“Daoist Ling is here?”
“What? Ling Xiaodong is here!”
“Where is he? Where is he?”
“Hurry, take me over to see Brother Xiaodong!”
News of Ling Xiaodong’s arrival spread instantly throughout Qingfeng Temple, turning the entire place as lively as a pot of boiling oil doused with a bowl of cold water.
The young nuns and female devotees inside all surged toward the temple’s main gate.
Linglongzi was a newly admitted female disciple, watching in confusion at this sudden frenzy of her senior sisters. Her close friend, Luohuazi, grabbed her hand excitedly, pulling her along with the crowd.
“Sister, who exactly is this Ling Xiaodong? Why is everyone so excited?”
Linglongzi was dragged forward by her friend, still puzzled as she asked.
At this moment, Luohuazi’s face glowed with excitement as she said eagerly, “Daoist Ling is like a banished immortal! They say that a person is like jade on the roadside, a gentleman unmatched in the world. You’ll know when you see him for yourself what a true handsome man is.”
Linglongzi responded with some skepticism, “Are there really such men in this world? Don’t lie to me, Sister.”
“Oh, you’ll see for yourself soon enough.”
Luohuazi hurriedly pulled her junior sister into the dense circle of people already surrounding the gate.
Linglongzi was crushed and jostled by the crowd, swept along by the tide. Losing her footing, she was pushed out and landed heavily on the ground.
“Ouch!”
A delicate cry rang out as Linglongzi lay on the ground, rubbing her backside, tears stinging her eyes. She already felt resentful toward Ling Xiaodong.
It was all that Daoist Ling’s fault for causing her this undeserved trouble.
“Are you alright, Daoist?”
A concerned male voice came from above.
It was Ling Xiaodong himself! Linglongzi looked up angrily but was immediately stunned.
What kind of incredibly handsome person could this be?
His brows were like swords, eyes shining like stars, face as flawless as polished jade, figure surpassing pine trees. Simply standing there, he was majestic and radiant, strikingly handsome—truly one of a kind in the world!
He was like an immortal exiled from the heavens.
Linglongzi found herself dumbfounded, staring blankly.
“Daoist? Are you hurt, Daoist?”
That peerlessly handsome figure, who seemed to exist only in dreams, reached out his hand toward her.
Linglongzi blushed deeply, eyes full of spring warmth, hands bracing on the ground as she tried to stand, but her legs suddenly weakened. As she reached out to grasp the man’s hand, shouts broke from the crowd.
“Linglongzi? Linglongzi? Where are you?”
Luohuazi also pushed her way out of the crowd.
“Ah! Daoist Ling!”
Luohuazi’s eyes first spotted Ling Xiaodong bending over reaching out, then saw Linglongzi sitting on the ground.
She hurried over and yanked Linglongzi up, grumbling, “Why are you sitting on the ground? I’ve been looking for you for ages. Why did you run off?”
Linglongzi looked at her friend resentfully.
She had almost grasped Daoist Ling’s hand!
Seeing she was apparently unharmed, Ling Xiaodong bowed slightly to the surrounding crowd and said, “Thank you all for your kindness, but I have some business to attend to with Daoist Qingfeng. I must take my leave.”
With that, he leapt forward, slipping out of the crowd.
Behind him came the displeased voices of the young nuns.
“Ah~ Daoist Ling, don’t leave!”
“I haven’t seen you yet!”
Ignoring them, Ling Xiaodong didn’t look back, as if chased by wild dogs, until he reached a quiet herb garden.
“Hah~ my popularity is just too much to handle.”
Ling Xiaodong wiped the thin sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand, still feeling uneasy.
He was used to this by now; whenever he came to Qingfeng Temple, he was often ravaged by a pack of ravenous senior sisters.
Ling Xiaodong once wondered if he was truly that handsome, so he ran to his master to ask.
He remembered it clearly.
At that time, his master was half-reclining in an armchair reading a book when Ling Xiaodong, foolishly serious, came over and asked solemnly:
“Master, am I extremely handsome? The Daoists at Qingfeng Temple all say so.”
His master glanced up from the book with half-lidded eyes.
“Pfft!”
A heartless snort of ridicule, and then he returned to reading.
Every time Ling Xiaodong recalled his master’s disdainful expression and laugh, he wished he could dig a hole in the ground with his toes, embarrassed to death, wanting to beat up the younger version of himself.
So Ling Xiaodong always took the enthusiasm of Qingfeng Temple’s Daoists as their way of comforting him and being friendly.
“Brother Xiaodong!”
A clear, youthful voice sounded from behind.
Damn it! He’d been caught again.
Ling Xiaodong reluctantly turned his head but his eyes lit up with delight.
“Xiaoyan!”
Before him was a petite and adorable girl of sixteen, youthful and charming, dressed simply in a plain blue Daoist robe, slender and graceful like a willow swayed by the wind. Her gentle face was as pure as jade, her shy expression almost otherworldly.
This was Ling Xiaodong’s childhood playmate, Mi Xiaoyan, the girl he had saved from a wild bear in the mountains.
Xiaoyan was holding a watering pot, clearly just tending to the herbs in the garden.
“Brother Xiaodong, what brings you to Qingfeng Temple?”
Mi Xiaoyan smiled, her eyes curved like crescent moons, unable to hide her joy.
Ling Xiaodong pinched her tender cheek playfully and teased, “Of course it’s because I can’t bear the pain of longing and I’m missing Qingfeng Temple’s… braised pork knuckles!”
Mi Xiaoyan dropped her smile, pouting and turning away coquettishly, “Oh, you’re so mean, Brother Xiaodong. Hmph! I’m not talking to you anymore!”
Ling Xiaodong found her fake anger even more endearing.
He suddenly pulled Mi Xiaoyan into his arms from behind, whispering soothingly in her ear, “Just joking. Of course, the one I miss most is my little sister Xiaoyan. Didn’t you say before you wanted to be my Daoist partner? What, changed your mind?”
Though Ling Xiaodong admired his master, he knew that a romance between master and disciple was forbidden by the world.
His master naturally wanted him to become a normal person, to fall in love with a girl of his own age.
And every time he spent time with Mi Xiaoyan, his childhood companion, he could momentarily forget his master’s presence.
Feeling the delicate figure in his arms and the faint scent of the girl’s fragrance at his nose, Ling Xiaodong couldn’t help but recall the “Heaven and Earth Yin Yang Union: The Grand Joy Ode” his master kept hidden under her bed.
Mi Xiaoyan, half-reclining in his arms, blushed deeply, shyly saying, “Who… who said I wanted to be your Daoist partner, Brother Xiaodong? You’re so shameless!”
The beauty in his arms had already melted like spring water; her small, adorable ears burned bright red.
Ling Xiaodong’s teasing spirit surged again, “Oh really? Denying it? Then I’ll punish you according to family law.”
Mi Xiaoyan flustered, pressing his wandering hands away, and said in a soft voice, “Ah, stop it~ Master! Master is here! Let go!”
Ling Xiaodong lowered his head and kissed Xiaoyan’s ruby-like earlobe, grinning triumphantly.
“Such childish tricks won’t fool me. Even if your master came, or the Heavenly King himself, you wouldn’t escape!”
“Ah, stop! She really is here! Master really is here!”
Xiaoyan struggled anxiously in his arms, voice trembling with the hint of tears.
“Oh? Who did you say came? Doesn’t matter.”
A warm, gentle voice like spring breeze came from in front, and Ling Xiaodong froze as if falling into an ice pit.
Mi Xiaoyan hurriedly struggled free and, covering her flushed face, ran away.
Ling Xiaodong stiffly lifted his head, his arm still lingering in a hugging gesture, embarrassed.
“Daoist… Daoist Qingfeng.”
Before him stood a voluptuous, graceful woman wearing a purple-gold Celestial Cave robe embroidered with golden and silver threads depicting the sun, moon, and stars—symbols of her distinguished status.
Her hair was loosely pinned into a high bun; her light makeup emphasized her natural beauty.
With crimson lips and pearly teeth, her elegant demeanor betrayed no sign of being in her late twenties, as if the years had only enhanced her charm like fine wine aging to perfection.
This woman was none other than the abbot of Qingfeng Temple—Ye Yiyun.
Seeing Ling Xiaodong and her disciple affectionately entwined inside the temple, she did not show anger.
Mi Xiaoyan was an orphan she had taken in; though not her biological daughter, their bond was like mother and daughter.
Both had grown up right under her watchful eye.
Ling Xiaodong and Mi Xiaoyan had been childhood friends and now were in mutual affection. In Ye Yiyun’s heart, Ling Xiaodong was already like a son-in-law.
Ye Yiyun spoke gently, “Why so formal? Didn’t I say just call me Aunt Yun?”
She hesitated, then asked, “How is your master… is she well?”
“Master is fine. Either reading or sleeping every day, very well cared for.”
Ling Xiaodong suddenly remembered his original business at Qingfeng Temple and said awkwardly, “It’s just… the temple is barely scraping by.”
Ye Yiyun nodded slightly, as if she was used to it. Then she turned to gaze at the distant mountain peak and sighed, “Yingying still refuses to see me?”
Ling Xiaodong had never known what had happened between the two and asked curiously, “What kind of grudge is there between Aunt Yun and my master? Why won’t your master see you?”
“Just some old matters from the past. You’re not a child anymore; it won’t hurt to tell you. Come with me, let’s sit and talk.”
Ye Yiyun led Ling Xiaodong deeper into the temple.
They passed through a bamboo grove where a clear pond lay, fish swimming as if suspended in air. Beside the pond stood a small, plain hut.
The forest was peaceful and quiet; the hut was simple and unadorned—the abbot’s quarters.
They pushed open the door and entered. Inside, there was only a bed, a desk, and a bookshelf, reflecting the owner’s tranquil and unassuming nature.
Ling Xiaodong followed Aunt Yun into the room.
Sitting opposite each other, Ye Yiyun brewed tea and pondered for a moment before slowly beginning to recount the events of the past.