AGJN 087: Old Five, Want Some Fruit?

Fang Xiayun was dumbfounded. So, after all the trouble he went through to invite Master Sike, it turned out Lan He had already added the monk on WeChat and even exchanged awkward compliments on social media?

What was all that effort and the debt to the investor even for?

He immediately took a screenshot and messaged Lan He: [How do you know Master Sike?! Are you two close??]

Lan He: […]

Lan He finally realized: [You invited Master Sike?]

Fang Xiayun typed excitedly: [Of course! My first choice was Master Siming, but I couldn’t invite him, so I turned to Master Sike. If he also couldn’t make it, I was planning to reach out to Master Qingyun or Master Jingming!]

He rattled off his plans at length.

Lan He, seeing the familiar names, fell into deep thought…

How should she respond? Compliment Fang Xiayun for his good taste in seeking out genuinely skilled monks?

Each one of these monks had seen him blow his cover, added him on WeChat, and were now comfortably lying in his contact list.

If Fang Xiayun had messaged everyone on his invitation list, he would have discovered that Master Sike wasn’t the only one queueing up to exchange awkward compliments with him.

Lan He: [Oh… well, here’s the thing. Director Song Qiyun introduced me to the masters at Juehui Temple before, so we have a bit of a connection. If I’d known you wanted to invite Master Sike, I would’ve just asked him directly.]

Fang Xiayun calmed down slightly at the mention of Song Qiyun. That made sense.

Song Qiyun was indeed an extraordinary person, one of the few in the industry known to have connections with Juehui Temple, though the reasons were unclear. During the filming of *Ghostly Charm* under Song’s direction—a film with supernatural themes—it was plausible that Lan He was introduced to the temple then.

…But it still didn’t explain Master Sike’s over-the-top compliments towards Lan He!

Fang Xiayun grasped for an explanation: maybe Master Sike simply had an immediate affinity for Lan He?

Adopting a composed tone, Fang Xiayun replied: [Oh, well, that’s your good fortune. It’s quite convenient, but you’ll still need to attend the class this weekend.]

Lan He agreed and promptly created a special group for those monks in his contact list, realizing he should be more cautious with his social media posts in the future and make good use of privacy settings.

But that wasn’t the end of it. Fang Xiayun, after processing his initial shock over Lan He’s connection with Master Sike, decided it was actually an advantage.

On the scheduled day, Fang Xiayun and Lan He went together to pick up Master Sike. Noticing that Lan He brought along a stick, he casually asked, “What’s that?”

It was Master Budong’s stick, left with Lan He previously. He had wanted to return it, but Master Budong simply told him to keep it. The old monk was spending more time in quiet meditation, delegating most matters to Master Sikong and rarely using the stick himself.

Lan He felt that having the Linji stick would help his Zen studies. After all, it was a relic of a great monk. Though it was an ordinary wooden stick, its association gave it a sanctified aura.

However, when Fang Xiayun asked about it, the stick transformed from a relic into something else entirely.

Lan He: “Oh… it’s a yoga stick. I use it for yoga practice. I’ll do some exercises after this.”

Fang Xiayun was intrigued. “I’ve heard you’re good at yoga—playing dead by holding your breath. So, you use a wooden stick too, huh?”

Lan He: “Hehe.”

Fang Xiayun: “Can you bend your leg over your head?”

Lan He: “………….”

Lan He was stunned before realizing Fang Xiayun was laughing heartily. “I heard about this joke somewhere, just wanted to try it out.”

“I figured…” Lan He said, speechless. “Why are you suddenly using such old jokes?”

At Juehui Temple, Fang Xiayun texted Master Sike, who appeared shortly after. Fang quickly got out of the car to open the back door. “Please, Master.”

“Thank you,” Master Sike replied politely, greeting Lan He as well. “Mr. Lan.”

Fang Xiayun observed their interaction. It seemed normal enough—just acquaintances.

Master Sike was about to get into the back seat when his gaze fell on the familiar wooden stick beside Lan He. He drew in a sharp breath and quickly said, “I think I’ll sit in the front instead.”

Fang Xiayun, confused, suggested they sit together in the back. “It’s fine! You two can sit in the back, and I’ll be the driver.”

“No, no, I wouldn’t want to crowd Mr. Lan,” Master Sike said, hiking up his robes as he climbed into the front seat.

Fang Xiayun: “??”

There was no way Master Sike dared to sit beside Lan He—not when *that* relic of the abbot was right at Lan He’s feet!

Few had seen Lan He wield the stick in combat, but those who had would understand.

