Although the secret was out, everyone failed to gain the upper hand in conversation and was left speechless by Master Lai’s sharp rebuttals.
The group could only awkwardly tease each other.
“Next time Master Lai’s movie comes out, you all have to book out the theater, don’t you?”
“Our Master Jiang even voted for Master Lai.”
“Huh? Voted for what? I recite scriptures all day long and didn’t even know about this.”
Even Si Kong couldn’t help but chime in, “My master has an autographed photo of Master Lai. He told me it’s purely because he admires him and thinks he’s handsome.”
Knowing a bit more than the others but unable to reveal it, he felt slightly stifled.
The monks found the situation both amusing and exasperating. That “Master Budong” truly lived up to his name…
Lan He said, “Of course! Master Budong and I are good friends despite our age difference. He even certified that I have a Buddhist heart!” First Lady Hu told him this, and he figured it meant he was kindhearted.
Everyone: “…”
This rascal… Wait, this works too?
Si Kong was at a loss for words.
It was undeniable. From the first time Master Budong met Impermanent Lai, he regarded him differently. He even gifted him the Linji stick. Despite Impermanent Lai being an official under Eastern Peak, Master Budong once described him in a verse: “Uncommon is the immortal bone; compassionate is the Buddhist heart.”
The Taoists from the Eastern Peak Temple were exasperated. “Master Lai, stop talking, or rumors about you switching sides will spread again!”
The heavy rain was subsiding, and the clouds were dispersing. After hours of darkness, daylight returned to the capital. The Black and White Impermanents also regained their bearings and came looking.
The Black and White Impermanents were more challenging to meet than ordinary underworld officials. Some of the monks present were seeing the famous Xie Bi’an and Fan Wujiu for the first time.
Old Bai, seeing Xie Bi’an, grinned and stood up, completely forgetting his failed ghost-catching attempt. “Master Xie… Mission accomplished! I caught Shui Yue for you!”
Everyone: “…”
Shui Yue: “…”
Liu 13: “You shameless liar! What do you mean you caught her?”
Old Bai, trying to please his idol, awkwardly replied, “I just skipped a few details. After all, this was all thanks to everyone saving me, so by rounding up, it’s like I caught her.”
Liu 13: “…I didn’t save you for your sake.”
Old Bai: “But you saved my partner, so it’s the same.”
Lan He was already used to this. The others, however, found it amusing to watch an Impermanent and a snake spirit bicker.
Fan Wujiu and Xie Bi’an checked the bottle. Seeing Shui Yue subdued, they were satisfied. Fan Wujiu slightly nodded and said, “Thank you to all the immortals and monks. Tonight’s Night Demon almost succeeded, but your efforts will surely be recorded in the underworld’s ledger of good and evil.”
“Rustle…”
The monks replied, “Master Fan is too kind. Thank you!”
Xie Bi’an said, “It’s been long enough. We’ll take Shui Yue back to report. Xiao Lai.”
Lan He heard him call and responded, “Hm?”
Xie Bi’an raised his chin and said meaningfully, “Since you’ve even accepted First Lady Hu from Miaogan Mountain, you’d better do your job well in the future. Stop being so preoccupied with your mortal-world duties.”
Before Lan He could reply, Fan Wujiu pulled Xie Bi’an aside, calmly stating, “Do not interfere with mortal affairs.”
Xie Bi’an turned his head, ignoring him.
“Rustle…”
Lan He simply smiled nonchalantly, “I just do what I can to maintain balance.”
Still, since First Lady Hu had been restored to her golden peak, the Zhenwu Bridge was completed, and the five town guardians were now established, the capital’s safety was assured. The coming days should be more peaceful, allowing for a quieter life.
Handling ghosts bothering Song Futan or helping Old Bai reap souls seemed like a manageable routine.
With this thought, he turned to exchange a knowing look with Song Futan.
“Rustle…”
Fan Wujiu and Xie Bi’an both nodded slightly, then slowly turned their gaze toward the source of the faint “rustle” sound. “What is he doing?”
Lan He turned his head and saw from his angle that Wang Lili was sketching—none other than Xie Bi’an and Fan Wujiu.
Lan He: “You…”
Wang Lili looked up and realized that the Black and White Impermanents and everyone else were staring at him. “Sorry, I got inspired.”
He had never seen the Black and White Impermanents before. They were so famous! And while their aura was eerie, they didn’t look as terrifying as the legends described with impossibly long tongues. He felt compelled to draw them on the spot.
Xie Bi’an stuck out his tongue, letting it hang down to his chest, and said in a sinister tone, “Wishing to capture Master Xie in your art, which sect do you belong to—”
Wang Lili: “………………”
Ah, so the tongue really was that long.
