Chapter 40 The Magpie on the Branch is So Well-behaved.

Ye Mu grabbed Wen Kong's sleeve and pulled him out of the courtyard gate, the reddish-brown cassock crumpled between her fingers.

She pointed to the shop with its warm glow at the alley entrance and sobbed, "It's that one... that roast chicken shop... their roast chicken..."

She sniffed, tears welling up again. In front of him, she looked like a wronged child, "It smells so good, I'm so hungry..."

Her voice trailed off in a sob. Ye Mu wiped her face haphazardly, only to let the tears flow more freely. "I saved money, I really did... but I have to pay rent, and I can't let my mother's medicine stop..."

She spoke incoherently, her voice growing more and more heartbroken, “I finally made up my mind today, clutching all the coins in my hand… but then I saw that little cat, its leg broken, curled up in the corner trembling… How could I just ignore it? Forty coins, and I gave them to the doctor…”

"Now it's even worse... I can't even afford half a chicken anymore..."

Ye Mu cried uncontrollably, her words broken and breathless. Tears streamed down her cheeks, covering her face and forming small welts at her chin. They dripped onto her front, spreading a dark, damp stain that was heart-wrenching and pitiful.

Wen Kong stood silently, letting her clutch his cassock until it was a mess.

He lowered his eyes, listening to her intermittent sobs, his gaze falling on her trembling eyelashes, tears welling up but not falling, until the sobs gradually subsided, and he inexplicably raised the cuff of his other hand.

The moment the grey monk's robe touched her damp cheek, Wen Kong himself froze.

His knuckles hung stiffly inside the wide sleeves, and the warmth transmitted through the fabric made his heart skip a beat.

So fresh, so tender.

Wen Kong couldn't understand why his pure mind, cultivated for many years, would be driven to do such an outrageous thing at this moment.

Lotus flowers before the Buddha are covered in dust, and tears fall from the cheeks of a beautiful woman. As the scriptures say, only by breaking free from attachment to self can one find peace after death.

But at this moment, all he could feel with his fingertips and smell with his breath was the salty and wetness of the girl's tears. Where was there any trace of selfless clarity?

Perhaps, it was precisely to see through this sudden delusional thought that Wen Kong not only did not withdraw his hand, but instead, in that position, used the tear-stained corner of his sleeve to very lightly and slowly wipe away the tear-streaked cheeks of her face.

Ye Mu, his face streaked with tears, was completely unaware of the internal struggle unfolding beneath his monk's robes. He continued muttering to himself, "I only sleep for two hours a day. The moment I open my eyes, I start copying stories. It's been half a month, and I haven't even had half a roast chicken..."

Perhaps she was too exhausted from crying, because her complaints were soft and nasal, just like the little cat in the yard.

"purchase."

Ye Mu looked up, sobbing, not having heard clearly, her eyes blurry with tears, "What?"

"I'll buy you roast chicken."

"But do you have any money?" Ye Mu was still sobbing, and unconsciously pulled his sleeve to wipe his nose. "I see your piggy bank only has a few copper coins, you're even poorer than me."

She saw it when she took a quilt from his cabinet last time. There was an open small ceramic bowl in the corner of the cabinet. She peeked in and saw the bottom of the bowl.

"That roast chicken costs sixty coins, and even half a chicken costs thirty coins."

"I have."

Wen Kong's voice was steady and inexplicably convincing.

Perhaps the news of finally having roast chicken to eat soothed her mind, and Ye Mu's turbulent grief gradually subsided. Through her teary eyes, she suddenly froze, only then belatedly noticing something else: he, this usually cold-hearted monk, was actually wiping away her tears?

As dusk settled and the afterglow of sunset spilled across the tiles, Wen Kong stood in the slanting sunlight, leaning slightly forward. His fingers, accustomed to holding prayer beads and turning the pages of scriptures, were now gently brushing against her cheek through the slightly damp corner of his sleeve.

Ye Mu looked up, her sobs gradually subsiding.

His hands remained restrainedly tucked into his sleeves, but his fingers were so long that his knuckles still unintentionally brushed against her face, causing a noticeable tremor.