To others, it was just an ordinary wooden stick, but to those in the know, this stick was renowned throughout Juehui Temple and even the entire Buddhist community. It was the stick that earned Master Budong his title as the “Diamond Monk.” However, Sike did not know that this item had ended up in Lan He’s possession. Recalling now how Lan He jokingly said that Master Budong praised him for having a Buddha’s heart, the meaning took on a whole new depth.

If this object were in Song Futan’s hands, he wouldn’t be so surprised.

Originally, Sike respected Lan He out of reverence for the elder master, but now he added a sense of awe for the abbot’s sacred artifact. How could he dare sit on the same level?

When it was time for the lecture, Sike became even more uneasy. The man holding the abbot’s staff was sitting there while he was supposed to lecture on Zen. He couldn’t help but feel… unworthy.

Moreover!

Sike secretly stole glances at Lan He.

The “awakening stick” was not something just any monk could receive.

Master Budong’s Zen teachings were stern and fierce. One strike of the stick, and if you gained enlightenment, you gained it; otherwise, you just endured the hit in vain. But not every monk could casually approach Master Budong for guidance, let alone to request a strike. Otherwise, with so many monks, Master Budong wouldn’t be striking a wooden fish daily, but the heads of every monk instead.

Since the incident at Zhenwu Bridge, Master Budong had gradually stopped appearing publicly, much like how celestial beings retreat into mountains for secluded cultivation once they reach a certain level. The stick hadn’t been used on anyone in ages.

Truth be told, Sike kind of missed the feeling of sudden enlightenment, a hallmark of their Linji sect. He wasn’t a direct disciple of Master Budong, and while they shared the same generation title “Si,” he hadn’t received as much instruction as Sikong.

As he lectured, he kept sneaking glances at the wooden stick resting by Lan He’s table.

When Fang Xiayun went to the restroom, Sike seized the moment and said, “Master Lan, could you strike me once?”

Lan He: “???”

Lan He: “…Don’t call me Master Lan. Just call me Mr. Lan or Lan He,” he said cautiously, even though no one else was around. “Also, what do you mean by ‘strike me once’? I’m not Master Budong.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand; he just found it hard to believe.

Sike shyly replied, “Didn’t you say you have a Buddha’s heart?”

Lan He couldn’t help but laugh. “I was just boasting. The abbot praised me and found me agreeable. Do you think I can truly attain Buddhahood? He gave it to me for exorcising demons.” He figured using the stick for combat was one thing, but using it for guidance was entirely different.

Sike broke into a sweat. He hadn’t expected Lan He to use it solely for fighting. “But since the abbot entrusted it to you, and it has absorbed great wisdom, it has become a sacred artifact. Let’s give it a try.”

Lan He thought about it and realized the stick truly had become a sacred item. Much like Song Futan’s prayer beads, carrying it could enhance understanding. Perhaps it really could be useful?

After exchanging a few glances with Sike, Lan He suddenly picked up the stick and lightly struck Sike. “The abbot gave it to me simply because I contributed to the Zhenwu Bridge incident.”

The sudden strike and explanation left Sike dazed. A flash of insight flickered through his mind. He grasped at the glimmer and murmured, “I see now… The Buddhas and Bodhisattvas all originate from the human world. All sentient beings possess a Buddha’s heart…”

To experience impermanence yet maintain compassion is to possess a Buddha’s heart and qualify to wield Buddhist artifacts.

Sike achieved sudden enlightenment and immediately bowed to Lan He.

Lan He quickly helped him up. “Don’t, don’t…”

Sike was about to explain that it was only proper.

Lan He muttered, “If someone sees this, just treat me to a meal next time.”

Sike: “…”

Meanwhile, Fang Xiayun returned from the restroom only to find the atmosphere had shifted.

Sike seemed to treat Lan He with even greater respect now—so much so that it was unclear who was teaching whom.

After the lecture, Fang Xiayun said, “Master Sike, thank you for today’s lesson.”

Sike immediately replied, “I don’t deserve such thanks. I must also thank Mr. Lan. I learned a lot too. You are my teachers as well.” As he spoke, his gaze fixed on Lan He.

Lan He: “…”

Though Lan He, as an outsider, had inadvertently guided Sike to enlightenment, it was enough to count as being his teacher. Furthermore, it wasn’t only Buddhist disciples who could be teachers. When the young Sudhana sought enlightenment, he bowed to fifty-three spiritual guides, including laypeople, chefs, teachers, the elderly, and children. After these fifty-three teachings, he accumulated great merit.

Thus, Buddhist disciples seek learning from anyone with wisdom, even non-Buddhists, let alone using a sacred artifact of Master Budong’s to impart understanding.

Fang Xiayun was utterly baffled.

