His mansion was not in the bustling city center, but in the outskirts of the capital, far away from the noise and dust. Du Zhi had come straight from the Taichu Temple without bringing a carriage or horse. Hearing that Xin Hexue wanted to go to his home, he immediately went to rent a carriage.
The carriage left from the Qixia Gate heading southeast, finally stopping at Tai Ping Valley in the Zhongnan Mountains.
For the imperial family, Du Zhi was an elder who had lived through several dynasties, even more stable than the ruling families who changed with the dynasties. Emperors of successive dynasties all held great respect for this veteran figure of the Taichu Temple, so his treatment was naturally exceptional. The current emperor had originally wanted to place a residence for him in Qin Renfang, but Du Zhi declined, citing his preference for peace and quiet. The emperor then bestowed upon him a royal manor at the foot of Tai Ping Mountain in the suburbs.
Looking up, the plaque above the mountain gate had the imperial inscription “Chi Jian Ling Quan Zhuang” (Imperially Built Spirit Spring Manor). The manor was quite large in scale, with fields crisscrossing the land and numerous servants. It leaned against Tai Ping Mountain, boasting beautiful mountains and clear waters, containing clear springs and gardens, precious halls and lotus ponds.
In the vast manor, apart from Du Zhi himself, there were no other masters. Upon hearing of Du Zhi’s return, the steward quickly hurried out from the accounting room to welcome him.
“Master, this is…?”
The steward inquired, glancing at Xin Hexue’s face before lowering his head.
Du Zhi hesitated for a moment. “This is my friend, Young Master Xin.”
The steward, noticing Xin Hexue’s flowing dress and then hearing the “young master” from Du Zhi’s mouth, was momentarily confused. But he quickly recovered and, following proper etiquette for receiving guests, welcomed Xin Hexue into the front hall for tea.
As Xin Hexue walked along, he observed that all the servants had their eyes lowered and ears pinned back in submission. They only paused their work, bowed their heads, stood straight, and performed their salutes when their master walked by. The entire manor had little human sound; it was very quiet.
The rules were impeccable, but the oppressive atmosphere added to the sense of lifelessness.
Fortunately, the manor also had its green mountains and clear waters, with birds chirping.
Xin Hexue sat down in a rosewood armchair and took a light taste of the tea presented by the servant. His eyes lit up. “Good tea, is it Longjing? It also has a hint of plum fragrance when drunk.”
The steward explained, “Young Master has a truly discerning palate. This is the pre-rain Longjing tea imperially bestowed by His Majesty during the Winter Solstice Festival. The tea is brewed using the early morning dew collected by the master from the hearts of plum blossoms every day before dawn, reserved specially for distinguished guests.”
Xin Hexue glanced at Du Zhi. The other person sat upright, his gaze lowered, staring at the ripples spreading in his tea.
It seemed that the only one in this manor who could speak freely was this steward.
Xin Hexue asked, “How did you already anticipate that I would appear in the capital?”
Du Zhi replied, “I had a faint premonition in my heart.”
Xin Hexue said with interest, “Oh, so husband, doesn’t that mean our hearts are linked as one?”
Du Zhi looked into those smiling, affectionate eyes. For a moment, he was dazed, as if suddenly transported back to their first meeting many years ago, and also saw through his intervening years of walking and living like a corpse, half dead and half alive. He couldn’t help but smile with sincerity. “Yes, our hearts understand each other without words.”
The steward looked on in disbelief. He had never seen the National Monk smile so happily.
Sensing the steward’s strange expression, Du Zhi turned his head back, his face calm once more. “You were coming out of the accounting room just now?”
The steward acknowledged it was so.
Du Zhi gently set down his tea cup. “Is last year’s income clearly calculated?”