Was he nervous? Ye Mu couldn't help but wonder if his heartbeat was as erratic and chaotic as hers was right now.

Just as Ye Mu had imagined, his hands were not delicate. Due to years of handling scriptures, they had a rough and dry feel, like an object that had been repeatedly polished by time, clear, hard and tough.

She could even clearly feel the bones in his fingers moving across her cheek with a subtle force, as if he were tracing a fragile piece of porcelain.

This subtle scraping/rubbing, through the thin cotton fabric revealing the outline of the knuckles, is more unsettling than direct caress/touch.

Ye Mu unconsciously held his breath, afraid of startling that beautiful, large hand.

She was extremely reluctant to break the tranquility of the moment, but Wen Kong's movements were so clumsy and awkward. Even though he intended to be gentle, he would always inadvertently bump into her thin eyelids, causing her to go from holding her breath to gasping for air.

With a slight pause in her breathing, she looked up at his face, which was so close to hers, and saw his long eyelashes. She asked softly, "What fragrance did you use on your clothes? They smell so good."

"Never."

"So where are you from?"

“From Pear Blossom Lane.”

She asked, and he answered.

It had always been like this; he would never utter a single extra word. But now they were so close, close enough that she could feel his warm breath gently brushing against her forehead, close enough that she could smell the faint scent of soap mingled with the sandalwood incense emanating from him.

She used to think he was too aloof, unwilling to even say a word, but now she felt that he wasn't cold, but rather... obedient.

He answered whatever she asked.

He listens to her.

He's so well-behaved.

Wen Kong hadn't noticed that she was staring at him intently, still focused on trying to wipe away the tears on her face, but her tears seemed endless. As soon as he wiped them away, more would seep out from the reddened corners of her eyes, spreading out a new layer of wetness.

It wasn't until he accidentally poked her upper eyelid again and heard her hiss softly that Wen Kong suddenly stopped. He realized that perhaps it wasn't that her grievances hadn't subsided, but rather that his careless touch had brought her unbearable soreness, which was why she kept crying.

She was too embarrassed to say anything, so she let him do whatever he wanted.

"I'm sorry," Wen Kong immediately withdrew his hand, "I hurt you."

Realizing it wasn't just about that, he took a half step back and apologized again, saying, "I was abrupt just now."

Ye Mu shook his head and asked again, "What are you going to Pear Blossom Lane for?"

Wen Kong's gaze involuntarily fell back onto her face.

The blush that had just spread across her face from the corners of her eyes to her ears, her eyes glistening with moisture. This unguarded vulnerability was so pure, it exuded a natural allure that she herself was unaware of.

He sensed it before she did.

Wen Kong's heart sank suddenly, as if struck heavily by an invisible bell.

He originally thought that by touching her with his own hands he could see through the illusion of appearances, and that so-called beauties were nothing more than warm skin and soft contours, no different from ordinary people.

But the lingering sensation on his fingertips wouldn't go away; that little bit of warmth, that little bit of softness, silently wrapped around him, dragging him into an even deeper trance than before.

Why does he feel more confused the closer they get? He still can't figure out the cause and effect.

Wen Kong lowered his eyes, his thick eyelashes casting deep shadows beneath them, completely concealing his momentary daze.

All outward appearances are manifestations of inner demons.

He clasped his hands in prayer, saying, "Amitabha, Pear Blossom Lane, performing a ritual."

The mudra formed by his hands was a barrier in front of him, and the deep Buddhist chanting was like an invisible ruler striking his heart. Wen Kong forcibly severed the inappropriate intimacy that had just occurred.

The beauty has faded.

Ye Mu was still staring at him blankly, her eyes, washed by tears, were misty and empty, still immersed in the rare tenderness just now.

She only snapped back to reality when the cool night breeze brushed against her damp cheeks.

"Master!" she exclaimed, instinctively taking a half-step back. "How can you be so inconsiderate? You're wiping my face with clothes that were just used for the ritual?"

Ye Mu glared at him, wiped her face haphazardly a couple of times, and then calmed down a bit. Feeling a little embarrassed, she turned around and ran into the house as if fleeing, scooped up a handful of cold water and splashed it on her face, trying to take away the remaining heat from her cheeks.

