Ye Mother walking toward them. He sprang into a sitting position.
Beside them was an old monk wearing a kashaya. He had a kind and benevolent countenance, and his attire looked far more polished and dignified than the monk beside Ye Zhao.
However, as soon as the newcomer arrived, his first words were, "Senior Brother."
*Whoa, so these two really are fellow disciples?* Ye Zhao looked from one to the other, feeling quite surprised.
The fat monk was about to reply when, unfortunately, he let out a wine-scented hiccup. He chuckled. "Junior Brother."
The old monk addressed as "Junior Brother" looked helpless. He turned to Ye Father and Ye Mother, performing a Buddhist salute. "I apologize for the unseemly sight. This is my senior brother. He is a bit... unconventional in his daily life. Please forgive him."
"It is no matter, no matter," Ye Father and Ye Mother exchanged pleasantries, though a cold sweat dripped in their hearts. To be honest, this was the first time they had encountered such a monk. But if even the Abbot could tolerate him, they—who didn't run the temple—had no reason to care.
"Hahahaha..." Seeing the slightly awkward trio, the fat monk didn't care at all. He laughed freely and took another swig of wine in front of everyone. "Wine and meat pass through the intestines, but the Buddha remains in the heart."
"Benefactor, wouldn't you say so?" The fat monk raised his wine gourd toward Ye Zhao.
Ye Zhao was stunned into silence by those words. A moment later, he snapped out of it and returned the smile. "Yes. The monk is still a good monk."
"Yes, yes, yes! This monk has broken all six precepts, but as long as the Buddha is in my heart, I am still a good monk!" The fat monk clapped his hands in delight.
The two seemed to have found kindred spirits in each other, but to the others, it sounded like nothing but nonsense and twisted logic.
Ye Mother reached out and pulled Ye Zhao, her face stern, signaling him to behave.
Ye Zhao immediately shut up and stood obediently to the side like a wooden post.
The Abbot’s gaze swept over Ye Zhao, sizing him up. "Is this the young Master Ye?"
Ye Mother immediately replied, "Yes."
She and Ye Father looked at the Abbot with a hint of tension. She asked hesitantly, "Abbot, is there... anything wrong with my son?"
Ye Zhao was confused. *What does that mean? Why does it feel like they're waiting for an old monk to read my fortune?*
Then he saw the Abbot stare at him intently for a few moments before lowering his eyes and pressing his palms together. Chanting a Buddhist invocation, the Abbot said slowly, "There is nothing wrong with the benefactor’s body. However, judging by his countenance, his aura is heavy with hostility, and he is plagued by karmic debts. It is harmless to himself, but for others..."
The unfinished words seemed to carry a hidden difficulty, and the weight behind them was palpable.
Ye Father and Ye Mother’s expressions changed instantly. They couldn't hide their tension and anxiety, falling into a worried silence.
Ye Zhao was dumbfounded. *Heavy hostility? Plagued by karmic debts?*
He instinctively sniffed himself and looked left and right, his mind full of question marks. *What hostility? Why don't I feel anything?*
After a while, Ye Zhao realized something. He looked up and blurted out, "Monk, are you trying to swindle us out of incense money?"
"Aiya!" Ye Mother slapped Ye Zhao on the chest. Ye Zhao cried out in pain, clutching his chest and pretending to be wounded.
Ye Zhao looked aggrieved, while Ye Father and Ye Mother suppressed their embarrassment, trying to smooth things over. "Haha, the boy is reckless. His words have offended the Master; please do not take them to heart..."
"Yes, yes, he's just a child and doesn't know better. Please don't mind him."
The Abbot showed no sign of anger. Instead, he smiled and shook his head, indicating it was no trouble.
The fat monk beside them burst into laughter, clearly enjoying the chaos. He chimed in with Ye Zhao, "That's right, Junior Brother! Are you perhaps trying to trick the young benefactor’s family out of incense money? Hostility? Where is this hostility?"
He craned his neck, his face flushed. He tried to open his eyes wide, but since he was already half-drunk, he could only stare at Ye Zhao with bleary eyes. He tumbled down from the wooden planter under the tree, circled Ye Zhao with stumbling steps, and waved his hand with a loud laugh. "There is no hostility. On the contrary, this golden light of boundless merit is nearly blinding me! Junior Brother, could it be that your eyes have failed you?"
He mocked his brother, his behavior wild and uninhibited, his manner so dashing and bold that he hardly seemed like a monk. His voice drew the attention of the few people nearby, who looked over before quickly looking away to mind their own business.
His junior brother, the Abbot, called out helplessly, "Senior Brother..."
Everyone had eyes, but this man claimed to see something different from everyone else.
Ye Zhao didn't believe the old monk’s talk at all. Seeing someone agree with him, he ignored the risk of another slap and muttered, "Exactly! You're both monks, so how come he sees good while you see bad? He sees me as a ten-generation virtuous man reincarnated, while you see me as a murderous star or an evil ghost. Where is the logic in that?"
"Indeed, indeed!" The fat monk was incredibly excited, his face glowing.
Ye Zhao tilted his chin up, elegantly unfurling his folding fan and fanning himself lightly with a smug smile. "Right? I think this monk is much more to my liking. Hahahaha..."
"The benefactor is also very much to this poor monk's liking."
...
Seeing the two of them about to become best friends, Ye Mother’s brow twitched uncontrollably. She forced a stiff smile. "Abbot, we have intruded enough today. We shall visit again another day."
Ye Father also signaled for Ye Zhao to restrain himself.
"Please, suit yourselves," the Abbot said, showing no anger, his aura peaceful and indifferent. Ye Mother, however, was nearly fuming. She grabbed Ye Zhao and, after a quick farewell, hurried down the mountain.
Ye Zhao: *Uh oh. I've really ticked off my mother. I'm probably in for it now.*
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
--- | --- | ---
李云容 | Li Yunrong | Daughter of Minister Li.
江子期 | Jiang Ziqi | Ye Zhao's friend, betrothed to Li Yunrong.
曦月郡主 | Princess Xiyue | A Commandery Princess and close friend of Li Yunrong.
裴云庭 | Pei Yunting | A childhood friend of Xiyue and Xie Yusong.
谢玉凇 | Xie Yusong | A childhood friend of Xiyue and Pei Yunting.
悟真 | Wuzhen | The "improper," wine-drinking monk.
悟净 | Wujing | The Abbot of the temple and Wuzhen's junior brother.
悟能 | Wuneng | A reference to Zhu Bajie (Pigsy) from Journey to the West.
悟空 | Wukong | A reference to Sun Wukong (Monkey King) from Journey to the West.
戾气 | Hostility / Baleful Aura | A negative spiritual energy often associated with violence or killing.
孽债 | Karmic Debts | Sins or negative karma accumulated from past actions.
功德金光 | Golden light of merit | A divine radiance associated with great virtuous deeds.
酒肉穿肠过，佛祖心中留 | Wine and meat pass through the intestines, but the Buddha remains in the heart | A famous Buddhist saying used to justify breaking dietary precepts for a higher spiritual state.
