Chapter 88: Wang Chu Yi
The carriage rolled into the village at dusk, the twilight sky veiling the world in soft hues of deepening blue. Along the roadside, children dashed about, their hands clutching tiny firecrackers that crackled underfoot as their laughter echoed through the narrow lanes. At the village entrance, the small provisions store had already hung crimson lanterns, their warm glow casting a festive light over the stacked mounds of New Year’s goods, piled like miniature mountains before the shop.
Just past the village gate, another road branched off, where an old three-wheeled cart chugged along. The driver, an elder of the village known as Grandpa Niu, sat at the helm, bundled tightly in thick cotton garments, a woolen cap snug over his head. Upon the cart rested half a slaughtered boar, the flesh fresh and glistening.
From within the carriage, Chen Yan caught sight of the familiar figure and immediately gestured for the driver to halt. As the car came to a stop, he stepped out and called, “Grandpa Niu.”
The old man squinted, recognizing the young man before breaking into a toothy grin. “Eh? Little Yan, you’ve returned? Winter break already?”
“Grandpa Niu, you’ve mixed things up again. I graduated a long time ago.”
Grandpa Niu gave a thoughtful nod as his gaze drifted over the sleek black carriage. “Ah, come home for the New Year, eh? That’s good, that’s good. Be sure to burn some incense for your grandmother, bow a few more times at the altar.”
He patted the pork in the cart behind him. “Lame Li butchered his year-old pig yesterday. Too much meat for his family to eat, so I bought half. Have you got your New Year’s meat sorted? If not, come by my place later and I’ll cut you off a leg.”
Chen Yan chuckled. “Alright, Grandpa Niu. If we’re short, I’ll knock on your door.”
The old man waved his hand dismissively and urged the cart forward, its creaky wheels groaning as he slowly disappeared down the road.
Chen Yan returned to the vehicle, catching Lu Si Si’s curious gaze. He grinned. “Shame we got here late. If we’d arrived yesterday, we could have feasted on fresh butchered pork.”
Lu Si Si’s expression shifted to mild discomfort. “Slaughtering pigs? I… I don’t think I could bear to watch that.”
Meanwhile, Gu Qing Yi raised her head, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Slaughtering pigs? Can it still be done? Could we see one?”
Chen Yan stroked his chin thoughtfully. “There should be other families who raise pigs. I’ll ask around, and if anyone’s got one, I’ll take you to watch.”
Gu Qing Yi pondered for a moment before shaking her head. “Watching isn’t interesting. Can I try it myself?”
Chen Yan rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore his peculiar little stepmother.
The vehicle proceeded deeper into the village. The house left behind by the old matriarch stood near the western edge. Just fifty meters away, another home loomed in darkness—its owners, a family whose children had long moved to the city, had taken the elders with them for the New Year, leaving their home silent and lifeless.
That suited Chen Yan just fine. No neighbors meant no disturbances.
He guided the driver to reverse into the courtyard before stepping out to assist with unloading their baggage and festive goods. Once done, he promptly settled the fare via mobile payment, then handed the driver a pack of cigarettes. “Thanks for the ride, sir. Travel safe, and happy New Year.”
The driver, pleased with the gesture, exchanged WeChat contacts with Chen Yan, promising a discount should he need a ride back to Jin Ling Prefecture. Without the platform’s service charge, both sides would profit.
As the driver departed, Chen Yan stood before the house, his gaze lingering upon the familiar silhouette of the building. Every past visit, he had been greeted by the old woman’s presence in the hall, her figure as natural as the flickering lamplight. Now, though the lamp still shone, the room felt hollow.
It wasn’t grief, not really—just a quiet longing.
After all, the old woman had departed, but she hadn’t truly departed.
In his mind, the renowned village oracle Old Madam Huang and the Ghost Race Ancestor of the Domain Realm blurred into one, making it difficult to separate reality from legend.
With a breath, he pushed open the hall doors, allowing the chilly wind to slip past before shutting it behind him. Gu Qing Yi entered with ease, unfazed by the cold. Lu Si Si, however, shivered, stamping her feet to fend off the cold as her wide eyes roamed the rustic interior, her curiosity plain.
Chen Yan gave a wry smile. “Wait here. I’ll get the stove going—otherwise, we won’t even have warm water tonight.”
“I’ll help,” Gu Qing Yi replied without hesitation.
