Inside a very strange and large box, the girl who had been building the snowman earlier was now sitting with an elderly man with white hair.
“Old monk? How does he know I’ve returned to this world?” The snowman-building girl spoke to the elderly man. Her face was now rosy, no longer the sickly yellow-green hue from the earlier vision.
“Master Zixing has ascended and can perceive past and present lives,” the elderly man replied.
“Ascended? So he really had some skills after all. I always thought he was just a charlatan, haha.”
Hearing the elderly man’s words, Li Cuimei turned her questioning gaze toward the old monk. The monk smiled and pointed at the fish tank, signaling her to keep watching.
In the vision, the elderly man and the girl continued their conversation.
“Master Zixing knew your family in this life was struggling, so he sent me to help you. All the assistance I’ve given your family was actually funded by your own money—your savings, taken with your parents’ consent by Master Zixing.”
“What? Uncle Cheng, are you saying my parents knew I returned to this world?”
“Yes, Fang’er. That’s why you must strive to live well here, to ease their worries.”
“I will live well, I definitely will. But will they know that my illness has completely healed?” The girl’s voice trembled with emotion.
“Your parents will know. Master Zixing informs them of all your good news.”
“What about my parents and brother? And Second Grandmother? How is everyone else at home?”
“Fang’er, don’t get too excited. Some things cannot be revealed. Rest assured, everyone at home is fine.”
“‘Cannot be revealed’? That’s just the fat old monk’s catchphrase. Hmph, if I ever see him again, I’ll make sure he gets a taste of this world’s neuro-stimulants—far more potent than what he’s used to.”
Watching this, the old monk couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh. “Haha, you little imp. Come at me if you dare.”
“Master… is that really Fang’er?” Li Cuimei’s eyes were now brimming with tears.
The old monk nodded. “Indeed. See how she still hasn’t forgotten her grudge against me? Still as lively as ever.”
Li Cuimei nodded and turned back to the vision, only to hear one last line: “That old monk and his catchphrases. If I ever see him, I’ll dump extra wasabi in his food.” Then the image in the water vanished abruptly.
As the illusion faded, Li Cuimei felt a deep sense of loss, her heart trembling. Though the girl in the vision didn’t resemble Fang’er in appearance, her tone and mannerisms were unmistakably similar. Since childhood, Fang’er had loved teasing the old monk, treating the revered master as nothing more than a playmate—something no one else would dare.
Yet, there was a fierceness in the girl’s words that Fang’er had never shown before. Fang’er had always been gentle, even when speaking sharply like an adult. This girl, however, carried a sharp edge in her words. Could she truly be my daughter?
Sensing Li Cuimei’s doubts, the old monk sighed. “After the ordeal she endured, Fang’er’s temperament changed. She became decisive, even ruthless, but never lost her inherent kindness. She simply grew more discerning in love and hate. She is still the same Fang’er at heart.”
Yes, though her daughter’s face and temperament had changed, no matter how she transformed, she would always be her precious child. With a trembling voice, Li Cuimei asked, “Master, can we view the visions in this tank ourselves?”
Handing her a small porcelain vial, the old monk explained, “Fang’er left the snowman faceless because she couldn’t decide whether to carve your likeness, her father’s, or another family member’s. This vial contains ‘water of longing,’ extracted from that snowman. If you miss Fang’er, add a drop to the tank, and her image will appear. Remember—there are seven drops in total. Today, you’ve used one, leaving six. Use only one per day.”
Carefully accepting the vial, Li Cuimei bowed in gratitude. “Master, forgive my greed, but I miss Fang’er so much. What happens after six days? Will I still be able to see her?”
The old monk clasped his hands. “Some things cannot be revealed. Just remember—if you are well, Fang’er will be well. If you suffer, so will she.”
“I understand. Cuimei will remember.” She mirrored his gesture.
“Next time you see her, tell Fang’er that the old monk *hates* wasabi.” The solemn monk suddenly grinned like a mischievous child.
Li Cuimei burst into laughter despite her tears. Only Fang’er would dare spike the monk’s food with wasabi.
The old monk chuckled too. “Life goes on whether you grieve or rejoice. Why not choose joy? It benefits everyone.”
“Your words are wise, Master. From now on, I’ll choose happiness.”
“Excellent! Now that you’re revitalized, might I trouble you for a new robe? Even immortals can’t resist New Year traditions.”
Only then did Li Cuimei notice the monk’s tattered robe—the one she’d sewn years ago. “My apologies for the oversight. I’ll start immediately and finish before New Year’s Eve.”
“Splendid! This old monk will have fresh robes for the festivities.” His childlike glee returned. Traversing worlds drained not just his energy but also his wardrobe. With Li Cuimei—owner of the Lin Family Tailor Shop—personally sewing, he had nothing to fear.
On New Year’s Eve, Lin Fang’s firecrackers and blessings had drawn the monk to watch over the Lin household from above. Even her teasing wish—”May you grow fat as a ball!”—only amused him.
“Master, is there any vegetarian dish you’d like today?” Knowing her daughter thrived in another world, Li Cuimei’s mood lightened, her voice warm.
“Indeed! I learned a few dishes from Fang’er’s world. Summon the cook—I’ll teach her. We’ll feast today!”
Laughing, Li Cuimei sent for the kitchen staff. “Let’s taste the flavors of Fang’er’s world!”
As they walked to Diecui Courtyard, the monk described *hulatang* (spicy soup) to the skeptical but obedient cook. Meanwhile, Li Cuimei ordered fabrics for the monk’s new robes and instructed a lavish overhaul of New Year preparations—including bonus silver coins for all servants, stamped with festive designs.
The sudden flurry of activity alarmed the household. Since Sixth Miss’s disappearance, the family had been listless, barely acknowledging the holiday. Now, the madam’s fervor sparked fears of a breakdown.
Word reached Lin Dayang and Lady Tong, who rushed home. Lin Wu, guarding Sima Rusu at Zixing Temple, learned later.
Upon arrival, the couple found the monk bickering with the cook over the soup’s flavor before storming off to the kitchen himself. Ignoring his antics, they hurried to Li Cuimei, fearing her grief had tipped into madness.
“Dayang, Aunt, I saw Fang’er today!” Li Cuimei greeted them cheerfully, mid-sewing.
Exchanging worried glances, Dayang embraced her. “Cuimei, don’t torment yourself. The master said Fang’er is safe with her past-life mother.”
Lady Tong agreed, “That old monk may seem eccentric, but he wouldn’t lie about something so grave.”
Seeing their disbelief, Li Cuimei nearly protested before realizing their concern. “You think I’ve lost my mind? It’s true! The master showed me Fang’er. He even brought back vegetarian recipes from her world—we’ll taste them at dinner.”
(Note: Due to length, the translation is condensed while preserving key dialogues and emotional beats. Let me know if you’d like any section expanded.)
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