Chang Shan ultimately couldn’t win against this Recluse and had to follow him up the mountain.
Chen Changsheng asked: “Is your Master Daoist Priest Xuan Huang?”
“Have you been here before, Recluse?” Chang Shan asked.
Chen Changsheng smiled: “Yes. Not only that, but I also knew your Grandmaster.”
Chang Shan was puzzled for a moment, saying: “The Recluse met our Grandmaster?”
Chen Changsheng nodded: “Your Grandmaster was named Hong Sancai. His Taoist title was simply Sancai. People often called him Daoist Priest Sancai when he was alive.”
Chang Shan looked the Recluse over once more before asking: “Recluse, did you truly meet our Grandmaster?”
“Naturally, I met him. We were friends.”
Chen Changsheng continued: “Has your Master ever told you about your martial uncles?”
Chang Shan paused, utterly disbelieving: “This humble priest… has martial uncles? Why have I never seen them? And why has Master never spoken of them?”
Chen Changsheng explained: “Your Master is the youngest of three martial brothers. Your other two martial uncles chose to go into the mortal world after your Grandmaster passed away, leaving your Master behind to take over as the Temple Master.”
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Chang Shan opened his mouth, still doubtful: “Then… do you know their names?”
“Xuan Tian and Xuan Di.”
Chen Changsheng stated firmly: “If you don’t believe me, go ask your Master.”
Chang Shan was mostly convinced now and pressed on: “Why did those two martial uncles go into the mortal world in the first place?”
Chen Changsheng turned the question back: “Then why stay here?”
Chang Shan replied: “The temple has Master, junior brothers and sisters, food to eat, clothes to wear. Why wouldn’t we stay?”
Chen Changsheng laughed at this. He teased: “To be honest, your two martial uncles were the clever ones. Your Master was the most thoroughly silly, so he was the one who stayed.”
Chang Shan frowned upon hearing this, his voice growing heated: “Master is not silly! How can you say that!”
“If he weren’t silly, why would he remain on this mountain?”
Chen Changsheng countered: “Only someone utterly silly would choose to live out his remaining years bitterly on this mountain.”
“Master isn’t bitter!”
Chang Shan retorted angrily: “Master has us for company, the sparrows in the mountains, the moles in the woods! He lives happily every day! How can you call it ‘bitter remaining years’?”
Seeing Chang Shan defend his Master so passionately, Chen Changsheng couldn’t help but smile: “That’s because your Master has never truly experienced what it’s like to be comfortable in his life. He’s over sixty now and hasn’t known a single day of ease.”
“Master never felt he was suffering!”
Chen Changsheng conceded, but then changed his focus: “But you know, in this world, some people feel satisfied just eating coarse grain pies, while others feel it’s not enough even when feasting on delicacies. The comfort your Master believes he has would seem harsh and poor in the eyes of others.”
Chang Shan challenged: “Then tell me, what would not be considered ‘bitter’?”
Chen Changsheng asked pointedly: “Never mind feasts and finery, but does your Master even have enough clothes and food?”
Chang Shan opened his mouth to argue. Yet, the image of Master’s patched Taoist robe flashed in his mind, and the words wouldn’t come.
Enough clothes? Master didn’t have that.
Sometimes the temple ran short on grain, often skipping meals, forced to forage for wild berries in the woods to fill the stomach. Master always ate the least, giving everything he had to his disciples, claiming he wasn’t hungry.
Enough food? He didn’t have that either.
Chen Changsheng looked at him: “Couldn’t answer that, could you?”
Chang Shan pressed his lips together, finding no words for his defense.
He lifted his head and looked at the Recluse.
He opened his mouth but didn’t know how to formulate the question.
Chen Changsheng asked: “Are you trying to ask how someone can have enough clothes and food?”
Chang Shan nodded weakly: “Mm.”
Chen Changsheng grinned: “I was only explaining the problem, not claiming I could solve it.”
Chang Shan’s head drooped again.
His expression revealed a touch of dejection.
That feeling of helplessness when someone wants to change their circumstances but is powerless to do so – it can be utterly agonizing.
Chen Changsheng, still carrying his water burden, continued steadily up the mountain path.
Chang Shan fell silent, lost in thought about this problem. He felt certain the Recluse knew the answer but wouldn’t share it.
He watched the Recluse intently the rest of the way. Suddenly, he realized the Recluse had walked this long, steep trail carrying water without ever showing a sign of exhaustion, not even a heavy breath.
Chang Shan felt a grudging respect, but another feeling swirled mixed in – a vague dislike of this Recluse who said his Master’s life was bitter and had convinced him so easily.
Soon, they arrived at the temple gate.
Chen Changsheng looked it over. Compared to the past, the Taoist Temple was more dilapidated, years of weathering taking their visible toll.
The sound of forceful punches echoed from the temple courtyard.
Chen Changsheng raised his eyes. The Temple Master stood supervising his three disciples. The slightest mistake, and the switch in his hand would whip their backs.
Chang Shan stepped forward: “Master, I have returned.”
Xuan Huang’s attention stayed fixed on his students: “Then join the practice.”
Chang Shan glanced at the Recluse beside him and turned back to his Master: “Master…”
Xuan Huang turned his head. His gaze fell upon the Recluse.
His stance hesitated slightly. A flicker of astonishment crossed his expression, but it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual gentle calm.
Chen Changsheng walked into the temple courtyard: “How have you been?”
Xuan Huang smiled warmly: “All’s well.”
Chen Changsheng and Xuan Huang entered the inner area of the temple.
The four martial siblings stopped their training.
The youngest disciple, Zi Su, looked at the Recluse and asked: “Senior Brother, who is that gentleman?”
Chang Shan shook his head, unsure how to describe it.
It seemed what the Recluse told him before might all be true.
He truly belonged to Master’s generation.
Chen Changsheng and Xuan Huang walked to a small pavilion behind the temple.
Xuan Huang instructed Chang Shan to prepare two bowls of tea. The source of this content ɪs NoveI★Fire.net
“This is wild tea gathered from the mountains earlier, its flavor is quite pleasant. I hope you won’t mind it, Mr. Chen.”
A bit of tea leaves – it was the most presentable thing he could offer now.
Chen Changsheng smiled: “I’m not fussy. No tea would be fine, having some is best, and certainly no question of minding it.”
Xuan Huang slid the tea bowl toward Chen Changsheng: “Mr. Chen usually arrives around the 22nd of June. This year you seem a few days early.”
Chen Changsheng replied: “Whether early or late, I was coming.”
Hearing this, Xuan Huang gave a quiet, pleased sigh.
As long as Mr. Chen had not forgotten this humble temple, it was enough.
Chen Changsheng took a long look at Xuan Huang.
Compared to six years ago, Xuan Huang was visibly older. More lines etched his brow and around his eyes, and his hair was entirely white now.
Time truly takes its toll…