Seemingly true but actually false

The clouds drifted by in the stillness, and behind them, a dazzling, pure white sun shone with a chilling light, tracing patterns across the world.

The woman kneeling outside the temple is named Yang Gui. The child in her arms is her only daughter. Her 21-year-old eldest son was originally studying at a top university and his future seemed bright. However, he was tricked into a pyramid scheme by his classmates. Due to long-term absences from class, he was regarded as "automatically withdrawn" by the school. Afterwards, he chose to commit suicide.

The reason is easy to understand: years of hard work and parental guidance have become a thing of the past, and the efforts of twenty-one years of life have gone down the drain. He has become a negative example that cannot be brought to light.

Her husband was a truck driver, and the only one who could get away to take their daughter to seek medical treatment was Yang Gui, a full-time housewife. Holding her child, she sat down in the teahouse with Wen Dai leading the way.

The person in question looked quite self-righteous, sitting next to Yang Gui with his chin held high like a guardian, but this guardian refused to glance at the teahouse owner. Zhang Chengyuan found his posture amusing.

"You told me to do my part, and I did." Wen Dai, who lacked confidence, forced a tough stance, her dark eyes, which were usually bright red, swept over the little girl several times. "I don't know how to treat illnesses, so I have to rely on you. I believe you won't leave someone to die."

Yang Gui's already swollen eyes were still pushing tears down. The veins on the back of her hands were bulging. She tightly hugged the child in her arms, her hips moved forward, and her bent legs seemed to be about to kneel down. Fortunately, Wen Dai held her arm tightly.

"Master, I'm begging you, please heal my daughter! She's my only child—we've taken her to every hospital imaginable, her father and I have spent almost 100,000 yuan! Look at her, she's been unconscious for almost a month, she's even worse than before; ever since that traditional Chinese medicine doctor did acupuncture on her, she suddenly couldn't wake up after a couple of days. I have to carry her to the hospital for IV drips and injections, giving her all sorts of supplements." She sniffled and sobbed, raising one arm and wiping her tears on the sleeve of her wool coat.

Wen Dai couldn't bear to look directly at him. She silently turned her face away, feeling a throbbing pain in her heart, from her temples to her skull. In a daze, she tried to recall what her parents would have done, perhaps the difference being that they wouldn't have to worry about money. But she had no parents, and she couldn't help but worry about money.

Zhang Chengyuan stopped drinking tea and fiddling with his Rubik's Cube. He sat quietly in his chair, his gaze fixed on the little girl in Yang Gui's arms. After a long while, he asked, "What's this little girl's name?"

"Liu Wenwen".

The name came out after Yang Gui took a few breaths.

Zhang Chengyuan nodded, his gaze lingering on Wen Dai again, his eyes holding a meaningful look. He asked out of the blue, "Are you sure you don't know how to help her? You don't need to handle the rest. Just tell me, are you sure you can't see where this girl's illness is?"

"How would I know—" Wen Dai snapped out of her reverie, denying her instincts, and glanced at Liu Wenwen for a moment before Shan Shan noticed her situation.

While they were outside the Taoist temple, they hadn't noticed anything amiss, but after sitting together for a while, the black mist emanating from Liu Wenwen's body slowly began to appear. Wen Dai frowned, lowered her eyelashes, and after her clairvoyance was activated—it truly was a grand gathering of immortals.

The spirit who had previously told her not to meddle in other people's business had already started chatting with the spirit behind Liu Wenwen. Her slightly open mouth froze, and she turned her gaze away to the little girl in Yang Gui's arms. The black mist that had accumulated in Liu Wenwen's mind definitely needed to be cleared by the Thirteen Ghost Needles.

After a moment of silence, Wen Dai reached out and placed her hand on Liu Wenwen's slender wrist. She felt the girl's pulse and unconsciously bit her lower lip. "Hmm... it's not really that special."

She looked up and met Yang Gui's blank eyes, explaining, "Wenwen has a spirit attached to her, it seems she has a lineage. Your great-great-grandmother was a top-ranking incense master, you know? Anyway, whether you know it or not doesn't matter. In short, those spirits have found Wenwen. It's rare for someone to have their spiritual energy awakened at the age of five, but it's understandable... Your daughter has a very yin constitution, attracting unclean things."

