Lu Cangyue's Temptation (1)
Inside Chaolai Temple, Wenjie often stood at the entrance these days, a broom in his arms, gazing off into the distance with a dull gaze. Visitors remained few and far between, and the temple paths had been swept eight times a day, instead of twice a day. He felt bored. He hadn't yet completed the homework assigned by his master, but his mind was no longer on it.
Lu Cangyue didn't come. Even Shuixi didn't come. He seemed cut off from the world, unaware of anything. Although he had a phone to check the latest news, it didn't feel the same as chatting with friends.
That day, he stood in a daze again at the doorway, recalling how he and Lu Cangyue had met, lamenting how many things in this world were truly mysterious, and how there were no answers to their underlying causes. She had said that any trace of her presence here would one day vanish, and that she would eventually forget, whether it was long or short. But now, whenever he saw the prayer ribbon she had hung on the acacia tree, he would think of her. It was as if a long-lost memory had suddenly been awakened. The scent of the ribbon was still strong after so long. Then, she said, she would occasionally remember a little, but only a little.
He had been trying to understand, and when he was in the situation she described, he felt that living in such an uncontrolled way was happiness. In that case, wouldn't life be able to be repeated many times?
A dark figure approached the temple from afar. Wen Jie was startled, squinting to see if it was Shui Xi. He had already planned how to feign a greeting and what expression Shui Xi would give him. Wen Jie had imagined Shui Xi would become a prominent figure, but he had only lived a life of mediocrity. It was truly puzzling that someone with nothing, yet caring nothing for fame and fortune, could be so generous.
Song Shiwen saw the monk standing at the door, like a human surveillance camera, his eyes fixed on him, like a well-fed old man on the street, contemplating the mundane affairs of life. Only two or three steps away from the monk, Song Shiwen was feeling awkward being stared at like that, but thankfully the monk composed himself and respectfully invited him in.
"I would also like to thank Master for his enthusiastic help." Song Shiwen mentioned that he fainted here that day and was discovered by Wen Jie. Later, the master ran to the hospital to see him. Song Shiwen had to express his gratitude for such kindness.
Wen Jie smiled sheepishly, and within a second, he regained his monk's reserved composure. He casually mentioned Lu Cangyue, "Your female friend was frightened that day. Is she feeling better now?"
"Who are you talking about?"
"Lu Zangyue."
Song Shiwen frowned. "I haven't heard of it. I've been thinking about standing here all night lately, forcing myself not to fall asleep, as if I wanted to leave something behind. Master, do you think it's possible that ghosts really exist in this world? Could I be possessed by a ghost?"
Wen Jie was speechless for a moment, and replied mysteriously, "If you believe it, it exists; if you don't believe it, it doesn't exist."
"So you mean that these ghosts and gods were created by humans to make things difficult for themselves?" Song Shiwen stood in front of the tall Buddha statue. The faint smell of incense was still pungent. For a long time, he couldn't bend his knees, and he was unwilling to lower his head.
"What difficulties have you encountered?" Wen Jie was reluctant to ask, but deliberately guided him, "Would you like to see these blessed amulets and charms? They can bless you with success and good health."
"I often dream of a girl from far away. As soon as she appears, I know there's a special connection between us. When she disappears, all I remember is her name. But when I wake up, I forget even her name. I just feel like some of my memories have been drained away, and I feel uncomfortable all over. I went to the hospital for a checkup, but nothing was wrong. Master, have you ever heard of this kind of situation?"
"Don't you have a friend named Lu Zangyue?"
"No." Song Shiwen was certain. The emptiness in his heart returned, and his head suddenly felt dizzy. He leaned over the counter filled with consecrated Buddha statues and Buddhist beads, holding Wen Jie's arm. "I have hypoglycemia..."
Wen Jie helped Song Shiwen sit on the steps outside and went to find some sugar water for him to drink. Song Shiwen gradually regained consciousness and saw a small pagoda in another courtyard to his left. The eaves bells swayed in the wind, emitting a purifying, ethereal sound. He couldn't help but cringe and hurriedly averted his attention.
"This is for you."
A red amulet was placed in Song Shiwen's hand. His first reaction was to move closer to smell it; it had a faint scent of incense ash. He was puzzled, and Wen Jie said, "This is a free gift for you. Remember to carry it with you. And..."
