Chapter 18: Empress Temple

Chapter 18: Empress Temple

The cruise ship sailed along the new route for two days and one night, docking at Shell Island on the return journey.

Shell Island, with its unique geographical advantages and policy support, has been continuously expanding through land reclamation over the years, becoming a new shopping paradise.

Chen Wan has always been modest in his material desires, not particularly fussy about his own food, clothing, and daily necessities, and usually doesn't have high expenses. However, he did pick out a jade watch and a set of gold jewelry for Song Qingmiao at the duty-free shop.

Seeing the large amounts deducted from the subsidiary card over several days, Chen Wan knew that Song Qingmiao had been to the casino again and sighed inwardly.

He took the swiped card from the sales assistant and suddenly noticed a pair of cufflinks displayed prominently in the middle of the Hilton counter. They weren't the season's main product, but they were exquisitely crafted and had a substantial weight.

Chen Wan asked the sales assistant to take them out for a look. After just one glance, he decided, "Please wrap them up for me, thank you."

The sales assistant's prepared pitch went unsaid. She had intended to suggest that these cufflinks might not suit Chen Wan and recommend some enamel or pearl cufflinks instead for this handsome customer.

But Chen Wan was resolute, so she just smiled and said, "Certainly, please wait a moment."

Qin Zhaoting noticed and approached to ask, "Do you like heavy craftsmanship? The 'Longevity and Boundlessness' design from the Wadang series, isn't it a bit too bold and serious?"

Chen Wan, young and gentle, might find it a bit too much.

"No," Chen Wan replied, signing the receipt the sales assistant handed him, "They're for a friend."

Qin Zhaoting knew Chen Wan had a natural knack for kindness, as if born to love. Still, he was a bit surprised. Even on a duty-free island, such a set was pricey. He smiled enviously, "Being your friend is a stroke of luck. I wonder who is so lucky."

Chen Wan just smiled without answering.

He hardly has any friends. His only friend is Zhuo Zhixuan, who never lacks such things.

Even the sales assistant likely guessed the cufflinks weren't for him because Chen Wan bought them for Zhao Shengge.

Perhaps when you like someone, you just want to buy everything suitable for them.

Chen Wan keeps a separate cabinet at home for items he deems suitable for Zhao Shengge.

A handmade tie bought during a business trip to Northern Europe, a silk handkerchief bought while attending a forum and visiting a market in the mainland... ties, watches, lighters, he has already imagined dressing Zhao Shengge up thousands of times in his mind.

The gifts, akin to collectibles, keep growing, but Chen Wan never intends to give them away. They will never be revealed, serving only as fantasies for Chen Wan to imagine them worn by Zhao Shengge. It's Chen Wan's private collection diary, a secret muse for his dreams...

Chen Wan gladly accepted the gift box from the sales assistant, and when he looked up, he met the eyes of the true, albeit unspoken, owner of these cufflinks.

Zhao Shengge was nearby, overhearing their conversation. He wasn't surprised; Chen Wan seemed like someone with many friends and good connections, meticulous with acquaintances and undoubtedly even more attentive and generous with friends.

The style and design of those cufflinks made it not hard to guess what kind of person they were for.

Unexpectedly, he has such a friend, Zhao Shengge thought pensively, his hands in his pockets. The counter lights made him look expensive and aloof.

Chen Wan noticed Zhao Shengge's gaze lingering on the cufflinks and felt a bit guilty. He instinctively clutched the gift bag to his chest, perhaps unaware that it looked like he was afraid Zhao Shengge might also fancy those cufflinks.

"..."

Zhao Shengge simply gazed at him. Chen Wan gave a polite nod, smiled, and headed to other counters.

Whale Ship 17 berthed at Little Star Pier. Chen Wan picked a day to call Song Qingmiao for a meet-up to give her the jade and gold he bought at the duty-free port—he wouldn't go to the Chen residence unless absolutely necessary.

They hadn't seen each other since Chen Wan returned to the old Chen residence during the Ghost Festival. Chen Wan was busy, and Song Qingmiao was even busier—shopping, playing cards, buying bags, drinking tea, every day was packed with activities.

Chen Wan would call her regularly to check in. During one of their calls, Song Qingmiao mentioned that she had been feeling unwell recently. Her family doctor diagnosed it as liver issues from stress and dampness. She asked Chen Wan to accompany her to the Tianhou Temple to offer incense and pay respects to Mazu after he returned from sea.

Chen Wan agreed and didn’t inquire about the large sums she had recently spent on her supplementary card.

Chen Wan did his best to meet Song Qingmiao’s needs, both financial and emotional.

The Tianhou Temple was packed with worshippers. Haishi residents didn’t worship Guanyin or Buddha—they worshipped Mazu. For illness, exams, or business, everyone sought Mazu’s blessings.

Song Qingmiao, with her flowing black hair and elegant cheongsam, looked youthful and charming. Walking together, they looked more like siblings than mother and son, though they could pass as a couple.

Song Qingmiao insisted on going to the inner courtyard to worship the Heavenly Consort and Dragon Maiden, as today was an auspicious day—the 24th of the lunar month—when the goddess would hear prayers.