The steward glanced at Du Zhi, then at Xin Hexue seated there, and immediately grasped his master’s intention. He began reporting eloquently: “This year had favorable weather, and everything in the manor was peaceful. Total annual income amounted to approximately 8,700 strings of copper coins. The manor has 700 mu of fields, harvesting 3,000 dan of millet and 1,500 dan of glutinous millet, worth 3,000 strings of coins. Pears, dates, peaches, and apricots from the eastern orchard, sold to fruit dealers in the Western Market, yielded 600 strings of coins. From the 20 qing of mulberry forests, the silk produced was made into 300 bolts of silk fabrics by the manor’s weaving workshop. Apart from internal use, sales yielded 900 strings of coins. Products from the mountains, forests, ponds, and marshes amounted to 100 strings total. Mid-year, on His Majesty’s birthday, there were customary rewards for Chang’an’s temples. Our manor received colored silks, gold and silver vessels, etc., worth approximately 500 strings of coins…”
He gave a long, detailed account. Xin Hexue listened briefly and understood that Du Zhi’s manor continuously provided thousands in gold annually, and this manor was probably just one of his most frequent residences.
Year after year, century after century, accumulating over several dynasties, his wealth might even surpass the emperor’s private treasury.
Having the steward report like this, stopping just short of showing him the account books, he felt amused. He was just joking, did Du Zhi really intend to keep him on as the madam of the house?
Xin Hexue shot Du Zhi an amused glance, then stood up gracefully. “Gold, silver, and riches are but lifeless objects; what interest is there in them? Sir, why don’t you take me to see the scenery of the manor instead?”
At the center of the manor was a lake, usually full of lotuses. But after golden autumn, they had long since withered. By the Winter Solstice, only the lake full of withered lotus remnants remained.
Boating on the lake, one could take in the scenery from all four directions of the manor.
The New Year had just passed. It was the first clear day after snow, and the lake was not completely frozen. Where the boat moved, it broke the mirror-like surface of the water, producing a clear, crisp sound like tearing silk or jade. There were large patches of dark brown withered lotus, seedpods hanging low, a few clumps of calamus, and scattered duckweed as far as the eye could see. Against the vast white sky, it felt extraordinarily ethereal.
Du Zhi didn’t bring servants. On the small boat, there were only him and Xin Hexue, and a pot of warm wine.
Du Zhi looked at him, then at the boat pole, and asked, “Do you want to give it a try?”
Xin Hexue stood up, walked to his side, and took the bamboo pole in his hand, but said, “Aren’t you afraid I’m out of practice and might overturn the boat?”
Du Zhi smiled gently, walked to the side of the boat, and sat down cross-legged.
Xin Hexue took over. He probed the long bamboo pole into the bottomless lake, inserted it into the lakebed, and pushed back with force. The small boat indeed wobbled, but after four or five tries, he grasped the rhythm, and the boat steadily drifted to the center of the lake.
Once at the lake’s center, he withdrew the pole and let the boat drift with the wind.
From the center of the lake, the surrounding mountain colors were verdant, pines and cypresses were lush, and snow covered the bamboo shadows. When the wind passed, it swayed and scattered, like broken jade. Watching the snow and tasting wine from the heart of the lake really felt like the epitome of elegance.
By then, both Xin Hexue and Du Zhi were slightly tipsy.
“Look at that withered lotus seedpod over there, see if there are any lotus seeds left that haven’t been pecked by birds?”
Xin Hexue pointed into the distance, his interest piqued. Holding onto the boat’s edge, he stretched out his arm to reach for that withered lotus, wanting to pluck the seedpod. Somehow, his hand slipped from the edge, and he lost his balance, causing the small boat to rock violently.
Du Zhi swiftly reached out to catch him. They collided, and for an instant, everything spun.
The sky was in the water, the water was in the sky.
Xin Hexue lay back on Du Zhi’s chest and saw two gray herons flying gracefully across the sky before him.
They must have been startled by the commotion they had just made.
Feeling the tremors from Xin Hexue’s continuous laughter, Du Zhi felt confused. Xin Hexue turned over, now lying prone on top of him, clutching that lotus seedpod. “There really are a few lotus seeds left.”
As he laughed, his eyes sparkled brightly, his cheeks flushed with spring, like a child finding delight.
“Very good.” Du Zhi nodded. “I wonder if they can be used to make soup.”
Xin Hexue put down the lotus seedpod with a smile. His gaze drifted unconsciously, noticed something unusual, and he reached up to touch it. He parted Du Zhi’s collar, exposing the light-colored scar beneath. “What is this?”