“But at such a young age… my personal suggestion is that it would be best to find her a master; for example, this Taoist priest next to us, if he doesn’t accept her, he can help find someone else to do so. If your daughter doesn’t become a disciple of the patriarch, it’s very unlikely she’ll grow up. Let me be frank, she’s destined to convert to Buddhism; she can’t walk the mortal path.” She glanced at Zhang Chengyuan sitting at the tea table.

She sighed helplessly. Fate had brought them together, and she had done what she could to help them. The rest was up to destiny. So many times, it's all about waiting for destiny.

The gaze that pierced through her pupils lingered on Liu Wenwen's face. The young child's skin was pressed against her skull, and despite her persistent high fever, her face was ashen. Wen Dai's hand twitched. She had ignored the warning from the immortals not to meddle in other people's business, and the incantations she murmured gradually dispelled the yin energy gathered around the girl.

A splitting pain shot through the back of her head. Wen Dai didn't retract her fingers that had touched Liu Wenwen's forehead until the girl's face turned as red as a high fever would normally be.

Having witnessed the entire process, Zhang Chengyuan understood Wen Dai's actions better than the other two. He stopped stroking the teacup on the table and looked at Wen Dai with curiosity. "You'd rather take on this responsibility yourself? Young lady, you're young and can still handle it, but what about when you get older? Responsibilities are something that accumulate."

“Let it accumulate if it wants to. What does my future have to do with my present? Meeting is fate. As long as I hold this thought, I will do this. If I change my mind one day, I will stop doing it that day... Besides—” After a moment of silence, Wen Dai’s voice suddenly lowered. She looked down at Liu Wenwen, but it seemed that she was not looking at Liu Wenwen.

She lifted her chin, adopting a nonchalant and indifferent attitude, and said nonchalantly, "Who knows if I'll live to 'age'? Who cares about the uncertain future? Those who talk about fate and luck are just showing it to others; I haven't looked at my own, and I have no interest in looking." Actually, she was afraid to look.

Fortunately, Zhang Chengyuan didn't expose his stubbornness. He smiled and sighed several times, unable to utter a complete sentence for a long time. He just had a smile on his lips, but his eyes remained silent.

"Thinking of your younger self?" Wen Dai crossed her arms, her fingers tapping her arms faster without her realizing it, and she kept glancing at Liu Wenwen out of the corner of her eye.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Zhang Chengyuan chuckled. He sighed again, then stood up from his chair, his shoes rustling as they scraped across the floor. As he approached, he bent down, placed his thumb on Liu Wenwen's tightly closed eyelids, and gently pried them open. "Hmm... nothing serious."

He looked up at Yang Gui, whose anxiety was evident in her eyes, and said, "You can see me too. I'm so old. It wouldn't be impossible for this child to be my great-granddaughter, but as for her being my apprentice—I'm afraid I won't be able to keep her alive until she's an adult. I'll help her with the acupuncture today. As for the apprenticeship, I'll call over my remaining apprentices at the temple later, and then you can see if you're compatible."

Zhang Chengyuan raised a hand to Wen Dai beside him, straightened his back, and laughed, "You should thank this person the most. If it weren't for her, I really wouldn't have planned to get involved in worldly affairs anymore."

Hope arrived suddenly. Yang Gui hugged the child in her arms tightly. She twisted her upper body and was about to kneel down again when Wen Dai, who was almost forced to react, jumped up first. She hurriedly reached out and helped Yang Gui back to the stool, saying helplessly, "Auntie, didn't I tell you not to do this? Don't listen to what this Taoist priest said. He's the one who's mainly helping you. I'm just a matchmaker at best."

"Never mind all that, I really thank you all. Thank you so much! I can't repay your kindness!" Yang Gui raised her hand to wipe away her tears. As if suddenly remembering something, she put her hand back in her pocket, took out several red envelopes, divided them in two, and tried to stuff them into Wen Dai and Zhang Chengyuan's hands. "These are red envelopes I prepared in advance. When I take my daughter to the hospital to find someone to see her, I always give them to the doctors; some people don't accept them, but I accept those who give them secretly."

“I don’t want your red envelope. Who would ask a poor person for money? Life is hard enough as it is. If you want to repay me, you should recite scriptures more often, such as the Taishang Ganying Pian or the Qingjing Jing, whatever you want to recite. Do good deeds in your daily life.” Zhang Chengyuan put the money on Liu Wenwen’s clothes. Wen Dai, who was having a red envelope exchange with Yang Gui, saw this and immediately followed suit.