Lu Si Si, silent but firm, stood beside him as well, making her stance clear.
The kitchen hearth lay dormant, its bricks cool to the touch. In the woodshed behind, old firewood and coal still remained. Chen Yan checked the room—it had been well-kept, the roof unbreached, the wood unspoiled.
Lu Si Si, born and raised in the city, had never kindled a fire herself. Determined to assist, she stuffed the stove with logs, only to find the fire refused to catch. In the end, she managed only to inhale a mouthful of smoke, her cheeks turning red with frustration.
Chen Yan, laughing, nudged her aside and deftly rearranged the wood, coaxing the flames to life step by step. The fire soon crackled, its warmth chasing away the winter chill.
Watching with shining eyes, Lu Si Si murmured, “Did you do this often as a child?”
“Mm, and sometimes, I even had to go up the mountain to chop wood.”
“What?! Chopping wood in the mountains?” Her eyes widened. “That must have been so tough!”
Chen Yan feigned a solemn nod. “Yeah, sometimes I even ran into wolves.”
She gasped, and he smirked inwardly. Teasing her was far too easy.
Most villages near the Dragon Nation’s eastern lands no longer practiced wood-cutting—conservation efforts saw to that. Many had switched to coal or gas. But watching Lu Si Si’s innocent alarm was too entertaining to resist.
Meanwhile, Gu Qing Yi had already ventured into the storage room, returning with dried pickled vegetables and even a sack of rice. Chen Yan arched a brow.
“You sure know your way around my house.”
Unfazed, she replied, “I came alone last time and made myself a meal here. The pickles were quite good.”
As she scrubbed a pot clean, Lu Si Si, not to be outdone, rolled up her sleeves to wash the dishes.
The house, once quiet, was now filled with the bustle of life once more.
The cold of winter bit into the air, its icy fingers leaving a faint blush upon Lu Si Si’s small hands as she hurried back, clutching a stack of bowls and chopsticks. Her delicate features bore a trace of guilt, and she lowered her head slightly as she spoke, “I’m sorry, Chen Yan… I accidentally broke a bowl.”
Chen Yan furrowed his brows slightly but said nothing. Stepping forward, he took the bowls from her hands, then gently pulled down her sleeves, attempting to shield her from the cold. He clasped her frost-bitten fingers, sighing, “The water from our tap isn’t heated. You must be freezing.”
“It’s… it’s not that bad, but the bowl…”
Chen Yan chuckled and shook his head. “A broken bowl is nothing. Shattered porcelain brings peace, doesn’t it? I’ll sweep it up later. You go warm yourself inside. There’s a heater in my grandmother’s room. Go and turn it on.”
Though Old Madam had never been wealthy, the house was well-equipped. A television, air conditioning, and even a washing machine tucked away in the corridor behind the hall—everything was in order.
Standing by the stove, Little Madam Gu flicked her gaze toward Chen Yan as he held Lu Si Si’s hand. She arched an eyebrow slightly but said nothing, only giving a knowing smirk before turning away, unbothered.
Once he had sent Lu Si Si off to rest, Chen Yan began unpacking the food supplies from the hall and carrying them into the kitchen. Most of it had come from Boss Fang—frozen seafood, spiced spirit sausages infused with Maotian Wine, and various other delicacies.
The rice cooker was set to cook, water heated on the stove, and Chen Yan busied himself slicing the sausage while Gu Qing Yi prepared some dried pickled vegetables.
After taking a sip of water, Chen Yan stepped into the main hall. To his surprise, Lu Si Si had not gone to Old Madam’s room, nor had she turned on the heater. Instead, she was crouched by the courtyard gate, having already swept up the broken shards of the bowl into a dustpan beside her.
Curious, Chen Yan walked over and saw her reaching out to pet a small dog.
The pup was young, no more than a year old, a village-bred mongrel that wouldn’t grow into anything particularly striking. Yet, all young creatures carried a certain charm, and this one was no exception.
Lu Si Si crouched quietly as the little dog circled her, occasionally nudging against her hand, enjoying the gentle strokes upon its head.
Chen Yan stood behind her, watching for a moment before smiling. “You like dogs?”
“Hmm?” Lu Si Si looked up, somewhat embarrassed. “My family never let me have one. And… I was afraid of raising one before.”
