The unruly young men all stood up straight, like elementary students meeting the principal, not daring to look up, respectfully greeting Zhuang Qiting.
“Uncle, good morning.”
“Uncle.”
“Uncle.”
Zhuang Qiting had no interest in disciplining this noisy gaggle of ducklings.
His expression was indifferent. “This is a place of Buddhist peace, yet you’re all making such a racket. Have you no manners? Are you trying to make a laughingstock of our Zhuang Family?”
His voice was deep and steady, and when he spoke quietly, it was especially intimidating— a natural authority without anger.
No one dared utter a sound. The silence was absolute.
Only a light laugh drifted through, like a feather tickling Zhuang Qiting’s ear, making his heart itch. He looked up at his wife— she was the only one who dared defy him.
Li Yaru stood in the sunlight, her cheeks glowing softly, a look of disdain on her face as she rolled her eyes at him and clapped her hands. “Alright, let’s go inside. If we dawdle any longer, we’ll be late.”
She exchanged a glance with the second madam, Zhou Xinlan.
Zhou Xinlan quickly chimed in, “Yes, yes, let’s go offer incense first, then head to the Five Contemplations Hall for breakfast. Everything’s ready.”
Led by the Young Monks, everyone entered the main hall in order of seniority. Zhuang Qiting and Li Yaru walked at the front, followed by the second son Zhuang Qikai and his wife.
He laughed quietly, “These kids only behave when big brother is around.”
Zhou Xinlan tugged her husband’s sleeve, signaling him to quiet down as well.
.
The rest of the day was spent cultivating themselves in the temple. The elders drank tea, listened to Zen, and copied sutras in the meditation room.
Time passed in a relaxed way, but it was tough on the group of twenty-something young masters, more used to the temptations of the world.
The temple’s poor network seemed intentional, there were no entertainment activities, smoking was forbidden, and all sorts of rules made it feel like a high school training camp.
Li Shengming dozed off while copying the Prayer Sutra and was personally woken by Zhuang Qiting.
When he opened his eyes, he was so startled he jumped up and blurted, “Master, I was wrong.” His brothers tried so hard not to laugh their faces turned red.
“Are you this inattentive in class as well?”
Zhuang Qiting narrowed his eyes at his youngest son.
He couldn’t even muster up any anger— after all, this silly boy had the exact same eyes as Li Yaru and was just as good at acting cute.
Li Shengming mumbled awkwardly, “I got up too early this morning…”
With a cold face, Zhuang Qiting pointed at the crooked Prayer Sutra he’d copied. “Copy it five times before you’re allowed to eat. I’ll check personally.”
The Buddhist Cuisine at lunch didn’t feature any delicacies— just seasonal vegetables, grains, mushroom porridge, mixed-grain buns, rice cakes, potatoes, and corn. Fortunately, the Chef’s skills were excellent— even the braised tofu skin tasted meaty.
By afternoon, the group of energetic youths started to get hungry. Missing a meal of meat left them restless, especially since Buddhist rules meant only one or two proper meals a day, no food after noon, and absolutely no snacks for afternoon tea.
The evening meal, known as the “Medicinal Meal,” didn’t really count as dinner— just a few simple dishes, fruit, some porridge, and vegetarian buns.
It was a struggle to make it to sunset. By eight thirty, the temple was already quiet for the night, everyone returning to their rooms to rest.
Though the sky wasn’t yet fully dark, the bay outside was just entering its neon-lit nightlife, while the deep mountain temple felt as if midnight had already passed.
With no neon to pollute the night, the sky was like a freshly split piece of jade— clean and precious amidst the city’s crowds and lights.
From the bamboo grove came the chirping of insects, and farther away, the sound of ships and waves.
Li Yaru sat in silence, staring at the tatami in front of her— such a large bed.
On the temple’s west side were three separate guesthouses.
Zhou Xinlan had arranged the rooms, and in everyone’s eyes, she and Zhuang Qiting were still a loving couple, so naturally they were assigned to the same room.
One room wasn’t a problem. Last year, she’d stayed in a multi-bedroom suite, and assumed it would be the same this year— she hadn’t bothered to ask, not wanting to stir up trouble.
Who would have thought the second sister-in-law had arranged a suite with only one bedroom for her?
