Killing Monks

Every year, many temples hold various Dharma assemblies, vegetarian feasts, and folk lectures around religious occasions such as the birthdays of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, the day of their enlightenment, and the Ullambana Festival.

At first, it was just a gathering of believers to worship Buddha and listen to sutras. As the number of people increased, a few vendors set up stalls outside the temple to sell incense, candles, and food.

Seeing that it was profitable, the temple began to charge a small fee to vendors who occupied its grounds.

This is the origin of temple fairs.

Guangyuan had seen this scene when he was at Jinjia Temple in the Southern Tang Dynasty.

He was young then and only knew the excitement; he didn't understand the intricacies of the situation. It wasn't until he had experienced more of the world that he gradually came to understand.

Temple fairs are no joke.

In the Buddhist kingdom of Southern Tang, some large temples, such as Vajra Temple, had already established temple fairs on fixed schedules.

Not only does it have a well-established stall fee system, but it also has a theater, vegetarian restaurant, and guesthouse. With such a complete operation, it's impossible to describe how much money it makes every day.

Although the temples in the Northern Zhou Dynasty were not this large, temple fairs were still a major event.

From scheduling, venue management, and attracting investment and fees, to maintaining order and handling disputes, the temple handles the entire process.

It can be said that the success of a temple fair directly affects the temple's annual income.

The small temples and shrines could barely make ends meet with the money from incense offerings.

Large temples and monasteries rely on land, livelihoods, temple fairs, and lending.

With such management methods, how could a large temple not become wealthy?

Guangyuan looked at the beaming abbot in front of him and said, "Just do it the same way as in previous years."

"Prajna Temple is a small temple, why would they invite me?"

The supervisor's smile deepened.

"Junior brother, you may not know this," he leaned forward, "In previous years, it was just the small Buddhist temple that ran it, but this year, hasn't your Prajna Temple also joined in?"

He paused, looking at Guangyuan's expression.

"The abbot's idea is that our two families should hold the event together, so it will be more lively and the scale will be larger."

He added, his tone carrying a hint of sincerity: "It's beneficial for both families."

Guangyuan looked at him without saying a word.

Is it beneficial to both parties?

That sounds familiar. The old monk said the same thing last time, "Buddhism will flourish" and "everyone will benefit."

But are his benefits the same as the benefits of his extensive connections?

He originally intended to refuse outright.

But he swallowed the words back down his throat.

After thinking for a moment, he spoke.

"There's no need for a joint event."

The smile on the abbot's face froze for a moment.

Guangyuan continued, "Save me a stall. I'll pay the rent as usual."

The superintendent was stunned: "A stall?"

"Yes." Guangyuan nodded. "I'll sell some of the temple's local specialties."

The supervisor was even more confused.

What specialties does Prajna Temple have? He had been to that dilapidated temple; besides three broken houses and a mute man, there was nothing there.

"What local specialty?" he couldn't help but ask.

Guangyuan looked at him, a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth.

"sugar."

The supervisor was momentarily stunned.

"sugar?"

"Yes," Guangyuan said, "candy that's like snowflake ice."

The abbot returned to the small Buddhist temple, completely bewildered.

"Sugar?" The old monk was taken aback after hearing his report. "He said he wants to sell sugar?"

"Yes." The supervisor nodded. "And he said it was something like...candy that looks like snowflake ice."

The old monk remained silent for a moment, then waved his hand.

"Let him be. It's just a stall; we can just charge him rent."

The superintendent withdrew immediately.

Meanwhile, at Prajna Temple, Guangyuan had already begun to get busy.

He was greeting four children.

Since the world is lonely, he trains his own apprentices.

The four children sat side by side on the stone steps in the courtyard, their big, dark eyes staring at what Guangyuan brought out of the kitchen.

Big white steamed buns!

Steaming hot white steamed buns filled a whole basket!

Wu Dalang's eyes widened immediately. He was twelve years old this year and the eldest son of Wu Laosan's family; his younger brother, Wu Erlang, was only seven years old.

The two boys stared at the basket, their mouths practically watering.

This kind of white flour steamed bun is something their family only eats a few times a year.

Only during the Lunar New Year would his mother grit her teeth and steam a pot of food, giving one to each person to eat with pickled vegetables; that taste would stay with him for the whole year.

Are these monks now letting them eat whatever they want?

Not only were there steamed buns, but also pickled vegetables. Surprisingly, the pickled vegetables even had shredded meat mixed in, glistening with oil and smelling incredibly tempting.

Ma Qiang and his sister Nizi were also stunned.

Ma Qiang was eight years old, and Ni Zi was only six. The two little ones huddled together, their eyes fixed on the basket, unable to even speak.

Guangyuan looked at them and said, "Eat, eat."

"Now that we've finished eating, I'm going to tell you a story."

The children were too preoccupied to ask about the story.

They rushed to the basket, grabbed the steamed buns, and stuffed them into their mouths.

Wu Dalang took a bite, choked so badly his eyes rolled back, but he still couldn't bear to spit it out, and stubbornly swallowed it down. Wu Erlang fared even worse; his steamed bun was stuffed too full, and he choked until his face turned red, pounding his chest and stamping his feet.

While eating, Ma Qiang protected his younger sister, breaking off half of his steamed bun and giving it to Ni Zi, afraid she wouldn't be able to reach it. Ni Zi nibbled on the buns in small bites, but her eyes remained fixed on the buns in the basket, as if afraid someone would eat them all.

Seeing how ravenously they were eating, Guangyuan turned around and went to the kitchen to bring out a few bowls of rice porridge.

"Eat slowly, have some porridge."

The children took the bowls and gulped down the food, finally getting rid of the choking problem. But their mouths didn't stop; they started eating their second and third steamed buns.

"Eat slowly, have some porridge."

The children took the bowls and gulped down the food, finally getting rid of the choking problem. But their mouths didn't stop; they started eating their second and third steamed buns.

Guangyuan watched from the side without interfering.

When they ate their fourth steamed bun, he finally spoke.

"Alright, stop eating."

The children were stunned, still clutching half a steamed bun in their hands, staring at him longingly.

Guangyuan said, "It's not that I don't want to give you any, I'm just afraid you'll eat too much. There will be more tomorrow."

"Really?"

"Really?"

Several children spoke up almost simultaneously, asking questions all at once, their eyes full of anticipation.

Guangyuan nodded.

"I promise."

The children exchanged glances, then lowered their heads again, continuing to nibble on their steamed buns in small bites. This time they ate slowly, as if savoring the food, or perhaps reluctant to part with it.

After they finished eating and cleaned up, Guangyuan sat down in the courtyard.

Four children sat in a row around him.

"I'm going to tell you a story today," Guangyuan said.

He was talking about Pangu creating the world.

"Long, long ago, before heaven and earth were separated, the universe was like a giant egg, pitch black..."

He said that Pangu slept for 18,000 years, and when he woke up, he split the chaos with an axe. The clear things rose to become the sky, and the turbid things sank to become the earth.

Pangu stood between heaven and earth, changing nine times a day, enduring for eighteen thousand years until the world stabilized, at which point he collapsed and died. His eyes became the sun and moon, his blood became rivers, and his muscles became the land…

The four children listened intently, their eyes wide and mouths agape.

He talked about Nuwa creating humans.

The story goes that Nuwa was walking alone on Earth and felt too lonely, so she used yellow clay to make clay figures. She made one after another, and with a breath, the clay figures came to life...

He then recounted the story of Yu the Great controlling the floods...