Chapter 157: Buddhist Disciple 17

“You’ve only been learning for such a short time and already made this—you’re quite talented.” The mysterious monk nodded in approval as he looked down at the rocking horse Mingzhen had just finished making.

“Now that I’ve shown you the basics, there’s nothing more I can teach you. If you want to become better, you’ll have to figure it out on your own.”

Mingzhen paused in his task of packing up his tools, looking at the person he had spent the past three months with. He could no longer hold it in and finally spoke, “My master used to say something like that.”

He had been picked up and raised by his master, already able to remember things by the time he was brought to him, and was able to do many things on his own. Back then, his master had already been old, and Mingzhen had never dared to trouble him too much.

But his master had also taught him some things, like recognizing characters and identifying medicinal herbs. After introducing him to the basics, he handed Mingzhen a book and told him, “This is all I can teach you. If you want to continue learning, you’ll need to figure it out on your own.”

At that time, Mingzhen had thought his master was too old and lacking the energy to teach him further, but now it didn’t seem to be the case.

“Really? It seems that even when people grow older, some things are hard to change,” the mysterious monk laughed heartily.

Mingzhen, hearing these words, felt a flicker of excitement in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say a certain name, but was stopped by a knock on his forehead from the monk’s wooden stick.

“Ah, you can’t say it, you can’t say it. If you speak it, it’ll be over.”

Saying this, the monk shook his head and walked out of the workshop, leaving as abruptly as he had appeared, disappearing as if he could only exist in this small space.

Qian and Mingde didn’t understand the source of Mingzhen’s melancholy. They tugged on his hand, wanting to go out and play, not wanting to stay in the workshop with the wood.

Mingzhen silently led them to the lotus pond, a place where Wuxin practiced. Mingzhen never came here without reason, but his heart was a little troubled, and he came seeking an answer from his senior.

His senior was a person of great wisdom, a Buddhist Disciple of Bodhi Mountain, and there was surely nothing that could stump him.

“Senior, do you know about my master? Isn’t he already complete? Why can I still… Has he come back?” Mingzhen asked, his eyes filled with expectation.

Such hope was something Wuxin had seen many times in the eyes of different people. His expression remained calm, and his eyes seemed to look right into their hearts.

“Mingzhen, you already know the answer in your heart.”

Mingzhen’s hope instantly turned into disappointment. He lowered his head and muttered, “It’s because my cultivation isn’t enough.”

After a moment of hesitation, he asked, “Then… how much longer can he exist?”

“The last rays of the setting sun, just the last rays,” Wuxin’s voice was long and drawn out. Before the final note could fade, the piercing screams of children reached their ears, shattering the quiet, somber mood.

Qian and Mingde had been playing by the pond, and Qian, riding her little cart, couldn’t stop in time and plunged into the water.

“Ah!” She splashed and screamed in the shallow pond.

Mingzhen, who had been silent and calm, immediately jumped up, “You just couldn’t stop when I told you not to ride the cart by the pond! Mingde, don’t jump in!”

Qian’s screams quickly turned into joyous laughter as Mingzhen ran over. The pond was full of golden-red koi fish crowding around her, nudging her arms and legs, preventing her from sinking like her little cart.

“Hahaha! Haha! Don’t bite me!” Qian laughed, feeling the fish nibbling on her arms and feet, trying to push them away while shouting at them to stop.

Mingde lay on the shore, enviously watching her play with the large fish.

Mingzhen pulled her out from among the koi, but to his surprise, Qian didn’t seem happy. Her feet dangled as she tried to go back in to continue playing.

Wuxin also arrived and, seeing the situation, said, “Let her play.”

“We were talking before, and you still had doubts, didn’t you?” Wuxin slowly raised the staff in his hand.

Mingzhen: “…”

Why was Senior suddenly raising his staff at me when he was talking so seriously?

With a crisp sound, Mingzhen’s forehead was struck, and he immediately closed his eyes and began meditating on the spot.

Wuxin, holding his staff, sat down beside him, smiling as he watched the two children splashing and playing with the fish in the pond.

When the sun slanted across Mingzhen’s youthful face, Wuxin finally called the two children out of the lotus pond. The two looked like little drowned puppies, covered in mud from head to toe.

Qian’s hair was tangled like two bunches of water plants, and Mingde had two muddy handprints on his head, which Qian had left there.

Wuxin dragged their little carts and took the children to the dining hall, where Venerable Master Fu prepared hot water to wash them off.

Qian sat in a wooden basin, scrubbing her feet with a little brush that Venerable Master Fu had made, while asking, “Isn’t Mingzhen having dinner tonight?”

“Is he going to sleep there?”

“Won’t he be hungry?”

“Did Dad use a stick to knock him out to sleep?”

…

Thanks to her constant chattering, everyone knew that Mingzhen had been “taught” by Buddhist Disciple and would probably have to sit by the lotus pond for several days and nights.

With Mingzhen no longer in charge of the children, Wuxin had no choice but to come out of seclusion and take on the responsibility of looking after them.

Unlike Mingzhen, who was strict with them, Wuxin simply watched as Qian and Mingde played, whether it was in the mud or picking lotus flowers, without ever stopping them.

Mingzhen sat by the lotus pond for a few days, and during that time, Qian and Mingde played by the pond for several days as well.

The two children even took this opportunity to learn how to swim.

Qian was a little better at it than Mingde, but the fat koi fish in the pond liked to crowd around her in the water. Qian often had to reach out and push them away, telling them not to get too close, as it made it hard for her to swim.

The two little wooden carts were parked by the pond, and the rocking horse Mingzhen had made was also there. Qian sat on it and rocked it back and forth, asking Mingde to push from behind.

They both surrounded the closed-eyed Mingzhen, playfully hitting him. Their constant noise would have kept anyone awake.

But they were completely oblivious, especially Qian, who every now and then ran in front of Mingzhen, stepped on his knees, and used her hands to pry his eyelids open, asking, “Are you awake?”

“Are you awake?” Mingde mimicked her.

The two children still treated Mingzhen as a climbing frame, pinching his ears and climbing onto his back.

Watching the children from the side, Master Wuxin just smiled.

On the third day, while Mingde, excited like a little calf, was hopping around the shore, he accidentally bumped into Mingzhen, who was already near the edge of the pond, causing him to fall straight into the water.

Mingzhen, who had collapsed headfirst into the muddy water, finally regained his senses. He struggled to stand up and looked dazedly at the Junior Disciple on the shore, who had shrunk back in fear, and felt a bit of pain in his ears. He reached up to rub them.

At this moment, someone tapped his leg. Mingzhen looked down to see Qian, covered in mud, sitting in the lotus pond, holding a long, fresh lotus root in her hands.

“Mingzhen, you’re awake! Do you want to eat lotus root?” She smiled cutely, though some of the mud from her hands got onto him.

“Lotus root?” Mingzhen repeated in a daze. Then he suddenly saw his elderly master’s senior disciple not far away, also knee-deep in the water, picking lotus roots.

Are there lotus roots in this pond? Can they be dug up? Isn’t this supposed to be a place for Buddhist Disciple’s secluded cultivation?!

Regardless of whether they could or not, Qian placed the lotus root she had dug up on her little cart, rode it like she was delivering goods, and took it to the dining hall to hand it over to Venerable Master Fu.

When Venerable Master Fu saw the spiritual lotus root, he fell silent for a moment before habitually bringing out a wooden basin, ready to pour hot water to clean the muddy children.

At that moment, Buddhist Disciple, also covered in mud, appeared before him.

Venerable Master Fu: “…” He had never seen such a scene before.

Having played so joyfully during the day, Qian refused to go to sleep at the usual bedtime and instead nestled under the covers, talking to Wuxin.

Suddenly, Mingde knocked on the door next door. He stood there rubbing his eyes, on the verge of tears, and said, “Senior Disciple can’t be found.”

That night, Mingzhen rose from watching Junior Disciple fall asleep and went out. As soon as he left, Mingde woke up and, not seeing the Senior Disciple who usually slept with him, immediately panicked.

Qian climbed out of bed.

Wuxin had no choice but to take the two of them to search for Mingzhen.

The night at Bodhi Mountain was exceptionally quiet, with darkness everywhere, and only the lamp in Wuxin’s hand illuminated the ground before him.

Qian and Mingde each held onto a corner of his robe, nearly walking in line with him.

Wuxin seemed to know where Mingzhen was, leading the two children purposefully toward the Scripture Hall.

The five-story Scripture Hall was also pitch black, but nearby in the warehouse, a dim orange light flickered.

The warehouse door was open, and Mingzhen was sitting inside alone, gluing paper onto bamboo strips.

As soon as Qian saw him, she shouted loudly, “Mingzhen!”

Mingde, still a bit dazed, echoed, “Mingzhen…”

Senior Disciple shot him a glare, and Mingde immediately realized, correcting himself, “Senior Disciple.”

He rushed over, rubbing his head against Senior Disciple’s arm.

Qian also went over, curiously looking at what Mingzhen had in his hands.

“What are you doing?”

Mingzhen was making rolling lanterns and had already finished two. These were simple crafts that didn’t take long to make.

He lit the candles inside the lanterns and pushed them on the ground, making them roll. Qian and Mingde immediately ran after them.

The spherical rolling lanterns could roll freely, and the candles inside wouldn’t tip over or extinguish.

When Mingzhen was a child, his master had made him a rolling lantern. It was one of his most vivid memories.

The two children took their rolling lanterns to the open ground outside the warehouse to play, while Mingzhen stood at the warehouse door, with Wuxin beside him.

In the blink of an eye, the two figures in the corridor became three.

The mysterious young monk appeared beside Mingzhen.

The three of them stood quietly, watching the two children play with their lanterns.

“Senior Disciple has become so old again. I suppose he’ll soon go through another cycle of life and death,” the monk spoke to Wuxin.

“Yes, it’s soon,” Wuxin replied.

After speaking with Wuxin, the monk turned to look at Mingzhen.

“You’ve come so late. Do you have something to say to me?”

Mingzhen bowed respectfully. “Disciple will cultivate diligently and take care of Junior Disciple. You needn’t worry about us… Master.”

The monk laughed heartily twice, “Good, good.”

With that, his figure vanished into the night, turning into two points of light that landed on the grass.

“Ah! Fireflies!” Qian shouted, pushing her rolling lantern.

“Fireflies!” Mingde echoed, also shouting.

“Those are fragments of time split off from Wujian’s younger days, his spiritual essence,” Wuxin sighed.

When he and Junior Disciple were still young, he had told Junior Disciple that he would one day have two disciples, but wouldn’t have time to teach them and would leave soon.

Junior Disciple had laughed and said, “If I don’t teach my disciples something, how could I be considered a proper master?”

And so, a fragment of his spiritual essence had been separated, though at the time, he had scolded himself for doing it.

“Now I’m best at woodworking. I’ll teach him woodworking, and once that’s done, this fragment of my spiritual essence will disappear,” the young Junior Disciple had said so casually.

Without completing the transmission of the Dao, the spiritual essence could no longer exist. But even without breaking the silence, this essence would gradually dissipate along with Junior Disciple.

“Even if much time passes, and identities are unrecognizable, meeting again is still a pleasant thing,” Wuxin said.

Mingzhen felt as though his master’s senior was speaking of his master, but perhaps not. He looked at Wuxin, who seemed to be gazing at Qian, who was playing with the rolling lanterns, as if staring at a figure slowly fading away.