chapter 2

The hundred ghosts in the painted walls grew restless.

The long-tongued ghost appeared noiselessly behind Zhenguan. Its scarlet tongue slid out, glistening with saliva, and slowly curled toward his long, snow-white neck.

I flung myself at him and wrapped both arms around his waist.

The cold wind blew the tassels of my red dress across his snowy robes.

My bells chimed. The white-robed monk stiffened for an instant in my embrace.

“Master Zhenguan, I think a snake just slithered past my feet…”

I glanced behind him. The faint golden light from the bells around my ankle forced the long-tongued ghost back several steps. Thank goodness. I silently exhaled, then caught the subtle sandalwood scent clinging to him. I drew a deep breath. It smelled wonderful, inexplicably comforting—until a cool voice sounded above my head.

“Benefactress, you were mistaken.”

I looked up. He was staring at the hands I had locked around his waist. His white-jade face lay half hidden in the shifting light, his long brows drawn together and his expression dark. Plainly, he was displeased.

Oh. Only then did I remember that Master Zhenguan was a monk, pure in body, remote from all women.

I let go with an awkward smile. Then I reconsidered, wound my arms around him again, and rubbed my cheek against his snowy robe. Tilting my face up, I said, “Master Zhenguan, I’m frightened.”

He lowered his eyes until our gazes met. After a brief pause, he extended two long, immaculate fingers and gently pried my hands loose. “Benefactress, please conduct yourself with propriety.” His tone was distant and cool.

“But I’m scared, Master Zhenguan. What am I supposed to do?” The moment he brushed me away, I clung to him again.

He studied me. A complicated expression passed over that white-jade face, and his eyes shifted as if he were considering something.

“Master Zhenguan?”

His Adam’s apple moved. “Benefactress, release me first. If you are afraid, I will lead you by the hand.”

Oh? That worked too. I let go and reached for his hand. Instead, he slipped the prayer beads from his wrist, kept hold of one end, and offered me the other…

Cold-hearted white-jade Buddha. So much for appreciating my good intentions. Silently, I took hold of the beads.

The hundred ghosts followed behind us, wary at first. We had gone only a few steps when the bells around my ankle began chiming frantically. I looked down just as the red cord snapped and the golden bells fell. My heart lurched.

The ghosts saw it too. Grinning savagely, they surged toward us.

I shouted a warning. “Master Zhenguan, behind you—ghosts!”

The white-robed monk’s cool eyes flickered. He gave the faintest hum of acknowledgment, yet neither dodged nor turned. Sharp, icy fangs bore down on the blue vein in his neck. Just before they bit, I seized him and dragged him backward.

“Don’t move. Stay behind me.” His voice remained steady. Abruptly, he caught my wrist, pulled me behind him, then whirled to face the hundred ghosts with one palm raised and the prayer beads gliding between his fingers.

A weak white radiance flashed from his robes and forced the ghosts back several steps. But it flickered, then quickly vanished.

“Cocky little monk, aren’t you…”

“Ah, he smells so good…”

“Let’s strip him clean before we eat him.”

The wind shrieked through the snow, whipping his white robes into a frenzy.

A lecherous ghost suddenly pointed at me. “Little Highness, I bet you’ve never seen a naked monk. We’ll give you a good eyeful…”

Humiliated and furious, I snapped, “Have you no shame?”

The ghost roared with laughter. “Little Highness, are you sure you don’t want to see?”

“I’m not like you degenerates!”

“Don’t listen to them…” The quiet reassurance made me turn. Zhenguan stood where he was, eyes lowered as he chanted scripture, his expression unchanged. Perhaps I had imagined it.

The evil spirits stirred up even greater chaos. A more violent gale lashed Zhenguan like countless cold blades, shredding his snowy robes.

Both his sleeves tore away.

“Oh my. Who knew the little monk was hiding such a magnificent body? I like it…”

The hundred ghosts’ gazes roamed his arms. Despite myself, mine followed.

Strong arms. Their lines were graceful but far from slender, every vigorous contour brimming with power. My breathing faltered.

“Bah, you lustful ghost. You’ve been dead for centuries and you’re still like this.”

“I’m starving for a taste…”

“Why, Little Highness, I thought you weren’t looking?”

I scoffed and hastily looked away.

“Humans are such hypocrites.” The lecherous ghost clapped and cried, “Keep going! Keep going…”

The gale gathered against Zhenguan’s chest for another assault. “Ah, so strong…”

A hand reached for his chest and clicked its tongue. “So firm…”

“Let me have one bite, monk.”

The white-robed monk before me stood immovable as bedrock, still chanting.

I could not see past his back. But as I listened to the ghost’s wanton taunts, a disordered, uncanny image surfaced in my mind: a woman’s pale wrists braced against a man’s broad, powerful chest, her hair undone and cheeks crimson as crabapple blossoms, red skirts and white robes tangled together on the floor.

Pain throbbed at my temple. Then I heard a single quiet word.

“Break.”

Golden light erupted ahead of us and transformed in an instant into roaring flame. It took the shape of a soaring dragon, four savage claws unfurled, and hurtled majestically into the hundred ghosts.

“Ahhh…”

“It hurts! It hurts…”

“Run!”

Screams and wails crowded together, chilling the soul.