Once he had calmed down a bit, Ye Mu filled a basin with water from the kitchen water tank and placed it on the stone table in the courtyard. He then said to Wen Kong, who was still standing at the gate, "Master, come and wash your hands."

Wen Kong did as instructed and walked to the stone table. He bent down slightly and immersed his hands in the clear water. He washed them so carefully, his well-defined fingers slowly intertwining in the clear water.

Ye Mu stood to the side, her gaze inadvertently falling on his slightly damp cuff. On the dark blue cotton cloth, a dark water stain shimmered in the twilight, her tears mixed with some disheveled snot.

"I'm sorry," Ye Mu said apologetically, handing over the soap pod. "I've dirtied your clothes and wrinkled your robe."

"It's alright, I'm the one who's going to wipe your tears."

He spoke so frankly and calmly, as if the intimacy he had just felt was merely a gesture of salvation from a monk, no different from dusting a Buddhist shrine or sweeping grass and trees.

It's all just about cleaning up the filth in front of you.

All living beings are of the same nature, and all things are like dust.

Today she sheds tears in front of him, but tomorrow it might be someone else, or even a little dog crying by the roadside. He would probably bend down and gently wipe away its tears with the corner of his gray sleeve.

However, if it were a dog, and he accidentally poked her eyelid, she would probably have bared her teeth and bitten him, but she wouldn't.

She would only lift her gaze secretly when his clumsy fingertips brushed against her eyelids again, to look at his trembling eyelashes as they drooped, to trace the bridge of his nose, and finally to his tightly pursed thin lips. She used this secret, greedy gaze to offset the discomfort caused by his wiping.

Unless the pain is unbearable.

But what's the use of being so understanding? The Buddha saves all sentient beings without discrimination.

Whether she was a dog or not, in his eyes she was probably just one of the creatures in the mortal world that needed comforting. That moment of intimacy was nothing more than the monk's compassion for all things in the world.

This realization made Ye Mu's heart tighten, and a bittersweet feeling mixed with disappointment silently spread through his chest, gnawing at him.

An unspeakable flutter of emotion confined only to her.

After washing his hands and carefully scrubbing the water stains off his cuffs, Wen Kong straightened up and looked at her. "Shall we go buy it now?"

Ye Mu was taken aback, then snapped out of his inexplicable emotions and realized that he was talking about roast chicken. He nodded and replied, "Okay."

Just then, Zijing came out of the kitchen carrying a plate of freshly stir-fried vegetables. Seeing the two about to leave, she asked in confusion, "Miss, the food is ready, where are you going?"

"Ah Jing, let's go buy some roast chicken, we'll be right back!"

Ye Mu composed herself. Having lived a second life, her mindset had been tempered and was much more insightful than in her previous life. She could forgive herself for her momentary melancholy and allow herself to cry shamefully. After all, this body did not only house that weathered soul, but also a little girl.

That bittersweet feeling, which arose because of him and ended because of him, is proof that she is still young and vibrant.

Ye Mu took a deep breath and carefully suppressed the inappropriate flutter in her heart. She decided to treat this harmless excitement as a small reward for herself after her arduous journey.

The most important thing right now is to ensure that my mother and A-Jing can live a good life.

However, Wen Kong was confident in his wealth, but in reality, he only had sixty coins, just enough to buy a whole chicken.

The warmth emanating from the oil paper package seeped through the fabric, gently soothing Ye Mu's palms. The weighty solidity of the package warmed her heart, and she felt quite content. "Master's money, is it the money from today's ritual?"

The so-called "brief money" is a reward given by the patron to the monks after the Buddhist service. It is sealed in red paper and is both a sign of respect and an offering. If it is the head monk, an extra sum will be given separately.

Given Wen Kong's current reputation in the city, if we ask him to preside over a religious ceremony, the red envelope he receives will certainly not be meager, far exceeding the sixty coins for that roast chicken.

But she clearly saw his worn-out gray cloth money bag, empty inside.

“It was a gift.” Wen Kong continued walking as if he were talking about something very ordinary. “On my way back, I met three or four beggars huddled in a broken kiln, so I tore open the red envelope and gave it to them.”

