In the Moonlight

It was nearly the fourth watch, and all was silent, save for the faint rustle of the wind brushing by.

A wisp of light sandalwood fragrance drifted beneath the brocade curtain embroidered with lotus vines.

Yaoying knelt before Dharmaraga, leaning forward slightly, and withdrew her hand holding the handkerchief.

Dharmaraga looked at her. The room was dim, but she was so close that he could see a soft glow shimmering on her snow-white skin. His gaze lingered on the slightly disheveled black hair at her temples, and he remained silent for a long while.

Hadn’t the Buddha sent her to him?

He remained silent, his expression somewhat unusual. Yaoying leaned in closer and asked with concern, "Are you unwell, Dharma Master? Should I call Bā mǐ ěr in?"

Her voice was melodious, her eyelashes fluttering gently.

Each flutter was like a water lily swaying softly in the breeze by the Pond of Three Lives.

Dharmaraga snapped out of his thoughts, gradually gathering his drifting thoughts like scattered threads, his consciousness slowly clearing.

"No need," he replied faintly, his voice hoarse.

Yaoying glanced at his Kasaya, damp with sweat, then returned her gaze to his face. He looked pale; when he had first returned, he had seemed weary, his brows slightly furrowed, but now he appeared even more haggard than before.

"Are you an ascetic monk?" she asked.

Dharmaraga lowered his head to look at her.

Yaoying said earnestly, "I’ve heard that ascetic monks use suffering as a means of cultivation. They often wander alone, homeless, disheveled and ragged, fasting for long periods, sleeping on beds of nails, walking barefoot over burning coals, and enduring various tortures to achieve self-cultivation."

Dharmaraga’s fingers brushed over his rosary as he replied, "That is one form of asceticism in the Land of Brahma. The Sramana tradition does not advocate such extreme and fruitless suffering, but only requires the abandonment of desires."

Yaoying raised an eyebrow, meeting Dharmaraga’s gaze directly and staring straight at him.

"Then if you’re unwell, why not seek medical treatment and take medicine instead of enduring it like this?"

"Dharma Master, are you truly not an ascetic monk?"

Her tone was questioning, but a playful smile touched her lips.

Dharmaraga averted his gaze.

Yaoying followed his movement, her dark, bright eyes fixed intently on him as she met his gaze. "If you’re not an ascetic monk, why endure such fruitless suffering?"

Dharmaraga lowered his eyes and said, "This is not fruitless suffering."

The cultivation method he practiced was peculiar, and accepting punishment was also a reminder to himself, lest he lose his reverence for life.

Yaoying pondered for a moment. Seeing his solemn and dignified expression, she knew it was futile to persuade him and sighed inwardly. "I dare not argue with you, Dharma Master, but your Kasaya is soaked with sweat. You must change your clothes."

No matter what, he had to take off the sweat-soaked Kasaya.

Having said this, she rose without waiting for his response, walked to the door, and pulled it open.

"Bring a bucket of hot water and clean monk’s robes. The Dharma Master needs to change."

Bā mǐ ěr’s eyes widened: Why would they need hot water and a change of clothes in the middle of the night? Why would the King change clothes at this hour?

He glanced quickly at Yaoying. Though her hair was slightly tousled, as if she had just risen from sleep, her expression was composed, and her clothes were neat. Chiding himself for overthinking, his gaze drifted downward and caught sight of her bare jade-like feet on the carpet. His eyes widened again.

As if stung, he turned abruptly and hurried away, returning shortly with a bucket of hot water in one hand and Dharmaraga’s monk’s robes, bringing them into the Zen room.The Zen room was pitch black. He set down his belongings, quietly glanced around, and upon not seeing Yaoying, let out a soft sigh of relief before respectfully withdrawing.

Yaoying had already retreated to the inner chamber, sitting by the low couch and listening intently.

Outside, the sound of trickling water could be heard, followed by faint rustling noises. Reassured, she relaxed, lay back down, and resumed sleeping.

