Chapter 27: Jesting

A subtle scent of orchid and musk drifted to the tip of his nose, soothing and refreshing, filling him with delight. He became aware that his palm was resting on something soft and warm. Groggy, he opened his eyes, only to find, to his astonishment, a stunningly beautiful maiden nestled in his arms.

“What… what’s going on?” Liu Ping was startled. He dared not move, afraid of waking the celestial beauty in his embrace.

Had he actually slept with her? Though “slept” in this context meant only sleeping side by side, not the other implication, it was enough to fill Liu Ping with excitement.

He stared, unblinking, at the expanse of creamy skin exposed by Meng Shang, his breathing unconsciously growing tense, his body stiffened, torn between desire and reason, the latter barely restraining his primal urges.

His gaze shifted to Meng Shang’s exquisite face, and he found himself spellbound. No words could truly do her beauty justice; even perfection seemed inadequate.

After a while, he felt his mouth go dry, and he instinctively licked his lips—only to taste a lingering sweetness, a delicate fragrance upon them.

Why did his lips taste sweet and fragrant? The flavor seemed oddly familiar…

He sniffed again. Wasn’t this the very scent of Meng Shang herself? Especially the faint aroma from her pink lips—it matched the flavor on his own perfectly. Had he, while asleep, unconsciously taken advantage of her?

A wave of conflicting emotions surged inside him—was it excitement or regret?

“It’s just a kiss… that shouldn’t matter, should it?” Liu Ping thought, inching his head closer to the rosy lips of the beauty in his arms.

The distance between them dwindled; he was almost there, when suddenly, Meng Shang began to stir.

Her long eyelashes fluttered as she slowly opened her limpid eyes. Seeing Liu Ping’s face so close, she let out a soft gasp, her cheeks flushing like ripe apples. Embarrassed, she instinctively tried to wriggle free.

As Meng Shang began to slip from his arms, Liu Ping was seized by a sense of unprecedented loss.

Not wanting the beauty to leave, he instinctively tightened his embrace, holding Meng Shang close.

“Sir… please let me go,” Meng Shang pleaded, tilting her head up at him.

Looking at her pitiful expression, Liu Ping was moved, but still reluctant to release her. He softly replied, “But I can’t bear to…”

Once he spoke, he regretted it—the words sounded childish, almost unreasonable. Would this tarnish Meng Shang’s view of him? If so, it would be a sorrow beyond words.

He watched her nervously, but her eyes, bright as spring water, showed no anger. Liu Ping breathed a sigh of relief.

She smiled gently. “Do you think Meng Shang is beautiful?”

Liu Ping leaned even closer, their foreheads nearly touching, and answered earnestly, “You are beautiful.”

Meng Shang blushed deeper, her eyes curving into crescent moons as she smiled, radiant and enchanting.

The sight left Liu Ping entranced once again.

Had his answer pleased her? Did that mean she wasn’t angry with him? Assured now that his forwardness had not offended her, Liu Ping finally felt at ease. If he had made this jade-like maiden dislike him, it would have been one of the greatest regrets of his life.

Meng Shang blinked and asked, “In what way am I beautiful?”

Liu Ping thought for a moment and recited, “Hands as soft as tender shoots, skin like congealed cream, neck slender as a silken worm, teeth like gourd seeds, a delicate brow, a charming smile, eyes bright and alluring.”

Meng Shang couldn’t help but softly repeat, “Hands as soft as tender shoots, skin like congealed cream, neck slender as a silken worm, teeth like gourd seeds, a delicate brow, a charming smile, eyes bright and alluring…” She seemed a little dazed as she recited, but soon a trace of jealousy crept into her tone. “Sir speaks so well… but I wonder, how many times have you said such words before?”

Liu Ping pulled her closer and gently replied, “You are the first girl to whom I’ve ever spoken such words.”

Meng Shang lifted her head again, their eyes meeting, and a wonderful atmosphere blossomed between them.

“Is that true?” she asked.

“It’s absolutely true,” Liu Ping replied.

“You’re not lying to me?”

“Of course not.”

“Really, truly not lying to me?”

“Really, truly not lying to you.”

Meng Shang giggled, “If that’s the case, then not only have I received your praise, but I’ve made you so reluctant to let go…”

Liu Ping unconsciously held his breath.

At that moment, the room suddenly trembled with heavy, echoing footsteps—so loud they could only be made by someone of immense size. Alongside came the clatter of chains.

