Transmigrating to the Qi Family - Chapter 203

In the still of the deep night, the temple is quiet, with only the occasional sound of insects chirping breaking the silence. Pei Che and Jiang Miao, seeing that the time is right, gently push open their door and follow the route they scouted in the morning, arriving at the meditation room where Monk Liaozhi resides.

Due to his leg injury, Liaozhi rarely ventures out to meet others, so the place he lives is quite distant from his fellow monks’ quarters. This distance conveniently makes it easier for Pei Che and Jiang Miao to visit him late at night.

When they arrive, the candle in Liaozhi’s room is still lit. As they approach the door, Liaozhi’s voice comes from inside the room: “Dear benefactors, the door is not latched. Please, come in directly.”

Pei Che and Jiang Miao exchange glances, realizing that this candle has been deliberately left for them. It seems that they are not the only ones with doubts—Liaozhi also has something to share with them.

“Please take a seat, benefactors. This humble monk is inconvenienced by my injury and cannot rise to greet you properly. I hope you will forgive my lack of decorum.”

“No need to worry,” Pei Che replies, shaking his head slightly to show he doesn’t mind. He is more concerned about another matter. “Master Liaozhi, is there more to your leg injury than meets the eye?”

Liaozhi lets out a bitter laugh and replies, “My leg is indeed injured by bandits, but…” He sighs deeply, leaving the sentence unfinished.

“But is it truly bandits, or someone impersonating them? That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Pei Che follows his train of thought, closely observing Liaozhi’s face. As expected, Liaozhi’s expression turns bitter, a clear sign that Pei Che’s guess has hit the mark.

“Master Liaozhi, as a monk, it’s unlikely anyone would specifically target you, let alone go to the extent of sending impostors to kill you and cover their tracks. However, the fact that they choose to injure your leg rather than take your life suggests that they still harbor some lingering sentiment. After much thought, I suspect this person is related to the late Master Wuming, who is said to have fallen victim to a wild beast. Am I correct?”

As Pei Che speaks, he keeps his eyes fixed on Liaozhi, carefully noting every nuance of his expression.

Liaozhi seemed stunned, his eyes losing focus as his thoughts drifted far away. After a long silence, he let out a sigh and said, “The benefactor’s guess is about eighty to ninety percent correct.”

Three years ago, on an ordinary day, Liaozhi had carried a bamboo basket down the mountain to purchase incense and joss paper in Yangshu Village. As a temple, the daily offering of three sticks of incense before the Buddha was an absolute necessity, so every ten days, he would make this trip.

The people of Yangshu Village were not unfamiliar with him. Since Master Wuming had been lost to a beast attack, it was Liaozhi who had taken over these errands over the years. On his first trip down the mountain, however, he had lost the money pouch entrusted to him by the abbot. Standing there in a panic, he was so distraught that he nearly cried. It was the villagers, contributing a few coins here and there, who helped him gather enough silver to make his purchases and avoid an embarrassing failure on his first errand.

Over the years, the villagers sold their goods to the temple at prices lower than those charged to others and occasionally treated Monk Liaozhi to vegetarian meals. Grateful for their kindness, Liaozhi would voluntarily visit the village whenever there was a funeral to chant a passage of the Rebirth Sutra and perform a small ritual for the deceased.

One day, after purchasing supplies and preparing to return to the mountain, Liaozhi overheard that Elder Jiang from the neighboring village had passed away. Elder Jiang would often come to Yangshu Village on market days to sell food. He was a kind-hearted man who would always offer steamed buns to those too poor to afford a meal, helping them through hard times. Liaozhi himself had received vegetarian buns from Elder Jiang on many occasions.

He left his bamboo basket at the home of a familiar villager, took some incense and joss paper, and headed for the neighboring village. The path to the village had two routes: a longer main road and a shortcut through the mountains. Being light-footed and quick, Liaozhi naturally chose the mountain path.

When he arrived, the Jiang family was in the midst of the funeral. Seeing Liaozhi, they initially thought he was a monk seeking alms. It wasn’t until they noticed the incense and joss paper in his hands that they realized he had come specifically to pay his respects.

After offering incense, Liaozhi sat cross-legged on a straw mat, took out his wooden fish, and began chanting the Rebirth Sutra while striking the instrument. His solemn demeanor and the profoundly moving scripture brought the Jiang family to tears, allowing their pain to flow out with their tears.

When he finished, Liaozhi performed another ritual and stayed until Elder Jiang was buried. Only then did he bid the Jiang family farewell.

The Jiang family was deeply grateful. If not for the monk, their elder would not have had such a grand funeral. 

When it was time for Liaozhi to leave, they insisted on arranging a cart to send him back.

Although Liaozhi politely declined multiple times, the Jiang family was persistent. Finally, he agreed to let Elder Jiang’s eldest grandson drive a donkey cart to escort him.

Seated in the cart, Liaozhi occasionally looked up and noticed a grand estate halfway up the mountain. Its imposing appearance felt oddly out of place in such a small village.

Curious, he asked about it, and Elder Jiang’s grandson replied, “It was built a few years ago. The owner’s surname is Zhu, and everyone calls him Master Zhu. He doesn’t go out much—so much so that even we, the villagers, rarely see him.”

“So mysterious! Could he be a reclusive master of some kind?” Liaozhi speculated with interest.

The young man chuckled and said, “Master or not, I don’t know. But there’s one thing I do know that no one else does.”

“What’s that?” Liaozhi asked.

“This Master Zhu… he’s bald.”

Realizing his slip after speaking, the young man grew flustered. Talking about baldness in front of a monk could be considered disrespectful. He quickly added, “Master Liaozhi, I didn’t mean you. I apologize!”