Chen Yan nodded in understanding. “Just remember to wash your hands after petting it. Unlike city dogs, which get bathed every few days, these country dogs might go a whole month without a wash.”
“Huh?!” Lu Si Si froze, instantly withdrawing her hand on reflex. Though her childhood had been devoid of parental affection, her privileged upbringing had instilled in her a habit of cleanliness.
She hesitated for a moment, glancing at the silly yet endearing creature before her. After some deliberation, she reached out once more and continued petting it.
[Whatever. I’ll just wash my hands later.]
As they chatted at the gate, Gu Qing Yi emerged from the house, carrying a small stool. She sat down at the threshold, pulled out a bag of sunflower seeds from her pocket, and began cracking them one by one, occasionally glancing up at the sky.
“The weather doesn’t look good. It’s going to snow soon,” Chen Yan remarked casually.
“Snow?” Both Gu Qing Yi and Lu Si Si looked up at him, their eyes gleaming with excitement.
“Mm. The forecast says it’ll snow in a couple of days.”
At that, Chen Yan suddenly slapped his forehead, recalling something. He turned and headed back into the house.
In Old Madam’s room, he retrieved the portrait that Gu Qing Yi had ‘borrowed’ earlier and carefully placed it back into its frame, returning it to its rightful place on the wall of the main hall.
Both Lu Si Si and Gu Qing Yi followed him inside. Watching his movements, Lu Si Si’s expression grew solemn. She approached and whispered, “Chen Yan, this is your grandmother, isn’t it?”
“Mm.”
She gazed at the photo reverently—the elderly woman in the frame carried a bold and confident smile, the kind that brooked no doubt or hesitation.
After a long moment, Lu Si Si’s voice softened. “Did she… raise you?”
“She raised me for twenty years,” Chen Yan replied with a sigh, retrieving a bundle of incense sticks from the drawer.
“Ah! Are we offering incense? I’ll go wash my hands first!” Lu Si Si exclaimed, dashing off to the sink.
Gu Qing Yi stepped forward, her expression serious as she straightened her robes. Facing the portrait, she took a deep breath and respectfully offered a greeting, her voice clear and composed, “Venerable One, I pay my respects. This junior, Gu Qing Yi, greets the esteemed elder.”
Chen Yan hesitated for a moment before lighting three sticks of incense. He bowed deeply before the portrait. After all, she was… no longer of this world, wasn’t she?
Once Lu Si Si returned, she imitated Chen Yan’s motions, lighting three sticks of incense and bowing earnestly. Her voice, though soft, was sincere.
“Grandmother, my name is Lu Si Si. I am Chen Yan’s friend. Please, if your spirit watches over us, grant him peace and good fortune, keep him safe and free from illness or harm…”
Her words, spoken with genuine devotion, stirred something in Chen Yan’s heart. He glanced at her, his gaze softening.
Lu Si Si finished her prayer and stepped back, looking to Gu Qing Yi beside her.
Gu Qing Yi smirked.
Incense offerings?
For a living person? There was no such custom in the Domain Realm—why would one offer incense to the Venerable One who yet lived?
Still, after a moment’s contemplation, the young ‘stepmother’ picked up three sticks, lit them, and solemnly bowed.
“Venerable One, may you live eternal, may auspicious fortune befall you, may you attain the Dao and bask in the divine favor of the heavens.”
Lu Si Si blinked, confused.
Chen Yan rolled his eyes and immediately pulled Lu Si Si aside. “Ignore her. She’s been reading too many immortal cultivation novels.”
With their respects paid, the three of them turned to prepare the evening meal.
Dinner was a simple fare—white rice with steamed spiced spirit sausages, accompanied by a plate of pickled vegetables. A humble yet warm meal to end the cold winter night.
“Tonight, we shall dine simply,” Chen Yan said with a warm smile as he sat at the table, addressing the two young women. “We’ve just returned, and the house is lacking provisions. Tomorrow, I’ll go to the market to buy fresh ingredients, and then I’ll cook us a proper meal.”
Gu Qing Yi nodded slightly, saying nothing. She lowered her head and ate, her chopsticks steadily bringing food to her lips. Miamia… This woman seems rather fond of my homemade pickles, Chen Yan thought in quiet amusement.
Lu Si Si, her face tinged with shyness, murmured, “It’s not simple at all. There’s rice, there’s meat. This is already wonderful. If you’re going to the market tomorrow, shall I accompany you? Will it be a lively one?”