No wonder there were only scattered copper coins in the ceramic bowls in his small cabinet. Ye Mu thought that apart from handing them over to the temple as public funds, they were all given away in this way, either to beggars or old women.

The two returned to the courtyard, where dusk was gradually spreading across the eaves.

Just as Zijing finished setting the bowls and chopsticks on the stone table, she looked up and saw them enter.

"Ah Jing, look!" Ye Mu held up the still-hot oil paper package high, her eyebrows curving into crescents. "Ah Jing, we must thank Master properly today; it was he who added such a delicious dish for us."

At this moment, the curtain in the inner room was lifted, and Liu slowly walked out, supporting herself on the door frame. "It's really too much trouble for Master Wenkong to spend so much money."

Her voice was a little weak, but her gaze fell gently on her daughter. "That girl, Fourth Sister, has been eyeing this ever since we moved here. She even smacks her lips in her sleep at night."

In just over half a month, Liu's temples had already turned gray. Although she was only thirty-five or thirty-six years old, her back was slightly hunched. Ever since the disaster at the Marquis's mansion, she had been tossing and turning at night, unable to fall asleep. Only by listening to the indistinct murmurs of Fourth Sister in the next room could she escape from the bottomless despair.

These past few days, the weather has been fine, and she always moves her rattan chair to sit under the eaves in the afternoon, letting the sun warm her withered body before going back inside to take the bowl of bitter medicine and fall into a deep sleep.

Liu Shi hadn't heard a word of Ye Mu's earth-shattering wailing outside the courtyard gate, and now she could only find a moment of peace during the day.

Ye Mu put the roast chicken on the table and came over to help her. "It's not just me, A-Jing has been craving this for a long time too."

Liu noticed that her eyes were a little red and swollen. "What happened? Have you been crying?"

"He was so hungry for roast chicken that he cried." Zijing came out of the kitchen with a smile, carrying a rough earthenware pot.

She deftly poured the roast chicken from the oil paper package into the basin. The golden, crispy chicken made a crisp sound as it hit the earthenware basin, and a rich aroma instantly filled the air.

Zijing had heard the noise at the door, but after peeking through the kitchen window, she wiped away her tears and walked away. Her master was truly wronged.

She must have been carrying a lot of bitterness in her heart. When she was looking for this place to stay, her master said that she had taken an oxcart and the journey was easier. But later, when Zijing covered her with a blanket at night, she caught a glimpse of her feet in the candlelight and saw that the blisters on her fair feet had broken and reappeared, covered with dark red scabs.

After moving into this small courtyard, the master worked day and night copying books, his knuckles developing calluses. He lived so frugally that he had to split every penny in half, but even so, he never complained and always smiled at her and his wife.

After enduring so many days of hardship, it's only natural that the master would have a good cry now that he's seen his master.

But I really am craving it.

Zijing watched as Ye Mu finished the chicken wing and deftly tore off another chicken leg. She advised, "Miss, eating too much greasy food at night can upset your stomach. After you finish this chicken leg, you can eat some shredded chicken and cabbage. I'll make you some chicken porridge tomorrow morning with some ginger and coriander. It'll be even more delicious."

Ye Mu nodded in agreement, tearing off the other chicken leg and putting it in her bowl, "You eat too, don't just eat for me."

She munched contentedly on a chicken leg, the oil glistening on her lips. Looking up, she saw Wen Kong sitting quietly to her side, strictly adhering to the rule of not eating after noon and abstaining from any meat.

When buying the roast chicken, apart from the brief moment of unavoidable closeness when handing over the money bag, Wen Kong kept a distance of about half a zhang from the roast chicken shop.

He always adhered to these strict rules. Ye Mu lowered his eyes, thinking that she must have cried so hard that it stirred his compassion.

"Master," Ye Mu swallowed the chicken in his mouth, "how did you know we lived here?"

Wen Kong turned his gaze, which fell on her glistening lips, before quickly looking away. "This morning, when I went to Pear Blossom Lane, I saw Miss Zijing carrying a vegetable basket and heading towards this lane."

