In the Zhizheng era of the Yuan dynasty, there lived a ascetic monk in the Kuocang Mountains, with the dharma name Zhengyi and the daoist title Gufeng.This monk had originally been the top scholar in the prefectural academy. From childhood he possessed the root of wisdom. Day and night in his swaddling clothes he would babble “yi yi wu wu,” reciting phrases exactly like schoolchildren chanting their lessons. At first his parents thought it was merely a toddler learning to speak and paid it no mind.Later, a wandering monk came to beg alms. He saw the plump infant in the maid’s arms, looking as though it were half-crying, half-smiling, its mouth ceaselessly muttering. The itinerant drew closer, pricked up his ears, and was so astonished his jaw dropped. He cried out that the child was reciting the Lengyan Great Treasury Sutra and declared it the reincarnation of a great master, insisting on taking it as his disciple.The couple refused outright. They cursed the wild monk roundly, seized the broom behind the door, and drove him out.When Zhengyi began his studies, he indeed memorized everything at a glance—an unmistakable prodigy. His family hoped he would pass the examinations and bring honor to the ancestors, but the boy cared nothing for fame or fortune. He spent all his time delving into Buddhist teachings, for which he received countless beatings from his father. Unable to endure the pain any longer, he reluctantly sat for the exams and passed on his first attempt, entering the prefectural academy and receiving a government stipend.After his parents passed away, he dutifully observed the full three years of mourning. On the day the mourning period ended, he divided the entire family fortune among his clansmen, keeping not a single coin. He sewed a crude leather sack, filled it with a wooden fish, sutras, and old robes, shaved his head with a knife, and barefoot strode into the deep mountains to cultivate in seclusion.Thereafter, those who knew him respectfully called him “Elder Gufeng”; those who did not, seeing the leather sack, simply called him “Leather Bag Monk.”This monk was utterly unlike the gluttonous and lustful monks in temples. He touched neither meat nor wine and regarded women’s bodies as venomous snakes and scorpions. He imposed three iron precepts upon himself: never to solicit alms, never to preach from a platform, and never to enter famous mountains or ancient temples.When asked why he refused alms, he sneered: “To attain Buddhahood, there is no comfortable path. One must labor the body and starve the belly, letting hunger and cold scrape daily at the bones! When the body suffers cold and hunger, the root of evil between the legs grows naturally weak, and lustful fires cannot ignite. If the lower part does not act foolishly, the lustful thoughts in the mind can be eradicated, and the spirit platform will find peace. Over time, the fleshly body will naturally become Buddha. But if one merely eats without working, relying on foolish patrons for fine food and wine, then ‘when the belly is full, lust arises.’ While wandering outside, the eyes inevitably fall upon young women and wives; lying down to sleep, dreams fill with naked, warm, soft flesh. Not only will one fail to become Buddha, but every kind of lustful demon will queue up to seek one out!”When asked why he remained silent despite his profound knowledge, he scoffed again: “Buddhist sutras and verses all come from the mouths of Buddhas and bodhisattvas. Unless the Buddha himself descends, who can truly explain their meaning? When ordinary people mount the platform to preach, it is merely madmen chewing their tongues and fools speaking in dreams! In the past, Tao Yuanming read Central Plains literature and still advocated ‘not seeking deep understanding.’ We Central Plains people cannot even fully grasp our ancestors’ writings; how much less can we understand scriptures from foreign India, then glibly translate and fabricate with oily mouths? I dare not strive to be a meritorious servant of the Buddhas and bodhisattvas; I only wish to avoid twice becoming a sinner who distorts the Buddha’s meaning! Therefore I will never preach.”When pressed why he refused to enjoy comfort in famous mountains and great temples, preferring a thatched hut in the wilderness, he spat and said: “For the cultivator, the first necessity is to tightly close the eyes that invite wind and fire, lest desires disturb the meditative mind. The things that can ensnare the soul in this world are not limited to women’s flesh and