Thick black smoke engulfed the air. Some ghosts were instantly reduced to ash, their souls scattered beyond recovery. The survivors fled in blind panic, diving underground or hiding inside the endless painted walls.

The magnificent palace collapsed with a thunderous roar. Zhenguan took hold of me and leaped, landing atop a high eave. Every lamp went dark; only the boundless snow cast its pale glow.

I stared at the sight in astonishment.

“Master Zhenguan, if you’re this powerful, why didn’t you say so earlier?” I could not resist poking his arm.

He turned, and my breath stalled beneath the weight of my gaze.

Half his chest was bare.

Snow-white skin. Hard planes of muscle. A hint of pale pink, like a cherry blossom in March… The lecherous ghost’s words rang suddenly in my ears. I want to take a bite…

“You never asked.” His cool voice cut through my improper thoughts.

“Hm? Oh… right.” I raised my eyes and collided with his. He watched me with perfect clarity, his gaze empty of desire. My face instantly burned.

I swallowed. “Then… shall we go, Master Zhenguan?”

His eyes dropped suddenly to my ankle. “Your bells fell off.”

“Oh, those. They’re useless now. I don’t want them.”

His expression chilled at once. Lips pressed together, he said nothing. He simply caught hold of me and jumped back to the ground. Then he bent, picked up the broken string of golden bells, and closed it in his palm.

The hundred ghosts peeked from the painted walls but dared not attack again.

I pointed toward the doors and glanced at him. “Shall we leave, Master Zhenguan?”

He turned and walked silently into the depths of the ghost lair.

“Master Zhenguan!” I hurried after him and hooked a finger around his prayer beads. “Why are you going farther in?”

He met my eyes for a moment, then brought two fingers together and slashed them toward the temple doors.

“That is the gate of death.”

A blade of golden light split the doorway open, revealing a cliff beyond. One step through would have smashed us to pieces. My face went white. “Then what do we do?”

He glanced at me and continued onward. “Wait for sunrise. Then find the gate of life.”

He chose a ruined room at random, and I followed close behind.

The moment we entered, he unpacked his traveling bundle and put on a fresh white robe. After surveying the room, he began removing cobwebs, sweeping the furniture, and spreading a clean sheet over the bed… He performed every task with meticulous care.

I was exhausted. Swinging my legs and propping my chin on one hand, I yawned without end. “Master Zhenguan, how are we supposed to sleep?”

He seemed to realize the problem only then. His gaze circled the room before settling on the narrow bed. After a pause, he said, “This humble monk will sleep next door.” He strode toward the door.

I snapped awake, jumped up, and threw my arms around his waist. “Master Zhenguan, don’t leave. I’m scared.”

He peeled my fingers away one at a time, then turned and gazed at me, perfectly composed.

“Benefactress, this humble monk will be right next door. Nothing will happen.”

Another wave of weariness made me yawn. Eyes reddening, I asked, “Do you hate me, Master Zhenguan?”

Something shifted in his gaze. He stared blankly for a moment, then shook his head.

“Then don’t go. How about this? You sleep on the bed. I won’t sleep at all—I’ll sit beside you until you wake. All right?” He pressed his lips together and said nothing. Afraid he would refuse, I hurriedly raised three fingers. “I swear I won’t bother you, Master Zhenguan…” I tugged his sleeve. “Please…”

At last, those aloof features softened. He sighed, his tone gentle.

“You take the bed. This humble monk will stay.”

Beaming, I quickly climbed into bed. Still afraid he might leave, I turned onto my side and watched him through half-closed eyes. He stood at the window with his back to me, his figure somehow lonely.

“Master Zhenguan…” I called without thinking.

“Mm.” His answer was quiet and dispassionate.

Sleep and fear took turns claiming me. I would drift off, start awake, and call for Master Zhenguan. Only after hearing that dispassionate response would I sink into slumber again.

The cycle repeated. I did not know how many times I had woken when I opened my eyes to find him keeping watch beside the bed, his eyes closed in meditation. I swallowed his name before it could leave my mouth and studied his profile instead. My gaze came to rest on those thin, pale-pink lips. For some reason, the sensation of kissing his portrait became piercingly vivid in the endless night.

My hand rose of its own accord, trembling as it slowly approached his mouth. Curiosity grew like a vine gone wild. Try it, a voice inside me urged. Try it. Would a living man feel the same as the man in the painting?

My fingertip touched his lips squarely. Cool, soft, moist—exactly like the painted man’s. My heart shuddered.

His eyes snapped open, boring into mine, darkness surging in their depths.

I snatched my hand back, but he caught my wrist.

“Benefactress, what are you doing?” His voice was slightly hoarse. His white-jade face remained hidden in shadow, yet the cinnabar between his brows blazed with searing light.

My cheeks scorched. Lowering my voice, I stammered, “I didn’t mean to… I thought I saw a mosquito and wanted to swat it for you…”

His eyes stirred as though he wished to speak. Then his brows drew sharply together. A sweep of his palm extinguished the candle. He tore down the bed curtains, pinned my wrist, and bent over me. The faint sandalwood scent of him descended from every direction. His carmine lips hovered very close to mine.

I froze, heart pounding like a drum. “Master Zhenguan…” I whispered.

He shook his head.

“Don’t breathe.”