"I'm looking for someone. Has she passed through here?"
The young girl pulled out a portrait and showed it to Meng Po.
After a fearful glance at her, Meng Po looked at the girl in the painting and said, "Leave me a tear of yours, and I'll tell you."
"I don't cry."
"That's impossible, all humans cry; tears of compassion from a Buddhist Woman are rare in this world. If you add it to my soup, no fish will slip through the net."
"But I have never shed tears." She said.
Meng Po looked at her and laughed, "It's the ephemeral blooming of the night lily, all for Weituo. Wait until the day the one who can make you willingly shed tears comes, then come back to me with a tear."
Ming Jing nodded, "Grandma, where is she?"