In the Moonlight

It was a spring day veiled in the fragrance of lush blossoms.

The sky was a clear, translucent blue, like a massive, solidified sapphire. Under the blazing sun, the glaciers and snow-capped peaks shimmered with an ethereal azure glow. The mountains were dense with towering spruce trees, their verdant waves surging, while the slopes flourished in vibrant emerald green. Amid the lush pine forests, wildflowers bloomed in a riot of colors. At the foot of the mountains, meadows stretched luxuriantly, where spirited horses, cattle, and sheep roamed freely. Tens of thousands of wild apricot trees dotted the fertile valleys and plains, bursting into full bloom like radiant clouds at sunset.

Tanmoroqie led the monks in their morning prayers and stepped slowly out of the main hall. His Kasaya brushed against the blossoms that peeked through the stone railings of the corridor, and the dappled light, filtered through layers of leaves and petals, fell upon him, as if clusters of flowers were silently blooming on his robe.

Prosperity and decay—all in the blink of an eye.

Holding his Buddhist Beads, he walked along the path, seemingly enveloped in a divine aura. A gentle breeze stirred, and the intense floral fragrance in the courtyard was diluted by the sandalwood scent that clung to him. The exuberant blossoms and thriving trees suddenly took on a serene, almost cold tranquility.

Touched by his Buddha-nature, even the most vibrant life seemed to carry a transcendent detachment from the impermanence of existence.

The monks and guards accompanying him looked up at him with reverent awe, their hearts pounding, their breaths held, their expressions growing ever more devout and respectful.

Lost in contemplation of the earlier debate with the monks, his mind nearly entered a state of deep meditation, when a clear, gentle voice, like pearls falling onto a jade plate, drifted from beyond the flowering trees.

The branches trembled slightly, and his train of thought came to a halt.

He rounded the lush, blooming trees and paused for a moment, lifting his gaze.

Beneath the tree, a young girl held a golden plate from the Land of Brahma in one hand while plucking flowers with the other. She wore plain, ink-dyed Monk's robes, her long hair tied up in a simple bun. A glimpse of red silk ribbon peeked through her jet-black tresses, framing a profile as smooth and fair as jade, with lips red and teeth white, untouched by cosmetics. Her clear eyes sparkled with the radiance of spring, and in her gaze, there flowed an innate, youthful charm.

Bore stood by the corridor, frowning slightly as he directed her to gather flowers.

She responded amiably, her waist swaying gently, a smile gracing her face. As the breeze swept through, a shower of petals fluttered down from the tree, and the loose folds of her Monk's robes rippled like delicate gauze, as if a goddess had emerged from water, her graceful figure subtly revealed.

The once-subdued floral fragrance suddenly grew rich and intense once more.

Tanmoroqie watched her intently.

Bore noticed him first and hurried down the corridor, pressing his palms together in a reverent bow. The girl also turned, beaming, and stepped back to the foot of the stairs, holding the golden plate as she bowed respectfully. Her gaze, like that of other devotees, was filled with awe and trust.

Yet, unlike the others, her eyes held an unconscious closeness.

He was aware of this and, shamelessly, silently indulged in her unwitting affection.

Tanmoroqie’s expression remained impassive as he turned and walked away.

Yuanjue brought him memorials, and he sat at his desk to review them. The scent of flowers wafted in, and the girl’s hushed conversation with the guards echoed from the corridor.

Though they spoke softly to avoid disturbing him, his keen hearing caught every word.

Bore instructed her to offer the flowers before the Buddha statue.

She agreed with a smile, slipped through the path into the hall, her figure in Monk's robes flashing by as she placed the fresh blossoms before the Buddha.Bore found her bowing posture insufficiently respectful and kept nagging endlessly. She must have grown a bit impatient, letting out a soft sigh and muttering something under her breath, but she still followed Bore’s instructions and bowed again properly. Turning her head, her eyes widened.

"Is this better now?" she asked quietly, a smile still lingering between her brows.

Bore scrutinized her for a long moment before nodding. "Much better than yesterday."

"Thanks to Little Master Bore for being willing to teach me," she said with a laugh.

Bore proudly lifted his chin. "The floral offerings in the Buddha Prince’s hall have always been arranged by me!"

"You’re truly amazing," she said sincerely.

Bore beamed with delight.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tanmoroqie watched her playfully bantering with Bore, his brush never pausing as he wrote.

When she set her mind to pleasing someone, she could make that person’s heart bloom with joy.

Before long, the two of them left, chatting and laughing.

He continued reviewing memorials.

Unconsciously, half an hour passed. The hall was quiet when the felt curtain rustled softly. She appeared outside the beaded curtain, holding a stack of scrolls, peeking inside. After hesitating for a moment, she quietly retreated.

Without looking up, Tanmoroqie said calmly, "Come in."

She parted the beaded curtain and entered the hall, bowing to him. Her gaze fell on her small black lacquered desk, and the corners of her lips lifted slightly as she sat down. Carefully, she set down the scrolls, rolled up her sleeves, opened a wooden box, selected a brush, and began writing on the spread-out paper.

Tanmoroqie preferred quiet. Usually, whether sitting or meditating, his monk soldiers stood guard outside, not daring to enter and disturb him without reason. Yet, over this period, he had grown accustomed to the faint rustling sounds she occasionally made when she was nearby.

A light, elusive sweetness drifted through the air.

He never looked up, finishing all the memorials. Suddenly, the scent of flowers washed over him. The young woman had, at some point, moved closer to him, her slender fingers tugging lightly at the sleeve of his kasaya.

"Venerable One, are you finished with your work?"

His gaze shifted to her fingers.

He could have pulled away—if he had done so even once, she would never have dared to repeat such an action.

But he didn’t.

He remained perfectly still, responding with a dignified hum.

She released his sleeve, picked up the box and papers she had brought, and spread them out on his desk. "Venerable One, please try this brush and paper. The rounded shaft makes writing smoother, the lines finer, and it won’t smudge the ink."

Tanmoroqie took the brush she offered. The grip was warm, carrying the heat from her body.

He lowered his gaze and tested the brush on the paper.

Just as she had said, the writing flowed more smoothly, without excessive ink bleeding, and the lines were elegant. Such paper and brush would make copying scriptures even more beautiful.

He wrote in Sanskrit, Chinese, and Turkic, comparing the effects of the different scripts. Yaoying couldn’t help but lean in closer, admiring the graceful characters flowing from his brush. "Venerable One, your handwriting is truly beautiful," she praised.

Even though she couldn’t understand them, she could still appreciate the elegance and strength in the other scripts.

Unconsciously, she leaned in even closer. If someone had peeked into the hall from the front, they might have thought he had wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. The scent around him was entirely hers—floral, sweet, and an indescribable, subtle fragrance that seemed to emanate from her very bones.

Tanmoroqie set down the brush.

She looked up. "Venerable One, who taught you to write like this? When did you start practicing?"He replied: "I began practicing since I could remember. Some monks in the temple excelled in Sanskrit, some in Chinese, some in calligraphy, some in textual interpretation—they were all my teachers."

As the Buddha Prince upon whom the world placed great hopes, his childhood was almost entirely spent in study. From morning till night, he received instruction from different monks and followed Boluoliuzhi to comprehend cultivation methods, day after day, without ever slacking.

Yaoying nodded, her face full of admiration, and brought up the main matter: "The most precious Buddhist scriptures in the temple are the palm-leaf manuscripts and parchment scrolls. Although they can be preserved for a long time without decay, they are expensive and inconvenient to copy. For ordinary families to collect a single book would nearly exhaust all their wealth. Venerable One, do you think using this kind of paper to print Buddhist scriptures and books could make them more affordable?"

Tanmoroqie pinched the paper, nodded, and said: "The Royal Court has a dry climate; this paper can also be preserved for a long time here."

She lifted her gaze to him, blinking, aware that he was quite tolerant toward her, so her words carried a hint of the intimacy one shows when acting spoiled before an elder.

He knew she wanted to ask him for something and waited for her to continue.

"Venerable One, if you find it convenient to use, could you bring this brush to the next scripture debate assembly?" She rarely concealed anything in front of him and asked directly.

Tanmoroqie nodded.

She slowly let out a breath. "I've disturbed you, Venerable One."

Then she added, "Venerable One, when you're unwell, using this paper and brush to copy scriptures will be less strenuous."

Tanmoroqie was slightly taken aback.

She had already withdrawn.

After a rustling sound, the floral fragrance that had lingered around him drifted away.

She had been preparing to leave all along. Once she found Li Zhongqian, she would depart without looking back.

Tanmoroqie lightly twisted his Buddhist beads.

Would a deity want to monopolize their devotees?

He wondered.

He wanted her eyes to see only him, to completely possess her.

Why are demons terrifying?

Because demons know the deepest desires in one's heart.

...

"Luojia..."

An anxious call.

Tanmoroqie jolted awake from meditation, his green eyes opening. He rose, lifted the felt curtain, and strode toward the adjacent felt tent.

The bonfire blazed fiercely. The attending guards exchanged glances and hurried to follow: "Your Majesty, what is it?"

Tanmoroqie swept aside the curtain and entered the tent, walked to the low couch, bent down, and picked up the sleeping Yaoying.

Her brow was tightly furrowed, drenched in sweat.

"Bright Moon Slave."

He called her softly, brushing aside the sweat-dampened hair from her face. "Don't be afraid, I'm here."

Yaoying's eyelashes fluttered violently as she woke from the nightmare. Meeting his calm green eyes, she stared blankly for a moment, then gently exhaled and smiled: "I dreamed about fleeing for my life again..."

After leaving Chang'an, they continued westward. These days, the places they passed were along the route where Haidu Aling had once abducted her to the Western Regions. During the day, she braved the scorching sun to visit several tribes, urging officials to dig canals before winter arrived to ensure the tribes had water for irrigation the following year. Perhaps the familiar scenery stirred painful memories—she had been frequently dreaming of the past these nights.

She shook her head and came to her senses: "How did you know I was having a nightmare?"

Tanmoroqie uncorked the leather water pouch and said: "I heard you call my name in your dream."

Yaoying stared in disbelief, half-convinced: "I called you? Really?"

"You did."

He fed her water. His hearing was sharper than others', which was why he had rushed over upon hearing her cry out in her dream.Yaoying's throat felt dry and itchy, so she drank a few sips of water from his hand—spring water he had specifically fetched when passing an oasis, clear, cool, and sweet.

Xie Qing and the others, who had rushed in, silently retreated upon seeing this.

Tanmoroqie did not leave. Setting down the water pouch, he held Yaoying and lay down with her.

Yaoying pushed him. "It's such hot weather. Go sleep in your own tent..."

Due to his cultivation method, his body had been unusually warm lately, like a silver charcoal brazier—no visible red glow, yet scalding to the touch.

Tanmoroqie held her shoulders firmly. "I'll recite sutras for you."

Yaoying loved listening to him recite sutras. This skill was honed since his childhood—his voice clear and melodious, his intonation pleasant, rising and falling with a solemn grandeur reminiscent of mountains and rivers. During sutra lectures, the moment he began, thousands in attendance would fall silent, even suppressing their coughs.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and nestled closer into his embrace, though she said, "We have to travel during the day. Don’t exhaust yourself."

He replied gently yet firmly, "I’ll go back once you fall asleep."

Only then did Yaoying quiet down, closing her eyes to listen to his recitation.

After a while, his melodious voice lingering in her ears, she felt a tingling warmth in her heart and chuckled. "Luojia, how is it you’re good at everything?"

"I’m not good at everything," he whispered. "You’ve been having nightmares these past few days."

He couldn’t enter her nightmares to drive away her fears.

Yaoying laughed softly. "They’re just dreams... With all the traveling lately, memories of the past surface unconsciously. Don’t worry—in my dreams, I know those are things of the past. I keep telling myself that nothing in the dream is frightening because it’s all over once I wake up."

"After a nightmare, I wake up especially happy."

Because those memories were long behind her, and she would never experience such things again.

"Luojia, do you have nightmares too?" she asked drowsily, yawning.

Tanmoroqie bent down and kissed her.

Yes.

The hell of asuras was not his nightmare, nor was the betrayal and scorn of believers. His nightmare was her being thrown into purgatory because of him, suffering torment.

Yaoying fell asleep.

After a while, finding him too warm, she let go and tried to push him away. Unable to move him, she flung her arm aside, turned over with her back to him, and moved far away, leaving him only the back of her head.

Tanmoroqie knew he should get up and leave, but every part of him resisted. He simply watched her back and closed his eyes to sleep.

The next day, before Yaoying woke, Tanmoroqie quietly rose and ordered the troops to quicken their pace. After Yaoying resolved several disputes among the tribes, they traveled without further stops and reached Gaochang in just a few days.

They were greeted by the cheers of the entire city and over a dozen spirited young men riding tall horses, clad in black robes and silver armor.

Having ridden all day, Yaoying was travel-worn, her long boots filled with half a pound of sand. After exchanging a few words with the young men, she hurried into the city. Once washed, she rested immediately and woke to pitch darkness outside her window, with cheerful pipa music drifting in.

She went to find Tanmoroqie. Always disciplined, he was already awake, seated at his desk reading a scroll. Upon her entry, he promptly put it away.

Curious about what he was reading, Yaoying glanced over, but he had already tucked the scroll into a case and stood up. His gaze lingered on her face, his expression somewhat unusual.

"What’s wrong?" she couldn’t help asking.He gazed at her in silence for a moment. "Nothing's wrong."

"Come with me somewhere," she said.

Without asking a single question, he followed her out of the room.

The courtyard torch emitted a dim glow. Yaoying took his hand—it felt slightly warm.

Tanmoroqie looked down at her, a faint smile flickering in his eyes as his tense expression softened. His fingers tightened slightly, interlacing with hers.

As they passed through the front corridor, Yaoying suddenly chuckled and pointed at a corner pillar. "Luojia, last time you came to Gaochang, were you hiding there watching me?"

At the time, she had sensed something, but when she looked over, she hadn't seen him.

Her playful tone when deliberately bringing this up made Tanmoroqie unable to resist lowering his head to kiss her rosy lips. "Yes."

He had stood right there, separated by a door, watching her in the mortal world.

Whenever Yaoying recalled this in the past, her heart ached for him. Now revisiting this place while holding his hand, the past pain had fermented into mellow wine. She smiled softly and said, "When I found out you secretly came to Gaochang and left alone while injured, I was so furious I could have died."

Truly furious—so angry she wanted to rush before him, tear off his Kasaya, strip away all his pretenses, and have a proper, heated argument with him.

Tanmoroqie stopped walking and looked directly into her eyes. "Bright Moon Slave, I won't do that again."

When he made promises, each word carried the weight of a thousand pounds, steady and imposing like towering mountains.

It was the same when he deceived people.

Yaoying snorted lightly and wanted to hit him, but her hand was held tightly in his, unable to break free. She could only glare at him.

A smile escaped his lips—he very much wanted to kiss her properly.

But she had already turned and walked away.

Feeling somewhat disappointed, Tanmoroqie followed her out.

Outside the palace gates, the lively sounds of the square rushed toward them. The days were scorching hot, but the nights turned cold. The banquet welcoming the carriage procession had just begun. Dressed in their finest, crowds of men, women, and children filled the square—some linking arms and dancing around bonfires, others sitting in corners playing music, some gathering together for drinking contests, and others showcasing their skills in dance competitions. The atmosphere was exceptionally vibrant.

Yaoying watched the bustling crowd with keen interest.

"Do you want to go dance?" Tanmoroqie asked.

Yaoying shook her head with a smile, pulling his hand as they left. They walked through the quiet long street and arrived at a secluded courtyard. The people inside had been waiting and guided them in with lanterns.

Laughter and chatter came from the inner courtyard. A graceful woman dressed in Central Plains attire stood in the yard with a young man and woman, releasing lanterns for blessings. An altar table was set up in front of the courtyard, laden with offerings.

The woman was teaching the young people to recite Scriptures, and both youths agreed with cheerful laughter.

"That's my mother," Yaoying said softly. "When my elder brother and I realized Li De wouldn't let her go, we found a way to secretly bring her out of the capital while reclaiming lost territories. The one in the detached palace is an imposter."

The imposter bore some resemblance to Xie Manyuan and could deceive the guards, but not Li De. Ironically, Li De didn't care about Xie Manyuan and had only seen her from a distance a few times, so he never realized the hostage in his hands was fake.

"Mother doesn't recognize my brother or me anymore, but I still wanted to bring you to see her. To let her know that I'm living well."

Tanmoroqie tightened his grip on Yaoying's hand.

They stood in the shadows for a long while, waiting until Xie Manyuan was persuaded by two attendants to return to her room and rest, then walked out hand in hand.

Yaoying asked the steward, "Has the master been here?"Li Zhongqian arrived in Gaochang before her.

The steward’s expression shifted slightly, and he whispered, "Seventh Lady, the young master did come, but he didn’t dare stay long... There’s something I must report to you."

"What is it?"

The steward hesitated before speaking, "I heard from Xie Chong and the others that a young lady... came with the young master’s token. At that time, neither you nor the young master were here, so Xie Chong and the others didn’t dare make a decision and could only take her in. After the young master returned, they immediately went to report it. But when the young master saw her, he didn’t even bat an eye—he turned around and left... Xie Chong and the others don’t know how to handle the situation with that young lady."

"Is she someone we know?"

"No, Xie Chong said that judging by her features, she’s definitely not Han. She speaks our official language and seems to be of high status. Xie Chong didn’t dare explain it clearly to me."

Yaoying’s eyelid twitched: Could Li Zhongqian have left behind some romantic entanglement? But he had always been bold and accountable in his actions, and his interactions with women were always consensual—he would never abandon someone after leading them on.

After a moment’s thought, she instructed, "Take good care of that young lady for now. I’ll wait until I’ve spoken with my brother to decide how to settle this."

The steward breathed a sigh of relief and acknowledged the order.

The night was deep, and starlight spilled across the ground.

Yaoying and Tanmoroqie walked hand in hand back, their guards following behind. The sound of their footsteps echoed through the long street.

Tanmoroqie suddenly asked, "Do you want to go to the banquet and dance?"

Yaoying was taken aback and looked up. He gazed down at her, his expression serious.

If she said she wanted to dance, he would accompany her.

Yaoying smiled, stood on her toes, and lightly kissed his lips. "I’m tired today and don’t feel like joining the excitement. I’ll dance for you another time."

Tanmoroqie’s mind flashed back to the sight of her dancing with Princess Manda in the pavilion last time.

Even the ethereal grace of celestial dancers in the realm of bliss could not compare.

Like a flower swaying gently in the wind, delicate and enchanting, its petals on the verge of blooming, the memory of her slender, supple waist lingered in his palm.

His body tensed, and his blood surged abruptly, rushing through his veins.

The darkness of the night concealed his discomposure well. Yaoying simply assumed he wasn’t very interested in dancing and, swinging his hand, led him back home.