Chapter 155: Buddhist Disciple 15

Bodhi Mountain truly is a sacred place for meditation, where many disciples spend years cultivating in the temple. After coming down the mountain to enter the temple for their practice, they return to the temple again. Each person follows their own cultivation path, and once they find their way, no one interferes.

Unlike many temples in the Mortal Realm that are governed by strict rules and regulations, the monks here adhere to the precepts that reside in their own hearts.

As a result, after Qian settled in Bodhi Temple, apart from the two fierce gatekeepers, no one else treated her any differently. In fact, she was looked after with care.

Of all the Buddhist Cultivators on Bodhi Mountain, Qian was the only little girl with hair. She didn’t have to wake up early to do chores or practice, and spent her days playing.

To help Qian integrate with the larger group and avoid being too different from the others, Mingzhen took it upon himself to care for her.

On the first day they arrived at Bodhi Mountain, he, understanding that she had been tired from the journey, allowed her to sleep in. However, the next day, he woke her up early, wanting her to join Mingde and the others in the morning chanting.

Qian was groggily awakened by him, her eyes half-closed as she sat on the edge of the bed, still half asleep. Mingzhen swiftly grabbed her chubby arm, dressed her in an outer robe, combed her hair, and tied it into the simplest little bun. Then he led her to sit at the back of a group of young monks with Mingde, where they began their morning rituals.

The monks in front of them were solemn and serious as they chanted, while Mingzhen, reciting his own chants, held the heads of two children who were sleeping crookedly, preventing them from toppling over.

Mingde was better off. He had been used to waking up early with the Senior Disciples since he was a child. After a brief nap, he was carried along by the sound of chanting, gradually waking up. He no longer needed the Senior Disciple to hold his head and was able to sit up properly on his own.

Unlike Mingde, Qian found the chanting increasingly drowsy.

Moreover, they were not chanting in the Buddha Hall but beside an ancient tree, where the air was fresh, and a ray of sunlight shone down, making it an ideal place for sleep.

She slept right through the end of the morning lessons and into breakfast. When it was time for her to eat, she circled her wooden bowl under her nose a couple of times before suddenly opening her eyes, straightening her tilted head.

Her breakfast was different from that of the other monks. She had two oil cakes, deliciously fragrant, accompanied by small side dishes and sweet porridge.

On her first day in the dining hall, Yinhe Venerable Master Fu had only added some pickled vegetables for her. Now, he no longer hid his favoritism and had started preparing a special meal for her.

Apart from Qian, Mingde also had a bowl of sweet porridge with dried fruit, while the other monks had their usual steamed buns and plain porridge.

Qian also liked the big white steamed buns here, but after eating the oil cakes and porridge, she couldn’t finish a whole bun. So, she tore it in half and gave half to her father, who was drinking porridge beside her.

When Wuxin returned to Bodhi Mountain, he didn’t appear to have aged any further, but he spent a large portion of each day meditating by the Lotus Pond.

As Qian put it, he spent every day sitting by the Lotus Pond, sleeping.

It was only at meal times that Wuxin would come to eat with Qian, and at bedtime, he would stay by her side.

If he didn’t do this, Qian would run straight to the Lotus Pond to find him. She refused to eat or sleep, insisting on waiting for him to join her.

Mingzhen, therefore, had to wake Qian up early every morning, wanting her to attend the morning lessons, partly because of Wuxin.

He suspected that his master’s condition wasn’t very good, and he worried that Qian’s constant attachment to Wuxin might disrupt his meditation, leading to undesirable outcomes. So, he did everything he could to wear Qian out, keeping her by his side so that she wouldn’t disturb Wuxin.

After breakfast, the monks had their own tasks. Seeing that Qian was about to run off to find Wuxin again, Mingzhen quickly called her to stop.

Qian turned around and looked at him, her round eyes filled with a look of “What’s going on?”

Mingzhen, trying to divert her attention, suddenly asked, “Do you still want to play with the little cart?”

Of course, Qian wanted to play!

She hesitated for a moment, glancing at her father, who was smiling ahead and waiting for her, then waved him goodbye and followed Mingzhen to play with the wooden cart.

Mingzhen found an empty space, brought over the little wooden cart they had modified on the way, and let Mingde and Qian play together.

After being altered multiple times, the cart became clunky and ugly. The children couldn’t push it themselves, so someone had to push from behind.

Qian and Mingde took turns sitting in the cart, with the other pushing from left to right, then right to left, completing a full circle.

At first, Qian was quite serious about it, but after a few rounds, she grew tired and started to lose interest in the cart.

“I don’t want to play with this cart anymore, it’s not fun,” Qian told Mingzhen. “I want to play with a rideable cart.”

In order to keep her entertained, Mingzhen had no choice but to start thinking about how to make a rideable cart.

Bodhi Mountain was rich in good timber, so he specifically went into the mountains to find the right wood and brought it back. He then went to a small warehouse near the Sutra Pavilion to do the carpentry, where there were plenty of suitable tools.

Most importantly, Mingzhen had once heard his master say that when he was still on Bodhi Mountain, he would often sleep in that small warehouse next to the Sutra Pavilion.

Mingzhen wanted to stay in the place where his master had often stayed.

No one knew what he was thinking while looking at the small warehouse, not even Mingde, who was happily exploring the “treasures” in the warehouse with Qian.

Mingzhen buried his head in his work, trying to make the little wooden cart according to Qian’s request.

But children’s interests were fleeting, constantly changing.

Qian crouched beside him, watching him work with the wood, suddenly saying, “I want a little wooden duck.”

Mingzhen wasn’t very good at wood carving. His master was skilled in wood carving and stone engraving, and when he was a child, he often asked to learn, but his master would leisurely tell him to wait until he was older, promising to teach him then.