Afterwards, Zhang Chengyuan led Yang Gui and her daughter to the room opposite the painted screen. Wen Dai and Chen Wenkang were still in the tea room.

Chen Wenkang sat sideways in the chair, turned his head to look at Wen Dai, and broke the silence by saying, "Hey, Xiao Dai, do you have any plans to become an apprentice?"

A gentle smile appeared on the man's handsome face. He explained, "I think Master Zhang is interested in getting to know you. He might even be willing to take you as his disciple."

Most people would probably take advantage of the situation, since Master Zhang Chengyuan is renowned.

"Forget it, I think he probably sees me in a mirror when he looks at me now, which is why he said some things that could be easily misunderstood. If I suddenly said I wanted to become his apprentice, not only would he be shocked, but I wouldn't believe I said it either—I do have a master, it's just that my master isn't human." Wen Dai shrugged, her lowered eyelids making her eyes look at the stool legs and the ground, the corners of her lips slightly upturned, her smile faint.

“Actually, if two people meet by chance and feel an instant connection, there’s no need to develop a deep friendship. It’s enough to just get to know each other once. Fate is something that happens in the blink of an eye.” She raised her face, held her hands beside her eyes, and slowly blinked her eyes to demonstrate to Chen Wenkang.

She got off the stool and felt a strange sense of unsteadiness when her feet touched the ground. She staggered a couple of times before regaining her balance, which startled Chen Wenkang, who was sitting perfectly still, so he reached out to help her.

With her hand resting on the side edge of the painted screen, Wen Dai turned around and gave Chen Wenkang a reassuring smile. She shook her head and said, "I'm fine. I'm sorry, I scared you."

The forced smile looked like a mask for a helpless prolapse. A piercing pain spread across the back of her head, and the tightness around her temples left her no room to feign composure; even feigning ease was difficult.

Being a person is really difficult. Helping is not an option, not helping is not an option either; doing something is not an option, not doing something is not an option either; living is not an option, not living is not an option either.

As dusk approached, Master Zhang, who was performing acupuncture, pushed open the door. When he caught sight of Wen Dai standing by the painted screen, a genuine smile appeared on his aged face, and his hand, which had been resting on the door, fell to his sides with a sense of relief. "I was still thinking about you. I wondered if you would still be there when I came out. There are some things I wanted to talk to you about."

Weakened by the pain covering her head, Wen Dai slumped in her chair, a playful chuckle on her face: "Thinking about you is one thing, but you weren't in a rush when you got your acupuncture, were you?"

"Hmph, as if I have no integrity." Zhang Chengyuan glared at her fiercely, then turned and walked to the door. He opened the door, and the evening sun shone into the room. Chen Wenkang, who followed him out, was greeted by the dazzling yet lonely sunset, which gave him a sense of desolation, like the twilight of his life.

Wen Dai propped herself up on the armrest of the chair, stumbled forward two steps, and followed Zhang Chengyuan and Chen Wenkang for a walk inside the Taoist temple.

"Why do you say you have no intention of interfering in worldly affairs anymore?" Unlike the way the believers treated the Taoist priest, Wen Dai seemed to have no habit of even using respectful terms for him. She stepped onto the solid cement ground, and the pain in her feet told her the truth of her moment.

Passing by the small lake in the temple, Zhang Chengyuan glanced at the shimmering golden surface. His voice, hoarse and deep, seemed to grow heavier with age, rusty as it came from his lips: "When I was young, I meddled too much, just like you. I only thought I wanted to manage, so I managed. But the 'want' can be controlled, so I was willing to try to control that 'want' to help others. People just keep thinking; if you stop thinking about this, you start thinking about that."

"If you want to think about it, then think about it. After all, many times, what you think about won't come true. If you can achieve it, then do it—that's what I think. Otherwise, when you can't achieve anything and can only think and hope, how powerless would you feel? That feeling is actually very desperate, digging for hope in despair." Perhaps the afterglow of the setting sun was too dazzling, Wen Dai's eyes were hot as she spoke, her dark eyelashes drooping.

When her parents died and her remaining relatives avoided her like the plague, what was she thinking? She couldn't even remember. The only thing she could do was search for laws and regulations that were in her favor, and solemnly and resolutely declare that she was capable of living independently—refusing to go to a welfare institution and refusing to be cared for by the community.

All she could do was try her best to take back what her parents had left her.

Now, all she can do is cling to a pitiful, faint hope that is nowhere to be found, and pursue what she desires.