On the first day of the first month of the thirteenth year of Tiancheng Lingwei, the rebellion in Bijiang was quelled, and the emperor returned from the southwest.
On the second night after New Year's Eve, days of accumulated snow on Shuxi Mountain, east of Quecheng, had paved the mountain road into a silver ribbon, winding its way to the gate of Yongye Temple. Old Li, the charcoal deliveryman, drove his donkey cart down the mountain, leaving behind a final row of charcoal-ash tracks in the snow.
Most pilgrims like to go into the mountains to worship Buddha on the first day of the lunar month. There will be fewer people on the second day of the lunar month. The most prosperous temple near Quecheng is the Dacheng Temple, which is close to the imperial city. Because of the snow in winter and the extremely difficult mountain roads, there are even fewer people visiting Shuxi Mountain.
The moonlight at night was much brighter than that in the city, making the exposed tiles on several halls sparkle.
In the courtyard, a single old wintersweet tree is still sprouting branches and gathering buds. This is the only time of year in Yongye Temple without the fragrance of flowers. The air is filled with only the faint smell of firewood smoke, which is bland and deserted.
It was freezing cold and there was nothing to do. Shortly after the evening service, the monks in the backyard of the side hall had gone to bed, and only the eternal lamp in the main hall was still emitting a little light.
“Master, Master!”
The young novice monk in a grey cassock was trotting hurriedly, the rings of his cassock jingling. As soon as he entered the hall, he saw the abbot dozing off in front of the incense table.
He quickly pretended not to see it and stood at the door and coughed lightly.
Yikong shuddered and woke up from his dream. He saw his disciples appear in front of the hall door at some point, so he quickly sat up straight on the cushion and raised his hand to share the half of the lamp oil, but found that the lamp oil had already solidified. He had to pick up the prayer wheel beside him and wipe it.
"It's so late, why are you barging into the palace? Haven't you already given instructions for tomorrow's morning service?"
"Master, a carriage has arrived at the mountain gate and is refusing to listen to our advice and insisting on coming in."
Yikong put down the prayer wheel, blinked his sleepy eyes, stirred the extinguished brazier again, and looked out of the temple door.
The icicles on the eaves of the hall had not yet been cleared, and they sparkled crystal clear in the moonlight.
But outside the nearby mountain gate, it was pitch black, with not a single light visible. The snow from the previous few days still accumulated on the mountain, making the path to the temple even more difficult to navigate. Even in the daytime, few people climbed the mountain to worship the Buddha.
However, it is not uncommon for someone to visit a temple in the middle of the night.
There are many rich and powerful people in the imperial city. If a lady is having a difficult childbirth, a boy is lost, or someone has done too many bad things and cannot sleep alone at night, these anxious worshippers never care about the time.
Of course, after the incident was resolved, the incense money was also extremely generous. Therefore, under Yikong's guidance, when faced with such "emergency relief" incidents, Yongye Temple has always been diligent and responsible day and night.
I just don't know which royal family has gotten into trouble this time.
Yikong hooked his finger, and the little monk was very alert and quickly came closer.
The young host's fair face showed a hint of cunning. He lowered his voice and asked, "Is it a carriage belonging to a wealthy family?"
The young monk had clearly been through many battles and had long since developed a pair of sharp eyes. He immediately said with certainty, "Disciple, I've seen it. It's the carriage from the Prime Minister's residence."
Yikong was stunned for a moment and muttered, "Could he be here to ask for the calming incense again?"
The old prime minister's insomnia is getting worse and worse. He came again in the middle of the night.
If he had known this, he should have quoted a few more taels of silver.
Yikong stood up and was about to reach out to take the cassock placed beside him when he heard a noise outside the hall.
A burst of hurried footsteps came from afar, mixed with the whispered dissuasion of another disciple.
"Donors! Don't go any further. The abbot is chanting sutras tonight to pray for the deceased and has instructed that we cannot disturb them..."
Ah, his disciples were very tactful in their teaching and knew how to buy the abbot some time to dress.
During this time, Yikong had already tied his robes and was ready to light the oil lamp when a clear voice sounded outside the temple door.
"Master Yikong."
Yikong was startled when he heard the voice, then hurried out of the hall to meet it. However, the two figures walking on the snow under the moonlight had already reached the door of the hall.
"I heard that Master Yikong is chanting sutras to pray for the deceased. I wonder if it can be counted as one more person?"
The man's clear and shallow voice sounded again, coupled with his cold and indifferent face, it seemed like a wandering cultivator who knocked on the mountain gate on a whim.
But the blue-robed guard behind him had a hint of aggressiveness in his movements and steps, and his murderous aura seemed even stronger than usual.
"The master has been traveling for half a month straight, and he came to you without stopping before entering the city. Please don't be so fussy as usual. If you delay..."
"Wei Xiang."
The man called out softly, and the blue-robed guard had no choice but to shut up angrily.
Yikong calmed himself down and gently waved his hand to send the two little monks out.
"Zhuyu, you and Ping'er stay outside the main hall and don't let anyone else in."
The two men retreated and picked up lanterns to guard the side hall.
The man glanced at the person behind him. Though he didn't speak, his meaning was clear. The blue-robed guard looked away, saw nothing, turned around, and disappeared between the eaves of the roof.
"Master, I hope you won't mind my late-night visit."
The man was polite in his words, but he had no intention of bowing or apologizing. He just looked at the monk indifferently, and his eyes finally fell on the other's half-slipped shoe.
Yikong noticed something and hid his foot. Then he raised his eyebrow and caught a glimpse of the black robe that the other person had not yet changed.
The nine-colored twined branches were embroidered all over the body, and under the light of the butter lamp, it emitted dazzling golden light that made people dare not look directly at it.
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