“Master Xie, please forgive him,” Lan He stepped in to smooth things over. “He’s a colleague of ours in the mortal realm, and also my partner. He’s never seen your elegance before.”
Since Wang Lili was a police officer, his courage had grown after several encounters. He even managed an awkward smile. “My apologies…”
“Seeing as you’re a policeman, I’ll let it slide,” Xie Bi’an said. “We’re leaving!”
“Wait!”
Shui Yue’s voice emerged from the bottle.
Xie Bi’an paused, visibly annoyed.
Shui Yue wept, “I know you’ll take me to the underworld, where we’ll never meet again. I want to say a few words to Bai Ruyi—about our past life.”
Xie Bi’an had heard countless ghosts with lingering obsessions tell their stories. He was long tired of such tales. However, since Shui Yue wanted to speak to Old Bai, who had been somewhat implicated by him and Fan Wujiu, Xie Bi’an turned to Old Bai.
Old Bai immediately said, “Who wants to hear it? I don’t even know you anymore!”
Xie Bi’an: “No one wants to listen. Let’s move on.”
Everyone’s reaction was cold, including Lan He, whose expression remained indifferent. Shui Yue had already shared her story in rough outlines earlier. He could fill in the gaps himself. After the battle, there seemed little need to listen to the boss’s tale. Especially for the ghost herself, these were fleeting echoes of a past life, tied to the obsession born of Shui Yue’s demonic thoughts.
Liu 13 said, “I want to hear it.”
Old Bai: “…”
Shui Yue: “…”
Everyone else: “…”
Old Bai rolled his eyes. “What’s wrong with you? It has nothing to do with you!”
Lan He wiped his forehead. “She wants to tell it to Old Bai. Does your interest really mean she has to?”
Liu 13, enraged, tried to rise and argue, but his wound tugged at him, causing him to hiss in pain.
Before he could do much, Bai Wu collapsed onto the ground, wailing loudly, “You moved again—”
Liu 13: “…”
Lan He sighed and suggested, “Can we let Shui Yue speak?” If nothing else, it was for Old Bai’s safety.
Shui Yue was released and sat on the ground, facing Liu 13, who crouched in front of her. She twitched her lips at the sight of the circle of disinterested people around her—some sketching, others on their phones, and some still crying. With a blank expression, she said, “I don’t want to tell it anymore.”
“You’re messing with me?” Liu 13 slammed Shui Yue’s head against the wall with brutal force.
Shui Yue: “… I was a nun in my previous life. I trained with my master for fourteen years, who said I had great potential and could one day attain enlightenment. But one day, I went down the mountain to meditate under a tree and met a young Taoist. We fell in love. I left the order to live with him. But when he was injured driving out drought demons, I performed rituals to prolong his life. It didn’t work, and I lost him. I tried to bring him back from the underworld but failed, losing myself in the process. Worse, while I was imprisoned, he reincarnated without waiting for me, becoming Bai Ruyi and later serving as an Impermanent, completely forgetting me. Eventually, I let go and only wanted to reincarnate myself.”
Shui Yue’s storytelling lacked any emotion, making her tale of a nun falling for mortal love sound utterly flat. Just her decision to leave the order could inspire at least 100,000 words on Jinjiang.
Liu 13 listened with a serious face until she finished her dry story. “That’s it?”
Shui Yue: “Yes.”
Liu 13 looked thoroughly defrauded, finding no drama or juicy details. “Get lost.”
Shui Yue quickly retreated back into the bottle, almost eager to escape. Even evil spirits have their pride.
After Xie Bi’an and Fan Wujiu left, the matter was officially concluded.
Old Bai prepared to return to the underworld to recuperate and winked at First Lady Hu. “When will First Lady Hu come to stay at Xiao Lai’s place?”
“That depends on Xiao Lai,” First Lady Hu replied with a gentle smile. “I came down the mountain specifically to share the good news.”
For a moment, Lan He felt like a scumbag being pressured into marriage—especially since First Lady Hu had gone through so much for the safety of the capital, only to have someone take advantage of her vulnerability.
“Thank you for your hard work, First Lady Hu.” Lan He applauded her first, then said helplessly, “First Lady Hu, you’re in charge of Miaogan Mountain’s affairs. I’ll set up a shrine for you at home. Whenever you’re tired or hungry, come down for some incense.”
First Lady Hu covered her mouth with her hand to avoid drooling and laughed. “I was just joking, but if you’re serious, remember to use a pinewood plaque.”
Lan He: “…Fine.”
…
Lan He promised to set up a plaque, rebuild the God of Wealth’s Pavilion, and give First Lady Hu a grand ceremonial welcome before she was satisfied and returned to her duties. True to his word, he immediately ordered a new cat villa.
