Feudal Dregs - Chapter 7

The Guanyin Temple stood outside Beijing City, its winding mountain path paved with bluestone, disappearing into the lush forest. When the carriage could go no further, they had to stop at the foot of the mountain. Old Master Li was carried up in a sedan chair by servants.

It was already midsummer. The forest buzzed with cicadas and birdsong, its ancient trees thick with foliage. Walking through it brought a unique sense of tranquility.

Li Mingzheng supported Old Madam Li as they walked behind the sedan chair, followed by Lan Yu and Li Yuqing, with servants bringing up the rear. The group huffed and puffed their way up the mountain.

Before long, Lan Yu's back was soaked with sweat.

Li Yuqing said with a smile, "Stepmother, can you keep up?"

Lan Yu replied, "Second Young Master should watch his own footing."

As he took a step forward, Li Yuqing caught up, their hands brushing seemingly by accident. Li Yuqing whispered with a grin, "If Stepmother can't go on, I can carry you up."

Lan Yu gave him a cool glance and said, "No need."

"After all, I'm still a man."

Their voices were low, the exchange laced with undercurrents of tension.

The Guanyin Temple stood at the mountain's peak. By the time the group reached the top, everyone was drenched in sweat. The mountain breeze brought welcome relief. The temple was ancient—its gate weathered, its iron rings peeling, the plaque bearing its name hanging squarely above.

As they entered, an elder monk emerged with two young novices, clearly familiar with Old Master Li. Lan Yu watched quietly as dappled tree shadows danced around them, the faint scent of sandalwood in the air gradually calming his mind.

Soon, Old Master Li was led away by the elder monk to meet the abbot, while the novices showed the others to meditation rooms to rest. Old Master Li didn't return until noon.

Unaccustomed to mountain climbing, Lan Yu was exhausted. He sat in a chair, propping his cheek as he dozed off.

Suddenly, a hand touched his face. Startled from his half-sleep, Lan Yu's eyes flew open to see Old Master Li sitting across from him. "Did I scare you?" the old man asked.

Lan Yu collected himself and shook his head with a smile. "Have you eaten yet?"

"I have," Old Master Li replied.

When Lan Yu moved to pour tea, the old man took his hand and patted it gently. "No need to fuss. Tired from today?"

Lan Yu sat back down. As they faced each other, his hand remained in the old man's palm. Lan Yu traced the distinct lines there—Old Master Li was over fifty, his hands bearing the marks of time. Feeling slightly embarrassed, Lan Yu said, "It's been a while since I walked such a distance."

Old Master Li laughed heartily. "This little mountain path is nothing." He pressed his leg regretfully and sighed. "In my younger days, I could even cross the Tiger-Slaying Pass... Getting old now."

Lan Yu muttered, "You're not old at all—still in your prime."

Old Master Li shook his head. "Don't humor me— Rubbing Lan Yu's fingers, he continued, "This Guanyin Temple was built during Emperor Kangxi's reign. It's been passed down for over two hundred years. Since we're here, you don't need to stay by my side all the time—feel free to look around."

"However, have the servants accompany you," Old Master Li said. "These deep mountains are not only home to wild beasts, but you might also run into some reckless fools..."

Lan Yu whined, "I want you to come with me."

No one could resist a beauty's coquettish antics. Old Master Li's heart swelled with delight, his tone growing even gentler. "What nonsense are you talking?"

"There's a hot spring to the east in the back mountains," Old Master Li said. "If you want to go, let—" He paused, then continued, "let the eldest accompany you."

Lan Yu shook his head. "Mmm—I only want you to go with me. If you won't come, I won't go anywhere."

Old Master Li laughed, feigning anger. "Ungrateful thing. I pity you for being cooped up with me all day, stifling your nature. I let you go out to play, yet you refuse this and that. Might as well lock you in this meditation room and wait for me to return."

Lan Yu snorted lightly. "I see. You find me a nuisance," he said, glancing around before standing up. "It's because there's a real Bodhisattva in this temple, and you don't need this fake one—ah!"

Before he could finish, he let out a soft gasp as Old Master Li wrapped his arms around his waist and gave his buttock a slap. "What real Bodhisattva, fake Bodhisattva..."

Old Master Li buried his face against Lan Yu's waist. Lan Yu was fastidious about cleanliness, having bathed as soon as they rested, leaving only the crude scent of the temple's soap on his body. Yet his youthful vitality remained intoxicating. Like an addict, Old Master Li inhaled deeply, his voice hoarse with devotion. "You are my true Bodhisattva."

Lan Yu's hands rested half-heartedly on his shoulders as he murmured, "What are you doing? It's broad daylight."

Old Master Li gripped his buttocks and kneaded them roughly. "You know it's daytime, yet you tease me like this," he said, pushing Lan Yu back. Lan Yu instinctively braced himself against the table as Old Master Li continued, "My little Bodhisattva is feeling frisky. Who cares about day or night?"

Lan Yu curled his fingers slightly. "The door isn't locked."

Old Master Li stared at him. "No one would dare come in."

He ran his hands along the young man's firm, slender thighs. "Take off your pants and sit down."

It was already noon, the sun blazing overhead, its heat seeping into the mountain's coolness like a suffocating blanket. Li Mingzheng narrowed his eyes but didn't slow his steps as he turned down the vermilion corridor. The walls were adorned with depictions of the eighteen levels of Buddhist hell—grotesque images of green-faced, fanged demons tormenting the damned amid mountains of knives, seas of fire, mirrors of sin, and cauldrons of boiling oil. The twisted faces of the suffering were faintly visible.

Li Mingzheng didn't so much as glance at them as he passed through the arched gate into his father's meditation courtyard.

But the moment he stepped into the courtyard, his sharp ears caught the sound of soft moans—pleasure mingled with pain, trembling as they whispered, "...Don't bite, it hurts."

Li Mingzheng froze. The door was slightly ajar, and with a single glance, he could see inside.

A snow-white waist, sinuous as a serpent, arched above plump, rounded buttocks that made the waist seem impossibly narrow. The legs were spread, dangling limply, their milky flesh glistening with sweat like fine cream, exuding a fragile yet undeniable sensuality.

It was Lan Yu.

His father was buried between Lan Yu's thighs, breathing heavily, muttering delirious words about a good Bodhisattva and begging for more of his divine nectar—utterly obsessed, utterly mad.

Perhaps it was the discomfort of sitting in the wheelchair that made him impatient. He gripped that slender waist and yanked it toward himself, his occasionally lifted face glistening with moisture. The pull was rough—Lan Yu must have been bitten somewhere, for he gasped in pain. His legs stiffened and lifted momentarily before going limp, like a broken flower falling, his small toes curling tightly, the tops of his feet flushing red.

Li Mingzheng watched for a long time until Lan Yu seemed to sense it. He turned his head, and their eyes met.

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