Liaozhi chuckled. “That’s nothing unusual. Baldness is common and doesn’t seem like much of a secret. Why is it that only you know about it?”

Seeing that Liaozhi wasn’t offended, the young man grew smug again. “It’s because Master Zhu keeps it hidden. Whenever he goes out, he always wears a hat and even uses donkey tail hair to make a wig, as if he’s terrified people will find out he’s bald. He never takes off his hat in public. But one time, when I went with my father to do some work at his house, I saw him in the backyard. His head was completely bald, and there were a few small marks on it that looked just like the spots on a ladybug’s back. It was so amusing!”

The young man spoke casually, but Liaozhi was struck as if by lightning. Those marks resembling a ladybug’s back were unmistakably ordination scars, left from the head-shaving ceremony of a Buddhist monk. This Master Zhu was undoubtedly a monk who had returned to secular life.

However, monks returning to secular life wasn’t uncommon. In the past, families who were too poor to raise their children sometimes sent them to monasteries to become monks. If their circumstances later improved, they would return to the monastery, donate offerings as a gesture of gratitude, and request the abbot’s permission to let the child return to secular life.

Given Master Zhu’s wealthy background, leaving the monastic life was entirely plausible. But why the need for such secrecy?

Puzzled, Liaozhi carefully inquired about Master Zhu’s physical appearance. The more he listened, the more anxious he became. The description sounded eerily similar to his late senior uncle, Master Wuming, from Ciji Temple. What was even more remarkable was that Wuming’s surname had also been Zhu.

“Brother Jiang, I suddenly remembered I have other matters to attend to nearby. Could you drop me off here?”

“Huh?” Jiang’s grandson was puzzled but obediently stopped the donkey cart to let Liaozhi off. Before leaving, he asked several times to make sure Liaozhi didn’t need further help. Once Liaozhi confirmed, the young man drove the cart away.

After getting off the cart, Liaozhi walked toward the grand estate halfway up the mountain. Standing at the gate, his heart was a mix of nervousness and anticipation. Could this Master Zhu really be his senior uncle Wuming? With so many coincidences, it was hard to believe otherwise.

Knock, knock!

He grabbed the knocker and rapped on the door. After waiting a moment and seeing no one answer, he knocked again.

Footsteps sounded from inside, followed by a voice asking, “Who is it?” As the door opened, the man inside looked surprised to see a monk. After a moment, his expression shifted as if he had realized something.

“Little monk, are you here for alms? Do you need money or food? My master is a devout Buddhist and always shows kindness to monks.”

Liaozhi hesitated briefly before replying, “Sir, monks do not speak falsehoods. I am not here for alms. I have come to meet Master Zhu.”

“Meet our master?” The man grew wary. Why would a young monk show up and immediately ask to see their master?

“Yes. I heard people mention Master Zhu and felt he resembled someone I know. I was hoping you could allow me to meet him,” Liaozhi replied.

The man scrutinized him for a while, concluding that this frail young monk likely posed no threat to their master. At most, he was probably using the pretense of seeking an acquaintance to beg for some favors. However, as just a servant of the Zhu household, the decision wasn’t his to make; it would depend on their master.

Liaozhi watched the man go inside to report, feeling increasingly nervous as he stood outside. After a long wait, the man returned and said, “Little monk, unfortunately, my master is not at home right now. He’s gone out. You should leave.”

As he spoke, his expression was peculiar, and the look in his eyes betrayed confusion and doubt.

Liaozhi’s heart sank. He asked directly, “Is it that your master does not wish to see me?” His initial suspicions, faint at first, now grew much stronger.

The man’s expression changed, and he snapped, “What do you mean, ‘does not wish’? I told you, my master isn’t home. Now leave!” With that, he slammed the door shut.

The more they acted like this, the more curious Liaozhi became. Refused entry, he did not give up. He stayed with a nearby farming family, observing the Zhu household from a distance. Finally, the next evening, he saw a carriage leave the estate. A figure climbed into the carriage—though Liaozhi only caught a glimpse and couldn’t see the person’s face clearly, he was convinced that it must be his senior uncle, Master Wuming. Acting on impulse, he shouted, “Senior Uncle Wuming!”

The figure paused for a moment, visibly stiffening, but still got into the carriage.

The following day, Liaozhi went to the Zhu estate again, hoping to ask Master Zhu directly if there was some untold difficulty he was facing. This time, the gatekeeper allowed him inside. However, upon entering the hall and seeing the man seated there, Liaozhi froze. The person sitting before him was not his senior uncle, Wuming.

Unable to hide his disappointment, Liaozhi left the Zhu estate.

Later, on his way back to the temple, he came across two masked bandits attempting to rob and abduct an elderly couple. Liaozhi stepped in to save them, engaging in a fight with the bandits. During the struggle, one of the bandits slashed at him, severing his leg. When the bandit raised his blade to strike again, he hesitated for some unknown reason. Shortly after, the sound of approaching hoofbeats could be heard in the distance, prompting the bandits to flee into the nearby forest.

The elderly couple carried Liaozhi back to Ciji Temple but quietly slipped away during the night. Whether they feared being asked to cover medical expenses or had some other reason remained unclear.

Because the key witnesses had vanished, the authorities only visited once, asked a few cursory questions, and left, never returning.

In the aftermath of this ordeal, Liaozhi was consumed by anguish, even beginning to doubt his belief in the principle of saving all beings. When he eventually calmed down, he began to notice strange aspects of the situation.

He thought about reporting the matter to the abbot and the other monks, but without solid evidence and fearing that any provocation might bring harm to the temple, he kept silent.

Over the years, burdened by unanswered questions and unable to voice his concerns, Liaozhi’s personality grew increasingly withdrawn and extreme. He became more and more unwilling to interact with others.