However, by the time Mingzhen was old enough to learn, his master could no longer move, so he never had the chance.

Mingzhen thought for a moment, then tried carving the wood, but the result was a rough lump that didn’t quite resemble a duck.

Qian held the wooden lump, pointing at it and saying, “It doesn’t look like a duck, it has no wings, one foot is bigger than the other, and there’s no color.”

On the first day, Qian eagerly awaited the wooden duck Mingzhen was making, but by the second day, she had already lost interest. Her head kept turning, constantly scanning the surroundings, as if looking for something more interesting.

Mingzhen thought to himself, if he didn’t manage to carve the wooden duck soon, the little troublemaker might lose interest altogether.

Frowning as he pondered how to proceed, a stranger monk suddenly appeared at the door.

“Is there a problem?” the stranger monk asked.

He appeared quite young, but he wasn’t one of the young monks who practiced with Mingzhen every day. Mingzhen didn’t recognize him.

After exchanging greetings, Mingzhen explained his problem.

The stranger monk glanced at the two children beside him, who were seriously trying to imitate Mingzhen’s bow, then smiled and said, “Let me do it.”

He sat down, took the wood, and quickly began carving. In no time, the lump of wood began to take the shape of a lively duck.

Qian bounced up and down, excitedly calling out, “Duck! Duck!”

She leaned against the young monk’s leg, pressing her head close to his feet as she watched the wooden sculpture in progress.

Mingde, too, gradually moved closer without realizing, and ended up pressing against the monk’s hands.

At first, Mingzhen remembered to pull the two children aside to prevent them from disturbing the monk, but then he forgot himself, squatting beside them to watch closely and learn.

The monk swiftly carved three different ducks, each with a unique shape—one for Qian, one for Mingde, and one for Mingzhen.

Mingzhen took the carved duck, feeling a bit awkward. “This is just a toy for children. I don’t need it.”

The stranger monk laughed heartily, “At your age, aren’t you still a child?”

From that day on, Mingzhen would often see the monk passing by the warehouse door. He would always ask, “Any problems?” and then come in to help.

Mingzhen once asked for his Dharma name, but the monk only smiled and didn’t respond. Mingzhen didn’t press him. After all, every monk had their own temperament, and being a bit mysterious wasn’t unusual.

Before long, Mingzhen found himself learning carpentry from the mysterious young monk.

The monk would carve small toys every day, like the ducks, geese, and large eagles Qian had mentioned, as well as colorful kudu, likely imaginary animals Qian had dreamt up. He would also pull out a set of tools to paint and decorate them in great detail.

However, he always made three of each toy: one for Qian, one for Mingde, and one for Mingzhen.

Mingzhen, seeing the charming toys, couldn’t help but insist that he didn’t need one, but the young monk would simply wave his hand and ignore him.

Every time he waved his hand with that smile, Mingzhen felt a strange sense of familiarity.

Qian was very happy. At night, she would line up the carved toys on her bedside table. Before going to sleep, she would talk to each wooden figure, and whenever a new one was added, she would introduce them to Wuxin, who was sitting beside her.

Wuxin would listen to her animatedly and chat with her about the wooden figures until she became too tired to talk anymore.

Every morning, Qian would pick a wooden figure to take outside with her. She would always place the toy beside her while she played. Even when she went to the dining hall, it was no different—she ate her meal, but would still pinch off bits of steamed bun and ask the toy, “Do you want to eat?”

“Oh, you don’t want to? Then I’ll eat it myself.”

She had so many wooden toys now that she completely forgot about her earlier request for a wooden cart. Mingzhen, meanwhile, had been learning carpentry from the mysterious monk and was still diligently working on Qian’s cart.

Once he got focused, he completely forgot about the children. Without a sound, Qian and Mingde slipped away to play.

Bodhi Mountain was so vast, and Qian wasn’t familiar with much of it. The only places she knew well were the meditation hall where she slept and the dining hall where they ate.

So, she took Mingde and went straight to the dining hall.

The dining hall was quiet when it wasn’t mealtime, with no one around.

Qian peeked in at the door and saw Venerable Master Fu sitting beside a large wooden basin, filled with sweet potatoes caked in dirt.

When he saw the two children, Venerable Master Fu didn’t show much expression, but Qian wasn’t afraid of his indifference. She had often seen him bring her delicious food, so she walked right in and casually asked, “What are you doing?”

“Washing sweet potatoes,” Venerable Master Fu replied coldly.

Qian hadn’t helped wash vegetables for a while, so she said, “I want to help wash too.”

“Go ahead, then,” Venerable Master Fu didn’t chase them away. Instead, he got up, fetched two small wooden stools, and brought over two small brushes for them.

Qian seriously washed a few sweet potatoes, but after a while, she was more playing with the water than helping.

Venerable Master Fu didn’t mind. He continued washing, even though the two children splashed water all over his pants. He didn’t care, and he even tied back the sleeves of their long robes to keep them from getting wet.

When Mingzhen, sweating profusely from searching for the children, arrived at the dining hall, he saw Qian and Mingde sitting on the small stools eating roasted sweet potatoes.

“What are you two doing!” Mingzhen asked with a dark face.

Qian, seeing him, flashed a big grin, “Eating roasted sweet potatoes! So fragrant! So delicious!”

Mingde, sitting beside her, grinned too, his mouth covered in black soot, shouting, “Delicious!”

When Venerable Master Fu saw Mingzhen, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

Mingzhen: “…”

Qian, seeing his stern face, walked over to knock on the door and said, “Mingzhen wants to eat roasted sweet potatoes too.”

“Thank you for the sweet potatoes!”

She cleverly said thank you first. The door stayed silent for a moment, then opened a small crack, and a roasted sweet potato was handed out.