Lan He smiled and said, “You flatter me. Thank you.”

That might have been the end of it, but during the second lecture, Sike brought along not just his own plans but also several other masters, including Qingyun and Jingming, whom he had previously considered. Others he had only heard of but not thought to invite before were also present.

Sike explained with a laugh, “I feel inadequate and unworthy. These masters deeply admire Master Jingcheng, and each excels in their specialties. Let’s study all nine disciplines together.”

Lan He: “…”

Fang Xiayun: “???”

Lan He was speechless. Was this a lecture, or were they just here to get hit?

Even if each of them came with well-prepared reasons and acted naturally, Fang Xiayun still sensed something strange. Were they really here to revere Master Jingcheng, or was their admiration directed at Lan He?

He pressed Lan He, “What’s your standing in the Buddhist community?”

Why were so many eminent monks eager to attend these lectures?

Lan He: … They’re not here to teach. They’re here to seek enlightenment. I’m just a tool.

Lan He forced a sheepish smile and said, “No standing, really. Maybe it’s because Director Song introduced me.”

Fang Xiayun: “Song Qiyun has that much influence? How many monks has he introduced to you? Did you secretly ordain as a monk? Let me check if that’s a wig you’re wearing!”

Lan He: “…”

The once-composed director was on the verge of losing it.

Lan He ruffled his hair to prove it was real, then added half-jokingly, “No, he only introduced me to Master Budong. For some reason, he seemed to like me. I even gave him an autographed photo.”

Fang Xiayun choked for a moment before saying, “…You could’ve mentioned this connection earlier.”

Lan He sighed, “Well, I don’t fully believe in their teachings anyway.”

Fang Xiayun: “…”

If Fang Xiayun’s initial opinion of Lan He was 80% favorable, it had now risen to a solid 100%.

Later, during an event, when journalists brought up online controversies about actors, Fang Xiayun firmly declared, “Unless Master Jingcheng returns from the dead, I don’t believe there’s anyone in the industry more suitable than Lan He!”

…

…

Meanwhile, Lan He was preparing to welcome First Lady Hu to his home on an auspicious day.

The placement of his cat villa wasn’t random either. Where the Fortune Tower Shrine was located had to be either designated by the celestial beings themselves, placed in the White Tiger direction (the right side outside the main entrance), or calculated by an expert. But in all cases, it had to be built on purified ground—untrodden by people—not on pathways.

The front yard was all grass, and Lan He chose a spot near the wall for the villa. Song Futan even wrote couplets to paste on either side of the cat villa’s doorway.

On the chosen day, Old Bai also came over. Having recovered from his injuries, he claimed he was there to witness First Lady Hu’s housewarming, though everyone knew he was here for entertainment. Old Bai shamelessly insisted they were all family.

As soon as Old Bai entered, he spotted a snake coiled in a tree, its head poking down. Around its neck was a plastic cone, like a speaker.

Old Bai was stunned. Looking at the snake, he said, “Old Fourth… seriously, you’re wearing a speaker?”

Liu 13 hissed, flicking his tongue. “You know nothing. It’s called an Elizabethan collar.”

Old Bai: “…?”

I understand, but I think you don’t…

The Elizabethan collar, often worn by cats and dogs after neutering, had another name: the “Cone of Shame.”

“Hang it a bit higher,” Lan He instructed Hu 79, who was hanging colorful ribbons atop the cat villa. The ribbons would stay for a month to celebrate the celestial beings moving in.

Hu 79 muttered jealously. When she moved in, Lan He had been cautious about their identities and didn’t bother with such fanfare. She wanted to stay in the White Tiger direction but was told it was a fire escape and forbidden.

Old Bai floated over. “By the way, when welcoming celestial beings, avoid the presence of four-eyed beings. You know this, right?”

Lan He replied with a questioning “Huh?” and looked at Bai Wu. “You’re kidding, right? Four-eyed beings aren’t allowed?”

That seemed unfair to the Bai clan.

Bai Wu: “…”

Bai Wu: “…Not me. It refers to pregnant women.”

Lan He finally understood. Oh, it referred to pregnant women, who, together with their unborn child, had “four eyes.” He thought it was a jab at the Bai clan.

“No worries. The doors are locked, and this courtyard is private,” Lan He said.

Old Bai gave Song Futan a thumbs-up, preparing to make a snarky remark.

But Song Futan cut him off. “How’s your wife? Fried yet?”

Old Bai: “…”

Old Bai deflated and replied, “She’s already been sent to the underworld and locked in the heavy prison. I spent some money to arrange for her cell to be near where Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva chants scriptures.”

Lan He looked at Old Bai in surprise. “You actually spent money on her? I thought you…”

Old Bai had always appeared particularly indifferent toward Shui Yue, avoiding any talk of their past lives and relentlessly pursuing her capture.

“We are indeed strangers now, and I am no longer the person she knew. I merely pity her, but cannot allow her to cling to false hopes. Her obsession is already deep enough.” For a moment, an unusual sorrow flashed across Old Bai’s otherwise expressionless face.

Lan He almost suspected that Old Bai might have remembered their past life, quietly caring for Shui Yue under the radar. After all, the Liu sect’s successful cultivators often fell prey to romantic notions from their past lives.

But that sorrow lasted only a second or two before Old Bai turned to Lan He and said, “I’m broke from all this bribery. Get me some money.”

Lan He: “…”

Looking at his deadpan expression, Lan He figured if Old Bai did remember, it wasn’t much—certainly not enough to stir significant guilt.

Lan He clutched his chest dramatically, staggered back a few steps into Song Futan’s arms, and groaned, “Unfilial child!”

Old Bai: “Drama queen.”

Lan He: “Get lost.”

Old Bai: “Father!” He grabbed Lan He’s hand and massaged it. “You worked so hard folding those paper ingots. I can wait a bit for the money.”

Soon, the auspicious hour arrived. Lan He finished stacking the incense tower and paper ingots, offering them toward Miaogan Mountain. A wisp of incense smoke reached the altar, and First Lady Hu emerged, stepping gracefully through the fragrant mist. She gazed with satisfaction at the colorfully adorned wooden cat villa, complete with her tablet, and smiled warmly as she bowed to Lan He. “My respects.”

Everyone else chimed in, “Congratulations, First Lady Hu.”

First Lady Hu, ever magnanimous, waved her hand and invited everyone to partake in the incense tower offerings. “Come, join me for a vegetarian feast.”

Old Bai, picking through the fragrant smoke, grinned mischievously. “Now that First Lady Hu is here, shouldn’t the tablet order be adjusted?”

Indeed!

In a celestial household, order must be established, especially with the arrival of a new member. The hierarchy needed to satisfy everyone.

Would it be based on seniority in cultivation or social standing?

First Lady Hu smiled faintly. “First come, first served—what’s the issue? Besides, in the hierarchy of Hu, Huang, Bai, and Liu, my Hu sect holds seniority. Under the protection of the Great Lady, I have some standing. Even Liu 13 has no room for objection.”

Not that Liu 13 had any hierarchical delusions—he was essentially an adopted member, without even a proper tablet. It wasn’t worth arguing about.

As for Hu 79 and Bai Wu, who might have raised objections, they were no match for First Lady Hu and had to concede.

After all, they were both opportunists—one who seized the moment, and the other who seized the moment from the first seizer.

Thus, First Lady Hu’s tablet was unarguably placed at the forefront.

Hu 79, seeking to curry favor, dragged Bai Wu along with a fruit platter and said, “Big Sister, we sisters stand united like a thorny ball. Since the master’s identity is now out in the open, let’s guard the household and prevent any further intrusions.”

First Lady Hu gave a thoughtful hum.

“But now that First Lady Hu is under Father’s roof, we need to discuss rank,” Old Bai interjected, clearly intent on stirring trouble.

Yet First Lady Hu, ever the shrewd Hu sect member, was not about to let Old Bai revel in the chaos. With a knowing smile that brooked no argument, she replied, “Whoever wants to be the youngest can go ahead. I was born to be the eldest. Got it, little brother?”

What nonsense. She was the eldest. How the rest sorted their ranks or who ended up as the youngest had nothing to do with her.

Old Bai: “…”

Old Bai, Hu 79, and Bai Wu exchanged awkward glances. Well… this was tricky.

…

Lan He and Song Futan stood to the side, clearly observing the celestial beings’ movements in the courtyard. Gradually, Old Bai, Hu 79, and Bai Wu gravitated toward First Lady Hu’s side, chattering away. It was unclear if it was a power struggle or something else.

Meanwhile, Liu 13 remained blissfully unaware, still wearing his “Elizabethan collar” and enjoying his incense offering while watching TV from his perch in the tree.

After a while, Old Bai passed beneath the tree and called out, “Old Fifth, want some fruit?”

Liu 13: “?????”

Lan He: “…”

What was this? Was everyone ganging up on the poor snake?

Liu 13 slid down the tree in an instant, chasing Old Bai while cursing, “What the hell is wrong with you people?! Are you messing with me?!”

He had only just come to terms with being called Old Fourth—and he still hadn’t figured out why—when suddenly his rank was changed again?!

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Author’s Note:

Filming for *Anaconda Apocalypse* is about to begin!*