Chen Yan chuckled. “Yes, we need to stock up on a lot of things. I’ll take you along to see the bustle.”
As he glanced at the two young women seated before him, a peculiar feeling welled up in his heart. This arrangement—this family dynamic—was truly unconventional.
He and Lu Si Si could be considered a couple, at least loosely. As for Gu Qing Yi, their relationship, by strict lineage, was that of a legitimate mother and illegitimate son?
Then… this situation resembled…
Bringing a girlfriend home for dinner… with one’s own mother? Meeting the elders?
What an interesting scene—
At this table, they had a mother and son, a pair of lovers, and a soon-to-be mother-in-law with her prospective daughter-in-law…
And wouldn’t you know it? Out of the three, the “son” was the eldest of all!
That night, their first evening back in the countryside passed peacefully.
Chen Yan slept in a spare room, having left the Old Madam’s chamber to Gu Qing Yi and his own bedroom to Lu Si Si. Both of those rooms were equipped with air conditioning. The house had one more vacant room with a small bed, so he made do with that. After all, with his Qi cultivation, his body was strong and resistant to the cold.
Lu Si Si, on the other hand, was just an ordinary girl, her constitution even weaker than most. Her entire eighteen years had been marred by misfortune, riddled with illness and injury. After a long journey, exhaustion took hold of her, and she soon drifted into sleep.
Chen Yan sat cross-legged on the small bed, circulating his Vital Energy Circulation Method. Yet, his mind remained unsettled.
Suddenly, a faint noise from the courtyard reached his ears. Rising, he put on his shoes and stepped outside—only to find Gu Qing Yi standing in the night beyond the threshold.
“Why aren’t you asleep at this hour? Trying to play the role of a ghostly beauty?” he quipped.
Gu Qing Yi turned, her gaze cool. “You’re awake as well. And…” Her lips curled into the faintest smirk. “Don’t think I don’t catch your jabs. I’ve seen A Chinese Ghost Story. You’re implying that I’m out here haunting the night like a specter, aren’t you?”
Chen Yan scratched his nose awkwardly. “What are you looking at?”
“The mountain,” she replied, pointing into the darkness.
Beyond the village lay a distant peak, its silhouette barely visible under the moonlight.
“What’s so interesting about that?”
“I’m checking for spirit monsters or lingering demonic aura,” Gu Qing Yi sighed. “Since leaving the Domain Realm, I’ve been idle. The only exception was when I slew that Mountain Fiend in Jin Ling Prefecture. If there were even a single creature lurking nearby, I could use it for practice.”
Chen Yan gave her a side-eye. “Use your brain—Old Madam has lived here for decades.”
Gu Qing Yi tilted her head, puzzled. “And?”
“What spirit dares to linger here? Do they have a death wish?”
She furrowed her brows, contemplating. Then, after a moment, she shook her head. “Not necessarily. The Exalted One does not exceed the boundary of worlds. She can’t use her magic here. Even if she encountered a spirit monster, she might not have exterminated it. Who knows? There might be something entertaining left behind.”
Chen Yan arched a brow. “Your hands itch that badly? You just have to fight something?”
Gu Qing Yi’s expression turned solemn. “I practice Battle Method. On the Hell-Suppressing Platform, I walk the path of slaughter, refining my soul with killing intent. Every so often, my bloodlust surges…”
Chen Yan froze, instinctively shrinking back. He lowered his voice. “Wait, you have to kill something?”
“Not necessarily,” she said, meeting his gaze with grave sincerity. “I can suppress it. But my temper worsens. I get irritable… and I start wanting to punch people.”
“…”
Chen Yan took a deep breath. “Alright! First thing tomorrow, I’ll ask around the village. See if anyone’s butchering a pig. You can… help. If not, I’ll buy you a chicken. It’s New Year soon, anyway.”
Gu Qing Yi cast him a long, unreadable look before wordlessly retreating into the house.
Later that night, as Chen Yan lay in bed, he heard the wind rise. A chill crept into the air, the temperature steadily dropping.
By morning, when he stepped outside, the world had transformed.
Snow had fallen in thick blankets, covering the land in pristine white. Large, fluttering flakes still drifted from the sky. It had snowed all through the night.