Startled, Meng Shang exclaimed, “The Divine Guard is here. It must be about the wild grass in my courtyard… I reported it ages ago, but only now do they come.”

Her disappointment was palpable; the atmosphere had been so beautiful, and perhaps she and Liu Ping might have gone even further. But now, there was no time.

“What should I do? Should I hide?” Liu Ping asked.

Together, they rose and went to the window, peeking through a narrow opening. Outside stood a giant Divine Guard in golden armor, towering some thirty feet tall, like a small mountain. His face was as dark as lacquer, he held a rope and a massive hammer, and he bellowed, “Lady Meng Shang, I am here on orders. Please reveal yourself.”

Meng Shang whispered urgently, “Sir, I must go outside… Hide under the bed, and make no sound. If the Divine Guard discovers a mortal man here, it would be a breach of heavenly law…”

“Alright,” Liu Ping agreed.

Meng Shang quickly dressed, about to leave, but paused, stood on tiptoe, and brushed a gentle kiss on Liu Ping’s lips. She gave him a little push, then hurried away.

Stunned, Liu Ping instinctively crawled under the bed, his mind slow to catch up.

He licked his lips again. That taste—why did it seem so familiar…?

* * * * * *

The Grand Main Hall.

Zhu Yingtai stood with eyes closed in devout prayer. When her prayers were done, she turned to find Liu Ping staring blankly at a nearby mural, utterly entranced.

“Fengchang?” she called, but received no response. Startled, she quickly reached out to shake him.

“Fengchang, what’s wrong?”

She waved a hand before his eyes, but Liu Ping did not blink.

Growing anxious, Zhu Yingtai cried, “Fengchang, Fengchang! Don’t scare me!”

The old abbot slowly shook his head. “Miss Zhu, do not be alarmed. This young man is listening to the Buddha’s teaching.”

Zhu Yingtai was taken aback. “Listening to the Buddha’s teaching? How? There’s no sound here.”

The abbot replied, “There is indeed no sound here… the sound is not far away.”

Zhu Yingtai asked, puzzled, “Where?”

The abbot did not answer at once, but pointed at the mural. After a moment, he said quietly, “Master Liu, your journey has been long. Will you not return?”

At that, Liu Ping’s figure slowly appeared on the mural, then faded away.

Standing beside Zhu Yingtai, Liu Ping suddenly shivered.

He blinked, looked around in confusion, and quickly regained his senses. Glancing at Zhu Yingtai, he asked, “How long was I gone?”

“Gone?” Zhu Yingtai replied. “I finished my prayers and found you standing here in a daze… It was only a few dozen breaths.”

Liu Ping frowned slightly, murmuring, “A few dozen breaths? In heaven, a day is a year below, but here, a day below is a year in heaven?”

He turned to the abbot. “Is this the gateway to the heavens?”

The abbot shook his head. “It is only the gateway to your heart.”

“The gateway to my heart…” Liu Ping was speechless. He knew the old monk did not wish to elaborate, so he gazed again at the mural and there saw Meng Shang.

Now, the sorrow had vanished from Meng Shang’s eyes; she was smiling joyously.

Liu Ping asked, “When will I be able to enter this heart again?”

The old monk—no, the abbot—replied, “Only if fate allows.”

“Only if fate allows?” Liu Ping was left speechless. He turned to Zhu Yingtai. “Jie Zhi, let’s go.”

“Ah, alright.” Though still puzzled, Zhu Yingtai did not question him. She pressed her palms together in salute to the abbot, left ten taels of silver as an offering, and departed with Liu Ping.

Though they rode on horseback, their pace was leisurely, enjoying the scenery along the way, finding delight in the journey.

Liu Ping gazed at the landscape, absentmindedly touching his lips, lost in reminiscence.

Suddenly, he recalled something and couldn’t help but chuckle.

Fate… to have or not to have fate? Must it be so? He was unwilling to accept it.

Now that he was a ghost immortal, he was still too weak, but he would never allow himself to remain so.

At that moment, Zhu Yingtai asked, “Fengchang, what just happened?”

At her question, Liu Ping replied, “Just now, my spirit wandered the void and soared to the Ninth Heaven. I listened to a great Buddha preach, helped a most beautiful celestial maiden, and even shared a kiss with her.”

Zhu Yingtai thought he was joking and burst out laughing. “Who are you trying to fool?”

“I’m being serious…”