The Prime Minister is Pregnant with Dragon's Seed - Chapter 13

Guang’en Temple sat on the outskirts of the capital, flourishing with incense offerings and cloaked in the distant toll of its bell. People entering the capital often stopped by to pray for a smooth journey and their family’s well-being.

The bronze bell hanging high in the bell tower was a gift from the founding emperor, the highest honor in Great Wei. Scholars and sages often came early in the morning just to hear the morning bell of Guang’en Temple.

When the bell rang, the country was at peace and the people at ease.

Meng Zhou had done some asking around and found out that the wealthy Liu family had requested ritual services from none other than Guang’en Temple.

He headed straight for the Mahavira Hall and asked a young monk to introduce him to the abbot, claiming he wished to become a monk.

Guang’en Temple didn’t easily accept newcomers. As the most prosperous temple in the Great Wei, here at least one has no worries about food and drink, life here was secure and serene, with the added chance to encounter nobles and officials from time to time.

The young monk said the abbot was busy and couldn’t meet him.

Meng Zhou smiled and stuffed him ten taels of silver. The monk changed his tune and said he could help pass on the message.

While waiting, Meng Zhou knelt on a prayer cushion, gazing up at the serene face of the Buddha statue, then bowed low and murmured, “Meng Zhou has his reasons. May Buddha forgive this sin.”

The abbot, over sixty, had kind eyes and white beard. He returned Meng Zhou’s bow and asked, “May I ask your secular name and your reason for becoming a monk?”

Meng Zhou raised his head, his expression one of detachment from the mortal world, eyes hollow and mournful. Slowly, he said, “This humble one is named Meng Zhou…”

“Meng Zhou?” The abbot thought for a moment before continuing, “Eighteen years ago, a benefactor surnamed Jiang gave birth to a child here at Guang’en Temple. This old monk, honored by her trust, named that child Zhou.”

“Yes, that was this one,” Meng Zhou quickly followed up, surprised the abbot still remembered such an old affair. “Since I already had a karmic bond with the Buddha eighteen years ago, and Buddhism speaks of cause and effect, I now humbly beg the abbot to take me in again. Let it be a falling leaf returning to its roots—bringing things full circle.”

“Amitabha. Benefactor Meng has a clear mind and is blessed with intelligence. But this body, skin and hair alike, is given by your parents. Your mother was charitable and kind—if I take you in today, I would feel guilty toward her.”

“My mother passed away many years ago. My father remarried and now has sons and daughters. I am like a weed in that household, with no ties. Recently, I suffered a sudden change in my life and cannot find relief. I sleep poorly, worried about life… If the abbot does not take me in, I truly don’t know where else I can go in this world…”

Meng Zhou’s eyes brimmed with sorrow, tears clinging to the corners—he looked every bit the pitiable orphaned child, bullied and discarded.

The abbot looked at him for a while, seemingly convinced by his words.

Meng Zhou remained calm, acting flawlessly, and even took the initiative to untie his hair.

Very sincere.

“Amitabha,” the abbot’s gaze drifted toward the trees outside. The prayer beads in his hand turned three slow circles before he finally spoke, “Benefactor Meng, your worldly ties are not yet severed.”

Meng Zhou blinked. After all that, this was what you say?

“This humble one doesn’t understand. I ask the abbot for guidance.” Meng Zhou asked earnestly. “I am not married, nor engaged. What is the reason for my unfinished worldly ties?”

“The Buddha said it cannot be spoken. So it cannot be spoken.’” The abbot’s gaze was compassionate with a faint hint of seeing him off.

“In that case, I have one more question. I ask the abbot to answer truthfully.”

“Please speak, benefactor.”

“Monks do not lie, yet the name ‘Zhou’ (侜) means deception. Why did the abbot choose such a name for me?”

The abbot shook his head. “Cannot be said.”

Can’t you say anything else?

Meng Zhou didn’t believe the abbot could outlast him in patience. He had been feeling unwell recently and felt a little sore after kneeling for so long. So he simply crossed his legs and sat down, ready to debate Buddhism with the abbot at length.

Nearby, the little monk held a tray. On it sat a razor, suggesting that the abbot had intended to shave Meng Zhou’s head—until they met.