"There are so many houses in this alley, how can you be sure which courtyard we live in?" Ye Mu asked. "How many doors did Master knock on before he found us?"

"One family."

“Master Wenkong is really lucky,” Zijing said with a smile, adding half a bowl of hot rice to Liu’s bowl. “Perhaps it’s because he has accumulated a lot of good karma that the Bodhisattva has given him such guidance.”

It wasn't luck.

Wen Kong remained silent. He had wandered through this alley five or six times before finally hearing the familiar gentle voice, "Little cat, have some water. Why don't you like to drink water? Do you want me to hold you?"

The bluestone wall wasn't too high, just level with his line of sight. Wen Kong stopped outside the wall and saw the scene inside. She was squatting under the pomegranate tree, her fingertips gently stroking the back of a kitten, her sleeves hanging down to reveal her wrists, her eyebrows relaxed and her voice gentle.

A moon-white silk dress hung under the bamboo fence, swaying gently in the wind; it was the same dress she wore at Baoxiang Temple on the day of the Autumn Equinox.

I recall that when she was young, she always loved to wear apricot-red ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress), and when she ran, she looked like a blazing fire. But as she grew up, I never saw her wear brightly colored clothes; she always wore very simple and plain clothes.

He didn't pay special attention, but he remembered the patterns, which were either plain white or light yellow.

The fragrance wafted around them like a thin veil. She stood under the eaves, holding a fortune stick, watching him. Behind her, the palace gates were open, and the Bodhisattva looked down. Thousands of incense sticks shone brightly in her smiling eyes.

Yes, she was smiling when she first met him, but he made her cry when they were interpreting the fortune sticks later.

The hall was filled with worshippers coming and going. He had long forgotten what others had prayed for regarding marriage and future prospects, but he remembered her reddened eyes.

Wen Kong lowered his head. He cried when he saw Li Qiu, he cried when the old lady passed away, and today, seeing him over a roast chicken, he cried so pitifully.

She always seemed to cry easily in front of him.

So, what about the day he was expelled from the Marquis's mansion? With no relatives or friends to turn to, he left home with his mother, and one can only imagine how heartbroken he must have been.

Wen Kong was taken aback by the sudden tightness in his chest. He seemed to really treat her as his own child. He had heard that parents could discipline their children without others saying a bad word about them.

At that moment, he actually tasted a similar flavor.

He could comfort her when he made her cry, but he felt inexplicably unhappy when someone else made her cry.

Perhaps it was because they had known each other for so long, and he had watched this young girl fall from a pampered and beautiful young lady of a noble family to her current state of cautiously making a living, that he always felt a bit of pity for her.

"Which family in Pear Blossom Lane did Master perform the ritual for?"

Upon hearing Zijing's question, Wen Kong snapped out of his reverie, "The Shen family."

"The Shen family?"

Pear Blossom Lane is only two streets away from them. After living there for half a month, most of the neighbors had heard about it, not to mention that the Shen family was already a prominent family in the area.

Zijing asked in surprise, "I haven't heard of any sick people in his family. I often hear Zheng, the instructor next door, say that the young master of the Shen family is very intelligent and studies very well. He might even be the top scholar this year."

"It is the young master of the Shen family who has passed away."

"Huh?" Zijing was even more surprised, the chicken leg in her mouth fell into the bowl, "How could he be perfectly fine all of a sudden..."

Wen Kong was not fond of talking much, especially about matters concerning his master, but seeing the curiosity in Ye Mu's eyes, he added, "It is said that he failed the autumn examination and jumped into the well at the second watch of the night."

"Scholars are just too rigid in their thinking. I saw that young master of the Shen family a few days ago. He was a thin and frail young man. It's a real pity."

Zijing put down her bamboo chopsticks and sighed, "Heaven won't let a blind sparrow starve. There are countless ways to make a living in this world. You can make a living by selling silk or slurry. What can't you do? If you don't pass the exam this year, you can take it again in three years. Why bother?"

“Scholars value their pride more than their lives. It seems that the young master of the Shen family has put all his heart and soul into the imperial examinations,” Liu said calmly, stirring the rice grains in her bowl. “Such a proud young man is like a bowstring that is stretched too tight; it will break with the slightest touch.”

