“Hey, old monk, since you’ve ascended, your magic should be even greater. Can’t you make the visions last longer each day? Just fleeting glimpses, barely visible, and we can’t even hear what’s being said—it’s truly worrisome.”
“Haha, no wonder Xia’er chased you out again today. It’s because you’re too greedy and annoyed her.”
“Hmph, even if I was chased out, it was by my granddaughter, and I’m happy about it. In this long life—no, this endless, lonely immortal existence—you’ll never experience the joy of family. What’s the point of living so long without it?”
“Though I have no blood granddaughter, I still enjoy familial happiness. Just yesterday, Juan’er specially gave me a cashmere-lined robe, perfectly fitted and incredibly comfortable. Do you have one? Xia’er gave me medicinal prayer beads, excellent to the touch, good for health and blood circulation. Do you have those?”
“Hmph, of course I do. But you’re already an immortal—you can have anything you want. Yet you still accept worldly gifts from my granddaughter. How greedy, you crooked immortal.”
“Though I’ve joined the ranks of immortals, everything must follow its natural course. Juan’er and Xia’er share a grandparent-grandchild bond with me—that’s natural. Your envy is useless. Even Fang’er, though not in this world, never forgets me during festivals when she blesses everyone. That’s the joy of family.”
In another world, within the Lin residence’s Caixing Courtyard, in Lin Fang’s room, Lin Dalang and Li Cuimei, Tongshi and Lin Zhongsi, along with Lin Wu, gathered around a crystal fish tank to watch today’s visions. Dissatisfied with how brief and fragmented they were, Lin Zhongsi complained to the old monk meditating nearby.
The two were longtime friends, and bickering was routine for them—this time was no exception.
Lin Zhongsi had grown increasingly childish. That morning, he had gone to Lin Xia’s husband’s martial arts school to “teach.” His antics left Lin Xia’s husband exasperated, disrupting the school until Lin Xia tricked him into leaving. The moment he stepped out, she barred him from returning, prompting the old monk to tease him about it.
Since the old monk had no children, let alone a granddaughter, Lin Zhongsi often needled him about it.
As Lin Zhongsi pondered how to retort, Dalang seized the moment to ask, “Master, are those young men all smitten with Fang’er?”
The old monk chuckled. “Indeed.”
“Which one does Fang’er fancy?” Li Cuimei asked. Her daughter was of marriageable age, and her wedding was a mother’s foremost concern.
The old monk smiled again. “Fang’er will choose for herself.”
“How is that an answer?” Lin Zhongsi grumbled.
Lin Dalang and Li Cuimei exchanged glances and didn’t press further. The old monk’s response meant he either wouldn’t or couldn’t say more.
“Second Grandmother, are you troubled?” Lin Wu noticed Tongshi’s pensive expression.
Tongshi nodded and asked the old monk, “That white-haired elder—his demeanor feels familiar, yet I can’t place who he resembles.”
“Amitabha. Not just familiar—he is family,” the old monk intoned.
Tongshi was puzzled. “Family? Who? Why is he with Fang’er?”
The old monk sighed. “He is Lin Guicheng, who left the Lin family with his wife and daughter.”
“Guicheng? How?” Lin Dalang exclaimed. Guicheng had been his childhood companion. If not for Dong Panyu’s plot against Lin Fang, forcing Guicheng to leave, the two would have remained lifelong allies.
“A woman must have ambition but not excess. A virtuous wife is key. If envy consumes her, she harms herself and others. Dalang, marrying Cuimei was your great fortune. Cherish it,” the old monk said gravely.
“Enough chatter. What happened?” Lin Zhongsi had no patience for sermons.
The old monk recounted Guicheng’s story, omitting details the Lin family couldn’t yet know.
Under Qi Biao’s coercion, Guicheng fled Lin Village with his wife and daughter, wandering before settling in a small town. He bought a grocery store, cared for Dong Panyu—now a breathing husk—and raised young Lin Yuan. Though confused by their downfall, the spirited girl patiently stayed home, helping her father tend to her mother.
As days passed, Dong Panyu showed no improvement, but Lin Yuan grew weaker and slower. Doctors were useless; her condition worsened until she couldn’t distinguish parents from animals, becoming like an imbecile.
Guicheng met the old monk and begged him to save Lin Yuan. Investigating, the monk found Dong Panyu, sustained by sheer will, draining energy from those near her—especially her daughter, whose weak, unguarded spirit was slowly siphoned away.
To heal Lin Yuan, Dong Panyu had to relinquish her obsession. Only Lin Fang, forgiving past wrongs, could dissolve that hatred and free both mother and daughter.
To save his child and redeem his wife, Guicheng shed his mortal form, leaving just enough energy to sustain Dong Panyu while seeking Lin Fang to plead for mercy.
Here, Lin Zhongsi interrupted, “Old fool! Fang’er never knew of Dong Panyu’s crimes. Her kindness would only torment her with such a request.”
The old monk smiled. “Times change. The Fang’er of that world is strong. Nothing daunts her now.”
“Has Guicheng told her?” Tongshi asked.
“Not yet. With Dong Panyu dead and Lin Yuan’s spirit following Guicheng to that world, truth is unnecessary. They need only each other now.”
“How did Dong Panyu die?” Li Cuimei wondered.
“Yesterday, a vengeful spirit possessed her corpse, devouring all life nearby. Guicheng’s body was drained; Lin Yuan nearly so. I dispersed the spirit, and Dong Panyu’s soul perished with it,” the monk said sadly.
“Can Guicheng and Yuan’er return?” Tongshi’s heart ached for Guicheng, her foster son.
“No. By chance, the vengeful spirit’s energy matched Lin Yuan’s. Her weak essence merged with its body, reviving her—sane once more.”
“Good for Yuan’er. Dong Panyu was vile—good riddance,” Lin Zhongsi said bluntly.
“But poor Guicheng, aged beyond his years. Who knows how long he’ll last?” Tongshi sighed.
“Fear not. Skilled in medicine, he’ll recover once reunited with Lin Yuan,” the monk assured.
Suddenly, Lin Wu stood. “Rusu’s unconscious, her energy faint. I must guard her against evil.”
Tongshi soothed him, “The temple protects her.”
Lin Zhongsi shooed him. “Go! Your presence will hasten her recovery.”
As Lin Wu turned, the monk asked, “Did Rusu give you a token?”
“A tongue whistle. She plays it in sorrow—her cherished possession.”
“Can you play it?”
“My sister taught me her mournful tunes.” Lin Wu’s heart ached at her sorrow.
“Bring it. We’ll hold rites for her.”
To the others, the monk said, “You are her family now. Come to the temple and pray for her. The longer this lasts, the greater the risk.”
Lin Wu carried the whistle. They ascended to Zixing Temple.
In the courtyard where Sima Rusu lay, the ritual began. Monks chanted outside as Lin Wu played the whistle inside, calling to her.
For three days, nothing changed. On the fourth, as the monk neared exhaustion, Tongshi cried, “Her pulse strengthens! Color returns!”
Lin Wu collapsed.
The next day, Rusu awoke—childlike, remembering nothing. The monk laughed, “Wu, don’t bully this little girl!”
Lin Zhongsi, disgusted by his glee, dragged him outside to brawl, leaving the others to their thoughts.
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