Somewhere in the forests of the Western Country, an old monk in an austere kasaya walked with a young novice at his side.
They looked like monks on a journey of spiritual cultivation, travel-worn and dusty.
"Oh... is anyone there?"
Just then, a soft, lovely voice drifted over from nearby. It was a cry for help.
"Master, it sounds like someone's calling for help?"
The young novice had delicate features. His ears twitched, and he stopped, glanced at the old monk, and spoke.
"Mm."
With his eyes half closed, the old monk nodded gently, looked toward the source of the voice, and walked over.
"Is anyone there...?"
The soft voice continued, growing clearer as master and disciple approached.
When it reached the young novice's ears, even his heart seemed to skip a beat.
It was as though the voice were tickling his heart, making him desperate to see its owner.
The old monk shook his head slightly but said nothing, continuing forward in silence.
After passing through a stretch of undergrowth, they saw a woman.
She lay on the ground, groaning in pain and calling for help.
Her clothes were somewhat revealing, and the way she lay there was particularly seductive.
"Madam, what happened to you?"
The sight instantly set the young novice's blood racing. At his tender age, he had never seen anything like it.
The woman's exposed legs, fair and slender, were especially stirring to him.
Unable to resist stealing a few more looks, he stepped forward and asked after her with concern.
"I hurt my foot. I can't walk."
The woman gazed at the young novice with vulnerable eyes and leaned closer, her breath sweet as orchids.
That single movement sent his heart pounding.
A delicate fragrance reached his nose, leaving him spellbound and unable to resist