The tree in the courtyard, its bare branches draped in frost, stood as a silent sentinel to winter’s arrival. Every rooftop in the village was capped with a layer of glistening white.
Chen Yan walked across the snow, savoring the satisfying crunch beneath his boots. He inhaled deeply, a smile curling his lips. Compared to Jin Ling Prefecture, this northern countryside had harsher winters and more frequent snowfalls. Such a sight would be rare in the south.
Turning back, he spotted Gu Qing Yi leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, her gaze lifted to the sky.
The air was crisp, their breaths visible in the cold. Chen Yan chuckled. “Awake? Tell me, does the Domain Realm see snowfall?”
“Mm. It does,” she murmured. “But I haven’t seen much of it.”
Stepping into the snow, she bent down and scooped up a handful, rolling it between her fingers. A quiet sigh escaped her lips.
“Is all the snow in your world white?” she mused. “It looks… so pure.”
Something in Chen Yan’s heart stirred. “Yours isn’t?”
She was silent for a long time. Then, softly—
“Some is white. Some… is not.”
She continued kneading the snow in her palm, lost in thought, as flakes settled in her hair and on her shoulders.
Finally, she exhaled another sigh.
“Your world… is truly beautiful.”
Lu Si Si was a child of the city—any girl raised amidst towering pavilions and bustling streets would naturally develop the habit of savoring late mornings during the rare leisure of holidays.
Who in their right mind would willingly rise at the hour of the roosters when the occasion called for rest?
Even so, she had set an alarm for eight. It was her first time visiting Chen Yan’s ancestral home, staying under another’s roof, and she did not wish to leave the impression of a slothful guest.
Yet, before the sun had even graced the horizon, the village had already erupted into a chaotic chorus of crowing roosters and barking hounds, fracturing her sleep. She drifted in and out of slumber, the interruptions pulling her into an even deeper drowsiness.
At eight, the alarm shrilled. Half-conscious, she silenced it with a clumsy swipe, murmuring in her mind, [Just five more minutes… Only five more…]
When she next opened her eyes, dread crashed over her like an icy tide. She seized her phone—
Ten-thirty!
Panic spurred her into motion. She leapt from her blankets, scrambled into her clothes, barely sparing a thought for her disheveled hair before she burst from the room.
The moment she threw open the door, a gust of chill stabbed through her, shaking off the remnants of her sleep. The night’s warmth, cocooned in an air-conditioned room, was nothing but a fading dream. She shivered violently—
Only for her expression to change in an instant, the dread melting away into childlike wonder.
“Snow! Such heavy snow?”
Chen Yan was already in the courtyard, wielding an iron shovel as he cleared the blanketed ground. He looked up at her, his lips quirking into a smile. “Awake at last? Want to build a snowman this morning?”
Lu Si Si stood there, momentarily stunned. Then, her face brightened with delight, and she nodded vigorously. “Yes! Let’s do it!”
She had spent her years growing up in Jin Ling Prefecture, rarely venturing beyond its borders save for a brief sojourn to Harbor City. Winters in Jin Ling did bring snow, but never in abundance. And with the changing times, snowfall had become increasingly scarce.
Thus, this sight—this world buried in a crystalline embrace—filled her with exhilaration.
Chen Yan set aside the shovel and strode over to her, fingers deftly fastening the front of her unbuttoned down coat. His voice was gentle, carrying the faintest edge of amusement. “It’s cold. Don’t catch a chill. Go wash up and have breakfast.”
As he adjusted her coat, the tenderness of the gesture sent a flush rushing to her cheeks. She lowered her head, murmuring, “Oh… okay.”
Breakfast was simple—white porridge with pickled vegetables and a fried egg. Yet Lu Si Si’s heart had already been stolen by the snow outside. She devoured the meal in haste, then dashed out to the courtyard.
By then, Chen Yan had already cleared a path, and he handed her a shovel. “Go on, have fun.”
As she set about piling snow, he departed briefly, returning soon after, pushing an electric three-wheeled cart he had borrowed from a fellow villager.
By then, Lu Si Si had fashioned a mound, shaping it with frozen fingers to form the beginnings of a snowman’s head. Meanwhile, Gu Qing Yi stood at the doorway of the main hall, exhaling mist into the frigid air, lost in contemplation as she gazed at the falling snow.
The sharp honk of the three-wheeler startled both girls.