He also exchanged contact information with Wang Lili and the other monks, promising to add them to his list after reincarnation rituals were complete.
Since there were so many people present today, Lan He half-jokingly said, “Please don’t go around exposing my secret identity. If you do, I’ll just say you’re hired trolls out to defame me.”
This meant, of course, they shouldn’t talk. And even if they did, he wouldn’t admit to it.
Everyone laughed awkwardly. It wasn’t something they could easily reveal outside their circle anyway. Within the industry, however, it was unlikely to stay a secret for long…
Back in his physical body, Lan He ordered a same-day delivery and picked up an Elizabethan collar from the pet hospital. The collar was a circular, cone-shaped accessory with Velcro straps, designed to prevent pets from licking or biting themselves after surgery.
By the time they got home, the delivery had arrived.
Lan He unpacked it and discarded the bag labeled with phrases like “Pet Protective Collar,” “Spray-proof, Bite-proof, Lick-proof,” and “For Large Dogs, Post-op Recovery.” Turning to Liu 13, who was recovering at his place, he said, “Old Four, put this on.”
“What’s that?” Liu 13 had heard Lan He mention buying an Elizabethan collar but had no idea what it was.
“It straps around your neck so your tongue can’t reach your wounds,” Lan He explained. “Tighten it a bit for a snug fit.”
In human form, it was manageable. In snake form, with no defined neck, it might slip off. Fortunately, Liu 13 was an immortal, so a tighter fit wasn’t an issue.
Bai Wu, examining the collar, quickly figured out its purpose and eagerly attempted to fasten it around Liu 13’s neck.
“Wait a minute,” Liu 13 sneered. “Why would humans invent such a thing? Do their tongues even come close to being as long as mine?”
Unless, of course, this wasn’t designed for humans. So what was its true purpose?
Lan He was stunned. He hadn’t expected Liu 13 to overthink it so much—was this a burst of brilliance under suspicion?
Song Futan quickly searched for something and showed Liu 13 a few paintings of ancient foreign nobility wearing decorative neckpieces. “This is called an Elizabethan collar. It was a popular ornamental neckpiece in ancient foreign courts. This is an upgraded version, with a minimalist and elegant design. Lan He just thought it’d conveniently cure your habit.”
Watching his boyfriend spin this tale, Lan He thought it was just like the time they tricked Bai Wu and Hu 79 into staying in pet enclosures.
I lie to the snake, he covers it up. That’s what love looks like. So Lan He chimed in loudly, “Exactly! Look at the material—it’s waterproof! The Velcro allows for easy adjustments, making it super convenient.”
“What? It’s waterproof?” Liu 13 touched the collar. Indeed, water beaded off its surface. He quickly said, “Put it on me. Let me see.”
Bai Wu inspected the wounds on Liu 13’s neck before standing behind him and fastening the collar securely. The cone-shaped collar locked around Liu 13’s head, making it look like his head was sprouting from a trumpet.
Liu 13 flicked his tongue, only for it to hit the soft plastic edge, unable to reach the wound.
Hu 79 glanced at him and found it oddly familiar, recalling her visits to the neighborhood to play with dogs. “This…”
Lan He coughed. “Ahem.”
Hu 79 closed her mouth.
After donning the collar, Liu 13 felt it was quite luxurious and befitting of his dragon status. Though not being able to lick was a bit uncomfortable, he found it tolerable. Twisting his neck slightly, he said with a relaxed expression, “Not bad.”
…
News spread quickly after Lan He hinted at a press conference that he would indeed play the role of Master Jingsheng. The production crew assumed he was trying to create buzz. Since everything had already been decided, they went along with it.
This immediately sparked a lively discussion and greatly expanded the scope of attention.
Some people thought that Lan He was quite serious. Knowing that monks were giving a lecture downstairs, he specifically went down to listen and ask questions. However, others believed there were limitations and that someone as beautiful as him shouldn’t have been cast to play Master Jingsheng.
[Disagree, disagree, disagree! Lan He doesn’t have Master Jingsheng’s aura!]
[What, have you smelled Master Jingsheng before? Since the director has already chosen, don’t you think Director Fang knows more than you? We’ll see when it’s released!]
[The crew also mentioned that they’d arrange for actor training. I trust Lan He’s professional skills.]
[Training is enough? Does your Lan He even have the wisdom for this role?]
[Why so salty, commenter above? Is it because your favorite wasn’t chosen, and now you’re angry?]
[If he had the wisdom, he’d already be breaking ground in the Buddhist world! Demanding an actor playing a lay devotee also possess inherent wisdom is just hilarious!]