So what went wrong?

Was it because of Jiang Yao? But Jiang Yao was already dead.

Outside the Hall.

Chu Huaiyin asked Ji Yang, “What do you think he meant by ‘suffered a sudden change in life, can’t find relief’?”

Ji Yang carefully studied his master’s face—His face was gloomy, and a storm was about to come.. He really shouldn’t have followed his master here to pay respects to the late empress today!

He avoided the question: “Maybe something happened that Your Highness isn’t aware of?”

“If that’s the case, why didn’t Ying Jiu report it?”

Careless!

Ji Yang tried to reassure him. “In any case, it couldn’t have been because of Your Highness. Young Master Meng isn’t some sheltered maiden—he didn’t act like he had a sweetheart, nor did he show any strange reaction afterward. Will it really take a few days for him to come to realize? Will he feel that his innocence has been tarnished then have suicidal thoughts and want to become a monk—”

With every word Ji Yang spoke, Chu Huaiyin’s face turned darker.

The stone tiles beneath him couldn’t withstand the pressure and began to crack faintly.

Seeing that his master was about to lose his temper, Ji Yang even felt that the brick he was standing on was a little loose. He shut his mouth in time. “Then what should we do now?”

Chu Huaiyin’s temple throbbed. The first time he met Meng Zhou, he swapped himself in as the bride, calmly shared a bridal chamber with a stranger, and even tore open his clothes and feigned moans to evade inspection… For such a person to renounce the world over one unexpected incident? He absolutely didn’t buy it.

But what other explanation was there?

Chu Huaiyin felt like he had just been slapped across the face by Meng Zhou—how humiliating. How ridiculous of him, even gifting away the prized snow-spotted fish he’d raised in his garden for six years just because Meng Zhou liked fish.

And now? The man turned vegetarian!

Vegetarian?

Chu Huaiyin sneered. “Go get two grilled fish.”

Ji Yang reminded in a whisper, “We’re at a temple.”

“Wait at the gates.”

Inside the hall.

Meng Zhou was parched from talking so much, but the abbot remained unmoved. Even ordered the monk to serve tea and entertain the guest attentively

Meng Zhou drank in large gulps and decided to change tactics. He lowered his voice.

“Abbot, are you aware that Liu De died three days ago? The Liu family requested high monks from your temple to perform rites—scheduled for two days from now.”

“This old monk has heard.”

“The living invite monks to perform rites for the dead, guiding them to the Pure Land¹, sparing them the torments of hell, and be reborn into a good family. But abbot, do you know that Liu De’s entire family was steeped in evil? In the capital, anyone who opposed them—no matter old or young—would be drafted under the guise of military conscription and sent to the Liu family’s training grounds, where they were abused to death. That field is soaked with countless souls. The red paint had barely dried when fresh bl00d was added, growing brighter each day.”

His voice wasn’t loud, wary of disturbing the Bodhisattva, but every word was sharp and straightforward.

“A mere training ground has become like Avici Hell². Now the abbot chants mantras for people who should go to hell to be peacefully reborn. Buddhism emphasizes the cause and effect of good and evil. Liu De sowed evil—shouldn’t he reap it? What of those good men and women who is the relatives of these wronged souls? They kneel at the feet of the Vajrapani³ statue with miserable faces? How many are the families of the dead? And who will bear their karma?”

“Amitabha.” The abbot turned his prayer beads. “The Buddha’s compassion is vast—he saves all beings. What is done in life is past. I save him now so that he may do good in the next and repay his karma.”

Meng Zhou immediately said, “You are saving all living beings, then why not save me?”

The abbot fell silent.

“If you do not save me, then I remain a common man. And in the secular world, people believe in retribution in this life.”

The abbot gave him a deep look, seeming to understand. Meng Zhou met his gaze calmly.

After a long moment, the abbot sighed.

He took the razor from the tray. “Do you really not going to regret, benefactor?”

Meng Zhou stroked his hair. He’d shaved it before for an act—he wasn’t unfamiliar with it. Even if he did become a monk, he’d be the most handsome little monk in the Great Wei, the kind who could attract fox spirits when he went out at night.

