Chapter 1: Tempting a Monk of the Buddha, You Brought This Upon Yourself

Chapter 1: Tempting a Monk of the Buddha's Gate, You Brought This Upon Yourself

The pleasure house was thick with the cloying scent of makeup and the tang of wine.

The Marquis's Heir had a girl in each arm, a bite of food in one hand, and wine in the other—so drunk he couldn't tell up from down.

Creak.

The tightly shut door creaked open, and a man in a black robe and wide-brimmed hat appeared in the doorway, with a sycophantic madam trailing behind him: "Young master, these are all the girls we have left."

The man casually tossed a gold ingot: "Tell them to leave."

"Alright, alright, I'll arrange it right away."

The madam, eyes gleaming at the money, didn't bother asking questions. She shooed the girls out and even closed the door behind her.

The empty room fell silent.

Pei Yuhuai grumbled: "Where are my girls? Where's my wine? Come back, all of you—come back!"

"You're drunk."

The man in black robes and a dark sash strode over to him, pulling off his hat to reveal a face of dangerous, bewitching beauty.

Especially the crimson mark at the center of his brow.

Like a forbidden flame.

As he drew closer, the faint scent of sandalwood drifted through the air, like calming incense.

Pei Yuhuai, drunk and hazy, looked up and saw only a blurred silhouette bathed in moonlight, tangled up with his own shadow.

The air was thick with ambiguity.

Pei Yuhuai's upturned eyes were flushed with a peach-blossom pink, and on pure instinct, he reached out, grabbed him, yanked him closer, and buried his face against him, eyes shut, breathing him in.

Lan He lowered his gaze, watching his own hair clutched in the other man's grip. His pitch-black eyes turned red, clouded with dark desire.

His voice came out hoarse and rough.

"Does it smell good?"

"Mm."

"You like it?"

"I do."

At his drunken, hazy replies, the man's brows darkened, a dangerous aura spilling out unchecked, like invisible tendrils trying to coil around the drunk man before him.

He gripped Pei Yuhuai's chin, forcing his head up.

His pale, slender neck was bared in the dim moonlight.

Lan He stared at him, throat bobbing, his gaze cold and appraising: "Pei Hang. Lift your head. Look at me."

Pei Yuhuai, thoughts muddled, obediently tilted his head up. His eyes, misted over, met the man's gaze.

The man had a face as gorgeous as peach blossoms, thick lashes casting shadows, his dark eyes glinting with cold, distant light.

A red mark between his brows.

It lent an eerie, bewitching charm to his sharp, cold features—like something on a sacred altar, untouchable, yet screaming to be defiled.

Pei Yuhuai's eyes curved into a smile as he reached out to touch the crimson mark between the man's brows.

"Are you the boy sent to serve me?"

Didn't think they had boys here.

"Boy?"

Surprise flickered in Lan He's eyes. A faint smile tugged at his lips, playful and amused: "Does the young master want a boy?"

"Mm. You're even prettier than him. I'm very satisfied."

"How satisfied?"

"Satisfied enough that I want to kiss you."

Pei Yuhuai suddenly hooked the 'boy's' chin, rubbing it stiffly and clumsily, then leaned in eagerly, with a petulant, sulky air.

Lan He's breath hitched. He seized the chance to grip his slender waist and press a hand to the back of his head.

He didn't let go until Pei Yuhuai couldn't breathe.

The young man pouted pitifully, eyes red, mumbling incoherently, looking utterly heartbroken.

It twisted something in Lan He's chest.

He leaned in, catching the words "bastard," "heartless," and "top scholar."

Hah.

So it was about someone else. He'd thought it was because of the kiss.

Lan He pulled him up and led him to the window, forcing his fingers between Pei Yuhuai's and pressing them against the sill. His tone was teasing: "Has the young master been dumped?"

"Mm."

"That's a shame."

Lan He drawled the words slowly, letting them curl around his lips, laced with a subtle, elusive meaning.

Pei Yuhuai, dazed, clung to the windowsill, swaying, too drunk to even hear him.

All he knew was this:

This wine burned his chest and broke his heart.

He was the Marquis's Heir, a notorious playboy of the capital, but he had a secret: the new top scholar was his beloved.

But Ji Huaiyu had changed after acing the imperial exams. He spent his days fawning over the princess, was made the imperial son-in-law, and forgot all about their past.

They might as well have been strangers.

He'd even overheard Ji Huaiyu say:

——'He fell in love with me, and I kicked him away hard, making him go dark. My mission would be complete then. Who cares if he lives or dies afterward? He's just a fictional character.'

As he said this, his eyes held triumph, contempt, and disgust, but none of the familiar affection.

Pei Yuhuai refused to believe it.

He secretly trailed him and investigated, only to discover that this world was just a storybook in Ji Huaiyu's eyes.

He was a character in the book.

And Ji Huaiyu was the reader.

Everything in the past was fake, with no sincerity at all.

A nameless fury surged in Pei Yuhuai's chest.

He was also a proud, radiant moon; why did Ji Huaiyu get to toss him aside like trash and play with him in the palm of his hand?

Why?

The more Pei Yuhuai thought about it, the angrier he became. Eyes red, he slung his arm around the male attendant's neck, breathing out heavy, wine-soaked breath, and said fiercely, "Since he won't have me, then you take me."

"?"

Darkness rippled in Lan He's eyes. "Is the young master looking to mend a broken heart?"

"Don't talk."

Pei Yuhuai was dead drunk, his words slurred, his seductive moves clumsy, but it was exactly this raw, messy desperation that stirred desire the most.

He yanked wildly at the man's robes, furious and frantic.

Maybe the sash was too hard to untie; he frowned in annoyance, buried his face in the man's shoulder, and bit down hard.

"Hiss..."

Lan He sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes turning a frightening red. He gritted his teeth and tried to shove the head away, but it wouldn't move, and the biting only got worse.

Like glue.

"Pei Hang." Lan He forced him to meet his eyes, a crack appearing in his cold, composed demeanor. "Seducing a monk of the Buddhist order—you brought this on yourself."

His face darkened, but underneath lurked a hint of secret delight.

"May the Buddha forgive me."

With one arm around Pei Yuhuai's waist and the other held upright in front of him, he looked up at the moon and sighed, his tone devout, ears flushed red as he murmured "Amitabha."

Buddha.

If he's surrounded by endless desire, then he's a Buddha fallen into the mortal world.

After the chant, Lan He lowered his head, his fingertips catching the young man's sash.

Pei Yuhuai had a dream of enchantment, where he recklessly stepped into a blissful paradise, found a beautiful person, and shared a night of passion.

Tasting it for the first time, he was thrilled, wanting to take charge, but was easily flipped underneath.

Several times he tried to get on top and take control.

But he lacked the strength and was pinned down hard.

Fine, Pei Yuhuai quickly accepted it—being on the bottom was fine, no effort needed, just being served by the beauty and enjoying the comfort.

After all, he liked men, so no loss there.

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