Chapitre 3: The Taoist Descends the Mountain (Part One)
During his time as a soldier in the city, the portly fellow often had opportunities to venture out to buy groceries as a cook. After experiencing the bustling life of the metropolis, he returned home, restless and clamoring to join his father, the village secretary, in seeking work.
Initially, he accompanied a small contractor from the village, but he soon found the labor too arduous and ultimately secured a position as a security guard in the city. This brief stint in the workforce exposed him to the harsh realities of survival, leading to his current reflections.
"What's wrong with being a security guard?"
Hearing the portly fellow's lament, Fang Yi scoffed, replying, "I've said it before: the universe is indifferent, treating all beings as mere fodder. If the heavens themselves regard all with impartiality, what right do those individuals have to look down upon security guards? It's simply a job, after all."
"Fang Yi, I think you've become a bit daft from living in the mountains. You'll understand once you step outside..."
The portly fellow regarded Fang Yi as if he were an alien, shaking his head and saying, "In today's society, those with wealth and power are the masters, while the impoverished are treated like subordinates. With your disposition, you'd likely starve out there. You'd be better off sticking with me; at least you'd have something to eat..."
Though both were somewhat naive, the portly fellow considered himself a seasoned veteran compared to Fang Yi, who probably had no real understanding of money, let alone how to use it.
"Starve? You think I, the Taoist master, would starve?"
Fang Yi dismissed the notion with a sneer. "I am the abbot of the Shangqing Palace, officially registered with the Taoist Association. When I venture out, I will be warmly welcomed at various temples, far more comfortably than you could ever imagine..."
As he spoke, Fang Yi glanced at the dilapidated temple around him, feeling a twinge of insecurity as he added, "Even if they don't roll out the red carpet, surely they'll at least provide a meal, right? My abbot's credentials are still tucked away in my room..."
Fang Yi wasn't exaggerating; his aimless master, apart from raising him, had done one significant thing before passing: he descended the mountain for three months and returned with a set of credentials and identification.
Many believe the title of abbot pertains solely to Buddhism, but it is, in fact, a designation for the highest leader within a Taoist temple, also known as the "host."
An abbot is a priest who has undergone the Three Bans and received the legal transmission of the "Law," known for strict moral conduct and high virtue, elected by the entire congregation of Taoists. Interestingly, the term "abbot" in Buddhism originally derived from Taoism.
Given the old Taoist's lazy nature, he hadn't bestowed upon Fang Yi the Three Bans, and in their Shangqing Palace, aside from the kitchen's rodents, only Fang Yi and his master remained. As long as the old Taoist consented, it could be argued that he was indeed supported by the entire congregation, making him a reluctant candidate for the title of abbot.
However, Fang Yi remained skeptical about the legitimacy of the credentials his master had procured, acutely aware of the social hierarchy. He couldn't help but wonder if his master had simply seen one of those advertising leaflets at the train station and spent a few dozen yuan on a counterfeit certificate.
"At your age, you think you can pass for an abbot? You'd be laughed at..."
Having grown up together, the portly fellow could easily discern Fang Yi's insecurity. He promptly suggested, "You'd be better off sticking with me. With your skills, you could easily make a living as a daytime burglar. Even if someone spotted you, they wouldn't be able to catch up..."
"Daytime burglar? What's that?" Fang Yi paused, genuinely unfamiliar with the term.
"Heh, it means robbing the wealthy during the day to help the poor. Now you understand, right?"
The portly fellow chuckled, having heard of such audacious acts while working as a security guard. There were indeed individuals brazen enough to contact moving companies to empty out valuable possessions from others' homes.
"Goodness, you glutton! Did you really waste your years in the army?" Fang Yi retorted, pulling the portly fellow down from the rocking chair and playfully delivering a few punches, prompting the latter to beg for mercy.
"Ouch! Don't kick my backside; don't hit there! My... my rear hasn't been developed yet..." Having grown up in playful banter, Fang Yi didn't truly intend to harm him. After a brief scuffle, they both returned to their seats.
"Portly fellow, what do you think I should do once I leave?"
After listening to the portly fellow's tales of the outside world, Fang Yi, who had initially been filled with anticipation, let out a sigh, feeling a wave of apprehension wash over him. Aside from some basic Taoist practices, he knew little of the world beyond.
"Out there, it's a different landscape. Your limited skills won't be of much use..."
The portly fellow was aware that the old Taoist had some knowledge of divination and exorcism, but in this modern age of technology, if Fang Yi dared to pursue such practices, he would likely be arrested for promoting feudal superstition.
