Wanghai City, Liuxiang Temple.
The scent of sandalwood was thick, and smoke swirled like clouds.
Pilgrims moved in a constant stream, their chanting and prayers blending into a low hum that filled the temple with a solemn, majestic atmosphere of prosperous faith incense.
“All conditioned phenomena are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, shadows, like dew or a flash of lightning; thus should they be contemplated…” The low sound of chanting echoed between the pillars of the hall.
Xiang Hai, the City Lord of Wanghai City, stepped through the temple gates. The continuous chanting surged toward him like a tide, adding an inexplicable touch of irritability to his heart.
He was not here today to listen to scriptures or worship Buddha.
Lately, he always felt as if his very bones had been stripped from his body, leaving him exhausted and weak.
Last night had been plagued by endless nightmares, as if a thousand-pound weight were pressing down on him, rendering him unable to move. He had woken up drenched in a cold sweat.
His elderly mother was deeply worried, certain that an evil spirit had entered their home. She insisted he come to the Liuxiang Temple, where the faith incense was most potent, to request a peace talisman.
Furthermore, she demanded he pay his respects to the great Buddha enshrined within to seek divine protection.
However, Liuxiang Temple had a peculiar rule: anyone wishing to see the true face of the Buddha had to first offer faith incense money and draw a lot.
Only by drawing a red tally could one knock on the door to the inner depths of the temple and face the Buddha directly.
Xiang Hai had never believed in such things. In his eyes, what kind of great power would a true god or Buddha possess?
Why would they care for ant-like mortals like them? How could they respond to the trivial prayers of the mundane world?
Nonetheless, unable to refuse his mother’s earnest entreaties, he treated it as simply spending money to buy her peace of mind.
While waiting in line, Xiang Hai grew bored, his gaze aimlessly scanning the shifting crowd and the swirling incense smoke. Suddenly, a thick, powerful hand slapped heavily onto his shoulder.
Xiang Hai frowned, suppressing his displeasure as he turned to look. A bearded man, eight feet tall with sharp, monkey-like features, stood behind him with a faint, indiscernible smile on his face.
“Brother,” the man’s voice was booming and carried a hint of over-familiarity, “I wonder if you’d be willing to team up with me? If we succeed, I shall offer you something good.”
Teaming up was an unwritten rule of the temple. Because the chance of seeing the Buddha was so slim, people would gather their questions together, hoping that whoever drew the red tally could convey them on behalf of the group.
The bearded man’s request was likely for this purpose.
“I am not interested,” Xiang Hai refused bluntly, his tone distant and laced with slight impatience.
“I do not lack money.” He already lacked faith in Buddha, and he found the man’s rude behavior even more distasteful.
“Money?” The bearded man laughed, a low and heavy sound as if he had heard a great joke, drawing sideways glances from those around them.
“You misunderstand, Brother. What I want to give you is far more useful than that Kongfang brother, this thing..”
Xiang Hai narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the man. “What can you give me?”
The smile on the man’s face vanished instantly. He leaned in closer, lowering his voice with an air of mystery. “I can give you a question that the Buddha will certainly find interesting.”
Before the words had even finished echoing, he thrust a neatly folded slip of paper into Xiang Hai’s hand.
Xiang Hai subconsciously unfolded the paper and saw a single line of small characters written in ink: ‘Is Jiang Liu still alive?’
“Who is Jiang Liu?” Xiang Hai whispered with a frown. It was a completely unfamiliar name.
He snapped his head up, wanting to ask the bearded man what he meant — however, while the crowd remained as dense as ever, the mountain-like figure of the bearded man had vanished without a trace, as if he had never existed.
‘He certainly moves fast…’ Xiang Hai stared at the paper, his brow furrowing deeper as a strange sensation flickered through his heart.
“Next!” the monk’s announcement rang out.
Xiang Hai quickly tucked the paper into a hidden pocket in his sleeve, paid the faith incense money, and stepped up to the cylinder of lots. He held no expectations, casually drawing a single tally from the container.
“A red tally!” The voice of the monk responsible for announcing the lots suddenly rose, filled with astonishment. “You have such a grand affinity with the Buddha; the Buddha has looked upon you with favor!”
As soon as these words were spoken, it was like a massive stone dropped into a calm lake, and the surrounding crowd instantly boiled over.
“Brother, let’s team up! I am willing to give you one tael of silver!”
“One tael of silver? I’ll give five taels!”
“I’ll give one tael of gold, if only you will ask one thing for me!”
The noisy offers and pleas surged toward him like a tide.
Xiang Hai ignored them completely. With an expressionless face, he accepted the three lifetimes red rope symbolizing his affinity with the Buddha from the monk.
Under the watchful eyes of countless envious, jealous, and yearning gazes, he walked straight into the corridor leading to the depths of the temple.
“Please follow me,” a calm attendant monk said, pressing his palms together in a greeting. His voice was as still as an ancient well.
He led Xiang Hai through the long, smoke-filled corridor toward the main hall where the great Buddha was enshrined.
Xiang Hai pressed his palms together and returned the bow according to etiquette, following closely behind.
As they walked through the silent corridor, only the sound of their footsteps echoed in the emptiness.
His fingers inside his sleeve unconsciously rubbed the cold slip of paper, and the uneasy premonition in his heart grew stronger.
A red tally that others couldn’t get no matter how hard they tried — he had obtained it so easily? Was his luck truly that good?
“We have arrived.” The attendant monk’s voice interrupted Xiang Hai’s thoughts.
He looked up.
Deep within the magnificent Dazhong, a massive golden statue of the Buddha stood majestically.
The statue possessed a solemn and compassionate appearance, yet its eyes were tightly closed, as if it were looking down upon all living beings while simultaneously remaining isolated from the clamor of the world. A heavy sense of pressure washed over him.
Xiang Hai did not dare to be disrespectful. Following the rules, he took nine columns of incense from the side.
“Nine columns of incense for three questions,” the attendant monk’s voice sounded exceptionally clear in the empty Dazhong. “Recite your thoughts silently in your heart, and the Buddha will listen.”
Xiang Hai nodded, his expression grave.
He lit three columns of incense and respectfully inserted them into the massive incense burner.
Then, he knelt upon the P futon, pressed his palms together, and prayed sincerely in his heart: ‘Buddha above, your disciple Xiang Hai has recently felt weak and exhausted, suffering from terrifying nightmares. I venture to ask, is there an evil spirit causing trouble in my home?’
The Dazhong was deathly silent.
After a few breaths, a sudden cold wind brushed past from nowhere. The three columns of incense that had just been lit in the burner began to burn frantically at a speed visible to the naked eye.
The soul-locking smoke surged upward, and sparks flashed violently.
In just a few breaths, the incense shortened rapidly, and finally, they all went out at once. They left behind three fragments — a two short one long incense, which was exceptionally striking.
“A two short one long incense…” The attendant monk’s voice rang out flatly, devoid of any emotion. “The answer: Yes.”
Xiang Hai’s heart gave a violent thud.
‘Could this Buddha be real?’
He opened his mouth, but ultimately did not ask. Suppressing his churning thoughts, he silently lit another three columns of incense and inserted them.
Xiang Hai knelt and prayed silently: ‘Your disciple asks again: will my career and wealth see improvement in the near future?’
This time, the incense burned steadily. However, the three columns of incense finished burning almost simultaneously, leaving behind three fragments of equal length lying quietly in the burner.
“Three columns of equal shortness; this signifies ‘even.’ It shows that fortune is difficult to predict and the path ahead is unclear. The answer: Uncertain.” The monk’s interpretation remained cold.