In the Moonlight

AD4

Yaoying casually tugged at her collar, leaned down to peck Tanmoroqie’s solemn face, and rubbed against him through the thin fabric of his clothes.

The weather was hot, so last night she had only been dressed in a single, sheer garment, thin as a cicada’s wings.

He let out a muffled groan.

He had been restraining himself since last night. When he woke up this morning and saw her sleeping beside him—her cheeks flushed, her lips rosy and slightly swollen, her body soft and delicate beneath the gauzy fabric, the faint fragrance of her hair lingering in the air—he immediately reacted and had to get up.

And now she was teasing him again.

She was so sure he couldn’t resist her, which was why she dared to provoke him like this.

Tanmoroqie lay beneath Yaoying, a faint smile flickering at the corners of his lips. He helplessly stroked her fingertips, adoring the relaxed, playful way she acted around him.

Feeling his tension, Yaoying laughed and pushed herself up, trying to move away from him.

His arms immediately followed, gripping her tightly and pressing her back onto the bed. Leaning over her, he asked again, “Are you really not in pain anymore?”

Yesterday, her brows had been tightly furrowed. No matter how much he restrained himself, when instinct and desire reached their peak, it had still been too intense.

His gaze drifted downward, and his hand followed.

Suddenly realizing what he was asking about, Yaoying’s heart fluttered. She stared at his slender fingers—the same ones that had just been copying Buddhist scriptures—and sprang up, wrapping her arms around his and shaking her head vigorously.

“I’m fine, really, it doesn’t hurt.”

Tanmoroqie held her down, not letting her move. His expression was serious, his eyes dark with restrained desire. “Let me see.”

Yaoying struggled briefly but couldn’t break free. She had no choice but to lie still, her ears gradually turning bright red.

Before, she had worried about whether he would struggle with life after leaving the monastic order, fearing he might be conflicted and tormented. She had even wondered how to help him adjust gradually.

Now, it seemed her worries had been completely unnecessary.

In the past, as the Regent, he had wielded a blade with unwavering conviction, indifferent to others’ opinions, unshaken even by life-and-death trials. Now that he had married her, he was no different—unreservedly studying illustrated manuals and researching marital intimacy as openly as he had once delved into Buddhist teachings. The first thing he did this morning was to earnestly ask if she was still in pain.

He was genuinely learning how to be a good lover, with a seriousness that was almost peculiar.

Yaoying’s heart swelled with a bittersweet warmth. She found it both amusing and a little disappointing—she had thought she could tease him a bit more.

A sudden chill swept over her.

Snapping back to reality, Yaoying gasped and curled into a ball, blocking Tanmoroqie from touching her.

He leaned closer, whispering gently in her ear, “Let me see if you need some ointment…”

His noble, melodious voice carried a hint of irresistible temptation.

Yaoying felt as if she were on fire, pushing him away forcefully. “It really doesn’t hurt…”

Even if it did, she wouldn’t let him apply any ointment!

She struggled so fiercely that Tanmoroqie, afraid of hurting her, reluctantly pulled back. He picked up a small box from the bedside table and slid it toward her.

“Don’t push yourself. If you’re uncomfortable, use these…”

His voice, softened by the bed curtains, was exceptionally tender.

Yaoying took the box and opened it. Her lips twitched, her cheeks flushed, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Where did you get these?”

Princess Manda had given her many ointments and delicate little trinkets, each accompanied by a note detailing their use. But the items in this box were even more exquisite and comprehensive than what Princess Manda had provided—it had everything.

Tanmoroqie gently stroked her loose hair, answering calmly, “I had someone prepare them.”

His expression was unchanged, his tone matter-of-fact, as if they were discussing the most ordinary of matters.Yaoying closed her eyes and collapsed back onto the pillow in resignation, wondering what expressions the servants had worn when he ordered them to prepare these intimate items for the bedchamber.

"Are you truly alright?"

He asked again.

"I'm fine..." Yaoying hooked her arms around his neck, drawing closer to him. Her fingers caressed his head as she kissed his earlobe and whispered in his ear, "Monk... you've learned well. I enjoyed last night very much..."

His breath hitched abruptly. He turned over, pulling her with him, his gaze dark and clouded with desire.

Amid the hazy dimness, there still lingered a trace of serene dignity—a cool, transcendent aura of Buddha’s grace.

Which made the desire in his eyes all the more intense and fervent.

His scent was the same as last night—cold yet carrying an aggressive edge. Remembering the tingling sensations that had coursed through her body, Yaoying instinctively softened against him.

A low gurgling sound broke the silence.

Both of them froze for a moment.