Just as her head touched the soft pillow, a loud crash echoed beyond the brocade curtain, accompanied by splashing water, as if something heavy had fallen to the ground.

He was so weak, with no one around to care for him—could he have fainted?

Yaoying quickly rose, pushed aside the brocade curtain, and froze at the sight that met her eyes in the Zen room.

In the dim light, a lean, sturdy figure stood with his back to her, slowly removing his Kasaya to reveal broad shoulders and a strong back.

Tanmoroqie was tall and erect. Usually clad in loose Kasaya, he appeared gaunt and slender. But now, with the robe removed, Yaoying noticed his well-proportioned, firm muscles and clearly defined lines. Beads of sweat rolled down his taut back, which gleamed with a honeyed sheen in the faint light, as if coated in oil.

What shocked Yaoying even more was the sight of Tanmoroqie’s back—covered in red, swollen welts and crisscrossed scars.

So he wasn’t ill; the sweating was due to having just endured a caning.

Yaoying stood beneath the brocade curtain, staring blankly at Tanmoroqie’s long, sturdy shoulders and back, lost in thought for a moment.

Tanmoroqie seemed to sense something. He paused mid-motion, still facing away, and slightly turned his head. His profile was sharp, with prominent brow bones, giving him a stern and aloof appearance. The half-removed Kasaya hung loosely around his waist and arms, shrouded in misty vapor like clouds veiling a peak. He resembled a bare-bodied Bodhisattva from a mural—slender, elegant, solemn, and serene, with a latent, vibrant strength concentrated within.

Yaoying stared at him, mesmerized.

He remained still.

A falcon’s cry shattered the silence. The bird flapped its wings, stirring a gentle breeze that rustled the brocade curtain.

Tanmoroqie pulled up the slipping Kasaya, his gaze casually drifting toward the curtain—intentional yet seemingly indifferent.

Yaoying’s heart raced with guilt. Quickly, she let the curtain fall, lay back on the low couch, and pulled the quilt over herself from head to toe, not moving a muscle.

Behind the curtain, Tanmoroqie lifted his eyes, glanced at the gently swaying fabric, bent down to pick up the candlestick he had accidentally knocked over earlier, and placed it on a nearby table.

Changing into a fresh set of monk’s robes, he felt much more at ease.

He resumed his meditation, and this time, did not slip into dreams.

…

The next day, Yaoying slept until the hour of Chen (7–9 a.m.) and was awakened by a sudden rise in voices.

Shadows flickered outside the Zen room as people argued in hushed tones.

She got up, quietly gathered her belongings, stepped out of the inner chamber, and peered through a narrow crack in the curtain.

The sky was fully bright, and the main hall was illuminated. Tanmoroqie, dressed in gray monk’s robes, sat cross-legged before a long table, reviewing memorials. Bi Suo knelt at the doorway, clad in light armor with a helmet tucked under his arm, his expression anxious.

“Your Majesty, I will keep a close watch on Princess Chima and ensure she causes no more trouble. Must she truly be sent away?”

Tanmoroqie did not look up. “Zhang Xu is a forbidden official in the army. She attempted to harm him. According to the law, she must be confined. Three months from now, you may bring her back to the city.”

His tone brooked no argument.

Bi Suo hesitated, not daring to say more, though his face showed clear reluctance.

Tanmoroqie remained silent.

Bi Suo sighed.

The atmosphere grew tense.Yaoying waited for a while in the side corridor. Seeing Bi Suo rise and take his leave, she stepped out of the passageway with a bundle under her arm.

"Thank you for your hospitality last night, Dharma Master. Are you feeling better?"

Tanmoroqie kept his head lowered, brush poised in his raised hand. He gave a noncommittal hum and waved his monk's robe sleeve.

Yuanjue stepped forward, signaling with his eyes for Yaoying to follow him as he intended to escort her back to her courtyard.

After bidding farewell, Yaoying had taken only a few steps when she spotted Bi Suo's retreating figure in the distance. After a moment's thought, she abruptly turned around.

Yuanjue startled: "Princess?"

Yaoying turned back, crossed the corridor, and stepped into the Zen room under everyone's astonished gazes.