yellow-white silver. The refreshing breeze, the bright moon that itches the heart, the melodious wild birds, the crisp tender wild vegetables—any of these can soften the bones and shake the daoist resolve. Once one moves into famous scenic mountains, the beautiful scenery will surely tempt one to write poetry and roam. Those who go to famous mountains to study never finish their books; those who cultivate there can never cleanse the root of fame and profit from their hearts! Moreover, in every famous mountain temple, are there not painted and powdered young women burning incense? Are there not idle gentlemen in fine robes strolling about? Was the scandal of Honglian breaking Yutong Chanshi’s precept of lust not warning enough?”Hearing this, everyone was filled with admiration, calling it a realm no great monk of antiquity had ever penetrated. Because he upheld these three iron precepts, the less he sought fame, the more miraculous his reputation became. People from ten li around flocked to become his disciples, breaking down his threshold. Yet the monk was sharp-eyed and hard-hearted; he accepted no one lightly. Only after repeated scrutiny confirming genuine Buddhist affinity and complete absence of worldly thoughts would he wield the razor. If he detected even a trace of vulgarity, he would drive the person out with a carrying pole. Thus, after half a lifetime, he had not a single disciple. Alone, he built three thatched huts beside the desolate mountains and evil waters, digging the earth at sunrise and swallowing bran at sunset, enduring the years in bitter cultivation.On this day, autumn winds swept the land, vegetation withered, and cold insects cried mournfully throughout the mountain. The monk rose at dawn, swept the fallen leaves before the door, replaced the pure water on the Buddha altar, lit a stick of incense, pulled over the worn rush cushion, and sat cross-legged in the main hall to enter meditation.Just as he reached a state of forgetting self and object, he suddenly heard footsteps outside the half-closed wooden door. A handsome young scholar, followed by two page boys, swaggered inside.The scholar’s features were as clear as autumn water, his figure as graceful as a half-rolled spring cloud. Yet he possessed a pair of peach-blossom thief’s eyes brimming with wicked energy, pupils shooting forth lascivious light. He disdained looking at people directly, preferring to glance at them sideways from the corner of his eye. These eyes were useless for anything proper, but when used to steal glances at women, they were truly divine!He needed no proximity to appraise a woman. Even from dozens of meters away, a single sidelong glance instantly told him whether her breasts were large, her buttocks pert, or her flesh tender and juicy. If he spotted a supreme beauty, his gaze shot forth like a hooked flying dagger.If the approaching woman was proper and modest, lowering her head and quickening her step as though treading on wild dog droppings, the glance would strike empty air. But should he encounter a wanton creature whose bones were already itching below, the spectacle was marvelous—his sidelong glance flew over, and her seductive aura instantly rippled back. Across the entire street, their eyes alone could strip each other naked on the spot and entwine them inseparably.Therefore, whether man or woman, anyone born with such soul-stealing, wicked eyes is surely no decent sort. Future ruin, name dragged through the mud, and fingers pointed at one’s back—all will stem from these thieving eyes.The handsome scholar entered the meditation hall and performed every courtesy. First he respectfully kowtowed three times before the clay Buddha on the altar, then turned and bowed three times to the old monk with proper decorum, before standing quietly beside the rush cushion, hands at his sides.The old monk had been deep in meditation at a critical juncture and could not immediately return the greeting. After slowly expelling the turbid qi from his dantian, he descended from the cushion, performed a deep bow, and returned three bows in kind.The two sat facing each other as host and guest. The monk joined his palms and asked, “May I know the honorable guest’s name?”The scholar straightened his collar, gently waved his folding fan, assumed a refined air, and smiled: “This humble one is a scholar who travels everywhere. Currently wandering the Suzhou and Hangzhou region, friends in the jianghu have bestowed upon me the sobriquet ‘Weiyang Sheng.’ Long have I admired the Chan master as a great monk and living Buddha reincarnate. I have fasted and bathed for several days to come up the mountain and pay my respects, hoping to seek a few true words of Buddhist teaching.”The old monk saw the string of lavish compliments and repeatedly waved his hands, chanting “Amitabha” in modest refusal. Just then the earthenware pot on the stove began to puff steam; the coarse rice was done. The monk ladled out two bowls and invited him to share a simple meal.Seated across the battered wooden table, the two ate coarse rice while discussing Zen.The old monk tossed out a few abstruse Zen riddles merely to test him, yet Weiyang Sheng responded with astonishing speed. Within two or three exchanges the dialogue meshed perfectly, not a drop of water leaking through!It turned out the youth truly possessed learning, and his mind was extraordinarily agile. He had long since devoured all manner of miscellaneous books from the Three Teachings and Nine Schools. Those Buddhist knots that left dull monks scratching their heads for half a lifetime, the old monk had barely uttered half a phrase before Weiyang Sheng’s eyes rolled and he immediately drew inferences, laying bare every detail.The old monk held his coarse earthen bowl, outwardly calm, yet inside a storm raged:What a heaven-born demon of spiritual root!That blind old heaven should randomly bestow such supreme wisdom capable of attaining Buddhahood upon a lascivious, troublemaking body!Every movement and glance of this youth showed not the slightest Buddhist inclination. He was plainly a libertine whose courage reached the heavens and whose mind crawled with lustful worms!If today I do not strip this skin of Buddhist precepts from him and forcibly shave him on the cushion, once this scourge descends the mountain he will spend his days digging tunnels and climbing walls, burrowing into the fragrant beds and brocade quilts of great households. Countless decent women will be ruined by the evil root in his trousers, their bones softening and sinews numbing, their families destroyed!The monk thought: “Since I have encountered this seed of calamity today, if I do not remove this scourge for all living beings under heaven, what kind of compassionate Zen am I cultivating?!”Having made up his mind, the old monk slammed his bowl and chopsticks onto the table.Two venomous-snake-like gazes instantly fixed upon Weiyang Sheng’s face. In a low voice he said:“In the decades since this old monk shaved his head and left the household, he has seen no fewer than eight or nine thousand worldly visitors. We need not speak of those foolish men and women who know only eating, drinking, and excreting; even high officials spouting benevolence and righteousness, or self-proclaimed lofty poets and scholars who come up the mountain to listen to sutras and ask about Zen, are in truth all ignorant blockheads!”At this point the old monk leaned forward slightly, his tone filled with patient guidance:“Yet I never imagined that at such a young age the layman’s mind could be so penetrating. If you would apply this spiritual nature to seated meditation, within three to five years you could surely attain the right fruit! In one lifetime it is easy to obtain a stinking fleshly body; what is rare is this supreme root of wisdom you brought from the womb. Decades of good years flow away like water in the blink of an eye, yet the romantic karmic debts incurred—how will you repay them in the next life?”“You were born with the makings of a Buddha or ancestor. Why forsake the bright Yangguan road and plunge headlong into the Avici hell swarming with evil ghosts and yakshas?”#ClassicNewTranslationOfRouPuTuan<img src="https://static2.fansone.co/images/8a458c9a-ad2c-4675-83ba-ee81e1a2794b.avif" />

Classic New Translation of Rou Pu Tuan, Chapter Two

I work as the deputy manager in the finance department of a company. Two years ago while dating Mei Yang'er, I embezzled money from the leader's private "small treasury" using my position. Half went into stock trading to turn my life around, and half was spent on her—buying luxury goods, taking her on trips, and eating extravagant meals in extreme opulence. Now she has become my wife, but the embezzlement was exposed. Fortunately the leader avoided reporting it to the police and only demanded compensation before firing me. With no choice I sold the house and car to cover the shortfall. Now jobless, we are crammed into a rundown rental apartment, so broke that even three meals a day are a problem.Although my wife knows my predicament, she still spends money lavishly without a job, leaving us worrying about credit card payments every month.My wife is a lustful woman. Before meeting me she had blind dates with all kinds of men. Relying on her seductive looks she nearly became a marriage scammer for a shady matchmaking service, but her short stature and lazy, gluttonous nature left her somewhat overweight, so she never landed a real rich husband.We met through an online game. After a bit of dirty talk we arranged to meet. Soon after we started dating she quit her job—her worldview is that a woman should rely on a man.We often chat about her ex-boyfriends and she is completely frank with me. She says at first she only accepted gifts, but later she started asking for money. After all, those men would spend money looking for women anyway. Youth only lasts a few years; since they slept with her, she wouldn't give them that for free even if feelings didn't develop.From then on I had a clear picture of what kind of woman she was, but I didn't break up with her. First, because I was "flush" at the time and generous with her; whenever we argued and I suggested splitting up she would pester me relentlessly, giving me endless headaches. Second, because I had already spent so much money on her—if we broke up it would all be wasted. Although she is naturally promiscuous, she is beautiful and great in bed, satisfying my every need, so I really couldn't let go.During that period I often comforted myself like this: I'm no saint anyway, and even after marriage I won't stay faithful. If she betrays me later I won't lose out! Besides, who knows how the future will turn out? I'll just enjoy the good times while I can—once this chance is gone it's gone forever. Being a man, experiencing a woman like this means I haven't lived in vain!#TheTakeoutIDeliveredIsMyWife <img src="https://static2.fansone.co/images/cc85f4a6-f06d-414f-9902-d6161bff7f6e.avif" />

The Takeout I Delivered Is My Wife Season 1 Episode 1

The ancients said: A man's life is but one spring and autumn for grass and trees. Black hair cannot be retained, and a youthful face fades in the blink of an eye. Fame, fortune, and power are ultimately like a gust of wind scattering fallen flowers; only upon death does one regret not having enjoyed life to the fullest in youth! Filled with endless remorse. Yet those who seek pleasure in time often suffer in old age or die young due to unrestrained indulgence, as the saying goes: Born for the cunt, living for the cunt, and finally dying on the cunt. As a man tallying the world's greatest joys on his fingers, the first must be the carnal delights between the sheets. Who does not yearn for a life of endless tenderness day and night? Who does not crave embracing a naked, warm, soft body until the sun is high? And when you reach the point of seeing through society's true nature, you realize that all driving forces in this world arise from the opening and closing of a woman's legs! Ordinary people are born to suffer, toiling like oxen and horses daily for survival—what happiness is there in that? Precisely for this reason, the ancient gods who created heaven and earth designed procreation as an act of boundless pleasure through the union of man and woman, granting all beings the innate right to joy. Regardless of status, this one matter grants equal access. The old saying goes that the door between a woman's legs is the gate through which souls reincarnate and the gate that takes lives. To the wise, if this inch of pleasurable flesh between a woman's legs vanished from the world, men's lifespans would surely shorten! Look at those enlightened monks—how many reach forty or fifty without graying hair? How many remain robust at seventy or eighty? Some claim monks, despite renouncing the world, often fail to stay chaste and steal women like common men, depleting their vital essence and thus dying young. Then look at the eunuchs in the capital! Eunuchs neither consort with women nor engage in sodomy; their members are completely severed. By rights, they should live youthfully for centuries, yet their faces wrinkle deeper than anyone's, their hair turns white earliest, and bearing the title of "eunuch," they resemble withered old women! In the capital, only commoners receive longevity plaques; never has a centenarian archway been erected for a castrated man. Thus, the fleshly act of man and woman uniting harms no one. Yet regrettably, the Compendium of Materia Medica omits this, allowing people to spout nonsense for their own ends. Some call it nourishing yin and strengthening yang; others deem it a bone-scraping steel blade. In my view, this thing is not only greatly restorative but its medicinal properties rival precious ginseng and spiritual herbs! Both involve the mutual complement of yin and yang, acting in harmony. Ginseng and spiritual herbs are great tonics but cannot be consumed gluttonously like rice! Overindulgence without regard for dosage or timing can still kill. The same holds for carnal pleasures: only with measured, steady flow can yin and yang, water and fire, harmonize and nourish; ceaseless debauchery will quickly exhaust essence and blood, pitting water and fire against each other, harming both yin and yang. Sexual love, used to temper life, has miraculous effects in invigorating meridians and relieving boredom; but without restraint, it leads to depleting kidney essence and exhausting qi and blood. Men who treat women as medicine must master the measure: neither too distant nor too indulgent; do not withhold love, yet do not pounce like a starving ghost without care. Nor should one be bound by false moralists: "Man-woman love and fleshly desires are human nature—what shame is there?" Yet when truly stripping a woman bare and pinning her down, with your cock burning hot, remind yourself: "There is land that cannot be plowed fully, but no ox that cannot be worked to death! Having tasted the joy, know when to stop!" Thus, your vital essence will neither stagnate nor deplete. The Daoists say: Only what is both pleasurable and health-preserving is the true path! Though the pleasures of man and woman parallel ginseng and spiritual herbs, they are opposites: ginseng and herbs must be "wild" from deep mountains to be potent; those "cultivated" in pharmacies lack full efficacy. Yet this medicine called woman is most restorative when "cultivated"; the "wild" ones not only lack efficacy but may cost your life! What is "cultivated"? It means your own legitimate wife or concubine at home—no need to spend silver each time, nor scheme and cajole; you can pull her to bed whenever you wish! Lie, kneel, or stand as you please; no one cares how you indulge. Ignore knocks at the door; play freely on the bed without fear. A union leaves you thoroughly satisfied, harms no vital energy, allows ejaculation to beget sons and continue the lineage. Pleasure from scalp to toes, body relaxed and open—this is true nourishment for body and mind. Those "wild" ones differ. Whether the neighbor's beauty or the brothel's wanton. As the saying goes, "Home chicken lacks the flavor of wild pheasant"; seeing one's wife age, her flesh loosen, indeed cannot match the youthful, firm, juicy flesh outside. One inevitably craves a taste of the wild! Especially encountering top-tier sluts who make you toss sleepless at night, racking your mind to embrace and toy with them, to taste thrusting between their legs, to hear the lewd words and moans from their flirtatious eyes and faces. Thus you first flirt with glances, then throw real gold and silver, secretly arrange trysts, and commit adultery like a thief in hiding. No matter how bold your lust, when carrying your rock-hard cock to another's door, your heart tightens like a rat's! During the tryst, though knowing no one is around, you suspect eyes watching from behind, fearing exposure; the sweat of passion is scant, but cold sweat of fear soaks your crotch. Worse, it haunts your days and invades your dreams; your mind abandons proper business, your heroic spirit vanishes, replaced by a rat-like demeanor! Sooner or later, you'll leap naked into an abyss, inviting catastrophe! Secretly harming virtue, openly breaking the law. If caught in bed and hacked to death, no one to pay the price; your body severed, your wife left in the world to be toyed with by other men—such tragedies are countless! Thus, when lust rules, never forsake the near for the far or favor the new over the old! All this rambling aims to tell readers not to misunderstand this book's intent. It uses tales of carnal chaos to sound an alarm, urging restraint of wicked desires, not to teach wanton indulgence; it guards the threshold against lewdness, not to champion libertines and sluts! Some ask: If seeking to curb evil fire, why not write a proper Daoist text to uphold morals, instead of such explicit erotic fiction? You do not know! To change customs, one must lead by the donkey's temperament; only then do words enter the mind. In today's world, who cares for sage classics? All love