“Where did you get that?” Gu Qing Yi asked, raising a brow.
“Borrowed it,” Chen Yan replied with a chuckle. “I’m heading to the town’s market to buy supplies. Do you want to come?”
“Go?”
“Go!”
Both girls responded at once, their eagerness unmistakable. Lu Si Si, in particular, practically radiated excitement.
“Good. We’ll stock up on everything we need for the New Year. We can have lunch in town as well.”
Chen Yan patted the three-wheeler. “Hop on.”
Though the vehicle was not large, it had ample space for the two girls. Gu Qing Yi, intrigued, contemplated taking the reins herself, but Chen Yan swiftly rejected the idea—
The cart was borrowed, after all. If the ever-unpredictable Little Madam Gu drove it into a ditch, his martial prowess might shield Lu Si Si from harm, but how would he explain the wrecked cart to its owner?
Before climbing aboard, Lu Si Si dashed back inside, emerging with a scarf in hand. Without a word, she wrapped it snugly around Chen Yan’s neck before quickly hopping onto the cart, her cheeks glowing crimson.
The town was merely three li away, but with snow making the roads treacherous, their journey stretched to twenty minutes.
Upon arrival, as Chen Yan dismounted, Lu Si Si hastened to his side, brushing the snow from his coat. Her eyes darkened with concern as she reached up to touch his chilled face. “You… your face is frozen.”
“It’s nothing. The cold won’t harm me.” He smiled, shaking his head. “Did you forget? I know magic spells.”
Lu Si Si’s gaze flickered, then softened with a smile. “I know… I just worry for you.”
Gu Qing Yi, standing by the cart, watched their quiet exchange with an impassive expression.
[Ugh. Why must I witness this nonsense?] She huffed inwardly, longing for a formidable spirit monster to slay instead.
The town was alive with the market’s festive spirit. In line with tradition, vendors would set up stalls for three days before the New Year’s Eve, offering everything from meats and fresh produce to rare delicacies.
Chen Yan filled their baskets with an array of provisions—fish, meat, eggs, vegetables, and fruit—enough to sustain them through the festival. Then, his gaze landed upon a fireworks stall.
Catching the girls’ eager stares, he strode over and, without hesitation, made a generous purchase.
A full crate of the infamous Gatling-style firecrackers was among the haul!
With the three-wheeler unable to accommodate the excess load, he arranged for the shopkeeper to deliver the goods directly to the house.
Afterward, they dined at a noodle shop before wandering through the market once more, indulging in snacks and sweets.
Though Gu Qing Yi had remained composed throughout their grocery shopping, the moment they reached the stalls laden with festive treats, she transformed entirely.
She bought fried twists and crispy snacks, amassing them in large bags. She stocked up on malt sugar in a quantity that could doom her to diabetes. She gathered sesame candy and flaky pastries, enough to overwhelm even the most gluttonous soul.
Chen Yan, after a brief calculation, concluded that the sheer volume of Gu Qing Yi’s treats could sustain her through an entire festival—perhaps even as a substitute for actual meals.
Only when their purchases included New Year paintings and couplets did they finally set out for home, their hearts light and their spirits soaring.
On the eve of the new year, there was an old custom—offering golden ingots and spirit money to the ancestors. Yet, Chen Yan did not partake in this practice.
After all, the Old Madam still lived.
A simple incense offering would suffice. To honor a revered one of her stature—whose position in the Domain Realm was akin to that of celestial deities—burning incense made sense. But to offer spirit money? That would be absurd.
That afternoon, the snowfall ceased, yet the roads turned treacherous, glazed with ice. The journey home stretched beyond half an hour, every step requiring care.
As Chen Yan neared the village, a lone figure stood by the roadside. His head, though once shaven, now bore a faint stubble, betraying days without a razor’s touch. Draped in a long cotton robe, a cloth satchel slung across his shoulder, he carried bags of rice and grain in his hands. His garb bore the semblance of a monk, yet something about him felt… unrefined, like a counterfeit relic from a forgotten temple.
Chen Yan recognized him at a glance. Slowing the vehicle, he called out, “Chu Yi!”
The monk turned—a face disarmingly youthful, his features ordinary, with narrow eyes and full lips, no older than seventeen or eighteen. Yet his gaze lacked a certain liveliness, a sluggishness veiling his spirit.
