Ya She

Chapter 4 The Silent Shop: Mermaid Candle

The doctor had known the boss for two years, but he didn't know the boss's name, and the boss didn't know his. God knows how the boss managed to get him out of the operating room to save the dog! Did he have a cell phone? And how did he know his number? At the time, it showed up on his phone as a disconnected number.

Just then, the dog he had recently named "Apache" ran into the back of the antique shop while he wasn't looking.

The shopkeeper was completely absorbed in putting the Fragrant Concubine necklace away in the cabinet, showing no reaction whatsoever. The doctor chased after the dog and came across a jade screen.

This jade-carved screen is as tall as a person. It depicts a garden scene. The carving is extremely lifelike, skillfully utilizing the natural colors of the jade. As the figure moves, the mountains and water appear to have varying distances, and the pavilions seem to possess a profound depth. Even the embroidered figures have rich expressions, conveying joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness. The flowers, birds, fish, and insects are also vividly depicted, making one almost able to imagine the birdsong among the flowers and the sound of fish leaping in the water.

The doctor was captivated, watching the jade display different iridescent colors as the light changed, and even wanted to reach out and touch it. "Woof woof!" Apache's bark came from behind the screen. The doctor was about to call for the owner's help, but when he turned around, the person who had been standing in front of the counter had vanished.

Forget it, let's catch the dog first. If he ruins the things inside, he really can't afford to pay for it. According to the owner, the antiques here are all priceless.

Behind the jade screen was an extremely deep passageway, lined with small rooms on both sides. There were no signs on them, and the dim lighting made it seem even more eerie and terrifying.

The antique shop seemed to have no electrical appliances whatsoever; even the outer lighting was provided by the two Changxin Palace lanterns. The doctor took out his phone for illumination, quietly calling Apache's name as he walked along the corridor. A door a short distance ahead was slightly ajar, letting in a faint light. The doctor went over and tried pushing the door open.

The wooden door creaked open. The doctor's heart had been in his throat from the oppressive atmosphere he had been in, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw what was inside.

The small room, only a few square meters in size, was filled with a strange fragrance, but there was nothing there except for a lit red candle. Seeing no sign of the dog, the doctor decided to continue searching. He turned around and found the owner standing behind him, staring at him eerily from the darkness.

"You scared me to death!" The doctor took a while to recover. He clutched his chest, feeling his heart pounding at 120, a huge strain on his otherwise healthy heart. The boss's pale face looked even paler in the darkness. He glanced at the doctor indifferently and said, "Who let you in?"

"I'm looking for Apache," the doctor said with a sheepish smile.

The shop owner raised an eyebrow and said, "That dog? It just jumped onto my counter and is eating the breakfast you bought."

"That brat!" the doctor feigned anger, defending himself, "I didn't touch anything! Besides, there's nothing in this room!"

Upon hearing this, the shopkeeper's expression softened, and he smiled, "Antiques are all delicate and naturally need to be categorized and placed separately. Some need a dry environment, some need to be kept away from light, and some need to be isolated from air. This incense stick will generate heat, light, and dust when it burns, so of course it cannot be placed in the same room as other antiques."

The doctor exclaimed in disbelief, "You mean, this candle is an antique? I thought it was for lighting!" The candle was entirely red, only a little over a foot long, and looked no different from an ordinary candle. Upon closer inspection, a piece was missing from the bottom.

The shopkeeper nodded and said, "This candle is made from the oil of deep-sea mermaids and can burn for over a thousand years. It has been burning for over seven hundred years now."

The doctor's mouth formed an "O" shape; he thought, "Even a child wouldn't believe this!" The shop owner glanced at him, smiled slightly, and said, "Want to know the story behind this incense stick?"

"Go ahead and tell me, I want to know." The doctor was just waiting for a story; he wasn't on duty today anyway, so there was no harm in listening.

As the smoke from the burning incense and candles slowly rose, the shopkeeper said softly, "This story begins more than seven hundred years ago..."

