Wen Hao had had enough of his mother's constant bickering.
"A Hao, you're already twenty-five years old. When are you planning on getting married?"
"Don't tell me you really plan to be a Buddhist forever."
Was there a problem with that?
Being a Buddhist was quite nice. He didn't have to constantly worry about people scheming against him, nor did he have to form attachments that others could exploit.
No wife meant no in-laws, no inner-household struggles, no children who could become weaknesses. His life would remain clean, simple, and entirely under his control.
He had planned this two-month vacation to bond with his mother, whom he hadn't seen properly since going to war. It was also an excuse to escape that suffocating residence in the capital.
Unfortunately, he had jumped out of the frying pan and straight into the fire.
From the second he stepped into her courtyard, she had begun nagging him about marriage. In less than a week, she had already arranged five blind dates. He rejected every single one before even seeing their portraits, firmly hiding behind the excuse of following Buddhism.
His mother blamed herself.
If she had been stronger… if she had possessed more authority… maybe things would not have ended up like this.
She knew her son had suffered greatly at the hands of her husband's concubines. As the main wife, she had been too afraid of upsetting her husband. Every time conflict arose, she endured it silently, and Wen Hao always ended up being the one who suffered the most.
She should have left sooner.
She should have taken him and fled before that wretched Mei Qi almost killed him.
Even now, thinking about it made her chest tighten.
Wen Hao would always comfort her and say it wasn't her fault. There had been nothing she could have done. He was simply glad she had escaped that forsaken place and could finally live peacefully.
Yes, Buddhism had been a choice born from trauma.
He couldn't imagine bringing a child into the world only for them to endure what he had. He had seen too many noble households where children became tools, where affection was weakness, and where blood ties meant nothing.
He had already made up his mind.
He would not marry in this lifetime.
So when his mother arranged the fifth blind date in less than a week, Wen Hao ran.
He claimed he was going to the temple to offer thanks for winning the war and said he would return in a couple of days.
"This little boy…"
His mother sighed as she watched him disappear down the road, a sad smile on her lips. After a moment, she called for her head butler.
"Prepare another list. This time… find girls who follow Buddhism. Maybe they'll have something in common."
As Wen Hao slowed down after rounding the corner, a figure suddenly appeared beside him, walking in step as if he had always been there.
"Young master, an urgent letter from the capital."
Wen Hao did not even look surprised.
He had long grown used to his right-hand man's ghost-like movements. The man could appear silently even in a crowded hall. Many times, Wen Hao would be relaxing after a long day, only for a voice to suddenly whisper beside his ear.
He had nearly jumped several times in the past.
Unfortunately, as a general known for composure, he could not show it.
His right-hand man had single-handedly trained his expression control.
Wen Hao took the letter and tore it open. He already knew who it was from.
That old man finally broke.
Ever since his mother left the duke's residence, Wen Hao's contact with his father had dwindled to almost nothing. They only spoke when it involved border matters or when they stood before the king.
This time, after returning victorious from war, the king had awarded Wen Hao the title of Marquis.
His father had always believed holding the heir title over his head would keep him obedient. But after his mother left, Wen Hao no longer wanted anything to do with that family. Instead, he went to war and earned his own title.
His father had planned to use his success to elevate himself, but Wen Hao had gone straight from the battlefield to the palace, received his reward, and left the capital immediately.
He didn't even spare the duke a filial bow.
The duke's position had recently become unstable. The king had begun investigating corruption cases seriously, and many of his supporters had already been arrested. The duke had hoped to use Wen Hao's fame to regain favor.
Instead, he was treated as if he didn't exist.
"He wants me to return for the Lantern Festival and attend the palace banquet with him."
Wen Hao crumpled the paper casually.
"How shameless," his right-hand man muttered. "Then, young master, will you attend?"
"Nonsense. Don't I have better things to do?" Wen Hao replied lazily. "Besides, I'm on vacation. The stuffiness of the capital makes me sick. I came here to recuperate from the war."
He paused.
"I'll just send a letter to the king. He'll understand."
After dismissing the matter, Wen Hao continued toward the temple alone.
Another reason for coming to this county was to see his master, who resided there. The old monk had guided him since childhood and was partly the reason he chose Buddhism.
To Wen Hao, his master had always seemed like a god who knew everything.
Detached from the world. Unmoved by power. Uninterested in wealth.
He believed that by following Buddhism, he too could reach such clarity.
The temple sat halfway up the mountain, surrounded by tall cypress trees. Even in summer, the air was cool and faintly scented with incense. The stone steps were worn smooth from years of footsteps, and prayer flags fluttered lazily in the wind.
For the first time since leaving the battlefield, Wen Hao felt his shoulders relax.
No politics. No scheming. No expectations.
Just silence.
A young novice sweeping the courtyard spotted him and quickly bowed.
"Senior brother Wen."
Wen Hao nodded lightly and stepped inside.
But the moment he crossed the gate, he sensed something was wrong.
The courtyard was too quiet.
The disciples whispered in small groups, their expressions tense. Even the sound of sweeping had stopped.
They all turned to look at him.
"Master… is inside," one of them said carefully. Wen Hao's brows furrowed slightly.
Something had happened.