Ye Mu also said, "He came from a good family, yet he went to the point of seeking death. It's hard to say that there wasn't heavy pressure from his family. Jade must be polished to become a useful object, but too much rigidity will easily break it. The Shen family's upbringing must have been excessively strict."

The conversation was too heavy, and seeing that her master was eating the roast chicken absentmindedly, Zijing quickly changed the subject, "There are so many stories in this alley, miss. When you went to buy the roast chicken just now, did you see the newly opened tofu shop next door? It's run by Widow Li from the west end. The other night, her donkey actually gnawed half of the door frame of Zhang the blacksmith next door. It was hilarious."

Gossiping about everyone, Zijing, being a naturally clever person, spent her days wandering through the alleys, having already gathered all the interesting stories from the front and back streets.

She vividly described the scene of Zhang the blacksmith being so angry that he wanted to chop off the donkey's hooves, and imitated the tone of Wang the silly boy reciting the Thousand Character Classic, which made Liu cover her mouth and laugh.

Intrigued by the lively atmosphere, Ye Mu casually picked up bamboo chopsticks to keep time and spontaneously sang a section of Lotus Flower Ballad.

The crescent moon shines on the eaves

Let me tell you a story about Zhang, the blacksmith from the south of the city.

Sparks flew from the bluestone slab

Last night, chasing a donkey caused a disturbance in the neighborhood…

As dusk fell, wisps of smoke rose from chimneys, and laughter filled the air. This little courtyard, since we moved in, was brimming with such vibrant life for the first time.

After everything was packed up, the moon was high in the sky, and Wen Kong put his palms together and took his leave.

"I'll see my master off."

Ye Mu pushed open the courtyard gate, and the two walked one after the other in the bluestone alley. The sweet fragrance of tuberose was strong in the night breeze.

As they passed by a low wall of a house, the branches of a magnolia tree leaned out and almost brushed against Ye Mu's temple. Wen Kong subtly raised his hand, his wide monk's sleeve covering the top of her head. Looking down at her, he teased her, "Fourth Miss is so talented, she can even sing Lotus Ballad."

"It was Jiu Jun who taught me." Ye Mu looked up at him, the moonlight gently flowing over her beautiful face.

Seeing that he remained unmoved, she feared he might not remember who it was, so she added, "He is the most skilled drinker among the Five Gentlemen of Ink, and also the most unconventional and interesting in temperament."

Speaking of this, Ye Mu's eyes crinkled into a smile, sparkling as he clearly became interested. "He also knows quite a few street tricks, like lotus flower ballads, finger-guessing games, and how to cheat at dice. They're all quite novel."

He shook his head regretfully and said slowly, "It's a pity you're a monk, I can't take you to see the world."

The air beside him suddenly turned cold.

Ye Mu glanced to the side and saw that Wen Kong's face suddenly darkened, as if he had been plunged into a cold pool. She suspected that it was because the lights in the alley were dim that his face looked so dark and gloomy.

"Alright, alright," Ye Mu bowed and put his palms together in Buddhist ritual, apologizing to him, "It was my fault for speaking out of turn. I shouldn't have made such worldly jokes with a monk."

He pursed his lips tightly but didn't say anything.

As they reached the alley entrance, the hibiscus on the wall was in full bloom under the moonlight. As Ye Mu was playing with the flowers and plants, he heard Wen Kong say in a low voice, "This humble monk is indeed boring."

The sounds and colors were serene and quiet.

Ye Mu didn't know why he suddenly became so self-deprecating, and subconsciously retorted, "No, Master is quite interesting too."

She just blurted it out, but he took it seriously.

"Is that so?" Wen Kong stopped in front of her, his eyes lowered, and asked, "What's interesting about it? Tell me."

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Author's Note: Thank you for reading and adding to your favorites! More to come in the next chapter [glasses]

My next book was originally called "Spring Falls on Two Branches," but I want to make it more fun and change it to "Can My Eldest Sister-in-Law Play with Me?" The writing style should be light comedy; I want to write something adults will enjoy from the very first chapter! [Sunglasses emoji] Welcome everyone to add it to your collection; it's expected to be released in January!!!