Chapter 8 The Lonely Phoenix's Curse (Part 8) The Undergarment.

Withered lotus leaves lay scattered, fallen leaves turned yellow and decayed, and the north wind tore at Wen Kong's tattered monk's robe, making his frail frame stand out even more.

He turned his head and looked at Ye Mu. His eyes showed neither surprise nor emotion, like a stone thrown into an ancient well, leaving not even a ripple, only a deep, silent darkness.

"What are you doing here?" Ye Mu asked again, his voice unconsciously softening.

Wen Kong's eyes flickered, his lips were tightly pressed together, but he remained silent. He took a few steps back to avoid Ye Mu's fingers, which were clinging to his sleeve, and shook them off.

Several burly women carried a whole rack of still-steaming pork, calling out as they walked past him. Their heavy footsteps splashed mud and water, and a few specks of murky mud clung to the worn edges of his monk's shoes.

Wen Kong glanced down, but there was no anger on his face. He moved his toes slightly and moved his body further into the corner, almost embedding himself in the shadow of the wall.

Voices, footsteps, the sizzling of oil in a pot... the surroundings were bustling, but Ye Mu felt that Wen Kong's aura of solitude coldly isolated him from this lively world.

"Oh dear, whose young master is this? He's been standing here for ages!" An old woman who had just finished carrying firewood came out of the kitchen, wiping her sweat. Her gaze fell on Wen Kong, a hint of impatience in her eyes. "Blocking the way! Delivering New Year's gifts? Can't you just put the things down? The housekeeper is so busy, who has time to deal with these things..."

The old woman's loud voice attracted the attention of several cooks, who all peered out and their eyes lingered on Wen Kong's ill-fitting old robe.

Wen Kong kept his eyes downcast and didn't speak. He just pulled the coarse cloth bundle closer to his body. Every year, Baoxiang Temple would send people to the nobles in the capital to give them some dried mushrooms, vegetarian snacks, or hand-copied scriptures as New Year's gifts.

Seeing this, Ye Mu looked up and called out in a clear voice, "Mom, he's a little monk from Baoxiang Temple! It's New Year's, and the Bodhisattva is bringing blessings to our family! Go quickly and invite Madam Zhou, who's in charge, and tell her that Fourth Sister is waiting for her at the side gate!"

The old woman was speechless after Ye Mu's words. She recognized this as the third young lady. Everyone in the mansion knew that although the fourth young lady was young, she was a very knowledgeable person.

The words he used to refute the Second Mistress in the Old Madam's main room were so clear and logical that they had already spread quietly among the servants. Even the usually stern Old Madam did not reprimand him for being impolite, but instead praised him for having some merit. Such dignity was unique among the young masters of the entire household.

The old woman dared not delay, her back slumped, and she hurriedly said, "Oh dear! This old servant is truly blind, I didn't recognize you as Fourth Miss, please forgive me. This old servant will go and fetch Madam Zhou right away! Fourth Miss, please wait a moment, this old servant is fast, I'll be back in a short while!"

The kitchen entrance was still noisy, and the aroma of fried food was so strong it was almost pungent.

Wen Kong kept his eyes downcast, his fingers gripping the bundle tightly, his knuckles turning bluish-white from the force, perhaps from the cold, and even trembling slightly.

Ye Mu stood a few steps away from him. The cold wind blew against the downy fur of her jacket, and she couldn't help but shrink her neck. Her dark eyes were fixed on Wen Kong's hands. Several joints were even cracked with small bloody cuts. The backs of her hands and knuckles were covered with dark red chilblains. Some of them had ulcerated and were oozing pale yellow fluid. The skin around the edges was red, swollen and shiny.

Madam Zhou quickly arrived with her maid. She was wearing a brand-new indigo jacket and had a silver hairpin in her hair. She looked shrewd and capable.

"Oh my, Fourth Miss, what brings you to this smoky place? Be careful not to get smoked!" Madam Zhou smiled at Ye Mu first, then her gaze fell on Wen Kong, scanning him up and down. "And who is this little master?"

“Aunt Zhou, he’s a young monk from Baoxiang Temple.” Ye Mu stepped forward. “He’s come especially to deliver the Buddha’s New Year’s blessings to our household! Look, his hands are all red from waiting. Please accept the New Year’s gift and give him a cup of hot tea to warm him up!”

Caught up in Ye Mu's words, Madam Zhou's smile became even more genuine, and she became more polite to Wen Kong: "So you're a monk from Baoxiang Temple, thank you for your trouble! You've made this trip, just give me the New Year's gifts. It's freezing cold, young monk, please come with me to the gatehouse for some hot tea to warm up?"

Wen Kong then raised his eyelids, his gaze quickly sweeping over Madam Zhou before finally landing on Ye Mu's face. His eyes remained calm and unwavering, and he merely nodded slightly, handing over the coarse cloth bundle in his hand.

Madam Zhou took the bundle. It felt light in her hand, clearly not anything valuable, but she didn't show it on her face and still smiled: "Fourth Miss is kind-hearted, please come in, little master."

Wen Kong did not move, but simply clasped his hands together and bowed to Ye Mu, then turned around and prepared to leave along the way he came.

"Little Master, wait!" Ye Mu blurted out, taking two steps forward.

Wen Kong stopped in his tracks, his calm eyes looking at her again.

Ye Mu felt a little awkward under his gaze, and pouted, "Your...your hands are all frozen! Wait for me! Just a moment! I'll go get some ointment to put on for you! It'll be quick!"

Before Wen Kong could react, she turned and ran towards her room in the west wing, like a fluttering sparrow, quickly passing through the corner courtyard piled with New Year's goods and disappearing behind the moon gate.

Holding her bundle, Madam Zhou was caught in a dilemma, unsure whether to leave or stay. She could only force a smile and say, "Little Master, Fourth Miss is so kind-hearted, what do you think of this..."

Wen Kong stood still, his gaze sweeping over Zhou Niangzi's slightly embarrassed face before finally settling on the moon gate. His thin lips pressed into a straight line, he said nothing, but did not take a step away.

He stood there silently, his tattered ochre robe standing like a withered old bamboo in the gray shadow of the wall.

Ye Mu ran incredibly fast, her short legs barely touching the ground, and when she rushed back to the warm pavilion, Zi Jing was directing the little maid to tidy up the dusting tools.

"Ah Jing! Ah Jing! Quick! Frostbite cream!" Ye Mu gasped for breath, her little face flushed as she ran straight to her vanity box where she kept her small items.

Zijing was startled by her hurried appearance: "Fourth Sister? What's wrong? Who's cold?"

"The little monk from Baoxiang Temple! His hands are all frozen!" Ye Mu tiptoed, frantically rummaging through the box with his small hands, finally pulling out a round, crab-shell-shaped celadon box, which he held in his hand. "He's still waiting in the corner courtyard!"

Ye Mu ran back to the corner courtyard like a gust of wind, but luckily Wen Kong was still waiting there.

He hadn't even moved much from where he was standing, and his bald head was already bluish-white from the cold.

Madam Zhou had long since disappeared, presumably having found it boring and gone off to do her own thing after receiving the New Year's gifts. He was completely oblivious to the occasional curious or disdainful glances he received from the old women as they carried things around.

"Little Master!" Ye Mu ran over, panting, took the small porcelain box from Zi Jing's hand, and held it up to him like a treasure. "Here! This is for you! Put it on your hands, and the chilblains won't hurt anymore! It's really effective!"

It was an exquisitely crafted small round box, its crab-shell green glaze warm and lustrous, with a band of shallow relief lotus scrolls on the lid. Even something as simple as a box of ordinary frostbite ointment used by a young lady of the Marquis's household exuded an air of nobility that seemed incongruous with him.

Ye Mu's arm was getting sore from holding it up, and seeing that he didn't take it, she pushed it forward even further, almost touching his chin: "Really! I'm not lying to you! It will stop itching once you apply it!"

Wen Kong's gaze fell on the porcelain box, then slowly moved to Ye Mu's slightly red face from the cold.

He finally spoke: "I appreciate your kindness, young benefactor."

After a brief pause, he clasped his hands together in front of his chest, lowered his eyelids, and spoke in a clear, melodious voice: "A person outside the secular world does not touch external things."

After saying that, he left.

Zijing caught up and, seeing the undelivered round box in Ye Mu's hand, glanced at the alleyway. "It's that little monk again. He's strange, like a wooden stake, can't even utter a coherent sentence. All of Xiao Si Niang's good intentions have been wasted..."

Ye Mu didn't respond, only staring at the empty side gate, thinking about what Wen Kong had said.

Not touching external objects...

Ye Mu murmured to himself.

How could I not touch it?

She clearly remembered that in her past life he had touched her belongings, specifically... her undergarment.

On their second meeting.

A note from the author:

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