[I remember an actor in the industry who once played a monk and got so deep into the research that they eventually became a monk themselves?]
[…Don’t scare me.]
There was some controversy, but it was all within the normal range. Lan He’s company, after observing public opinion, didn’t think there was an issue. Fans were generally excited to see him take on a completely opposite role under a renowned director.
Director Fang Xiayun, busy organizing the training, paid little attention to online chatter. Regardless of the comments, he had his own plans.
Organizing the training sessions took quite a bit of Fang Xiayun’s energy. Other roles were easier to arrange, but Lan He’s curriculum required a monk to teach some Zen principles. After pulling many strings, he finally connected with Juehui Temple.
Although Master Jingsheng wasn’t ordained at Juehui Temple but at a small temple, most of Beijing’s temples had been demolished long ago, including that small temple. Besides, being a Zen sect temple, Juehui Temple was quite prestigious.
Given Juehui Temple’s prominence in Beijing, Fang Xiayun hadn’t even considered approaching Master Budong, nor could he reach the second-in-command, Master Sikong. He had contacted Master Siming, who unfortunately was unavailable. In the end, thanks to an investor’s connection, he managed to reach Master Sike, who agreed to help.
Though Master Sike wasn’t the top monk at the temple, he was still a notable figure, with published works on Buddhist studies.
[Hello, I’m Fang Xiayun. We’re currently preparing for a film and would like to invite you to give a few classes to our actor on Zen studies. When would you be available?] Fang Xiayun respectfully messaged Master Sike via WeChat. Although he was a well-known director in the industry, he adopted a humble tone with the master. It was said the monk didn’t like phone calls, so everyone used texts; after the temple got Wi-Fi, they also used WeChat.
The master’s profile picture was of the temple’s trees, and his username was his Dharma name. He replied slowly, as expected of someone who had renounced worldly life.
Master Sike: [Hello, I’ve heard about it from the introducer. I’m available on weekend afternoons.]
Fang Xiayun knew the master was doing this as a favor to the introducer, not because he cared about their film—would a master like him care about such fame?
[Thank you so much! I’ll personally come to pick you up. I also have some personal questions I hope you can guide me on!] Fang Xiayun promised to personally fetch Master Sike, hoping to seize the opportunity to seek advice. After all, life in the industry could be turbulent, and one couldn’t help but want guidance from an enlightened individual.
Master Sike: [Alright. I wouldn’t dare call it guidance, but I will answer as best as I can.]
Fang Xiayun couldn’t help but feel that Master Sike’s plain, modest tone exuded a sense of detachment and transcendence that ordinary people could never achieve.
Not wanting to disturb the master further, he ended the conversation and messaged Lan He.
Fang Xiayun: [I’ve arranged for a teacher. Keep your schedule free this weekend afternoon. I’ll take you to the master class!]
Lan He responded quickly: [Got it.]
Still concerned, Fang Xiayun added: [I trust your professionalism, and I know you’ve already looked into Zen studies. But I have to remind you, this master was not easy to invite. He’s highly revered wherever he goes. Please be respectful and don’t bring up your atheism. Treat it like philosophy, okay?]
Lan He: [Understood, Director. I’ll be careful!]
Only after this did Fang Xiayun feel relieved. He was grateful that Lan He, despite being a young actor, was one of the more steady ones he’d worked with. Out of habit, he opened his social media.
He happened to see a post Lan He had made two minutes ago, which explained why he’d responded so quickly.
He had posted about a multi-level cat villa, captioned: “Assembly complete. Seems like there’ll be new tenants soon…”
Some mutual friends had already started commenting, praising the villa’s beauty.
Fang Xiayun smiled lightly. Ah, young people liked to keep pets. He gave the post a like and continued scrolling.
Moments later, a new notification popped up. He clicked on it absentmindedly, only to freeze when he saw the username—Master Sike?!
Oh my gosh! Master Sike actually commented on my post?!
His heart pounded wildly. Could it be that I have such deep wisdom that Master Sike chose to comment on my post?
Squinting to read the comment, he saw: [👏👏 Did you build this yourself? Such a beautiful house; I’d love to move in myself, haha 😊.]
Fang Xiayun was bewildered. Clicking through, he realized the comment wasn’t on his post at all—it was on Lan He’s cat villa post.
Even more hilariously, Lan He hadn’t even replied to the master yet, still busy responding to other friends who’d commented first.
Fang Xiayun: “…???”
Author’s Note:
Liu 13 touched the Elizabethan collar and smiled gracefully.
omg thank you for the translations
Loving this spot for classic gaming! Hyypackel
A snake in the shame cone oh my gosh XD I love Lan He’s jokes with the monks so much