A cool night breeze blew, and all was quiet.
Yan Zhuoxu sat in the meditation room, his fingertips caressing the white porcelain oil bottle that Chen Zhiyi had given him.
After a long while, he turned his wrist and poured the lamp oil into the ever-burning lamp.
The lights were lush and bright.
He seemed to see a smiling face...
Yan Zhuoxu closed his eyes.
A soft knocking came from the palace door, followed by a few mumbled murmurs.
Yan Zhuoxu's dark eyes narrowed slightly.
I turned my head and looked at the tightly closed door.
What outrageous thing awaits him this time?
Yan Zhuoxu pursed her lips, got up and opened the door.
Shen Zhiyi stumbled and fell in.
Carrying the coolness of the night dew and a rich, sweet aroma of wine, it crashed straight into his arms.
His robe was grabbed.
Her warm, slightly drunken body leaned almost entirely against his chest.
Yan Zhuoxu froze abruptly and lowered his eyes.
"Have you been drinking?"
Shen Zhiyi tilted her head back, her eyelashes damp with the smell of alcohol, and her cheeks flushed with a tipsy red.
“Master…” she called out to him drunkenly.
Her lips were bright and glossy.
"I drank... I drank a little..." She stretched out two fingers and pinched them into a flat ball on the side of her face.
Yan Zhuoxu turned to the side, and she followed his embrace and turned around.
He raised his hand and closed the door.
The door creaked shut, and he seemed to wake up suddenly, raising his eyes abruptly.
What is he doing?
When she hugged him... she closed the door?!
Yan Zhuoxu's face turned pale in an instant.
"Would you like some, Master?" Shen Zhiyi mumbled, pulling him back to reality.
Yan Zhuoxu reached out and pushed her away, saying, "Monks don't drink alcohol."
Shen Zhiyi pouted and moved closer to him.
"You monks have so many rules and regulations, you can't do this or that, what's the point of living?"
Yan Zhuoxu did not want to argue with her, so he lowered his brows and spoke in a lecturing tone.
"You still haven't told me where the alcohol came from."
"I brought it secretly myself." Shen Zhiyi's eyes were hazy as she slowly smiled, her eyes shimmering with a drunken light. "Master, you don't know, do you? I always carry a pot of wine with me wherever I go. When I'm bored or sad, I secretly take a sip."
"That way, you'll be a little bolder."
"If you can't figure something out, you can just let it go."
Yan Zhuoxu wanted to move and walk into the house, but she wouldn't let go and just hung in front of him like that.
Follow me wherever I go.
He could no longer bear it, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her hand away from him.
Is there anything you can't figure out?
Is it all because of Ye Jinghong again?
His violent temper suddenly intensified.
He squeezed her harder.
Shen Zhiyi's gaze drifted, finally settling on his slender finger bones.
His hands are very big.
It easily covered half of his wrist.
His thumb was still pressed against her wrist bone, and it seemed that if it went any higher, it would embed itself into her palm.
Shen Zhiyi felt completely dizzy and lightheaded.
As he carried her, she turned her head, her gaze fixed intently on his eyes, and said, "I can't understand why listening to the scriptures for so many days is still useless."
"My longing, my yearning, has only increased."
She leaned closer to him, her red lips almost touching his chin with her breath, "Master, you lied to me..."
The dim lamplight shone on him, reflecting off his bright yellow robe and draping him in a hazy golden veil.
This further accentuated his unparalleled good looks.
Both the Crown Prince and Master Kongchen are unapproachable figures.
The imperial court and Buddhist temples were both extremely far away from her.
But she insisted on climbing, insisted on loving.
Yan Zhuoxu's heart skipped a beat, and he turned his face away as if he couldn't look directly into her questioning eyes.
"You're drunk."
He released her wrist as if he had been burned.
Shen Zhiyi grabbed his collar again and buried her face in his chest.
“I’m not drunk,” she said stubbornly. “Chenbi said the road down the mountain will be repaired soon, and when it is, the master will definitely send me down the mountain as soon as possible.”
"By then, even if it's a lie told by the master, I won't be able to hear it anymore..."
Yan Zhuoxu's chest heaved heavily.
The heat from her face, even through the monk's robe, reached him.
It also ignited the flames within him.
He pursed his chin and said in a low voice, "Your illness is not yet cured, and I am not one to give up halfway."
Shen Zhiyi suddenly looked up.
"So, Master won't send me away?"
Yan Zhuoxu stared at her intently, a tingling sensation rising in his chest, but at the same time, he tasted a sour and astringent feeling.
"If I don't chase you away, will you stay?"
Shen Zhiyi lowered her eyelashes and said in a low voice, "It would be good if I could stay by the master's side."
"Without the master, who would listen to me talk so much?"
She rubbed her cheek against his chest. "Master, you're so kind."
Her dependence and trust were like the sweetest poison, making it impossible for him to bear pushing her away.
"In the Prime Minister's residence, is no one listening to you?" he asked in a low, hoarse voice.
He could even feel her fingertips, through his robes, slowly crossing the boundaries he had set.
She circled around behind him and hugged him tightly.
Yan Zhuoxu's eyes darkened.
His large hands, hanging by his sides, were tightly gripping the prayer beads, and the veins on the back of his hands were bulging.
The blood, pressed beneath the blue veins, seemed about to burst forth uncontrollably, surging through every part of the body.
Shen Zhiyi said softly, "I am a concubine's daughter."
“In the mansion, even if you speak, it carries no weight.”
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