He hesitated for a brief moment before his lips curved into a broad, guileless smile. His voice carried warmth and familiarity. “Yan Ge, you’re back.”
This young monk was named Wang Chu Yi.
His given name, Chu Yi, did not stem from a birth on the first day of the new year. Rather, it was a careless choice by his father, who had never progressed beyond the first year of middle school. A name bestowed without thought—so was the man who had named him.
Chu Yi’s fate had been harsh from the start. Before he reached his first year, tragedy struck. His mother, toiling at daily chores, suddenly collapsed. A fatal stroke. No one could save her.
His father remarried when Chu Yi was three, granting him a stepmother.
At four, his father fell to his death at a construction site. Just like that, Chu Yi became an orphan.
The site owner paid compensation, but to whom would the silver fall? A child of four held no claim. The stepmother, however, found fortune in misfortune. And to her, the child left behind was a burden, an unwanted remnant of a husband now gone.
He grew up under neglect. One winter, a fever struck. The stepmother, indifferent, delayed his treatment. The flames of the fever burned deep, scorching his mind, leaving him slow—neither a fool nor wholly witless, yet forever a step behind in thought and action.
In his youth, the village children taunted him, jeering at the ‘dull-witted one.’ But Chen Yan, raised under the teachings of Old Madam, never stooped to cruelty. He shielded Chu Yi when others sought to bully him.
So it was that Chu Yi, younger by several years, clung to Chen Yan like a shadow, a loyal follower who trailed him through their childhood. With Chen Yan’s protection, the taunts and torments subsided.
His stepmother had little intent to send him to school. But the Old Village Chief, ever one to uphold justice, intervened, threatening legal retribution. “The law demands nine years of schooling—deny him, and the officials will come for you.”
Thus cowed, the woman grudgingly allowed Chu Yi to study. He scraped through to middle school, yet his mind could never grasp the lessons. A perennial dweller at the bottom ranks of his class, he stood no chance of advancing to high school, nor even a trade school.
At fifteen, having completed middle school, he left home. An Old Monk from the abandoned temple on the mountain took him in, accepting him as a disciple. And so, he became a monk.
His stepmother, ever eager to rid herself of the burden, rejoiced at his departure. With him gone, she sold the house and farmland, vanishing into another life, another village.
The Old Village Chief, aware of this, did not interfere. In private, he confided to Old Madam, “This child… his fate is sealed. If he were to go out into the world, he would be deceived, exploited, left with nothing. He is neither quick nor clever, and no woman will willingly wed him. His future, bleak as it is, has little room for hope.”
Yet the Old Monk was a good man, one of their own, and the temple, though humble, possessed a vegetable garden leased from the village.
“When the Old Monk passes, the temple and its land will belong to Chu Yi. At the very least, he will have a place, a means to survive.”
A heavy sigh had followed. Fate was merciless, and there was only so much outsiders could do.
The temple’s incense offerings were sparse, yet it stood alone within ten miles—enough to draw some measure of offerings and prayers from the devout.
Within the quiet village, whenever a household observed the solemn rites of passing, the temple was always included. The monks would be summoned to chant sutras and guide the departed souls, earning them a meager sum of offerings—just enough to sustain their humble existence. When the grandmother of Chen Yan passed away, Wang Chu Yi had accompanied his master to the household, lending his presence to the rites.
Beyond their ritual duties, the temple also possessed a small plot of land where they cultivated vegetables, ensuring that the master and disciple had no concerns about food or shelter. Life was simple, yet sufficient.
Since Wang Chu Yi had taken vows, Chen Yan had encountered him a few times. The young man, truth be told, did not fully grasp the essence of monastic life. In his mind, he had merely acknowledged the old monk as his master and was now apprenticing under him—learning a craft, so to speak. He tilled the temple’s garden, fetched water, attended to his master’s daily needs, and recited sutras as if practicing a trade rather than embracing the path of enlightenment.
The old village chief had long sought to formalize the temple’s status, running back and forth through bureaucratic channels in an attempt to secure official recognition. Yet, after years of effort, the paperwork never came through. Finally, in a stroke of unconventional wisdom, the chief devised another approach.
Since the temple remained unrecognized and the old monk had no official standing, they were in a precarious position. So, the chief arranged for Wang Chu Yi to be formally adopted by the old monk. Thus, in the eyes of the law, the monk became his legal guardian. With this, Wang Chu Yi’s name was added to the land contract, ensuring that both the temple and its grounds would one day pass to him.