wild histories and secrets! Even in wild histories, they tire of loyal ministers and filial sons' preachings, craving tales of adultery and exposed flesh. Society's rot runs to the bone! If one preaches great principles to urge virtue, not only will none spend to buy it—even giving it free as charity ends with it torn for pickling jars or wiping asses; none will read it closely! Better to use these lascivious tales of man-woman union to stir inner cravings! As you stare at two pale bodies, cock pounding, juices splashing, thrusting with relish, eyes glazed, suddenly jab a few sharp needles below, jolting you to gasp and inwardly cry: "This licentious pleasure is thrilling, yet if it costs this dog's life of joy, becoming a ghost under the peony, it is not worth it." Then, when depicting the thunderous retribution and grisly ends of adulterers, coldly hint: "Coveting others' wives and daughters brings such evil karma! Better to train one's own wanton wife at home. Why lose wife and army, trading life and fortune for the King's romantic debt!" Once the mind turns here, the evil path naturally ends. With the evil path severed, the man cherishes his wife, the woman respects her man; the righteous moral path of the Book of Songs lies entirely within the square inch of the marital bed! This is the supreme method of "addressing the matter at hand, curing desire with desire." Indeed, not only we writers of romantic histories use this; even the sages in the classics mastered it long ago. Recall the Warring States period, when King Xuan of Qi met Mencius. Mencius passionately preached the great way of benevolent rule; the King, a vulgar man obsessed with silver and women, had no interest in governance and merely humored him: "Good, yes! Teacher, you speak truly well…" Mencius pressed: "Since Your Majesty finds it good, why not act?" The King spread his hands: "I have a flaw—I love wealth and hate to spend!" Mencius immediately recounted how Duke Liu, also fond of wealth, filled granaries for those guarding homes and sacks for those campaigning afar… Hearing the endless chatter, the King cast aside decorum and blurted: "I have another flaw—I love women with ample breasts and slender waists! I have no mind for court affairs, only daily enjoyment of beauties!" At this, the King cared not for the infamy of tyrants like Jie of Xia or Zhou of Shang, clearly unwilling to hear more politically correct preachings. Had this been a false moralist, he would have glared and cursed: "Since antiquity, kings who loved women lost their realms; commoners who loved women died without intact corpses!" Hearing such farting words, the King would think: "I am terminally ill and incurable; no need for this pedant's farting—get lost!" Unexpectedly, hearing this, Mencius did not anger but began recounting gossip of how King Tai of Zhou fled with his wife Jiang on horseback. Mencius embellished vividly, leaving the King scratching his ears and unable to stop! Mencius said that though King Tai fled with his beloved wife in his arms, this lecherous ruler did not lose his state because he empathized—fleeing with his wife, he ordered all men to flee with theirs. While King Tai vigorously pleasured Jiang in his tent, the common folk in the camp did likewise in their straw beds! This is the true sage king spreading spring wind and equal dew! Who could slander such a ruler, who shares joys with the people equally, as lecherous? Hearing this, King Xuan of Qi felt utterly at ease, as if finding an idol and confidant; from then on, he willingly followed Mencius's advice, no longer seeing "I love women" as shameful. The author's purpose in writing this novel is the same! This book depicts the lascivious postures of men and women stripped for union, portraying the sensual eroticism within bed curtains, inevitably carrying a scent of lust and fleshly desire, yet all serves to lead you to the final bloody outcome, thus understanding retribution and awakening reverence! Otherwise, this book would be a dry, bitter olive; what use is any later sweetness? Bitter at first bite, who would keep chewing? These vivid depictions of fleshly desire are but a layer of cloyingly sweet candied date flesh wrapping the mind-awakening olive pit. Leading you to swallow it whole without spitting, only then can you slowly savor the "flavor" behind the words! #ClassicNewTranslationOfTheCarnalPrayerMat<img src="https://static2.fansone.co/images/200dccbb-cc33-4b2d-a140-1c456849a2c3.avif" />

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