He leaned close to Song Shiwen's ear and whispered, "There is another person in the same situation as you. His name is Hui Zifeng. You can go to him to ask for advice and experience." After he finished speaking, he straightened up. When he was immersed in what he was doing, Wen Jie saw Shuixi standing in the corner, like a cheetah waiting for an opportunity. He thought to himself, "Oh no...", and hurriedly sent Song Shiwen away, then walked up to Shuixi and greeted him cheerfully.
Shuixi walked into the sunlight with long legs, his face warm and kind, looking like a sunny and cheerful young man. Wenjie let down his guard for a moment, but before he could utter a word, he was suddenly hit hard in the abdomen. It was Shuixi who hit him. Wenjie covered the pain and looked up at Shuixi. The corner of Shuixi's mouth was slightly raised, and it was obvious that he was happy because his goal had been achieved. "Who told you to meddle in other people's business?"
Fine, fine, as long as he's happy. Wen Jie was left alone in the temple, suffering from his physical pain and countless scriptures—a world he didn't want to enter.
In a suburban basement studio, Zhao Yuwei was painting, a black kitten crouching beside him. An assistant knocked on the door and handed Zhao Yuwei a letter. The cover had two lines of writing on it: one line read "Zhao Yuwei," and the other, in what looked like ancient Chinese characters, was incomprehensible to the assistant. However, Mr. Zhao had instructed him to give him any letters in that style immediately.
Zhao Yuwei took it and glanced at it, then immediately asked his assistant where the person who had delivered the letter had gone. The assistant, startled by the painter's unusual excitement, stammered, "Just left, probably hasn't even left the house yet."
After hearing this, Zhao Yuwei ran out of the door in a hurry with the letter. The cat that had been sleeping behind him suddenly woke up and followed him. The assistant grabbed it and locked it in a dark little room.
Zhao Yuwei came to the ground and chased for a while until he reached the front gate. The road for several hundred meters was straight. He did not see any figure at a glance. He knew that he could not catch up. He turned around and climbed up to the observation deck. He saw a small figure on the opposite road suddenly turned around and waved at him.
It was too far away to see clearly. He tried to take out his phone to take a picture, but realized he hadn't brought it with him. The figure turned down another road and disappeared from his sight. Zhao Yuwei stared blankly for a long moment, then returned to the studio and opened the letter. He glanced at it, placed it on the table, and stood up to search for something in the other room.
The studio was actually semi-basement. Outside the window, a car drove by—perhaps Zhao Yuwei's wife returning. The passing vehicle created a gust of wind that rushed into the studio, carrying the envelope into the air and drifting toward the door. An assistant heard the noise, spotted it in time, retrieved the flying piece of paper, and carefully examined its contents.
Zhao Yuwei just came out with a palm-sized notebook in his hand. He saw the assistant reading the letter, but he didn't blame him because the assistant definitely couldn't understand the contents of the letter.
"Is this your letter? What kind of writing is this? I have never seen it before."
"It's probably a language used by ethnic minorities. A friend taught me to recognize it when I was a child. Later, she left her hometown and went to a faraway place. We agreed that when she comes back, she will write me a letter in her language." Zhao Yuwei thought of the past, and his face unconsciously showed happiness and satisfaction. He didn't care at all about this secret being known by others.
"Since she has come to us, why don't we meet and reminisce?" asked the assistant.
Zhao Yuwei paused for a few seconds, then said calmly, "Maybe she's mad because I didn't leave her my number." If he hadn't happened to see the art academy's on-duty staff complaining in the WeChat group about the late-night call from the police station, he might have missed his chance to meet her. He didn't take it seriously at the moment, having almost fallen asleep when he closed his eyes and heard a cat meow. He was startled, and memories suddenly awoke. He'd never been one to meddle in other people's affairs, but this time he decided to ask for clarification. He later learned that a girl named Lu Cangyue at the police station had claimed to be his relative and needed him to go and take her home.
He was on vacation at his teacher's house, 1,500 kilometers away, and immediately contacted a nearby friend to fly him home by helicopter. On his way out, he encountered a distressed little black cat, standing alone under a streetlight, its eyes reflecting the light. He brought the kitten home with him, and it's the one in his studio now.
"Where's the cat?" Zhao Yuwei asked as he flipped through a small notebook translating a letter. The assistant then opened the door to the small dark room, took the cat out, and placed it next to the painter's seat.
"Why don't you take it to the vet? It's not eating much," the assistant suggested, essentially wanting to release the cat. The little black cat raised its head and called out to him, full of energy.
"Song Jie, change the seal on the billboard to this pattern." Zhao Yuwei handed the assistant a piece of paper. "Go do it right away. There was a mistake with the previous one, and someone pointed it out as an error."