This was newly grown flesh. The wound was over an inch long, lying horizontally above his collarbone, just a little short of reaching his neck. One could imagine how vicious the attacker had been.
Xin Hexue, knowing full well, pretended to be oblivious. “Does it hurt? How did it happen?”
His fingertip rubbed against the barely healed new flesh, creating a strong tickling sensation. Du Zhi grasped his wrist. “On New Year’s Eve, someone delivered a letter to the Taichu Temple. I happened to be there, so I followed the note to that place. I didn’t expect it to be the great demon from that past massacre. We fought, and I was unfortunately injured.”
Du Zhi and Hen Zhen were probably evenly matched in strength; neither could gain the upper hand. By the same token, the great demon was naturally also injured.
Xin Hexue shifted his gaze, playing with Du Zhi’s Adam’s apple. “Do you know who sent the message?”
The protrusion slowly slid up and down once. Du Zhi looked into Xin Hexue’s eyes. “You.”
Xin Hexue was surprised. “How did you know?”
Du Zhi said calmly, “For him to be willing to appear in the world, it must have been for you. You needed to use me to get rid of him.”
Xin Hexue lightly raised his index finger and pressed it to Du Zhi’s lips. “No, why call it using? This should be me asking for your help, so that you, a monk, could rescue the beauty, and I could fall into your arms.”
As he finished speaking, his fingertip felt wet. It turned out Du Zhi was licking his finger. His phoenix eyes were lowered, looking extremely focused, as if savoring some delicacy.
“Then why didn’t you wait for me at the inn? I would have defeated him, and you could have come with me.”
Du Zhi was no longer the naive monk from years ago who could be easily fooled by Xin Hexue’s casual words. He pointed out that when he went to the inn that night, the only one in the room was the demon Hen Zhen.
Xin Hexue said, “The two of you fighting might have been impressive, but poor me, I’m just a little fox…to avoid being caught in the crossfire, naturally I had to get out of the way first.”
In front of him, Du Zhi had always been clumsy with his words. No matter the debate, Xin Hexue always had an explanation.
He didn’t dwell on this issue any further, but Xin Hexue pressed his advantage. “In all these years, haven’t you had anyone by your side?”
Du Zhi looked at him, the smile on his face slowly fading, his eyes darkening. “Since you know my feelings, why use such words to wound me?”
In his heart, Xin Hexue had long been his wife.
Back then, when his wife died, he as the husband naturally had to remain a widower for life.
He had lived like a walking corpse all these years, until he saw the living, breathing Xin Hexue before him. Only then did the seven emotions and six desires return to this mortal shell.
“You don’t have even half a shred of trust towards me?” Du Zhi’s gaze was fixed on Xin Hexue’s face, leaving him no room to look away.
Xin Hexue’s fair face was flushed on both cheeks from the half pot of “Pear Blossom Burn” wine they had just drunk. He looked at him, equally unblinking, then suddenly smiled. When he smiled, it was like snow melting and ice vanishing, full of boundless, tender spring feelings.
While Du Zhi was slightly dazed by the floating smile in his eyes, a perfectly timed kiss was bestowed upon him from above.
Robes rustled, lips and teeth intertwined, and saliva mingled, filling the air with the fragrance of pear blossoms.
Du Zhi’s hand, led and guided by Xin Hexue, slipped under the silk skirt. The small boat swayed, creating circles of ripples. With this sway, they tumbled from the boat onto the bed.
Du Zhi was drunk. He didn’t know if it was because of today’s “Pear Blossom Burn” wine, or because of Xin Hexue’s posture as he straddled him, his hair disheveled like clouds, his fragrance thick as fog, his mind was sluggish and unclear, as if shrouded. He believed in the affection Xin Hexue was showing at this moment, as if their hearts had truly been linked all these long years.
His hands gripped Xin Hexue’s waist, and he turned over, reversing their positions. The movement was too vigorous, and the bed let out a creak.
This was just his meditation hut by the lake, where he usually secluded himself for cultivation. The furnishings were simple, hardly luxurious, but sufficient to shelter from wind and rain, and moreover, far from prying eyes.
