Chapter 151: Buddhist Disciple 11

The small temple on the cliff of Mount Taixi, with thousands of Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattvas carved into the stone wall, was all done by Wujian’s own hand.

Unlike the Avalokiteshvara statues found in most temples, many of the Bodhisattvas on these stone walls had uncommon postures. The deeper one went into the cave, the more abstract and wild the figures became, almost unrecognizable as earthly forms.

It was as if they were projections from a much darker, farther place.

Under the gaze of these seated stone figures, the calm candlelight inside the cave gradually flickered. The shadow of the old monk rose up in the shifting light, growing larger and larger, as if it were trying to break free from the frail, dying body it had been cast from.

Unlike his ever-changing shadow, the old monk’s body remained still, his voice soft and even.

He said that the child was like rootless water, a severed thread.

Time flowed forward like a river, and each person’s destiny drifted along with it, unable to turn back.

That child, however, was a disordered stretch of time. Because of the disorder, she lacked any regularity and could not stay anywhere for long.

Once her time was up, disappearance was her inevitable fate.

A seed that drifts too long without rooting in the soil will never grow again.

Qian held up her reddened hand and began to wail, her cries so loud that Ming Zhen was left dazed.

Why did this little girl, who seemed younger than his junior brother, cry twice as loudly as him? His junior brother cried, but never like this.

He was busy trying to calm the little one down when a voice came from behind, startling him—it was Master’s uncle, who had been disturbed by the noise.

“What happened?”

Ming Zhen, slightly embarrassed for not taking better care of the child, turned around and explained, “Her hand was pecked by the eagle, but it was just in play. The bird didn’t use much force.”

If the eagle had been serious, its iron-like beak could have snapped the child’s plump arm, not just leave a red mark.

Wuxin, seeing the scene, immediately understood what had happened.

Qian had a habit of touching things she liked, and once she grabbed hold, she didn’t want to let go.

At that moment, still crying, Qian held up her swollen hand, the other hand still clutched tightly onto the proud eagle’s wing. The eagle had clearly struggled, leaving two feathers on the ground where it had fought to break free.

When another stranger approached, the eagle, which had calmed down, fluffed its feathers, opened its beak, and made an intimidating expression.

Ming Zhen couldn’t make the child release her grip, so he hoped for Master’s uncle to help—he believed his uncle was capable of anything.

Wuxin looked at the tug-of-war between them and decided to convince the reluctant eagle—it was easier to persuade than the child.

In the end, it was resolved. The eagle let Qian hold it obediently.

Its feathers were smooth, and Qian lay on it, her face rubbing against its wings as she snuggled beneath them, playing with the two young birds that were there.

Ming Zhen went off to attend to his own matters. When he returned, he found another little figure in the eagle’s nest. His silly junior brother, Ming De, was crouching underneath the eagle’s wings, next to Qian. The two were in the same position, whispering to each other.

Ming Zhen knew that both Ming De and Qian had been picked up by their master from the foot of the mountain. At only three years old, Ming De was a little slow, his mind not as quick as other children, and when compared to Qian, he seemed rather dull. He even had trouble speaking clearly.

Whatever Qian asked him to do, he did. Whatever she said, he nodded.

Seeing that the two children were playing well together, Ming Zhen felt reassured and went to do his own things. When he came back, the two children had already left the eagle’s nest and found new entertainment.

They didn’t know where they had found a piece of charcoal, but Ming De’s round head was covered in black soot, and Qian’s hands were also covered in the same dark smudge.

When Ming Zhen approached, both children smiled at him. Qian pointed at Ming De’s shiny, blackened head and said, “He has hair now, black hair,” then held the charcoal out towards him.

Ming Zhen: “…”

He jumped up and climbed the nearby cliff. Qian followed, but she couldn’t climb up.

Just as Wuxin came out of the Buddha hall, he saw the scene and paused.

Ming Zhen: Master’s uncle, help!

Qian’s eyes sparkled: “Daddy! Paint hair!”

In the end, Wuxin could not escape. Since he couldn’t, Ming Zhen obviously couldn’t either.

After painting three heads, Qian was still not satisfied, so Wuxin took her into the Buddha hall, letting her go play with Master Wujian.

Qian noticed that the old man’s bald head was different from everyone else’s. It felt cool to the touch, like jade, smooth and glossy. The charcoal couldn’t stick to it at all.

Having bumped her head against Wujian’s, Qian grew quiet for a while. Ming Zhen took the opportunity to prepare the meal.

At the table, there were four people: one little braid, and three shiny black heads. As for Wujian, he no longer needed, nor could he eat.

In the temple on the cliff, even as the sun set, the vibrant afterglow could still be seen.

The entire stone wall had turned a golden-orange.

When the first star appeared in the night sky, Wujian slowly emerged from the Buddha hall.

He hadn’t left the hall in a long time, and his sudden appearance meant that something was about to happen.

Ming Zhen had known for a while that his master was about to reach perfection and leave this world. It was probably going to happen today.

He held it in as best he could, but his eyes were still red.

But only he showed any strange expression. The other three, two adults and two children, sat together, looking at the stars. Listening to the children’s chatter, they smiled.

As the night deepened, and the stars filled the sky, Ming Zhen looked up and felt that the stars were especially bright tonight, shining so intensely they were almost blinding.

Staring for a long time, it felt as if the stars were about to fall.

“The time has come,” Wujian suddenly sighed, his voice filled with age.

He placed his hand on Qian’s small head and said to her, “Let Shishu take you to see the world beyond this world!”

Qian didn’t know what was happening. She just felt herself lift into the air as if her body had become light as a cloud, carried by the wind toward the sky.

She glanced down, and several dark heads quickly disappeared from her sight.

Everything around her vanished, transforming into countless stars.

A colorful nebula shaped like a human figure appeared, with long flowing whiskers, pulling her toward the depths of the starry sky.

At one point, Qian felt herself suddenly stop. The pulling force from the hand holding hers disappeared, the stars vanished, and she found herself in a familiar place.

It was a hallway, the home where she had lived.

A colorful carpet with yellow duck patterns, a person in a black T-shirt walked past her, holding a brush and a duster.

Upon seeing him, Qian snapped back to reality and ran over to catch up with him.

But he couldn’t see her. He walked to the corner of the living room, using the duster to clean large dolls and claw machine toys, then brushed the fallen fur of the dolls.

The large toys in the corner, the small ones on the shelf and sofa—he picked them all up and tidied them.

He grabbed the cute dolls, but his expression wasn’t happy. His brows furrowed as he worked.

When he finished here, he went into another room, a room full of even more colorful dolls.

In the corner, a multi-meter-long lying bear, and a crocodile whose mouth was wide enough for a child to crawl into—he squatted and gave it a few pats, brushed it once, then stuffed it back into place.

He picked up the smaller dolls around him and sat down on a children’s bed.

The bed was a lemon-yellow fluffy quilt, designed so children could climb onto it easily. The height wasn’t high, so when the man sat on it, his legs were bent.

He remained in that position, slowly brushing the dolls in his hands.

The small orange lamp by the bed shone on his bare feet, and as he brushed, he stopped, staring blankly at the little yellow duck rug under his feet. After a while, he furrowed his brows again and continued brushing.

Finally, he cleaned up a large white goose that was lying sideways.

The goose’s orange-red beak had bite marks from where the child had chewed on it while sleeping. The child liked to bite them, and several of them had been ruined. No one knew why.

After cleaning the room, he stood by the door, reached out to turn off the light, and closed the door.

Qian had followed him all the way, watching him tidy up the dolls. When he cleaned the lying bear, she crawled in and out of the crocodile’s mouth.

When he cleaned the crocodile, she rolled onto the bed, and the Little Dog played around.

It was just like long ago.

But back then, when he helped tidy up these dolls, he would always grumble, unhappy, complaining about how she threw things around, how she loved bringing all the dolls from the living room into the room, where they couldn’t fit.