"What should I do then? I can't just resort to busking, can I?" Fang Yi's face contorted in despair. He indeed possessed skills; his agility had been evident when he caught cicadas earlier.
From the age of four, the old Taoist had bound sandbags to Fang Yi's legs and made him jump out of a pit about ten centimeters deep, ensuring his knees remained straight. As Fang Yi grew, both the weight of the sandbags and the depth of the pit increased.
Now, he could easily leap over a two-meter-high wall, but the hardships he endured over the years were not something he could easily articulate. The portly fellow had only lasted a week training alongside him before he cried out in despair and fled.
However, the portly fellow, having spent time in the temple, had not entirely been without merit. At just fifteen, when he arrived at the army's boot camp, he had taken down three older soldiers in a one-on-three scuffle, making quite a name for himself.
Yet, true to the old Taoist's nature, the portly fellow preferred a life of ease, opting to work as a cook for the regiment rather than joining the reconnaissance unit. Had he chosen differently, he might have been promoted, as there were always a few promotion spots available after the annual military competitions.
"Where there's a will, there's a way. Sticking with me, you needn't worry about starving," the portly fellow reassured, thumping his chest. If necessary, he could ask his father for help and join the local construction team for work, ensuring they would have enough to eat.
"Fine, I'll follow your lead for now..." Fang Yi conceded, nodding reluctantly. Although the world was vast, apart from a few farmers he knew at the foot of the mountain, the only trustworthy individuals in his life were the portly fellow and his deceased master.
"That's the spirit! Fang Yi, pack your things; we're heading down the mountain today..."
The portly fellow clapped his hands and jumped up, looking around excitedly. "You don't have much to pack anyway; let's just go! Once we reach the base, my mother can help you alter a few outfits—this robe is far too conspicuous..."
"Hold on! My master said I shouldn't descend the mountain for another three days. If I do, I might face disaster..." Fang Yi shook his head earnestly. Having been influenced by the old Taoist, who claimed to be a disciple of Yuan Tiangang, he took his master's words to heart.
"Come on, what kind of society are we in? You're still clinging to such superstitions?" Although the portly fellow had grown up under the old Taoist's influence, he was a staunch skeptic, dismissing any belief in the supernatural or practices like divination.
With a sly grin, the portly fellow hid his hands behind his back. After a moment, he raised his wrist, saying, "Today is July 6th. What date did your master mention?"
"April 26th. Isn't today just April 22nd?" Fang Yi leaned in to check the portly fellow's watch, scratching his head. "Did I oversleep one day and forget to tear off the calendar page?"
In their mountain temple, modern conveniences were exceedingly rare. Aside from Fang Yi's old radio, there were no electrical devices. The calendar was one Fang Yi had traded for with herbal remedies from the farmers below and required daily tearing off.
"Your calendar can't possibly be as accurate as mine," the portly fellow boasted, pointing to his wristwatch. "See? This is a brand-name watch, a Seiko, with a calendar feature. It cost me over seven hundred yuan!"
Though the portly fellow was not wealthy, he harbored aspirations. To buy this watch and bridge the gap between himself and city dwellers, he had secretly subsisted on plain boiled noodles for a month in the security dormitory, saving up for it.
"It really does show the month and date..."
Fang Yi examined the watch for a moment before pulling out a pocket watch connected by a gold chain, saying, "While my watch tells the time, it doesn't display the date, making yours far more practical..."
"Huh? Did the old Taoist pass this watch down to you?"
Upon seeing the pocket watch, the portly fellow's eyes lit up. "Fang Yi, this is an antique! You could sell it for a good sum outside. Perhaps we could rely on it to make our fortune!"
The portly fellow had seen the pocket watch as a child. According to the old Taoist, he had received it from a foreigner who intruded upon the temple in Beijing during the time of the Eight-Nation Alliance.
However, both Fang Yi and the portly fellow were skeptical of the old Taoist's story. After all, the foreign troops were notorious for looting upon entering Beijing—who would be so benevolent as to gift an old Taoist a gold watch? Most likely, the old Taoist had seized it from one of the foreigners.
"Don't even think about it, you foolish glutton..."
Before the portly fellow could finish, Fang Yi interrupted him, stuffing the pocket watch back into his pocket. "This is a keepsake from my master. I would rather starve than sell it. You'd best abandon this idea..."
Though he often referred to the old Taoist casually, Fang Yi held deep respect for him. The old man had raised him for over a decade, and Fang Yi regarded him as family. Thus, he would never part with anything the old Taoist had entrusted to him.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone