In that instant, their eyes met, and four words flashed through Daoist Siqing’s mind: My life is over!
Daoist Siqing had once been a bandit. In his youth, he even had a reputation as a righteous outlaw. Later, when that profession became untenable, he somehow ended up becoming a Daoist priest. The great founder of Changxi Temple, who was Daoist Siqing’s master, was a stern and aloof man. He had spent years trying to reform Siqing’s bandit nature, finally managing to make him somewhat presentable.
While Daoist Siqing’s master was a highly respected Daoist priest, Siqing himself aspired to dominate the Daoist community. He wanted to elevate Changxi Temple to the pinnacle of Daoism, surpassing the few other temples of comparable status, and vent his frustrations. In the early years when his master was still alive, Siqing feared him greatly and didn’t dare to do anything. After his master passed away, Siqing became overconfident. He began accepting many disciples, hoping to train a few who aligned with his ideals, so that master and disciples could work together towards his ambitions.
He thought his goal was within reach, but to his dismay, after all these years and accepting numerous disciples and grand disciples, they all turned out to be non-competitive, peaceful, and focused on quiet cultivation. Each of them seemed to enter an elderly state before even reaching middle age, thoroughly embodying the Daoist way of life. This deeply disappointed the domineering Daoist Siqing.
The disciples he had carefully nurtured all went in directions opposite to his ideals. Siqing was repeatedly discouraged and grew disheartened, not accepting new disciples for many years. When Mei Zhuyu was sent to Changxi Temple by his father, Siqing agreed to teach the child due to a past debt of gratitude. Initially, he taught casually without much care, knowing that according to their agreement, Mei Zhuyu would eventually leave the mountain and couldn’t remain a Daoist priest forever.
However, Siqing hadn’t anticipated that this casually taught child would possess such remarkable aptitude. Unlike his senior disciples, this disciple, whom he had bestowed the Daoist name Guyu, had a style of conduct that greatly pleased him. When the grand disciples misbehaved and the senior disciples said, “Let it be, let nature take its course,” this child would coldly punish them without a word.
After a few years, not only the grand disciples but even his senior disciples became somewhat afraid of him. This young one had been impartial and strict from childhood, with his own set of rules and principles. If anyone violated them, regardless of who they were, he showed no mercy – including his master.
Daoist Siqing grew increasingly fond of him. When he accepted him as his youngest disciple, he was delighted, thinking that this time he might finally have a satisfactory pupil. However, reality gave him a harsh slap in the face.
Although his youngest disciple was quiet and unassuming, he was indeed domineering at his core. Unfortunately, he lacked Siqing’s ambition to dominate the Daoist community. Moreover, he joined his senior disciples in trying to persuade Siqing against his ambitions. It’s worth noting that this youngest disciple’s “persuasion” was unlike the gentle, earnest advice of the other disciples. When the youngest disciple persuaded someone, it resulted in either minor aches and pains or, in severe cases, broken limbs. Siqing felt bitter about this.
In his life, apart from his long-deceased master, Daoist Siqing feared only his youngest disciple, Guyu. In some aspects, this youngest disciple strongly resembled his master, becoming more alike as he grew older. This caused Siqing to involuntarily recall the harsh days of his early training at Changxi Temple whenever he saw him, making him shudder.
Daoist Siqing both feared and was immensely pleased with this disciple. He even considered breaking their agreement to keep him at Changxi Temple permanently, potentially inheriting the position of temple master. However, Mei Zhuyu adhered to his father’s dying wish and ultimately left the mountain. Siqing was both angry and upset. When Mei Zhuyu departed, Siqing stood at the temple gate, hands on his hips, shouting that if he had any courage, he should never return and would no longer be considered a disciple of Changxi Temple. His voice echoed throughout the mountain, but Mei Zhuyu, resolute in his decision, barely glanced at him. After brief farewells to his senior disciples and nephews-in-training, he calmly descended the mountain.
True to his word, he never returned, only occasionally sending messages about his recent situation through others. Daoist Siqing was heartbroken that no one would inherit his grand ambitions, yet he still cared deeply for this young disciple, leaving him with very complex emotions.
These complicated feelings persisted until now, seeing his young disciple appear normally before him again. Daoist Siqing didn’t feel the anger he had imagined, but rather… a sense of guilt.
“Master,” Mei Zhuyu entered the room, staring at Daoist Siqing for a while, causing him to break out in a cold sweat. Before Siqing could speak, Mei Zhuyu greeted each of his long-unseen senior disciples in the room.
The eldest disciple, with his graying beard, looked at him with satisfaction. “It’s good that you’re alright.”
A plump, kindly-looking senior disciple said, “We noticed you’ve gained some weight since you’ve returned. It seems you’ve been doing well in Chang’an. We were all worried that after living on the mountain for so long, you might not adapt to such a bustling place.”
Mei Zhuyu replied, “Thank you for your concern, senior disciples.”
His attitude towards his senior disciples was much better than towards his master. Being the youngest and having arrived at Changxi Temple as a child, the older disciples and nephews-in-training had practically raised him like a son or grandson.