Chen Wan glanced at the temple entrance, paused, and softly asked, “Should I wait outside?”

“No.”

Song Qingmiao insisted they go together, saying skipping the visit would anger Mazu.

Chen Wan, remembering the Maybach he’d seen while parking, cleverly talked her out of it. “I heard you should only visit the Heavenly Consort every three months. More than that, and Mazu might think you’re greedy.”

There were five Mazu statues, but Chen Wan only knew Lin Moniang, the First Mazu, and Zhuang Jingyun, the Third Mazu—the two Song Qingmiao worshipped most often. One ruled over peace and luck, the other over wisdom and virtue.

“You just paid respects to Lin Moniang last month. This time, you can chat with Jingyun Mazu.”

Jingyun Mazu’s statue was in the west hall, so they probably wouldn’t see anyone.

Song Qingmiao thought Chen Wan made sense but was still a bit upset, as if missing Lin Moniang today would curse her.

Chen Wan consoled her by promising to get her a mutton-fat jade goddess statue for home.

In the inner courtyard, the abbot instructed a young monk to refill Zhao Shengge’s tea. The man before them was a real god of wealth, worth more than their temple’s gold statues.

Haishi had plenty of rich people, but not all were so generous. With such a big annual donation, no wonder the Buddha liked him.

Zhao Shengge had come today to calculate an auspicious date and light incense for the groundbreaking of the new port project. He didn’t believe in gods or spirits; he only believed in himself.

But Zhao Maozheng had insisted he make this trip.

It wasn’t out of old-fashioned stubbornness but rather to temper the heir’s character. Zhao Shengge appeared calm, decisive, and inscrutable, but deep down, he was still too arrogant, sharp, and lacking in empathy—qualities that would hinder him from achieving greater things.

By now, Zhao Maozheng had to admit that his earlier methods of training his eldest grandson had been overly harsh and severe for a child.

Zhao Shengge lacked normal human emotions. Even toward him, there was likely little familial affection.

When Zhao Shengge was young, Zhao Maozheng had burned many of his models in brutal and cruel ways. He also had someone shoot a stray dog Zhao Shengge had picked up, though it was unclear if Zhao Shengge still remembered.

The young Zhao Shengge had watched it all without shedding a single tear.

Such incidents were too numerous to count. In essence, Zhao Maozheng’s anxiety, impatience, and anger over his eldest son’s failures had been vented onto his grandson.

It wasn’t until Zhao Shengge had grown into his own that Zhao Maozheng belatedly realized he might have raised him into a capable man, or perhaps he had ruined him.

Now, however, he could no longer control Zhao Shengge and could only say, “The port and new shipping routes need the Buddha’s blessings.”

Zhao Shengge, emotionless, replied flatly, “From 4:30 to 5:00, I can only spare half an hour to make an appearance.”

He was busy. It wasn’t him going to see the Buddha; the Buddha would have to wait until he finished his meeting.

“…”

Zhao Shengge regretted stepping into the temple within five minutes. In that time, he could have had his new project’s blueprints approved.

The abbot’s speech sounded like scripture chanting, and Zhao Shengge didn’t listen attentively to a single word. However, for the sake of the new project, he kept up a friendly chat for a few minutes.

In front of the statue of the deity, Zhao Shengge remained the same—calm, composed, and polite, leaving the gods and buddhas in the dark about his thoughts.

Occasionally, he nodded in response to the abbot’s remarks, but his thoughts had already wandered through the lattice window to the person in the outer courtyard.

The hands on his wristwatch pointed to 5:30. He didn’t believe that the person who notices everything hadn’t seen his car.

The person wore a soft cotton-linen shirt today, appearing very gentle.

This place was originally a temple built by immigrants from Southeast Asia, later transformed into a Mazu temple by locals. Some areas still retained golden statues and carved eaves. As Chen Wan passed by, he looked like the purple water lily in the courtyard’s water vat.

Moreover, due to the gilded and glazed architecture, there was an indescribable vibe amidst the purity.

He patiently carried the bag for the woman beside him.

Zhao Shengge raised an eyebrow mockingly. Chen Wan seemed pure and ascetic, yet he came to this sacred Buddhist site for romance—a preference that’s hard to respect.

Seeing Zhao Shengge’s somewhat cold expression, the abbot didn’t dare to ramble too much, only asking him to convey greetings to Old Master Zhao and wishing him good health.

Zhao Shengge tilted his chin toward the west hall and asked, “What’s being worshipped there?”

The abbot, noticing his rare interest, explained in detail, “The west hall enshrines Mazu Zhuang Jingyun, the left attendant of the Heavenly Palace, who specializes in wisdom.”

“Oh.”

Chen Wan still wants wisdom? Is there anyone craftier than him?

Zhao Shengge asked as if in a meeting, “When was the goddess statue built?”

The abbot’s eyes shifted, seizing the opportunity, “It’s been several decades. The golden body and gilded colors have worn off. We’re still raising funds for restoration. If you’re interested, Benefactor Zhao, you could accompany me to offer incense—it’s considered a good omen.”

Zhao Shengge, who had said he’d leave in half an hour, checked his watch and said, “Sure, why not.”