She’d already played the role of dutiful wife all day— now she had to share a bed with her soon-to-be ex-husband? Li Yaru rubbed her temples, trying to calm her rising blood pressure.
Zhuang Qiting was next door in the study, conducting a temporary video conference.
The laptop’s glow illuminated his sharp features, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, giving him the air of a refined, mature man.
The meeting lasted more than forty minutes. When it ended, he stretched a bit, then returned to the bedroom to look for his wife.
He wondered how she was doing— nothing here was to her taste.
Every year, she’d had to stay here with him for three days. It was indeed a grievance for her.
Actually, Baoyuan Temple’s accommodations were excellent. The guesthouse was hidden among bamboo, with grass-woven lamps, gauzy curtains, lattice windows, and linen sofas— a simple, elegant style.
But Li Yaru liked lavish places filled with fresh flowers and luxury.
Zhuang Qiting quickened his pace, pushing open the half-closed rosewood door.
The woman was lying on the jute carpet doing stretches, a wet mask on her face, her long legs in a perfect split, her slender waist arched at a strange angle, as if it might break.
When she was young, Li Yaru loved singing and dancing— her waist, legs, and joints were all supple.
After they married, Zhuang Qiting didn’t allow her to dance in front of others, or go to any seedy dance halls, unless it was a formal event where she danced with him.
Zhuang Qiting stared at his wife’s waist, adjusting his glasses in mock seriousness.
Li Yaru had once said she liked how he looked in glasses— so refined and handsome. Unfortunately, his eyesight was excellent, so he only wore them when working at the computer.
“Want me to help you stretch?” He took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.
Li Yaru had known he’d come in, but couldn’t be bothered to respond. Seeing him take the initiative, she slowly turned her head to glance at him.
Wearing glasses… such a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
She turned away, shaking her head. “No, I’m just stretching casually.”
Zhuang Qiting sat down on the sofa. “I remember I always helped you stretch before you danced. Every time I pushed a little, you’d cry out, tears in your eyes— it made my heart ache.”
They hadn’t spent a night alone together in a while, and the atmosphere was calm and peaceful. Li Yaru felt a flicker of warmth from old memories, but it quickly turned to annoyance.
She let out a dry “oh.”
“Do you still remember those old days, baby?” Zhuang Qiting crossed his long legs, arm resting on the chair, leisurely admiring his beautiful wife in the warm light.
Li Yaru pulled a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course I remember. I also remember that every time you helped me stretch, you’d end up tearing my dance costume and asking if the splits felt good. Even when I cried, you didn’t seem to care. You wolf, who are you pretending for?”
Zhuang Qiting: “……………….”
Li Yaru: “Please, Mr. Zhuang, shut your mouth. Thank you for your cooperation.” She bent down, fingers touching her pointed toes, her legs as straight as lines.
Zhuang Qiting let out an exasperated laugh, reaching the limit of his patience. “Eleanor, it’s been a whole day. Must you keep this up?”
“What am I doing?”
“You smile at everyone except me. Just because I took your things, your temper’s this bad? You haven’t said a single kind word to me.” There was a note of indulgence in his voice, not blame.
“If I don’t give you that thing, are you going to keep making a fuss?”
Li Yaru peeled off her mask, her skin glowing with moisture from the essence. She rolled her eyes and replied nonchalantly, “Oh, I don’t want that thing anymore. If you like it so much, keep it for yourself. I even think it’s not big enough.”
“…………”
“A’ru!” His tone deepened.
Li Yaru ignored him, turning her body away to face the other side, pressing her left hip to the floor.
Zhuang Qiting watched her for a few seconds, then walked over and crouched in front of her, sliding his arm under her armpit to lift her up, forcing her to look at him— just at him.
“So what if I exposed that you still want me in private? What’s there to be embarrassed about? I’ve seen every side of you.” He gently combed the damp hair from her temples with his long fingers, his movements infinitely tender, though always with an undercurrent of dominance.
“I know you’re only talking about divorce because you’re angry. I don’t blame you. Haven’t I left you alone these past two months? You’ve had your fun, haven’t you? I promise, I’ll keep it this way in the future. As long as you’re happy, I won’t interfere. You’ll always be free.”
Before she could react, Zhuang Qiting chuckled, pressing a light kiss to her cheek, his voice husky. “Baby, pretending is pointless. Only this man can make you feel on top of the world.”