Whether or not fox spirits existed, someone outside was about to explode. He didn’t hear what Meng Zhou and the abbot whispered just before, but now things were becoming real!

“Please begin, abbot.” First step of the plan complete. With their earlier conversation, he believed the abbot would surely offer some assistance down the road.

Things will be much easier.

Meng Zhou lowered his head slightly and closed his eyes. Suddenly, two fingers grabbed his chin, forcing his head up.

Who?!

He scowled, only to lock eyes with Chu Huaiyin’s deep, unfathomable black pupils.

“This prince forbids it.”

Meng Zhou’s eyes moved—he saw an angry, handsome face, and his heart trembled for no reason.

Chu Huaiyin roughly pulled Meng Zhou  behind him. Meng Zhou staggered. Thankfully, he caught hold of the prince’s waist, but when he tried to pull back, he found himself firmly locked in place.

“Prince Huai.” The abbot bowed.

“Abbot.” Chu Huaiyin composed himself. “May I ask how much in incense money an average monk here receives per year?”

“Less than ten strings of coins.”

Chu Huaiyin scoffed. He looked down at Meng Zhou, his long eyes narrowing, imposing. “Young Master Meng still owes this prince seven thousand taels of silver. Now you’re becoming a monk? Trying to escape your debts?”

The debt collector caught Meng Zhou off guard. He screamed inwardly, I’m doing a job for you here, but he had a habit of staying silent about things that he hadn’t done. All he could do was grumble in dissatisfaction, “What if I end up becoming abbot?”

“Say that again?”

Feeling his wrist about to bruise, Meng Zhou dared not retort. With the real abbot right here, and even if he was given two more skins, he wouldn’t dare spouting nonsense in this sacred place.

Tch. What a mess.

He was starting to get a headache.

Chu Huaiyin exchanged a few polite words with the abbot, then said, “I took this person back with me. I am sorry to have caused trouble for the abbot.”

“Farewell, Prince Huai.”

Wait a second?

I ran my mouth dry, and you just ruin everything in a few words?

As he was dragged off, Meng Zhou protested, “Abbot, we had a deal—”

“Amitabha. Thirty miles from here is a Daoist temple. This old monk has a long-standing friendship with the Taoist priest there. Benefactor Meng might—” The abbot’s words sped like he was eager to rid himself of a hot potato.

“Daoist temple? Do they do rites?” Meng Zhou tried to ask more, but Chu Huaiyin simply picked him up and covered his mouth.

“Mm! Mmm!” Meng Zhou struggled to pry his hand away—but the prince’s strength was too much.

Carried out of Guang’en Temple, Meng Zhou nearly puffed up like a pufferfish. The way he looked at Chu Huaiyin was no different from a housewife scolding her husband for ruining something important.

Chu Huaiyin poked his puffed-up cheeks—white, soft, springy—and, unable to resist, gave a firm squeeze, letting out a loud “poh” as Meng Zhou deflated.

Meng Zhou couldn’t argue with his creditor, so he covered his face and wielded cold indifference like a sword as if to repel an enemy.

Chu Huaiyin casually withdrew his hand and responded with an even colder expression.

They stared at each other.

“Tell me—why?” Chu Huaiyin finally asked. He hoped that the answer would not be what he thought..

Meng Zhou mumbled, “It’s nothing. Haha, just a whim.”

He sniffed—What smells so good? Amid incense and candles, a new scent teased his nose and made glutton in his stomach growl.

Ji Yang, drenched in sweat, carried two trays of grilled fish. Under the curious and disapproving stares of the temple pilgrims, he steeled himself and walked step by step toward Guang’en Temple.

“Master.” Ji Yang stopped at a distance once he spotted Chu Huaiyin and Meng Zhou standing at the temple gates.

Before Chu Huaiyin could say a word, Meng Zhou followed the scent straight down the mountain—heading unerringly toward Ji Yang.

He strongly suspected the tea the abbot gave him was a digestive. otherwise why would he miss the taste of grilled fish so much after drinking four or five cups.

Meng Zhou stood before Ji Yang, barely containing his saliva, but kept a calm face. “The case is solved, the grilled fish is on you.”

Now hand over the evidence so this official can examine it!