Looking at the person beneath him, with dark hair scattered messily across the bed, Du Zhi’s heart surged with warm currents, and within his body, a kind of searing heat seemed eager to emerge.
“I…” He finally seemed to notice something strange. This heat was burning fiercely, not like the warmth from wine, nor like being overwhelmed by passion. After careful assessment, Du Zhi indeed perceived a chaotic anomaly rushing through his meridians. “I seem to have been drugged.”
Xin Hexue’s eyes were hazy. Seeing his serious and grave expression, he let out a light chuckle. “This is your territory, surrounded by your people. Who would drug you, National Monk?”
His breath was as fragrant as orchids. His hands wound around Du Zhi’s neck, pulling him closer. “Could it be an excuse to avoid taking responsibility?”
Du Zhi hurriedly denied it. He was silent for a moment, then asked carefully, “Are you truly willing?”
“If I was unwilling, would I be on your bed?”
Xin Hexue thought this monk was really stupid and foolish, very dull. He rolled his eyes slightly.
Under Du Zhi’s gaze, he untied his own sash, revealing an expanse of fair skin. His body had been deprived of lust for a while, yet possessed the fox demon’s alluring bones. Now, in close contact with Du Zhi, he was already unbearably aroused. His skin was covered with a radiant, ethereal pink, strikingly beautiful.
Du Zhi reached down to explore between his legs and was shocked by the copious moisture he found there. He naturally attributed it to Xin Hexue’s deep affection for him, thus being so aroused, unaware that the lecherous had long since had his way with his beloved repeatedly.
Taking advantage of this, even though Du Zhi was a novice, it didn’t take long for him to find his way.
Xin Hexue parted his red lips, his cries as melodious as an oriole’s song. His snow-white neck arched back as he clung to Du Zhi. Du Zhi, initially afraid he might be uncomfortable, moved slowly. But then Xin Hexue lowered his head, his hand caressing his own flat, fair abdomen, pressing on the protruding contour, smiling with charming foolishness. “So good…”
Du Zhi was stimulated by this and his eyes reddened. His assault suddenly became fierce as a storm, thrusting until Xin Hexue lay limp on the bed, hair disheveled, ornaments awry, and saliva spilling from his red lips.
At the height of passion, Du Zhi leaned down and whispered softly to Xin Hexue, “I should have found you sooner, not let Hen Zhen torment you.”
Xin Hexue had spent countless days and nights with Hen Zhen. His body, having tasted pleasure, now weakened at the mere mention of that name. His lower abdomen burned, and fluids flowed urgently. He couldn’t help but feel annoyed. “Why bring him up out of the blue?”
His legs wrapped around Du Zhi’s waist, and he turned over.
Xin Hexue’s body was fair, and riding atop Du Zhi, his waist swaying, for a moment one might mistake him for a silver serpent, dizzying and seductive.
After dusk, it started snowing again. Heavy snow weighed down the branches, with sounds of bamboo snapping.
Hen Zhen stood in the cold wind and snow, listening to the spring passion filling the room. The cold season was one thing, but his heart was even more icy.
The drug was his doing.
He knew that Xin Hexue wouldn’t be able to leave the bed for the next three days and three nights.
A cultivation fox demon needing to cultivate nine tails must gather the yang-essence of one supremely righteous person and one supremely evil person.
Hen Zhen had never told Xin Hexue, content to coax him into clinging to him for lovemaking. He also had no way to make Xin Hexue seek others.
It was all that red fox’s fault for ruining his plans, letting Xin Hexue learn of this crucial point.
He had known he could hide it temporarily, but not forever. On New Year’s Eve, when Xin Hexue drugged him, he took the opportunity to pretend to lose consciousness.
Xin Hexue was merely having intercourse with someone to cultivate; it wasn’t that he didn’t love him anymore.
He was adding fuel to the fire so the ninth tail would grow quickly, then Xin Hexue could come back to love him…
He thought this way, and acted on it, but then why did this heart ache so unbearably?
Hen Zhen’s expression was icy cold. He raised his hand to wipe his face and realized that frost had condensed on his cheeks.
It was because he had stood too long in the cold snow.
