Chapter 5: A Useless Waste, All Show and No Substance

Chapter 5: A Useless Good-for-Nothing

Lan He did not respond, his entire body leaning over, barely managing to brace his hands on the rockery to steady himself.

In Pei Yuhuai's eyes, he seemed to be deliberately seducing him.

What a pro.

Pei Yuhuai snorted, feeling smug.

But after waiting for a while, aside from rapid, scorching breaths, there was not a single move—he'd be waiting till the cows came home.

He gritted his teeth and shoved him away in annoyance. "All looks, no use."

Unexpectedly, with that shove, Lan He's tall frame swayed like a leaf in the wind, and before he knew it, he was about to tumble to the ground.

"!"

Pei Yuhuai jolted, and he quickly reached out to catch him.

Both of their clothes were soaked through, and now pressed together, just a few thin layers of fabric between them. When Pei Yuhuai reached out, he felt a hot, sticky wetness.

Looking down, he saw blood seeping through Lan He's purple robe, the dark red a shocking sight.

He yanked his hand back in shock. "You're injured?"

Did he stab himself just to frame me?

"Hey, what's wrong with you?"

Lan He leaned weakly against him, mustering a weak smile. "Young master, embracing me like this isn't proper."

Tch.

Pei Yuhuai rolled his eyes. Even now, he's still playing the saint. He really wanted to drag this heavenly being down into the dirt and see what he looked like.

Wanting something you can't have—that's the real thrill.

Lan He closed his eyes, the cool prayer beads now feeling hot and cold at once, like snow from a mountain peak crashing down before them.

His voice was low and hoarse.

"To defile Buddhism is a grave sin."

"Defile... what? Defile what now?"

"I am a man of the Buddhist cloth. Your Highness the Hereditary Prince, teasing this humble monk like this—aren't you defiling the faith?"

"???"

Pei Yuhuai looked as if he had seen a ghost.

He stared at the man in his arms, utterly dumbfounded. He'd figured the prayer beads were just for looks and that kind of talk was just for kicks—he never thought the guy was a real monk?

"Then why do you have hair?"

He blurted out the question bugging him.

Lan He remained unfazed. "I became a lay disciple of Buddhism as a child—born into the faith, living in the world, so I never shaved my head."

He really was a monk—vegetarian, chanting sutras, bowing to Buddha—but his worldly ties weren't fully cut, so he hadn't taken the tonsure.

Pei Yuhuai was speechless for a long moment.

He thought he'd bagged himself a pretty male attendant, but it turned out the guy was a monk—a man of the cloth. That killed the mood; he knew the monastic rules well enough.

Every beauty slips through his fingers.

It stung.

Just as he was trying to wrap his head around this, a voice called out.

"Who's there? What are you doing?"

Oh crap.

Pei Yuhuai's eyebrows shot up in fright. He shoved Lan He away, then, when the man stumbled, rushed back to steady him.

The one approaching was the Crown Prince.

The Crown Prince, wearing a bright yellow robe with four-clawed pythons embroidered on it, hands clasped behind his back. Though young, he had an air of authority and the pride of a ruler, striding toward them.

Ji Huaiyu followed behind him.

Pei Yuhuai quickly tugged Lan He into a bow. "Greetings, Your Highness the Crown Prince."

Lan He didn't budge.

Just as he was confused, the Crown Prince happily bowed to Lan He. "So the Zen master's here! I've been looking everywhere for you. How'd you end up in such a mess?"

He waved to the people behind him. "Come, attend to the holy monk—prepare a bath and fresh clothes."

Pei Yuhuai was completely stunned.

Was his intel really this outdated? Even the Crown Prince knew who Lan He was.

He looked up.

Ji Huaiyu's dark gaze swept over the two of them, his hands clenched into fists, his face turning green with anger.

Pei Yuhuai said to the Crown Prince, "Your Highness, perfect timing. Uh, Lan... the Zen master's injured. I ran into him and gave him a hand."

The Crown Prince nodded in gratitude. "Much obliged, Hereditary Prince. This is the eminent monk Lan He. He saved my life while I was away—he's my benefactor."

He's the Crown Prince's man!

If the Crown Prince found out he'd been flirting with this Zen master and had done... unspeakable things... would he want him killed?

Whether the Crown Prince wanted to or not was anyone's guess, but Ji Huaiyu definitely did.

Lan He was badly hurt, maybe at his limit, and passed out dramatically. It was only Pei Yuhuai's arm around his waist that kept him from falling.

Ji Huaiyu stared at the hand on Lan He's waist, looking like he wanted to kill someone.

Only then did Pei Yuhuai realize Ji Huaiyu had been staring at him the whole time.

Ugh, what a pain.

"What're you looking at? Keep staring and I'll rip your eyes out and feed 'em to the dogs."

"Warning: The target, Pei Yuhuai's, affection level has dropped to the third stage."

With the Crown Prince present, Ji Huaiyu took a deep breath to control his emotions and forced a strained smile: "The young marquis's temper is still as fiery as ever."

"Pfft, cut the crap, don't act so familiar."

The Crown Prince glanced at the two of them, puzzled: "You two?"

"It's nothing, Your Highness, let's get going. The Zen master's about to kick it, look how pale he is."

"Oh, right, right, let's go."

The Crown Prince was about to take Lan He away, and Pei Yuhuai followed, watching sourly as he stuffed Lan He into the carriage.

Dejected, utterly dejected—his little sparrow had flown the coop.

Ji Huaiyu was about to follow too, but being the groom, he had a ton of stuff to deal with and was soon called away.

Pei Yuhuai trudged home, utterly deflated.

What a drag.

He'd finally worked up the nerve to keep a little bird, and it turned out to be a monk—and the Crown Prince's honored guest, no less. Well, screw that, no chance now.

What a complete waste of effort.

-

After having his wounds dressed, Lan He returned to the mansion and lay on his bed, equally dejected and pale-faced.

He hadn't actually been a monk since birth.

The kingdom fell; the people were annihilated.

As the sole surviving heir of the royal bloodline, he was taken away by an old master at a young age and, by a twist of fate, ended up taking refuge in Buddhism. From then on, he bowed to Buddha and recited sutras, growing up in front of the shrine.

Maybe heaven had planned it that way.

In his past life, Pei Hang had been a disciple of the Buddha; in this life, their roles were somehow reversed.

The past was still vivid in his mind—the strict precepts of Buddhism had once been a sword dangling over Pei Hang's head. He wondered if they were still the same now.

Lan He touched his chest, where an indelible knife wound remained, one that had once pierced his heart and lungs.

On the other side.

When Pei Yuhuai fell asleep, he had a dream.

In the dream.

A youth in robes whiter than snow, a sword thrust through his chest, staining his white robes crimson, blood dripping down one drop at a time.

In the dream, he seemed to be kneeling opposite him, their eyes locked.

The man had striking peach-blossom eyes, gazing at him mournfully, each word dripping with blood: "Tell me, will I die here?"

'No, you won't die.'

"You're wrong, I will die."

He shut his eyes in despair, bloody tears streaming from their corners, his body collapsing like a piece of drifting duckweed, the prayer beads in his arms breaking their string, scattering all over the ground.

Each bead soaked in fresh blood.

"No!"

In that instant.

A strange emotion broke through the dream, pressing down on him until he could hardly breathe.

Pei Yuhuai suddenly opened his eyes, realizing he was drenched in cold sweat, his clothes soaked through, his heart pounding violently, almost suffocating.