Chapter 122 Who Has a Better Fate

Chapter 122 Who Has a Better Fate

"Wait inside... or in the inner courtyard!"

The little novice monk’s mind raced through eight hundred thoughts in a minute.

What if the abbot misspoke? This peculiar pilgrim might boldly hand over a silver coin in front of everyone and insist, "Please say it again."

The little novice monk involuntarily shuddered.

Perhaps Buddha would be merciful and not blame him.

But he was certain that the abbot would be furious and call him a "wretched creature."

Why not scold the peculiar pilgrim?

Didn’t you see the silver coin she handed over!

The little novice monk felt proud of his thorough consideration, convinced that if the next abbot wasn’t him, the current one must be blind.

"The inner courtyard! Exit the second gate, turn left, then go straight to the Pavilion of the Stream Enterers!" The little novice monk clutched the “moderate good fortune” stick tightly and fled this place of trouble as fast as he could.

Xianjin held Qiao Baozhu’s hand and walked calmly inside.

Baozhu was only ten years old, but like the other Qiaos Xianjin had met, she was tall and already reached Xianjin’s shoulder height.

Xianjin looked down and saw Fat Huahua’s wet eyes and red nose.

Fat Huahua was looking up at her with anticipation and reliance.

Xianjin gently squeezed Fat Huahua’s palm, reassuring both her and herself, "Don’t worry. We drew a good fortune."

Don’t worry.

She still hadn’t submitted her homework for the “Government” chapter.

This time, she deliberately wrote it poorly.

She was eagerly awaiting the teacher’s sharp critique.

The inner courtyard of Chongqing Temple was simple and clean, with a fresh, rustic wooden style. A bare peach branch welcomed the autumn breeze.

Instead of the breeze, a senior monk with an air of immortality greeted them.

Unlike some contemporary abbots who were short, stout, and dark, Abbot Xinhe truly embodied the image of a sage from beyond the world.

With flowing beard, draped in robes, his face was lean, his eyes bright, and his demeanor kind and gentle.

"Abbot Xinhe," Xianjin and Baozhu bowed together.

He had met the former twice; she was Qiao Shanchang’s youngest daughter, his precious gem.

He had heard much about the latter, a celebrity in Jing County, the spokesperson for Chen’s paper business. Some said she was generous, others ruthless, greedy, foolish, or clever and resourceful.

Thus, Xianjin was a complex figure in his mind—kind, cruel, greedy, generous, smart, and dull all at once.

Now, seeing her, he thought—

What a good face!

Her forehead was full, her brow broad, her ears distinct, her eyebrows long and high, with a small mole between them. Especially notable was her wide and flat wealth palace, indicating prosperity and fortune.

Such a good face was the second he had seen in his many years as abbot in Jing County.

Abbot Xinhe calmly withdrew his gaze, took the stick, and murmured, "Very good, moderate good fortune."

The little novice monk anxiously jumped around, wishing he could climb onto the abbot’s leg and whisper in his ear.

Abbot Xinhe glanced at him, "Monks should control their emotions. Why are you so agitated?"

Xianjin raised her eyes.

The little novice monk hesitated, "This is the second stick..."

Abbot Xinhe didn’t hear clearly.

The little novice monk closed his eyes and raised his head, "This is the second stick! The first one wasn’t this! I don’t know if this one counts!"

Abbot Xinhe nodded noncommittally, "Ah, did you try to stop Miss Qiao when she drew the second stick?"

The little novice monk opened his eyes, thought for a moment, and shook his head—he was too stunned to even speak!

Abbot Xinhe nodded, "This is Buddha’s will, naturally it counts."

The little novice monk was confused.

Abbot Xinhe explained, "All things arise from conditions, all are due to fate. Your silence was Buddha’s guidance. Miss Qiao drawing the second stick under Buddha’s guidance is fate, how can it not count?"

This explanation was very Buddhist indeed!

Xianjin was initially stunned, then smiled—Abbot Xinhe’s words were not just for the novice monk but also for Baozhu.

Sure enough, Baozhu’s eyes welled up as she gripped Xianjin’s hand tightly.

The little novice monk seemed to understand. Abbot Xinhe glanced at Baozhu and smiled, "The meaning of the stick is ‘rebirth through death.’ It says ‘cross the Ming Bridge over West Water,’ implying that your cause and effect lie in water. Cross the water and live, do not cross and die."

Baozhu’s eyes widened, and she nodded vigorously!

Yes, yes, yes!

This morning, I said that Father was locked up in the water prison!

It has a lot to do with water!

Baozhu urgently shook Xianjin's hand and nodded vigorously at her like a fat chick pecking at rice.

Xianjin patted her head reassuringly and then turned to ask Master Xinhé, "What does the latter part, 'Long Wind of the Eastern Sea Rises to the Clouds,' mean?"

Master Xinhé replied, "Wind and water rise from the east; yang and joy are born from the east. This is the way of all things. What you two seek lies in the water, in the east, where clouds and rain alternate, and only after the wind disperses the clouds can one soar high."

That's getting a bit abstract.

You can interpret it however you want.

You could even understand it as swimming a breaststroke in an eastern pool, kicking off with your toes and somehow finding a pure gold brick.

Xianjin closely watched Baozhu's expression, seeing her shift from joy to confusion and then visibly back to happiness, which brought great comfort to her heart.

Her level of psychological counseling only extended to commiserating with her friend by cursing out scoundrels together and advising her, "You can't catch a wolf without letting go of the child," meaning she must be willing to spend money on male college students to have a young body—such shallow and crude advice.

Since science couldn't solve it, they had to rely on mysticism.

Xianjin wanted to ask more but heard Baozhu speak softly and hesitantly, "East... East... does it mean my brother... went to the east?"

Xianjin was overjoyed and hugged Baozhu tightly, "You spoke! You spoke!"

Master Xinhé half-squatted down, gently holding Baozhu's shoulders, his expression filled with compassion, "East might be your east, or the east in the mirror, or the east of Xuancheng... It's just a broad concept. But little girl, your future is bright. Whatever you care about will surely be safe and sound—otherwise, how could you have drawn a lucky sign?"

After a moment of silence, Baozhu's eyes quickly reddened, her lips tightly pressed together, her shoulders trembling, and she burst into tears.

Xianjin gently embraced Baozhu, looking gratefully at Master Xinhé and mouthing a silent "thank you."

Master Xinhé slipped the divination stick into his wide sleeve.

Thank him?

No need to thank him.

The Qiao family's daughter has good fortune, often encountering benefactors.

The He shopkeeper of the Chen family has even better fortune, being a benefactor himself.