After a pause, Tanmoroqie chuckled softly, leaned down, and pressed his lips to Yaoying’s rumbling stomach, kissing her several times through the thin fabric of her robe.

"I’ve prepared your favorite dishes. I’ll have them brought in."

It was already noon. The attendants carried in a lavish low table laden with an array of delicacies—fresh fruits, preserved sweets, beef and mutton, steamed horse sausage, savory rice, stewed soup, fūnǐu rice, cheese, an assortment of sweet and savory pastries, pomegranate juice, and freshly baked naan.

Yaoying had eaten little at the banquet the day before. When she went to wash up, her body had felt weak and sore. Now, the aroma of the food made her stomach growl even more fiercely. She finished an entire plate of lamb and raisin pilaf and ate half a small beef-stuffed naan.

Tanmoroqie sat beside her, with only a bowl of butter tea in front of him.

Yaoying glanced at him. If he had already eaten, why was he still sitting here?

He watched her gracefully finish the pilaf, then picked up a plate of pastries and handed it to her, gesturing for her to eat. She accepted it and took a bite. Then he poured a bowl of hot tea and offered it to her. Her hands were full with the pastry, so she drank directly from his hands, taking two sips. He set the tea bowl down and waved his hand, signaling for the feast to be cleared away.

The attendants exchanged glances before carrying the table out.

As the newlyweds, their guards and close attendants had all withdrawn to the outer hall and would not enter unless summoned. The inner chamber was quiet, with only the cheerful chirping of birds outside the window.

Noticing the looks the Royal Court attendants had given before leaving, Yaoying leaned over Tanmoroqie’s back as he copied Buddhist Scriptures. "Was there some kind of etiquette involved just now?"

Yaoying couldn’t help but laugh. No wonder the attendants had looked so surprised—Luojia didn’t care for such formalities.

"Since you served me just now, does that mean you’ll listen to me for the rest of your life?"

Tanmoroqie nodded. "I will always listen to you."

As long as she stayed by his side, for a lifetime.

Yaoying wrapped her arms around Tanmoroqie’s neck from behind and watched him copy the Scriptures for a while. She had intended to tease him, but seeing him carefully transcribing and pondering each character with utmost seriousness, she decided not to disturb him. She stood up and browsed the shelves filled with books and scrolls. The book chest she had accidentally opened yesterday was now placed alongside other texts.

A high monk was indeed a high monk—broad-minded and unconstrained. On one side were Scripture Scrolls, official documents, and state letters; on the other were those illustrated books.

Curious, Yaoying opened the book chest and began carefully examining the volumes inside.

Yesterday, she had only glanced briefly without paying close attention.She flipped through the books one by one. Besides the picture albums, there were several volumes of Brahmi scriptures that she couldn't understand. However, judging from the illustrations, they seemed similar to the congratulatory gifts Princess Manda had given her.

When she reached the middle section, she raised her eyebrows in surprise, picked up a book bound in the Central Plains style, opened it for a few glances, and froze momentarily.

She continued flipping through the pages, her emotions surging like tidal waves.

The blazing sunlight poured through the window, filtered layer by layer through the rolled blinds, window lattices, beaded curtains, and gauze drapes, casting a gentle and faint glow into the inner chamber, like moonlight veiled in sheer silk.

Tanmoroqie sat at the desk, writing, his profile solemn and sacred.

The soft rustling of the pen tip against the paper filled the air. Yaoying, with her back to him, stared at the books in the chest, motionless for a long while.

"Luojia..."

Lost in thought for a moment, she picked up the books and returned to Tanmoroqie's side, leaning over his back. "Why are you reading these?"

Several volumes of Chinese medical books lay scattered on the long desk, each showing signs of frequent use—books on women's pregnancy, postpartum care, childbirth complications, difficult labor, lactation, Qianjin Fang, Jingxiao Chanbao, Xiaonü Zafang, Cui's Chan Tu... all discussing the care and regulation of women's pregnancy and childbirth.

Annotations in Tanmoroqie's unmistakable handwriting were scribbled beside several prescriptions. So, on their way back to the Royal Court, the books he had calmly read included not only those teaching marital relations but also these medical texts.

Tanmoroqie paused his writing, a rare hint of unease flashing across his face.

Yaoying turned her head to kiss him, her smile radiant. "When did you start reading these?"

Tanmoroqie lifted his gaze to meet hers. "I have some knowledge of medicine, but I am unfamiliar with matters of childbirth, prenatal care, and child-rearing."

Having her by his side was enough for him; he didn't want her to become a mother too soon. However, since they were married and had consummated their relationship, children would inevitably come in the future. He preferred to prepare in advance to avoid being caught off guard. She was not yet twenty, while he was older and her husband—it was only natural for him to take more care of her.