Watching them converse amicably, Daoist Siqing grumbled internally that after not seeing his master for so long, he should at least show more concern, truly an unfilial disciple.
At this moment, a quieter senior disciple suddenly asked Mei Zhuyu, “What happened earlier? Who was that person in your body? Do you know?”
At these words, all the senior disciples looked at Mei Zhuyu, waiting for his answer. Daoist Siqing also perked up his ears. Because everyone was staring at him intently, they saw this usually cold disciple suddenly soften his expression, his eyes filled with tender light. He said, “That was my wife. Her name is Wu Zhen, she’s from Chang’an.”
The senior disciples were first surprised by his expression, then smiled with satisfaction. So it was indeed his wife. It seemed their little junior disciple genuinely cared for her, which was good.
Thinking of this, and recalling how their master had tied her up and locked her in a room earlier, the senior disciples couldn’t help but glance at their master. This was her first visit, and although the circumstances were unusual, she was still their junior disciple’s wife. Being tied up was, no matter how you looked at it, too discourteous.
Daoist Siqing noticed these glances and said sternly, his voice authoritative, “Didn’t I say we must be cautious? How can we casually believe someone’s words? My actions were certainly not wrong. Besides, I didn’t do much. I even made sure she was well-fed, and there was no beating or scolding.” Despite his words, he felt uneasy inside.
A master for a day is a father for life. By this logic, Mei Zhuyu’s wife would be his daughter-in-law. Tying her up on her first visit didn’t seem right; it damaged his face as an elder.
Daoist Siqing, recalling his young disciple’s past behavior, worried a bit that he might come to beat him for disrespecting his teacher. But Mei Zhuyu didn’t. Instead, he suddenly said, “The temple’s food is too spicy. She might not like it.”
Daoist Siqing thought: Why focus on such trivial matters at a time like this?
The senior disciples exchanged glances. One who had joined later and had married in his youth thought of past experiences. He looked at his junior disciple with a kind, teasing smile and said gently, “Then we were poor hosts. Next time you bring her, we’ll entertain her properly.”
Mei Zhuyu showed a slightly embarrassed expression, coughed once, and said no more. After a brief chat, the senior disciples left the room together. They could see the worry and gravity in their junior disciple’s eyes as he spoke. He hadn’t addressed their master directly, likely having some matters to discuss privately.
Before closing the door as they left, the eldest disciple looked kindly at Mei Zhuyu and said, “Guyu, if you have any difficulties, don’t hesitate to tell your senior disciples. We will all help you.”
Mei Zhuyu nodded at him but showed no intention of speaking. After the door closed, only Mei Zhuyu and Daoist Siqing remained in the room. Mei Zhuyu walked up to Daoist Siqing, who instinctively took a step back. Then, with a thud, Mei Zhuyu knelt before him.
Daoist Siqing’s expression changed rapidly, finally settling into a heavy sigh as he looked at the top of his young disciple’s head, feeling a mix of disappointment, pride, and affection.
Mei Zhuyu remained silent. Daoist Siqing finally resigned himself and reached out to help him up, speaking gruffly, “You little rascal, why are you kneeling to me? Is there anything you want to do that I could stop you from doing? Have you ever listened to anything I’ve said since you were little? Why kneel now?”
Mei Zhuyu said, “Master, I know that all these years, you’ve been guarding what’s in that wooden box in my father’s place. That person hasn’t come looking for it because of your presence.”
“He will come eventually,” Mei Zhuyu’s voice was calm. “He killed my parents, and sooner or later, he’ll come to kill me too. Now that he has appeared, I must resolve this matter, no matter what.”
Daoist Siqing snorted, sitting cross-legged on the long bench with his bandit-like demeanor. “You resolve it? Don’t talk big. Don’t think that just because you seriously wounded him a few years ago, you can kill him now. If it were that easy to kill him, I would have gone and chopped him up myself long ago. Why would I need you messing around now?”
Mei Zhuyu: “Master, please give me the wooden box.”
Daoist Siqing suddenly turned serious and asked an unrelated question: “Now that it’s the rainy season, does your left hand still shake?”
After a moment of silence, Mei Zhuyu answered truthfully, “It does.”
Daoist Siqing: “You still haven’t let go, and yet you want that wooden box back?”
Mei Zhuyu suddenly smiled, a smile that almost made Daoist Siqing think he had changed into someone else. But he quickly reverted to his usual expression and said, “My wife… is with child. She tends to act recklessly, and I’m worried about her and the baby.”
Wu Zhen was indeed cause for concern. Who knows what hardships she might endure being trapped there?
Daoist Siqing pursed his lips, not understanding these young people’s love affairs, and muttered, “Ruined, ruined. A good disciple ruined by a woman.”
Mei Zhuyu said again, “Master, please give me the wooden box.”
Silently, Daoist Siqing pulled out a dust-covered wooden box from under the bed. It was about an arm’s length long. Without even wiping off the dust, he tossed it directly into Mei Zhuyu’s arms.
The wooden box was ancient, even bearing some black marks – bloodstains from many years ago.