"Princess!"

Bā mǐ ěr and Yuanjue broke out in anxious sweat, calling to her in hushed tones as they hurried into the Zen room, gesturing for her to leave with them immediately.

Yaoying shook her head, gazing at Tanmoroqie who continued writing with lowered head, and said softly: "I have a few words I'd like to say to the Dharma Master."

Bā mǐ ěr and the other exchanged uncertain glances, unsure whether they should urge her to leave.

Tanmoroqie lifted his head, his green eyes sweeping over them with detached calm.

Understanding his meaning, they stopped blocking Yaoying and immediately withdrew.

Tanmoroqie continued writing without pause. "What does the Princess wish to tell me?"

Yaoying approached the long desk, sat down gracefully, and pondered for a moment before speaking: "Dharma Master, besides my full brother, I have several other elder brothers. One of them is my half-brother from the same father, named Li Xuanzhen."

"Li Xuanzhen has always wanted to kill my mother and brother."

Tanmoroqie's brush paused briefly.

Yaoying gazed intently at the pristine white snow in the courtyard, slowly recounting the tangled web of misunderstandings between Li De, Tang Shi, and Xie Manyuan from years past.

"...Later, Li Xuanzhen's birth mother died by self-immolation, demanding he avenge her. Li Xuanzhen vowed that once he gained power, he would certainly kill my mother and brother to avenge his mother."

She sighed.

"That year, while recuperating from illness in Chibi, I met Li Xuanzhen who was also concealing his identity. Neither of us knew the other's true identity, and we became friends."

"Several months later, we traveled back to Chibi by boat together. When Li Xuanzhen discovered I was the daughter of his enemy... he nearly killed me on the spot."

Yaoying smiled wryly.

"At that time, I thought Li Xuanzhen was merely acting on impulse. He wasn't an utterly wicked person, and I was after all his half-sister. I believed that once he calmed down, he might come to see reason."

As Yaoying recalled these events, the smile slowly faded from her face.

"I tried to get along well with him. I thought to myself, someone like my elder brother—who shows leniency toward his subordinates, extends help to strangers, and repeatedly rescues noblewomen in distress—would surely not vent his anger on the innocent."

She had tried every means to dissolve Li Xuanzhen's resentment, but the outcome had been contrary to her hopes.

Li Xuanzhen would not spare Xie Manyuan and Li Zhongqian, nor would he spare her.

"That year... his advisor Wei Ming nearly caused my brother's death. At that time, I hadn't yet given up on persuading him. I wrote him a letter, begging him to spare my brother. I assured him that my brother had no interest in contending for power or position, that we would hide far away and never appear before him again in this lifetime."

Yaoying's expression turned cold.

"The next day, he shot my fine hound right before my eyes."

That had been the hunting hound Li Zhongqian gifted her.In the past, she was often unwell and couldn't join the Li family's hunting trips. After returning to Wei Commandery from Chibi, her health improved considerably. That day, she cheerfully brought her hound to the mountains to join the excitement, only to watch Li Xuanzhen fire three consecutive arrows. The once lively hound collapsed in the grass, twitching uncontrollably.

Yaoying climbed down from her horse and tried to drag the hound to safety. The dog's moist eyes stared at her as it lay dying.

Li Xuanzhen approached her, a short knife at his waist, wearing long boots, holding a drawn bow with the arrow still pointed at the hound on the ground. His expression was icy, reeking of blood.

"Li Xuanzhen..." Yaoying trembled, looking up and calling him by name directly, "It's just a hound... It's been with me for months... This is my first time bringing it out... Please spare it..."

Li Xuanzhen looked down at her without a word, relaxing his bow.

Yaoying breathed a sigh of relief.

The next moment, Li Xuanzhen drew the short knife from his waist. With a swift motion, the hound convulsed violently before going still.

He looked coldly at Yaoying, his phoenix eyes slanting upward with a gloomy gaze: "A dog that harms people cannot be kept."

Yaoying's hands shook.

Li Xuanzhen pulled out the knife, casually wiping it on his sleeve. "The dog cannot be kept, and neither can the people."

He would not spare Xie Manyuan and Li Zhongqian.

Yaoying's heart sank completely.

The hound had never harmed anyone. The hound Li Zhongqian gave her was gentle and loyal—how could it possibly hurt anyone?

It was clearly Zhu Lvyun who suddenly charged her horse up the mountain path, startling Yaoying and her maid's mounts and nearly causing them to fall. The hound had only barked to stop Zhu Lvyun.

Only because this hound was hers did Li Xuanzhen act so ruthlessly, killing it without distinguishing right from wrong.

How innocent it was.

Yaoying looked at the dead hound, wiped the corner of her eye, and trembling, picked up an arrow from the ground. Staggering, she rushed at Li Xuanzhen, thrusting the arrow fiercely toward him.

Li Xuanzhen extended his long arm and easily grasped her wrist, applying slight pressure.

Yaoying's hand went numb and weak as he lifted her up.

Li Xuanzhen looked down at her, contemptuously taking the arrow from her palm.

"Seventh Sister, don't overestimate yourself."

Yaoying broke free from his grip, staring coldly at him. Word by word, she said, "Li Xuanzhen, my brother never harmed your mother nor you. He leads troops in battle just like you, fulfilling his duties with loyalty. If you dare hurt him, I will perish with you! You are a great general, and I am weak. Today I may not be your match, and perhaps I never will be. But as long as I have breath, you will not harm my brother."

So what if he was destined for greatness? At worst, they would perish together.

Li Xuanzhen's face darkened like water.

...

In the Zen room, a subtle fragrance drifted.

A gaze fell upon Yaoying, clear and cool, not gentle, yet possessing a power that could soothe the heart.

Yaoying came to her senses and realized Tanmoroqie had stopped writing at some point. His eyes were raised, looking at her, his brow slightly furrowed.

She smiled at him.

Telling him these worldly matters seemed to trouble him.

Yaoying let out a long breath of turbid air. "Since then, I have never kept another hound. I buried it with my own hands and buried my expectations for my eldest brother along with it..."

She paused.

"Later, I went to marry into the Yelu Tribe... The night-luminous jade was gone... The Wusun horse my brother gave me was gone too..."Remembering the gentle eyes of the Wusun horse gazing at her before its death, Yaoying felt a sudden pang in her nose, her eyes warming as tears nearly fell.

The felt curtain hung high, letting the icy wind carrying snowflakes blow into the Zen room, rustling the scripture scrolls on the long table while copper bells under the eaves chimed softly.

This was the Royal Court, not the vast, desolate Gobi snow plains.

Yaoying closed her eyes briefly, restraining her emotions, then lifted her gaze to Tanmoroqie.

"Venerable One, all the injustices my elder brother and I have suffered over the years ultimately stem from my father and eldest brother's displaced anger. My father lost his first wife, my eldest brother lost his mother—they redirected their grief onto us three, demanding we serve as sacrificial replacements."

Yaoying's lips twisted wryly.

"In Great Wei, my eldest brother is the Crown Prince upon whom all place high hopes. He's beloved by his subordinates and maintains harmonious relations with court officials... As for my father, he's the emperor. To others, their personal grievances justifying such treatment of me and my elder brother seem beyond reproach."

In the eyes of court ministers, Li Xuanzhen seeking revenge for his mother and targeting Xie Guifei and Li Zhongqian after gaining power was entirely natural—they saw no dishonor to his integrity in this.

More than one person had sighed to Yaoying: The Xie family never wronged Tang Shi, Li Xuanzhen is indeed venting hatred—you three have nowhere to turn and must endure it.

The strong prey on the weak, might makes right—those in vulnerable positions deserve to be trampled upon.

Throughout history, it has always been so.

Similarly, after Tanmoroqie reclaimed royal authority, Princess Chima avenged her clan but remained unsatisfied, relentlessly pursuing other branches of the Zhang family. To others, this seemed understandable.

In fact, many found such revenge deeply satisfying: The Zhang family nearly exterminated the Tanmo clan—Princess Chima should repay them in kind, slaughtering all who bear the Zhang name.

Thus, Princess Chima grew resentful toward Tanmoroqie.

He prevented her from harming innocent Zhang clansmen, saving implicated Han Chinese from her blade—she considered this a betrayal of the Tanmo family.

Did Princess Chima not understand Tanmoroqie's intentions?

Did she not know what promoting Zhang Xu meant for supporting new nobility?

Princess Chima understood perfectly.

But this wasn't enough to outweigh her hatred.

Just like Li Xuanzhen—clearly someone who understood priorities, who could repeatedly forgive defiant subordinates and reconcile with mortal enemies—yet refused to spare the innocent Xie family, all because he'd sworn to his mother to make them pay with their lives.

Both Li Xuanzhen and Princess Chima became distorted by hatred, beyond redemption.

When the brave grow angry, they draw blades against stronger foes; when the cowardly grow angry, they draw blades against the weaker.

They both had bitter pasts, but that didn't justify venting hatred upon the innocent.

Gazing into Tanmoroqie's deep jade-green eyes, Yaoying remarked with feeling: "Venerable One, my situation resembles that of the Zhang descendants."

Tanmoroqie's brow moved slightly.

Yaoying exhaled, wrinkled her nose, a smile spilling into her expression as her demeanor lightened.

"That's why, when I first arrived at the Royal Court and learned about you, Princess Chima, and the Zhang family, I felt profound admiration for you."

At that moment, her feeling was like walking an endlessly long night road in despair, suddenly seeing flickering light ahead.The relationship between Tanmoroqie and Princess Chima was strained. Being so intelligent, he certainly knew how to ease the conflict with his sister: indulge Princess Chima in killing all Han people with the surname Zhang and allow her to amuse herself by brutally slaughtering Han slaves.

He was unwilling to do so.

He told Princess Chima that she had already taken her revenge and must not arbitrarily humiliate innocent people, even if it meant Princess Chima would resent him for it.

Yaoying straightened her posture, sitting upright and solemnly, and said, "The Dharma Master's heart is free from worldly attachments, and his aspirations are lofty. Such trivial matters are but fleeting clouds to the Dharma Master... However, I still wish to tell the Dharma Master one thing."

Tanmoroqie looked at her: "What is it?"

Yaoying raised her hand to smooth her hair and met his gaze earnestly: "I want to tell the Dharma Master that your benevolence is not without meaning. For the descendants of the Zhang family and for people like me, your compassion affects our entire lives. If I had encountered someone like the Dharma Master, I would not have suffered so much."

Tanmoroqie was resolute in his convictions, with profound wisdom in his heart, and he paid no heed to the opinions of the world. Chima's resentment and the lack of understanding from his subordinates did not disturb his inner peace in the slightest.

He was so rational and clear-minded that he had no need for others' persuasion or comfort.

Yet Yaoying still wanted to share her thoughts with him, to let him know how rare and precious he was.

She gazed at him, her eyes curved into a smile, filled with utmost sincerity.

The hand holding the brush in Tanmoroqie's grasp trembled slightly.

Footsteps sounded at the door as Monk Soldiers arrived to report matters. Seeing Yaoying kneeling before the long table, they hesitated to enter.

"I will not disturb the Dharma Master further."

Yaoying quickly rose, made a gesture of apology to Tanmoroqie, and turned to leave.

Tanmoroqie remained motionless, his gaze fixed on her retreating figure.

A phrase he had once read in Han literature suddenly surfaced in his mind:

My path is not walked alone.

A person trudges alone on the path of cultivation, with no one to rely on, no one to lean on. Looking around, all is vast and uncertain, not knowing how long one has walked. Suddenly, someone steps forward, looking at him joyfully, long eyelashes fluttering.

Though separated by thousands of miles, with different languages and customs, she was not a follower of the Sramana, yet she could articulate his thoughts and perceive his reflections.

Perhaps this was the arrangement of the Buddha.