Once upon a time, there was a mountain, and on the mountain was a temple, and in the temple lived a monk. In this story, there is no mountain, but there is a temple, and in the temple, there is more than one young monk. At that time, war raged, famine was widespread, and many people starved to death. The few young monks in the temple were all from poor families who could no longer support themselves, so they were sent to the temple to pray for Buddha's mercy and barely survived.

The protagonist of the story is a young monk, whose name he himself doesn't remember. Even the abbot of the temple calls him "Little Monk." His duty is to guard the incense offerings at the Gara Temple. No matter the time, he must ensure that the incense and candles in the main hall never go out.

During the day, many devout men and women would come to burn incense, and he would hide under the incense table to sleep. At night, he would get up and guard the main hall all night, adding incense and changing the candles.

No one ever spoke to him, and he was always taciturn, rarely making a sound even when chanting scriptures. Therefore, the abbot deemed him to be unrelated to Buddhism and assigned him to guard the main hall at night. In the little monk's world, there was only the pungent smell of incense and the flickering candlelight.

As the political situation became increasingly turbulent and chaotic, fewer and fewer people came to the temple to offer incense, and the number of incense sticks and candles offered also decreased. In order to keep the incense burning continuously, the young monks had to reduce the number of incense sticks and candles placed on the temple, until finally, they had to offer only one incense stick and candle each night.

One evening, the young monk took out the last incense stick from the box and sighed deeply. He was going to tell the abbot the next day that the temple needed more candles, but would the temple have enough money to buy more? Worried, the young monk lit the last incense stick and respectfully placed it to the right of the statue of the temple's guardian deity.

Then, as usual, he slowly watched the flames flicker, thinking of nothing, emptying his mind, and truly spacing out.

"Hey! Little monk!" The voice came from above, and the little monk sluggishly looked up. Above him was a semi-transparent figure floating in the air. The little monk blinked and realized that this transparent figure was a woman. She narrowed her alluring, slender eyes, her eyelids lowered, looking down at him from high above. "Little monk, how long is life, really?" Her voice was ethereal, like the candle smoke surrounding her.

“Life, perhaps, is just a few decades.” The young monk paused, then answered blankly. He rarely spoke, so his voice was hoarse, tinged with awkwardness and nervousness. The woman raised her long, willow-leaf-shaped eyebrows, opened her eyes slightly, and looked at him with interest: “Did you wake me up?”

"Wake her up?" the young monk hesitated. "Female benefactor, how did you get to such a high place?"

"You think I'm human? I'm not human! Aren't you afraid I'm a ghost?" She blinked, and her already stunning beauty became even more breathtaking.

The young monk honestly shook his head: "This is the main hall of the monastery; demons and monsters cannot enter."

"How devout!" She raised an eyebrow, glanced sideways at the immovable statue of the deity, and curled her lips in disdain.

Although the young monk was simple-minded, he wasn't blind. He saw that the woman had no feet, and below that was the incense stick he had just lit. The smoke from the burning incense stick rose slowly, forming the figure of a woman.

"You...you are that incense stick?" The little monk blinked hard again, thinking he was dreaming.

“That’s right, I am that incense candle. You can call me Candle.” The little monk stared blankly at the candle floating in mid-air. The smoke from the incense candle rose higher and higher, and her image became clearer and clearer. On her fair and tender skin, there was a pair of deep and alluring eyes that seemed capable of bewitching the souls of her admirers. She was graceful and beautiful, wearing magnificent clothes he had never seen before, and her silky hair seemed to have a life of its own, floating and swirling around her.

"Hehe, little monk, do you like what you see?" The candle gracefully twirled in the air, then gently floated down, stopping slightly above the little monk. Looking down at him, it smiled alluringly and said, "If you blow out this candle, I will come down to you in real life!"

