Shen Zhiyi didn't understand what he meant.
If I were to reveal my feelings now, would he immediately kick me out of the room and never be able to get close to me again?
She needs to test the waters a little.
She realized that he had developed feelings for her.
Otherwise, she wouldn't have taken the risk.
She held his wrist with one hand and placed the other on his chest, saying softly, "Hmm... Master, asking such a question might make me misunderstand."
"If I said I wanted to, would the master really allow me to return to secular life?"
Yan Zhuoxu's eyes narrowed.
He pursed his lips, staring at her drunken face.
It was as if he could hear the three thousand chants of Sanskrit echoing in his ears.
yes……
The silence itself is the answer.
She had no self in her heart; she only had Ye Jinghong in her heart.
And the Buddha was calling to him.
His years of unwavering commitment and the beautiful face before him were pulling at each other in his heart.
It caused him a tearing pain.
"Lust is to man as carrying a torch against the wind; he will surely burn his hand."
The Buddhist prayer beads pressed against her skin also burned him in that instant.
Yan Zhuoxu slowly released his hand.
At that moment, he felt an almost absurd hatred for Ye Jinghong, whom he had never met before.
He didn't even know him.
The Buddha said that all beings are equal.
The Buddha said, "Be compassionate."
But at this moment, he was filled with resentment.
"Never mind, no need to answer." He lowered his eyelashes, concealing the countless dark thoughts in his eyes.
What do the words of a drunkard count for?
The light in Shen Zhiyi's eyes dimmed for a moment, and, fueled by the alcohol, she pressed her forehead as if she had a terrible headache.
She gently nestled closer to him.
"Does the master know how the scriptures I gave you before were written?"
She complained softly, "The feeling of the brush poking my body is both itchy and numb. And after the ink dries, the ink stains are still uncomfortable on my skin."
"I wrote so hard, but the master actually chased me away and didn't even glance at it."
"It's really heartbreaking."
She looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears.
Yan Zhuoxu felt a sudden pang in her heart.
He gripped the prayer beads tightly, unsure whether to comfort her or to admonish himself, and said in a deep voice, "Don't do things that make you feel wronged to please others in the future."
Shen Zhiyi looked even more aggrieved.
"But if we don't do it this way, we'll have nothing."
"Delicious food, beautiful jewelry and clothes, comfortable living quarters—if I don't try to please them, no one will give them to me."
Yan Zhuoxu felt as if an invisible hand was gripping his heart.
He instinctively wanted to tell her.
"I'll give it to you."
But answering this question means taking off one's monk's robe and putting on the crown prince's outer garment.
His large hand, hanging at his side, twitched.
I want to lift my fingertips and hug her.
But the Buddhist scriptures and doctrines he had studied diligently since childhood, and the gilded Buddha statues in the main hall, weighed heavily on his fingertips like a thousand-pound burden.
Even if he hugs her, the person she longs to embrace is not him.
Yan Zhuoxu lowered her eyelashes and bowed her head slightly.
I could smell the fragrance emanating from her hair.
He closed his eyes reluctantly.
But he said, "If you don't cling to these external things, you won't suffer."
“Master, it’s easy for you to say.” Shen Zhiyi gently tugged at his outer robe. “If you had suffered as much as I have, I don’t believe you could still say such things.”
"I copied the scriptures for you, so you have to repay me."
She was quite drunk.
Yan Zhuoxu dismissed it as mere rambling, but still responded softly, "How should I return it?"
Her tone carried a hint of doting affection that she herself was unaware of.
Shen Zhiyi gripped his monk's robe with both hands, tilted her head back, and a cunning and clever glint flashed in her eyes.
“The master also took off his clothes and asked me to write scriptures on your body.”
Yan Zhuoxu's dark eyes trembled.
"What?"
Shen Zhiyi pouted and pushed him forward. "I don't care. This 'cause' started with you. If you don't give me a 'result' in return, I'm staying here tonight and not leaving."
Yan Zhuoxu was still in shock when he stumbled and fell onto the prayer mat.
Shen Zhiyi knelt down and untied his cassock.
Yan Zhuoxu snapped out of his daze, his chest heaving, and grasped her wrist.
But then she met a pair of innocent and aggrieved eyes.
"Master, you refuse to return it?" she asked softly, her voice carrying a hint of accusation.
Yan Zhuoxu's Adam's apple bobbed.
The grip on her gradually loosened...
He turned his head, placed his hands on the ground on either side, and let the prayer beads dig painfully into his palms.
That's all...
She'll surely forget about it when she sobers up tomorrow.
And now, he lets her pester him...
“Copy the scripture once, then go back immediately.” His voice was hoarse.
Shen Zhiyi smiled.
"Once the master has also suffered under my punishment, I will naturally leave."
She pressed down on him again and began to undress him.
Yan Zhuoxu lowered his eyes, looking at Shen Zhiyi, who was looking down and focused, and a hint of obsession gradually appeared in his dark eyes.
The monk's robe was half-fallen off.
His broad shoulders and back were exposed, along with his lean waist and smooth, firm muscle lines.
The flickering lamplight cast a warm, soft glow on his lean, muscular body, blending with his fair skin and exuding an air of untouchable, asceticism.
Shen Zhiyi was stunned for a moment.
Her watery eyes blinked slowly twice.
Looking up, she met Yan Zhuoxu's deep, dark gaze.
It was as if she were the one being watched.
Her already flushed face burned even more.
She swallowed hard, turned her head, paused for a moment, then, her ears turning red, picked up a calligraphy brush from the table next to her, dipped it haphazardly in the inkstone, and knelt down in front of him.
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