It was no surprise when Chen Yan encountered Wang Chu Yi again. According to village tradition, the monks would always venture out to seek alms before the New Year. The long-standing ties between the temple and the villagers ensured that, as the year came to an end, people were willing to donate—be it a few coins, a bottle of cooking oil, or a sack of rice, all given in the spirit of goodwill.
Yet, something was amiss this time. In previous years, the old monk had always led Wang Chu Yi through the village. Today, however, the young monk stood alone.
“Where is your master?” Chen Yan asked with a faint smile.
“Master… is ill.” Wang Chu Yi’s voice was slow, deliberate, his expression as placid as still water. “He has not risen from bed for three days. He said that if we did not seek alms now, there would be no justification to beg for offerings once the new year arrived.”
Chen Yan frowned. “He’s sick… Has he seen a doctor?”
“No. A physician from the village came and administered an IV drip, saying we should wait a few days to see how he fares,” Wang Chu Yi replied in his usual sluggish manner. His mind had suffered damage from a high fever in childhood, leaving him slow in both thought and speech. Chen Yan, familiar with his nature, was not surprised.
After a brief pause, Chen Yan reached into Wang Chu Yi’s satchel and fished out a card adorned with a QR code. The world had changed—even monks had to keep pace with the times. In this era, alms-seeking required a digital touch. Few carried cash anymore, even in the countryside.
The old monk had a mobile phone and would always bring this donation card while seeking alms. Now, it was Wang Chu Yi who carried it in his place.
Chen Yan took out his phone, scanned the code, and transferred a thousand yuan.
“It’s freezing, and the snow hasn’t stopped. Head back soon.” He paused, then added in a firmer tone, “If your master’s condition does not improve, take him to a hospital. And if you run into trouble, come find me in the village.”
“Mm, alright.” Wang Chu Yi nodded, then hesitated, his expression turning serious. “Thank you, Brother Yan.”
Despite having spent years in the temple, he had yet to learn the customary gestures of devotion—no clasped hands, no murmured invocations of the Buddha’s name. His mind, never suited for scholarly pursuits, struggled even more with Buddhist scriptures.
And, after all, it was an abandoned temple. Who knew if even his master was truly well-versed in the sacred texts?
Now eighteen, Wang Chu Yi remained simple-minded, his understanding of the divine limited to just two figures—Tathagata Buddha and Guanyin Bodhisattva. Beyond them, he could recall no other deities.
With a grateful nod, he clutched the alms he had gathered—rice, flour, and other provisions—and trudged through the snow, each step sinking deep as he made his way toward the back mountain.
Chen Yan watched his retreating figure, lost in thought. He had not noticed when Gu Qing Yi had approached and now stood beside him, silently observing Wang Chu Yi’s departure.
Yet something was strange. There was an unmistakable gleam in Gu Qing Yi’s eyes—a keen, almost hungry interest.
“You know him?”
“Mm. He’s from the village. I’ve known him since childhood.” Chen Yan frowned slightly. “Why do you ask?”
Gu Qing Yi glanced at him, her voice hushed. “Use your Qi Observation Technique on him.”
Chen Yan’s heart stirred. Without hesitation, he channeled his vital energy, focusing his sight on Wang Chu Yi’s departing silhouette.
In an instant, his expression shifted.
Under the scrutiny of Qi Observation, Wang Chu Yi’s fate was laid bare. A dense and solid aura of fortune hovered above his head, faintly tinged with a peculiar glow—a subtle yet undeniable streak of purple radiance, flowing through his destiny like a hidden current.
Chen Yan’s heart tightened. Purple light—an omen of great fortune!
By all appearances, Wang Chu Yi was on the verge of encountering extraordinary luck in the near future.
However…
Chen Yan narrowed his eyes, his brows furrowing deeper.
Something was off.
Beyond the auspicious purple glow, a faint yet insidious black mist coiled within his fate, intertwined with the very essence of his fortune—two forces, seemingly born of the same source, yet locked in a precarious dance.
Chen Yan spoke with measured caution. “He is about to experience an incredible stroke of fortune. But within this luck… there is a trace of demonic aura.”
He exhaled slowly, his gaze somber. “This fate… is not of righteous origin.”
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation