After she finished speaking, Yan Zhuoxu really caught a hint of extremely light and sweet...gardenia fragrance in the air.
Different from the elegant and refreshing fragrance of osmanthus, it has a hint of sweetness and milky fragrance.
Tempting and alluring.
...That's the smell of her.
Yan Zhuoxu's jawline was tense and he closed his eyes deeply.
"Therefore, Subhuti, all Bodhisattvas-Mahasattvas should cultivate a pure mind in this way. They should not cultivate a mind based on form, sound, smell, taste, touch, or any other dharma."
"One should not dwell on anything, but give rise to the mind..."
His fingertips clenched the Buddhist beads, as if punishing himself, and pressed his skin into the engraved Sanskrit characters.
Scripture branding.
Wash away his dark thoughts that float with the fragrance.
"Master?" Shen Zhiyi looked up at him, his hands clutching his monk's robes climbing up little by little, grasping more of the fabric. "What's wrong with you?"
"Why aren't you looking at me?"
Yan Zhuoxu opened his eyes and saw the wall opposite him.
The candlelight flickered, overlapping their shadows and casting them on it.
He stood and she knelt.
And so close.
The posture looked as if she was helping him...
boom--
My thoughts burned for a moment.
Yan Zhuoxu took two steps back suddenly, away from her touch and his dirty thoughts.
The monk's robe passed through his slender fingertips.
Shen Zhiyi lowered his eyes, hiding the faint smile in his eyes.
Yan Zhuoxu picked up the medicine box.
With a deliberately cold expression, he pursed his lips and said, "This is the end of today's visit. I already know your condition. Please cooperate with the follow-up treatment. Don't..." He paused, lowered his eyes to look at her, "overstepping the boundaries."
Shen Zhiyi frowned slightly, as if she didn't understand the meaning of his words.
She wanted to get up, "I'll see you off, Master."
“No need.”
Yan Zhuoxu didn't look at her again and walked away.
After the figure disappeared, Shen Zhiyi sat down, picked up the teapot, and slowly poured himself a cup of tea.
She took a sip and looked at the wet table and the teacup still tilted on the other side, her peach blossom eyes filled with smiles.
He just called himself "I".
…
The night grows darker.
Yan Zhuoxu sat on the cushion and added oil to the eternal lamp.
Beside him, there were scattered several volumes of the Heart Sutra in his hand. The ink traces written by the dragon's pen, illuminated by the lamplight, bound him tightly like chains.
His gaze shifted to the table not far away.
On it was the white porcelain oil bottle that Shen Zhiyi had sent. At this moment, it was like the eyes of a god or Buddha, quietly looking at him.
"All appearances are false."
He lowered his eyes.
Hold the Buddhist beads tightly in your hand, turn them one by one, and recite the scriptures.
But his eyes involuntarily shifted to the side and caught a glimpse of Shen Zhiyi grabbing a corner of the monk's robe.
He looked at it for a long time.
The sound of chanting scriptures gradually weakens and disappears.
Yan Zhuoxu, for some unknown reason, loosened his grip on the Buddhist beads...
The big palm repeatedly covered the piece of robe.
Her scent, body temperature, and face instantly penetrated my muscles and bones, floating clearly in my mind.
Starting from the palm of your hand, it spreads unstoppably to your mind and entire body.
Even drilling into blood vessels and bone crevices...
Yan Zhuoxu clenched his knuckles fiercely and gripped the piece of cloth tightly. His lips turned pale and cold sweat oozed from his forehead.
Years of suppressed desire came rolling in like the thick night, like a tidal wave.
"Master, why don't you look at me?"
"Master, save me..."
“Master, Master…”
Yan Zhuoxu's chest heaved heavily, he held the corner of his robe, and fell among the scriptures on the ground.
The candlelight flickered before my eyes.
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