He would tell her to pick up the pile of small dolls on the floor and put them in the cabinet because they were in the way.

At times, he would complain about her, saying she was causing a disturbance while he was working and asked her to move aside.

“You’re in the way, go aside.”

“I just finished cleaning, and now you’re crawling in with all that dust. See if I help you next time.”

“Can you go watch cartoons? I just made the bed, and you’ve rolled it into a mess!”

“I just put it in the cabinet, and now you’ve dragged it out again! Do you believe I’ll throw it all away?”

… He was always angry like that.

But now, he didn’t say a word, just silently cleaning.

When he turned off the light and walked to the living room, opened the window, and lit a cigarette, Qian was still by his feet, calling out to him as “dad.”

But sadly, he couldn’t see or hear her, his eyes lost in the smoke drifting outside.

When the cigarette was finished, he picked up the coat on the sofa, put it on, and walked toward the entryway.

Qian followed him, watching as he turned off the lights, closed the door, and left.

The house, once filled with colors and toys, suddenly became quiet. The shadows inside turned into a melancholic blue.

Qian ran forward.

She passed through that door, and the surroundings abruptly changed to another place.

It was a bustling event venue, full of people, some shouting loudly and passionately.

Qian squeezed between the seats, but no one could see her, even if she didn’t hide, no one would bump into her.

She walked along the small path in front of her, where a stage appeared, and several people stood on it, with a familiar voice coming through the microphone.

“…We are very happy that this time ‘Northern Dynasty’s Winds’ has achieved such great results…”

Qian was too short, and couldn’t see the stage through the crowd, so she had to squeeze forward.

The voice spoke briefly, then was replaced by a more enthusiastic unfamiliar voice:

“The two-part series of the Northern and Southern Dynasties has been very popular. The previous ‘Southern Dynasty’s Moonlight’ also won several awards for Teacher Tong, adding another star to his Best Actor title. This time, ‘Northern Dynasty’s Winds’ has set a new record…”

“…Let’s now enjoy Teacher Tong’s wonderful performance!”

On the big screen appeared a majestic palace, a pale and gloomy emperor, the end of a dynasty.

A long sword stained with blood, the bright red falling onto the snow, then revealing a delicate, emaciated face.

The scene shifted again, showing a young man holding a goldfish lantern on a bustling street, handing it to a child in a mask, smiling as he squeezed the child’s small bun.

It was a mash-up of ‘Southern Dynasty’s Moonlight’ and ‘Northern Dynasty’s Winds.’

Qian finally saw the person on stage.

Under the lights, the people wearing makeup always looked radiant and perfect. Just like the father who used to call her name with a smile, every glance he gave her was soft and beautiful.

However, at this moment, he looked at the screen with his side profile, and his smile had completely disappeared. Even his delicate makeup couldn’t hide the sudden shift in his expression.

Nearby, the agent Feng Yu was throwing a tantrum, angrily saying, “This wasn’t agreed upon! Quickly get the higher-ups to cut this part! Change the screen!”

The staff awkwardly laughed, “This segment was added last minute. It’s just a few minutes…”

The host on stage said, “This clip has a widely circulated behind-the-scenes story online. The child who made a guest appearance is Teacher Tong’s child. It’s such a shame, such a cute child. I heard that Teacher Tong is still searching for the missing child, and has not taken on new work for a whole year. Now, returning to perform in ‘Northern Dynasty’s Winds’ again, does this mean he has finally moved past the shadow…”

Although the host’s tone was filled with sympathy and sorrow, Feng Yu’s expression was already dark with anger. He cursed loudly, “This is how you cooperate? Using us for sympathy? Trying to make a big news story? You really think you’re clever? Just wait!”

The host didn’t get a chance to finish, as the usually gentle and courteous Best Actor Tong, without a second thought, had already stepped off the stage.

He ignored the frantic attempts to stop him from the stage and the excited murmurs from the audience, walking briskly toward the exit with a pale expression, seemingly unable to endure any more sound.

“Dad,” Qian called out to him.

He brushed past her, standing at the edge of the stage.