He looked at the chicken leg on the table and reached for it when a young novice monk approached. The novice monk had just been ordained, as there was still stubble on his head. "This humble monk Zhiyin, may I have your chicken leg?"
"You are a monk, why are you eating mine? Monks cannot eat meat."
"Who said that?" the young novice retorted. He was very thin and quickly devoured the chicken leg, leaving only the bones. "Did you see me eat it?"
"I see, there's still oil on your face. That's what the abbot gave me to eat."
The young novice monk tugged at his sleeve to wipe his mouth. "So, am I still eating now?"
He suddenly felt wronged and wanted to say something, but he stammered and couldn't get the words out.
His parents abandoned him at the Tantric Buddhist sect not because of any physical defect, but because he was already seven years old and still couldn't speak. It was the old abbot who slowly got him to speak, but even then, he still spoke haltingly.
At times like these, his lack of eloquence becomes apparent.
"You, you, you're bullying me!"
"That's it?" Zhiyin asked him. "Look, this monk is so thin. You can push him and he'll fall over. How can I bully you?"
"You, you're bullying me!"
In the days that followed, his food was constantly being stolen by Zhiyin, until one day Zhiyin came to him and asked, "Hey! Where's your chicken leg?"
"It was eaten by a dog!" This was the most complete sentence he ever uttered.
"This humble monk thinks someone else stole it!" Zhiyin stood in front of him, waving the chicken leg in her hand. "Here you go!"
"You...you're not going to eat?"
"My master is taking on more disciples soon, and I'm so annoyed, I can't eat." At this, Zhiyin seemed to remember something. "You're almost ten years old, aren't you? Will you stay or go down the mountain?"
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