The sound of the candle was like the soft, comfortable cotton pillow he used to sleep on as a child. Her hair, formed from the candle smoke, enveloped him in a hazy mist. The faint scent of incense wafted into her nostrils, making him feel lightheaded and disoriented. The little monk stood there for a long while before he understood her request, and then shook his head vigorously.

"No." He only said half a sentence before quickly shutting his mouth. He realized that when he spoke, his breath almost blew her away.

He held his breath, afraid of blowing her away. Zhu pouted, glared at the little monk, and floated back into the air, her back to him.

The little monk strained to look up, unable to see the expression on the candle's face, but he could imagine how disappointed she must be. He wanted to comfort her, but he was tongue-tied and didn't know how to begin. Otherwise, she wouldn't be disappointed for long; the candle would burn out by noon tomorrow, and then her wish would be fulfilled.

For the first time that night, the young monk didn't look at the flickering flame. Instead, he kept his head up, staring at the candle's silhouette, never looking away for a moment.

The next morning, the young monk opened his eyes and found that the candle he had lit the night before was still burning. But strangely, it was still the same length as when he had taken it out; it hadn't shortened by even an inch!
How could this be? The little monk rubbed his eyes, but the scene in front of him remained unchanged.

"Strange little monk, he wasn't surprised when he saw me, but he's so excited now." Zhu lay on the beam of the roof and said with a look of disgust.

The little monk looked up and asked, "This candle never goes out?" The candle nodded generously. "This candle was made from mermaid oil two years ago. It was supposed to burn for ten thousand years in the tomb of Qin Shi Huang. I was left out and I don't know why I ended up here."

"Mermaid?" Although the little monk didn't know much, he knew that mermaids were an extremely beautiful legend. They lived in the sea, with a human upper body and a fish tail lower body... The little monk looked at the candle in front of him. The upper body of the mermaid, formed by the candle smoke, was human, while the lower body was formed by the winding candle smoke.

"Candle, were you originally a mermaid?"

The candle neither confirmed nor denied, but simply smiled beautifully. "Little monk, extinguish this candle, and I will be free forever! I'm going to destroy Qin Shi Huang's tomb. Qin Shi Huang wanted immortality, but life is only a few decades long. Why did he have so many people buried with him?" The little monk's head was tilted back, feeling a little numb. He was almost bewitched by her smile, but then he noticed the statue of the guardian deity beside her.

"Little monk, it's very simple. Just blow a breath into this candle." The candle eagerly floated down, its illusory body swirling around the little monk. It drifted from his left ear to his right, whispering its persuasion.

As her breathtaking beauty floated before his eyes, the young monk quickly closed them. To prevent her melodious voice from swaying his heart, he began to murmur the Diamond Sutra.

"If one seeks me through form or sound, that person walks a false path and cannot see the Tathagata..." The flickering candlelight paused for a moment. "Little monk, what do you mean?"

"Sound and color are all forms, and all things with form and appearance are demons. If someone uses their appearance to seduce me and begs me in a humble manner, then that person has taken a crooked path and will not be able to see the true Buddha."

Zhu chuckled, her laughter clear and melodious. "Silly monk, who usually teaches you to chant sutras? This means that you cannot be attached to appearance or voice when seeking the Buddha's heart, otherwise you will enter a heretical path and will not be able to see the Tathagata."

The young monk listened with a mixture of belief and doubt. He was just a night watchman, and the abbot said he wasn't particularly gifted, so there was no intention of teaching him scriptures. He only knew a few rudimentary phrases from listening to his fellow monks recite them, and his understanding was superficial.

The candle circled around to the young monk, watching his eyes darting about beneath his closed eyelids, and couldn't help but chuckle, saying, "There's another line in the Diamond Sutra: 'All forms are illusory; if one sees all forms as non-forms, one sees the Tathagata.' Everything in the world is subject to birth and death, all are illusory appearances. Everyone possesses the wisdom and virtues of the Tathagata, which is our original face. Therefore, cultivating back to our original face is the right path."

The young monk stood there pondering for a long while, then couldn't help but open his eyes. The candle sat opposite him, its body enveloped in wisps of smoke, which emitted a faint fragrance, winding upwards, swirling and lingering. The morning light shone through its shadow, illuminating the floor tiles.

What is illusion? This is illusion. Seeing that the little monk was just staring blankly at her, he curled his lip unhappily, "So you really are someone who is attached to appearances? As you wish!" After saying that, she turned into a wisp of bluish-white candle smoke and transformed into another appearance.

With a tasseled topknot, black beard, and red face, he wore a wide, dark green robe with a round collar. He was exactly the same as the statue of the Sangharama Bodhisattva in the main hall. "Well? Little monk? I am the Sangharama Bodhisattva. I don't need your offering of incense and candles. Go blow them out!" The Sangharama Bodhisattva, a candle-transformed being, spoke in a rough voice, which echoed slightly in the main hall.

The young monk stared at the illusory image of the monastery before him, blinked after a long while, clasped his hands together in front of his chest, and slowly chanted: "If one sees me by form, or seeks me by sound, that person walks a false path and cannot see the Tathagata..."

After a long, long time, a scolding voice burst out in the hall: "You wooden-headed brat!"

From then on, the young monk's life began to become more colorful. He was actually just an ordinary young monk, living within the temple grounds, and his daily routine remained the same.

But now, beside him stood a woman formed from candle smoke. Although all she asked was for him to blow out the candle he had lit, he could not grant it. He told himself...

This is because she was the last candle in the temple.

The last candle burned silently in the temple, and no one paid attention to why it was never shortened or why it was always so long.

Their concern was the statues of the temple deities, the Buddhist scriptures, or whether they would be able to beg for alms to fill their stomachs tomorrow.

"Little monk, how long is life?" This is the question that Zhu loves to ask the most, and it is also the question she asks every time she appears.

“Probably over the next few decades,” the young monk always answered her.

Upon hearing this, the candle fell silent. However, the silence only lasted for half a day before the candle began to nag him to blow it out.

The young monk was actually persuaded by her once. But just as he was about to talk to the abbot, he discovered that the abbot was worrying about what to eat.

He couldn't speak. He was born at the wrong time! Rebellions were springing up everywhere, people were abandoning farming, and there was no food. Without food, rebellion was even more likely.

"Hmph! Every dynastic change requires war, but the history of war is borne by the common people," Zhu complained.

The little monk listened quietly, silently repeating the words twice in his mind, seemingly understanding but not quite.

He truly didn't understand. However, several of his fellow disciples couldn't stand it any longer, so they abandoned the Buddhist scriptures, left the monastic life, and joined the rebel army.

"Little monk, why aren't you going with them?" Zhu asked.

The little monk tilted his head back; he was used to looking up at her. At first, his neck would ache, but without realizing it, it got used to the position. "I'm not going. My mission..."

"We cannot let the incense in front of the statue of the Sangharama go out," the little monk replied.

"You blockhead, even if you go, I won't be free. Sigh, no, no, what if you, this stupid monk, die on the battlefield? Wouldn't I be forever unable to find peace? You should stay here."

"Good." Zhu complained back and forth. He was both annoyed that the little monk had no lofty goals and afraid that he would actually join the rebel army.

The little monk silently gnawed on the hardened steamed bun in his hand, finding her very noisy.

So cute.

"Little monk, how long is life, really?" Zhu asked this question every day. "Perhaps, it's in the time it takes to eat and drink," the little monk said, looking at the dwindling food in his bowl.

"Little monk, how long is life?" Zhu still asks this question every day.

"Perhaps, it lies in the food we eat," the young monk remarked, looking at the dwindling food in his bowl. Upon hearing this, Zhu remained silent for a much longer time than before.

Many people left the temple, and even more entered to be ordained. Many were desperate and became monks. The abbot, compassionate as he was, took them all in. Although they were still hungry, the land they cultivated began to yield a harvest, barely enough to sustain them. The young monk suddenly gained many junior disciples. But his duty remained to keep watch at the temple. He was an easily forgotten person, but his junior disciples all knew him. Because if he didn't sleep during the day, he would always sit before the incense table, devoutly gazing at the statue of the guardian deity. He would gaze for a long time. No one knew that he was actually looking at her reflected in the statue.

The temple is often visited by worshippers praying to the guardian deity, but very few come to pray late at night. One night, the young monk was staring blankly at the candle when suddenly someone appeared beside him.

The man was dressed entirely in black, his appearance shrouded in mystery, impossible to discern clearly. What was most striking was the deep red dragon embroidered on his black robes. The dragon's head was embroidered on the right sleeve, the dragon coiled and twisted on his right arm, and its tail was embroidered on his right shoulder.

The young monk shouldn't have been staring at the person, but the dragon embroidered was so lifelike that he couldn't help but glance at it again. In that single glance, the young monk realized that the worshipper wasn't looking at the statue of the monastery deity, but rather at the incense and candles on the altar.

"This incense stick is quite nice," a deep voice suddenly said.

The young monk's eyelids twitched; he didn't know how to answer. The candle hadn't appeared yet, and it looked like an ordinary incense stick. Why would he praise such an ordinary incense stick?
“Little monk, if you don’t want it anymore, you can give it to me,” the man said to himself. “Don’t worry about finding me; I’ll appear whenever you don’t want it anymore.” Then he repeatedly said the incense and candles were quite nice and left. The little monk chased after him, but there was no one outside the open temple gate. The man had come and gone without a trace, and the little monk almost thought he had seen a ghost. He couldn’t sleep well for a long time, staring at the incense and candles on the altar every day, afraid that they would disappear.

The young monk suddenly became an idol worshipped by his fellow disciples. He didn't understand the Buddhist scriptures they were asking about, but his disciples treated them as profound Zen sayings. He didn't know how to explain it, and he still preferred to talk to the candle.

Although every time he spoke to the candle, the candle would urge him to blow out the candle, he still liked it.

One evening, he was pestered by several junior disciples to recite Buddhist scriptures, and they continued until nightfall without showing any sign of stopping. The junior disciples knew that his duty was to guard the temple, and one of them, named Chongba, volunteered to take his place.

The young monk wanted to stop it, but couldn't find a reason. He was afraid others would see the candle, afraid it was just his imagination, afraid it was all just a dream. His complex emotions prevented him from speaking. He was kept occupied by his enthusiastic fellow disciples, who spent the entire evening discussing Buddhist scriptures. In reality, they did most of the talking, and he listened.

To be precise, he wasn't listening; his entire focus was elsewhere.

As dawn broke, he immediately ran to the Garan Temple, only to find the abbot sternly reprimanding his junior brother Chongba, who had taken his night watch the previous night.

The young monk was startled, thinking the abbot had discovered his candle. But the matter was more serious than he imagined. Last night, his junior brother, Chongba, had fallen asleep while on night duty.

The mouse gnawed a hole in the incense stick at the bottom.

The young monk was heartbroken. His junior brother, Chongba, was publicly reprimanded by the abbot, but the young monk wished he were the one being reprimanded. That night, Chongba secretly beat the statue of the guardian deity with a broom, saying that if the guardian deity couldn't even control what was in front of him, how could he manage the palace, how could he govern the world? Chongba found a pen somewhere and wrote "Exiled three thousand miles" on the back of the statue.

The young monk saw it all. But he didn't say anything to stop it. Because after that day, the candle never appeared again. Although the young monk never saw the candle again, it continued to burn as always, without diminishing in size.

The young monk turned the piece of trash that the rat had chewed around to the other side and filled it with the wax drippings from an old candle, making it look like a brand new one. No one noticed that the trash was still the same old candle. The candle never appeared, yet the young monk continued to guard the temple night after night, watching over the incense and candles.

Finally, one evening, Zhu reappeared before him, still beautiful and stunning. However, half of her left sleeve looked as if it had been bitten off by something, and in its place was a very ugly red wax cloth.

"You blockhead! Tell me! How are you going to compensate me for my skirt?" Zhu said angrily. The little monk smiled foolishly... She's still here, that's good.

"Wooden head, didn't you say you didn't have money to buy incense instead? If I teach you how to make money, wouldn't you be able to earn a lot and add incense to the temple?" Perhaps this incident made Zhu Xin tremble with fear, so she became even more eager to persuade the young monk.

But none of those incense offerings are for you. The little monk thought to himself, and slowly shook his head.

The candle, fuming, fluttered wildly throughout the hall before finally stopping in front of the little monk. It asked earnestly, "Little monk, what do you want? I can give you anything!"

What do you want? The little monk stared blankly at her delicate and beautiful features, his lips moved, but no sound came out.

The next day, Junior Brother Chongba leaned over and whispered, "Senior Brother, why didn't you agree to her offer? You don't want gold, silver, jewels, power, or status?"

The young monk was startled, realizing that his junior brother Chongba must have overheard his conversation with Zhu. He replied calmly, "Money is just an external thing. If it is not sincerely offered before the Buddha, what use is it?"

Junior Brother Chongba walked away silently.

Zhu didn't give up trying to persuade the young monk. "Young monk, many people want to be emperor. If you want to be emperor, I can tell you how!"

The young monk remained unmoved. Thinking he didn't believe her, Zhu hurriedly recounted in detail how she became emperor. Despite the chaos of the world and her isolation in a temple, she was able to clearly explain all the various factions, how to join one, and what the next steps were—leaving no detail overlooked.

After finishing speaking, Zhu looked at the unresponsive little monk and immediately deflated. "Little monk, the junior brother who just ruined my sleeve was eavesdropping outside the door. He's probably already packing his bags and on his way. Are you really willing to let him become emperor?" Zhu said lazily, sitting on the incense table.

"When Qin lost its deer, the whole world chased after it, and those with the best talent and the fastest feet were the first to seize it." The little monk thought for a long time before finally managing to squeeze out this ancient Chinese phrase he had heard. Zhu chuckled, realizing for the first time that this little monk was quite remarkable.

“Zhongba came from a poor family. If he really becomes emperor, it will be a blessing for the people.” The little monk said earnestly. Although he did not believe that following Zhu’s words would make him emperor, he sincerely hoped that someone could save this chaotic world.

Zhu Chongba indeed became the leader of the rebel army, overthrew the Yuan Dynasty, established the Ming Dynasty, changed his name to Zhu Yuanzhang, and became the emperor. The temple where the little monk lived became the world-renowned Huangjue Temple. From then on, the temple flourished with incense offerings and a constant stream of worshippers, no longer needing the incense stick that burned endlessly; hundreds of incense sticks replaced it.

Not long after the new emperor ascended the throne, he visited Huangjue Temple and ordered that among the hundreds of incense sticks, one must be found that had been gnawed by a rat.

When the young monk was brought before his junior brother, Chongba, he saw the incense stick that had been stolen by the soldiers, burning silently. The disguise at the bottom of the candlestick had been removed, revealing an ugly chip.

"Can you make that woman reappear?" The former junior disciple, now Emperor Chongba, asked eagerly. The little monk honestly shook his head. Whether the candle appeared or not was entirely of her own choosing; he had no control over it.

The emperor frowned. Since monks don't lie, he didn't press for the truth of the matter. "What's wrong with this candle? Didn't he want freedom, want liberation? Couldn't he just blow out the candle? Why can't I blow it out? Even splashing water on it doesn't work!"

The young monk suddenly realized why the candle had been clinging to him. It turned out that only the person who lit the candle could blow it out.

"Senior brother! Quickly find a way to get her out, I want to see her!" The emperor still addressed him as senior brother, which was already a rare honor. But the little monk honestly shook his head; he really couldn't do it. The emperor had once overheard Zhu trying to bribe the little monk outside the main hall, and of course, this method of bribery wouldn't work.

However, the emperor could think of other ways. In the secret chamber of Huangjue Temple, the young monk was whipped until his body was covered in bruises. The emperor thought that this would force the candle out, but on the table in the secret chamber, the incense and candles were just burning quietly.

The young monk gritted his teeth, trying his best not to make a sound. He didn't know if the candle could see him, but he didn't want her to hear. Junior Brother Chongba had changed. It wasn't just that his hair had grown back, nor was it just that he had changed his name. He had completely changed, becoming ruthless and unscrupulous.

The emperor locked the young monk alone in a secret room. Just before he fainted, a wisp of candle smoke drifted in front of him and transformed into a concerned face. "Young monk, how long is life?" he heard her ask as usual.

Why does she like asking this question so much? The little monk thought vaguely, and barely managed to take a breath and said, "Life... is just... a breath away."

Zhu was startled, her gaze becoming complicated. But the little monk didn't have the strength to look closely at her expression and helplessly closed his eyes.

While unconscious, he vaguely smelled a familiar sandalwood scent. The little monk struggled to open his eyes and found himself surrounded by a thick cloud of candle smoke.

He was still lying in the secret room, his skin torn and bleeding, in excruciating pain, but he still smiled because the incense and candle burning on the table was still the one that belonged to him.

He couldn't see the candle; only the wisp of smoke surrounded him. But the candle seemed to sense his awakening; the flame flickered twice, and the smoke grew thinner and longer, winding its way out through the crack in the door—the candle was indicating his escape route. The young monk understood and stood up. Although he spent every day in the temple, he had grown up there and knew the secret passages intimately.

Perhaps it was divine intervention, or perhaps no one took him seriously, but the young monk, despite his severe injuries, managed to carry the candle out of the heavily guarded temple. "For my sake, you left the temple you served for so many years. Don't you regret it?" the candle asked ethereally, drifting beside him.

"No regrets." In the pitch-black night, the young monk ran through the deep mountains, holding incense and candles. The temple, because of his junior brother, had changed its atmosphere. He thought of the statue of the deity that had been recast with gold, and his heart sank. No matter how splendid the exterior, beneath the gold paint was still a dilapidated statue.

"Blow me out, or they'll find you by the light sooner or later," the candle whispered in the little monk's ear. For the first time, it wasn't for himself, but for this fool.

The young monk gazed intently at her, and finally raised his hand. A complex expression of relief and reluctance flashed across Zhu's face as she slowly closed her eyes.

It was finally over. This was the moment she had been longing for, so why did she still feel reluctant to part? The image of the first time she saw the little monk flashed before her eyes; back then, he was just a boy… A long while passed, and Zhu felt no change. Confused, she opened her eyes. Before her was complete darkness, without a single glimmer of light, yet she could see clearly by the moonlight.

The wisps of smoke that made up her rose suddenly from above the little monk's palm, as he actually used his entire hand to cover the flame of the incense and candle! The merciless flame was licking at his palm, and the raging firelight could be seen almost through his fingers.

"Why?" Candle frantically floated around him, trying to move his hand away. But she helplessly discovered that her hand turned into wisps of blue smoke the moment it touched him. The little monk cried out in pain, his face contorted, yet he maintained a gentle smile. Candle was stunned; only then did she realize that the little monk she remembered had grown up.

Before he knew it, he had grown into a handsome man, his once naive and confused expression replaced by determination. Sweat streamed down his handsome face, one could imagine that he was enduring unspeakable discomfort.

But his eyes remained fixed on her, smiling. Zhu suddenly remembered that the little monk had always been like this all these years. In the temple, he was the most devout, his face expressionless, especially his eyes—unfocused, utterly empty. It was as if he saw nothing, yet as if he saw everything. But every time she appeared before him, his gaze would instantly change, becoming tender and gentle.

“Candle, I know you want liberation. I don’t know what you are, but to me, you are truly alive. How could I kill you?” The little monk’s gentle voice continued, and he smiled. “I can’t protect you. So, I have no choice but to entrust you to someone who can… Don’t be angry…”

What? What is he saying? The usually taciturn little monk suddenly spoke so much, which Zhu couldn't accept. She didn't understand... Then, a deep red dragon appeared in her vision.

"Please take good care of her," the young monk said solemnly, raising his head. No one spoke. The red dragon moved forward and took the incense and candle from the monk's hand. The flame spilled from the young monk's palm. Only then did the candle realize that the deep red dragon wasn't real, but embroidered on someone's right sleeve. Black background, red thread—the embroidery was so exquisite that at first glance it looked real.

This lifelike dragon, with its head facing the cuff, looks as if it could soar into the clouds at any moment.

Zhu didn't know how this man had managed to break through the encirclement and appear here. But when she saw him pick up the incense candle, she couldn't help but tremble.

In the darkness, the incense stick looked as if it were being held in the mouth of a red dragon.

"Little monk!" The candle clung desperately to the little monk, but the incense and candle gradually receded, the smoke thinning, and she became increasingly transparent. She was unwilling to accept this! What right did he have to make decisions for her? He was just a little monk!
"How long is life, really?" the little monk asked haltingly, spitting out a mouthful of blood. Candle was stunned. She had always been asking him this question, and now that she was being asked it in return, she couldn't answer for a moment.

The little monk smiled gently at her, "Life is... between you and me." The candle was stunned, and the candle smoke could no longer support her human form, and suddenly she fled towards the little light in the darkness.

This is the candle, the last time I saw the little monk.

"Is the story over?" The doctor leaned against the wall, noticing that the boss had no intention of continuing, and asked in surprise.

"That's all," the boss nodded.

"And what about the ending?" the doctor gritted his teeth. "Shouldn't these kinds of stories have a happy ending to comfort the audience?"

"The ending? This is the ending."

"That little monk is dead?"

"The little monk isn't a god, of course he could die, but he only fainted at the time. Zhu Yuanzhang couldn't find the incense and candles, so he had to give up. The little monk returned to Huangjue Temple and continued to guard the incense in front of the statue of the guardian deity. Every day he lit countless incense and candles, watching them burn and extinguish quietly, but his own was never among them," the shopkeeper narrated calmly.

"And then what happened? What happened in the end?" the doctor asked anxiously.

"In the end, the little monk became an old monk, and the old monk died."

The doctor stared at him speechlessly, suddenly realizing that standing in this eerie place listening to a story was utterly idiotic. "This is too far-fetched. It happened hundreds of years ago, and you're even bringing Zhu Yuanzhang into it? How do you know all this? And, that person in the red dragon robe, could it be you?" The doctor stared at the shopkeeper. He remembered that the red dragon was supposed to be embroidered on his back, while in the story, the dragon's head was embroidered on the cuffs of the person's robe.

The doctor tried hard to recall, but it seemed that no matter how the dragon's posture changed, the dragon's head was always facing the boss's neck, as if it wanted to eat him.

The boss smiled mysteriously and did not answer. He stared intently at the candle and said to someone, "Sometimes, wealth, honor, and supreme power cannot compare to a true love."

The flame on the incense stick flickered, and the shopkeeper turned around and said, "Let's go see if your breakfast has been eaten. Or how about we go out to get something to eat? Of course, it's your treat."

The doctor sighed helplessly. This boss was always trying to take advantage of him! Before leaving, he couldn't help but glance back at the candle still burning in the dark room. It looked like just an ordinary candle.

He shrugged and muttered to himself, "I really don't know what that little monk was thinking. He clearly likes you but won't say it. Sigh! I'm crazy to actually believe this story. Hey! Where are you going to eat? I can't afford anything too expensive!"

The door closed.

The flame of the incense candle flickered.

A glistening wax tear slowly trickled down the wax body.

(End of this chapter)