The assistant agreed, looked at the pattern on the paper, and still didn't understand. After the assistant left, the painter picked up his phone and called someone. It was a number he had obtained from the police, and the person's name was "Shuixi."
At Hui Zifeng's home, Ming Yan was helping him sort through the evidence he had collected over the years. Seeing the photos marked with the time and location of the photos, Ming Yan suddenly had an idea: "Why not mark the places where these marks were found on the map? Wouldn't that allow us to see traces of her whereabouts?"
"I've done it before, but I haven't had time to do the ones from the past three years." Hui Zifeng calmly pulled out a large map from the bottom shelf of the bookcase. It was a national map made up of many local maps, so detailed that even every street and river was clearly visible. As expected, it was covered with numerous markings in black or red ballpoint pen. Ming Yan flipped through the photos, checking them one by one.
Hui Zifeng took the first photo ten years ago. It was of a temple in a northern village, with two stone lions standing in front of it. The second photo was a close-up of the lions, inscribed with the words "Luqi Shanwang Houjing." Ming Yan searched online and found that the temple had been demolished, its site now a garden.
"I was here four months ago, and the two stone lions were still there, placed by a well at the entrance of the village. I also tried to find the person who carved the stone statues, but there was no result. They said it was handed down in the village and was considered an antique."
Ming Yan flipped through it briefly, marveling at Hui Zifeng's perseverance. The photo albums filled two large boxes, along with scrolls, record players, tapes, vases, and more. It was clear that he had truly been trapped by the person he had never met since birth.
"Have you ever imagined that what you were pursuing was an artistic symbol?"
"I don't know, maybe." Hui Zifeng answered calmly, buried in organizing photos. "Or maybe it's an interesting family, a group. I've found some clues that intrigue me, and I want to pursue them and find the members of that family... Maybe I'll keep searching like this. This is the meaning of my life."
He didn't want to emphasize that the object of his pursuit was a young girl. Perhaps after traveling through hundreds, even thousands of years, he could find evidence of her existence from ancient times to the present day. Who was she, exactly? He hoped he was mistaken, that in the end, the clues all came from a group studying a certain culture, and that his feelings were merely imaginary.
"Are there any specific characteristics of the locations where these markings appear?" Ming Yan noticed that some points had relatively close clusters of years and locations, while some scattered in more remote areas, according to historical records, were moved there later. The area beneath their feet had most of the years they had appeared. "Could this be the headquarters? Do the other locations have any special significance?"
"I don't know." Hui Zifeng packed up the photos, which had been there for a month, and began marking them on a map. "It's strange, these years and places are very similar to our family's history. For example, a hundred years ago, our ancestors settled on this side of the sea, gradually moving south, spending decades abroad along the way, and later settled near Pingbai Mountain, then Liuqing, Fudi, and Changyu. But I don't know what the connection is between the two."
"Maybe you're overthinking it?" Ming Yan suddenly felt overwhelmed. These were things she couldn't understand.
Hui Zifeng remained silent. But the atmosphere between them was noticeably more subdued than before. Ming Yan, realizing he'd misspoken, apologized, but the other person said it didn't matter. Ming Yan, embarrassed, turned to look at Shui Xi. He had just been pacing back and forth in front of the bookshelf, holding a stick of incense. Now, he was sitting in a rocking chair, resting his eyes, looking relaxed and content.
"Won't you help?" Ming Yan knocked on the handle of Shuixi's chair with the iron horse in his hand.
Shuixi didn't respond.
"I'm telling you..." Ming Yan sneaked up on Hui Zifeng and told him, "Did you know that Shui Xi hid a woman in my shop? Luckily, he took her away after I found out. If he was still hiding in my place, I would definitely kick him out. Do you think he's been acting strangely lately? Is he acting mysterious?"
"Really? I haven't seen him often these days, and I suspect he is really in love." Hui Zifeng responded absent-mindedly.
"What bad things are you saying about me?" Shuixi suddenly opened his eyes and stared at Mingyan. Before Mingyan could come up with an excuse, his cell phone rang. Shuixi answered the phone and only heard him say a few words.
"I am... well... I know her... What's going on? Please tell me... Oh... She's not here, she's away on a business trip. She told me that if you call, sir, I should go get her things from you... Is that so... Okay, then I'll let her know when she gets back."
Shuixi hung up the phone and stood up to leave. Ming Yan pressed her, "Where are you going again? I've never seen you so busy before! Remember to come back to the store on time!"
"I know!" Shui Xi didn't even turn his head.
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