Yaoying met his gaze, her heart swelling with overwhelming tenderness. She reached out, took the brush from his hand, and began to undress him.

He usually wore monk's robes-style loose garments. Her fingers slipped inside, forcefully loosening the ties. His body stiffened, and he grasped her hands, pulling her into an embrace as his breathing grew heavy.

"Don't overexert yourself..."

As they were still new to intimacy, she hadn't fully adjusted to him. He didn't dare to be too unrestrained, yet he didn't want to be too far from her either. So, he sat here copying Buddhist scriptures, watching her move around him to calm the restlessness in his heart.

Yaoying wriggled gently, broke free from his arms, and pushed him down onto the floor. She climbed on top of him, tore open his robes, and leaned down to bite his lips.

"I never thought about marriage before... how troublesome it would be... Wouldn't it be better to keep a few male companions? Stay together if it works, part ways if it doesn't..."

She spoke between kisses.

Tanmoroqie frowned.

"But then I met you..." Yaoying paused, planting a kiss on Tanmoroqie's forehead. "I thought, I would never meet someone like you again. When I left the Holy City, I knew that even if I never returned, I would never forget you."

She looked down at him and smiled, her beauty dazzling beyond compare.

"Besides you, I don't want to marry anyone else."

She might meet others in the future, but her husband would only ever be him.

Tanmoroqie's lips pressed together slightly, his eyes growing increasingly dark."I want you, Dharma Master." Yaoying panted, her eyes glistening with moisture. "I want you now."

Her hair had come undone from its knot, cascading in thick waves down her back. Her robes had long slipped away, revealing her form like a lotus in full bloom, breathtakingly beautiful.

Tanmoroqie lay on his back, his gaze fixed intently on Yaoying. His expression remained serene, his breathing steady and calm as he watched her without a word. Suddenly, he grasped her supple waist and sat up, holding her tightly against him. He flipped her over, pressing her into the woolen rug, and parted her lips with his own, capturing the mouth that so easily plucked at his heartstrings and set his blood aflame.

This time, he held nothing back. He wanted her—all of her—and he would take the utmost earthly pleasure from her. In return, he would give her all of himself.

From the rug beneath the bookshelves to the Spring Pool, then to the bed, and back again to the jade table beside the hot springs, he indulged almost uncontrollably in pleasing, delighting, and possessing her. He did all the things he had imagined but never dared to do, merging with her body and soul, compelling her to open herself completely to him. Though his picturesque features still retained a trace of Buddhist serenity, his jade-green eyes were now filled with a blood-tinged desire.

Yaoying trembled in his embrace, losing control until tears streamed down her face as she begged for mercy, sobbing uncontrollably.

...

Yaoying did not remember when she had fallen asleep. When she awoke, the candlelight by the bed was dim.

Her body felt as if it had been taken apart and reassembled. She draped a robe over herself and rose. The clothes torn by Tanmoroqie had already been taken away, and the small table was laden with dishes and various foods.

A figure stood outside the window.

Hearing her footsteps, he turned and approached, his gaze locking onto Yaoying’s face. His features were as exquisite as a painting, as if he had stepped out of the moonlight.

Remembering the day’s wild abandon and meeting his intense stare, Yaoying felt her legs grow weak.

He reached out and drew her into his embrace, his large hand stroking her waist with just the right pressure.

"What are you looking at?" Yaoying asked, her voice hoarse.

Tanmoroqie’s ears still seemed to echo with the sound of her weeping against his shoulder. He bent his head and kissed the crown of her hair.

"Lotus seeds."

Yaoying was taken aback, gazing at the calm water. "Lotus seeds?"

"I planted lotus roots and seeds here," Tanmoroqie said, holding her close. "I asked the Duke of Wei for the seeds. He said they were from Jingnan. When the leaves and flowers grow, you can look at something from your homeland and feel less homesick."

Yaoying chuckled softly, leaning back against his chest. "Will they survive?"

No wonder Li Zhongqian had treated him with increasing warmth on their way back to the Royal Court—he had actually managed to obtain lotus seeds from Jingnan.

Tanmoroqie held her tighter, their bodies pressed together inseparably, and nodded.

"When they bloom, we’ll pick one to offer to the Buddha."

He would tend to this pool of lotus seeds with care, waiting for them to break through their shells, grow, sprout, and blossom, taking root in this lotus pond just as he had seen in Chang’an—a pond overflowing with lotus flowers.

This was their home. They would walk hand in hand through life, watching flowers bloom and fade, clouds gather and drift.

Never to part again.