Chapter 160: Farewell to My Bro

Xiao Jian burrowed into my chest as I opened the letter Xie Lingyu left behind:

“Xiao Qi, I always knew I’d have to leave you. I couldn’t bear to say goodbye in person, so I’m leaving this letter as my farewell. Forgive my sudden departure.

Do you remember the first time we met? I must’ve scared you! Later, as we grew closer, I found you to be a good man. Fate is strange—wandering here and there, yet we met again. After parting in Jiang City, I waited for you in Yunnan.

But I’m not human, destined to wander another world. In the end, I must go. Across lifetimes, we might miss each other. The person I’m seeking in the River Styx—I don’t think you’d be jealous over it. It’s an unresolved vow from my past life, so I must see it through. If I don’t, how can I love you wholeheartedly?

If I return to the mortal world one day, don’t pass me by. Call out to me, tell me everything that happened between us, and all that happened while I was gone.

If I don’t return within three years, please forget me.

Promise me, okay?

‘Red beans grow in the southern land, sprouting a few branches in spring.

This thing stirs the deepest longing—may you gather plenty.’”

The letter was only two hundred words, simple and plain. Master Donglingzi once said the path to the River Styx is fraught with hardship.

Lingyu, you must come back. I promise you.

Xiao Jian, unaware of what was happening, barked twice. I patted its head. “From now on, it’s just you and me.”

It barked again, jumping off the table. I stepped outside, gazing at the snow-covered mountains, the rising sun from the east illuminating the world in dazzling brightness.

Jie Se knocked his tenth wooden fish, packed his things, and begged shamelessly, but was still expelled and forced to return to secular life. At twenty-five, his fate with the Buddha was fulfilled, and he could return home.

Later, I learned Jie Se’s mother died in childbirth, deemed a fate that harmed her. A master diviner said he had to be sent to a temple at five, allowed home ten days a year, and could return to secular life after twenty years.

Now, at twenty-five, exactly twenty years later, his karmic affliction was lifted.

The concept of karmic afflictions, or guan sha, originated with ancient astrologers, referring to inevitable calamities in life. Children’s afflictions were most common, as they were frail and prone to illness or death. Over time, astrologers and folk beliefs merged this with fate calculation, blending eight-character horoscopes, Tai Sui, and noble benefactors, forming today’s widespread fortune-telling practices.

Jie Se, having entered the temple at five, had completed his twenty years. The name Jie Se belonged to his monastic past, his old life and memories.

Now secular, he reclaimed his birth name, Hua Changsheng, given by his dying mother, meaning eternal life and enduring blessings—a wish for a safe, peaceful life.

Hua Changsheng’s future lay in taking over the Hua family’s business, primarily real estate and high-speed rail construction in Xi’an. A merchant’s life awaited, and perhaps in twenty years, he’d be a successful tycoon, commanding influence, no longer the monk of old.

After twenty years in an ancient temple, he too was a lonely soul.

Before leaving Famen Temple, Xue Youniang came to me.

She said, “The man Master Yuantong killed was Japanese. Beyond the carved Diamond Sutra, they sought the Buddha’s finger bone relic. It’s highly secretive, but I know they’re also after a cat.”

I was stunned. “A black cat? What’s the man’s name?”

Could it be He Qingling again, or that Anbei Chun?

She spoke slowly. “I don’t know. Yuantong, though enamored with my beauty, only wanted the Diamond Sutra, not the relic. The Japanese didn’t understand him, so they lost their lives. But I don’t know how many Japanese are involved—likely more than one.”

I grew suspicious. The night Yuantong died, a man in black came to me, then vanished. Could that have been a Japanese operative?

Did the Anbei family know Xie Lingyu’s secret and who she was seeking? Was the person emailing me from their clan?

Cold sweat broke out. Had they learned I’d taken down Meng Liuchuan?

I asked cautiously, “How many do you think came?”

Xue Youniang furrowed her brow, deep in thought, her elegance reminiscent of Lin Xian’er, Gu Long’s legendary beauty.

She might not be as simple as she seemed.

Her expression softened. “Probably three. One’s dead, so two remain. Even with one dead, they’d never report it.”

I hesitated. “You just said you didn’t know. Now you’re guessing three?”

She laughed suddenly. “Just a guess. Don’t overthink it.”

I didn’t dwell on it. A woman like Xue Youniang, raised by her mother after being abandoned by her father—would she really sacrifice her purity to seduce a virtuous monk just to protect her father?

I said, “You’re the enigma in this. Everything seems tied to you, yet not. I don’t know how much of what you say is true or false. To outsiders, you’re the most pitiable, deserving sympathy. First, your father abandoned you, yet you help him, even at the cost of your body. Second, as a beauty, your plight naturally draws more compassion.”

She gave a faint smile. “Since ancient times, beautiful women have always been favored. It’s the rule and the truth. This world is run by men, and their prizes are money, power, and beautiful women.”

Her tone was calm, almost musical, but her words rang true. A beauty who grasped this could live well. A clever one could turn the tables, commanding a pack of lustful men like dogs.

I sighed. “You’re right. Even someone like me feels my heart race seeing you. Why did you come to me?”

She paused. “I came to thank you.”

I was puzzled. “Thank me for what?”

After a moment, she said, “The Japanese have their ways. With enough money, they’d crush you. Be careful. I came because you helped me realize something.” She didn’t elaborate.

Since arriving at Famen Temple, I hadn’t been the center of events.

The lost Diamond Sutra from thirty years ago, Hua Chongyang’s close bond with Master Winter Melon, the thirty-year grudge of old cop Yun Chaohai, and the Japanese secretly contacting Yuantong—all were unrelated to me.

Except for Mo Bai’s story about the Hua and Guo families’ masters, injured by a blood corpse in an ancient tomb, and a black cat that escaped.

And Xue Youniang’s claim that the Japanese were after a black cat.

I came for Xie Lingyu. The temple’s events had nothing to do with me. Even if I’d arrived days later, Yun Chaohai would still have fallen into someone’s trap.

So why did Xue Youniang thank me? Women’s words can be baffling, torturing men.

As she turned to leave, I didn’t chase her to ask what she meant.

It wasn’t a major mystery. If she didn’t say, I wouldn’t ask.

As for her enigma, I had no interest in digging deeper.

After Jie Se received his punishment, our group left Famen Temple for Xi’an.

Hua Chongyang’s silver canister jangled at his waist. “Xiao Qi, if trouble arises, the Hua family has your back.” He then retired to sleep.

I glanced at his room—damn, a stone coffin. He climbed in, clapped, and sealed the lid.

The next day, Jie Se booked flights, arranged Xiao Jian’s transport, and we boarded a morning plane from Xi’an to Jiang City.

Each of us began a new chapter.

“No need to see us off, Jie Se. We’re at security,” I said, reluctant to part with the monk. We were alike in many ways.

Aside from him being rich and me poor, we were both tall, handsome, and scarred—my face’s gunshot wound adding a rugged charm.

Like me, he was tormented by loneliness.

Jie Se, now free of his monk robes, wore a leather jacket and turtleneck, blending in as a typical urban youth.

“Xiao Qi, give me a hug,” he said, spreading his arms.

I wanted to refuse.

Uncle Jianguo shoved me from behind. “Stop pretending.”

Jie Se hugged me tightly. Since ancient times, parting best friends embrace and cry. I thought I’d be an exception, but the monk held me fast.

His fists thumped my shoulders. “Xiao Qi, remember me.”

“Alright, monk, don’t beat me silly,” I said, breaking free. “Call me anytime you want to meet. I’m off.”

“I’m Hua Changsheng, not a monk…”

I nodded. “Changsheng, I’m going.”

Two steps later, he shouted, “Call that name again!”

I paused, then yelled, “Master Lust, Master Lust…”

Hua Changsheng roared with laughter. “I’m Jie Se, not Master Lust…”

Whether Jie Se, Lust, Old Dog, Changsheng, Bastard, or Scoundrel, he was my friend.

As I passed through security, tears fell, smashing two craters into the floor…