A Life of Attributes Starting as a Nobleman in the Republic of China Era

The donkey that Sun Er brought was skinny and bony, and it waddled as it walked. An old cotton quilt was draped over its back as a cushion. Chen Che mounted it, with his leather suitcase across his lap, and followed Sun Er out of Zhengzhou City, heading southwest.

Once outside the city, the roads became difficult to navigate. The dirt road was riddled with potholes from the rain, and the poplar trees on both sides were bare, their branches stretching towards the sky like withered fingers. After it got completely dark, the surrounding area was silent, save for the dull thud of donkey hooves on the mud and the occasional bark of a dog in the distance.

Sun Er walked ahead, carrying a lantern and humming an off-key tune, occasionally turning back to exchange a few words with Chen Che.

"Sir, you're from the south, aren't you? Your accent sounds like you're from Shanghai."

"Um."

"What do you go to Shaolin Temple to pray for? Peace? Fame and fortune?"

Chen Che thought for a moment and said, "I want something."

Sun Er chuckled twice and didn't press the matter. After walking for a while, he suddenly lowered his voice: "Sir, I have something to tell you. A few days ago, things weren't going well at Shaolin Temple."

Chen Che's heart tightened: "Why is things not peaceful?"

"Last month, a group of soldiers came and said they wanted to 'borrow' some things from the temple. The abbot refused, so they opened fire. They wounded several monks and ransacked the scripture library." Sun Er sighed. "Later, the village chiefs from several nearby villages jointly filed a complaint with the county government. People from the county came, and the soldiers left. But I heard that a lot of things were stolen from the scripture library, and several side halls were also burned down."

Chen Che unconsciously gripped the handle of the suitcase.

"And what about Master Jueyuan?"

"Master Jueyuan?" Sun Er thought for a moment. "You mean the abbot? I heard he got into a conflict with the soldiers and was hit on the arm with a rifle butt. But he's alright, and later he even spoke with people in the county."

Chen Che breathed a sigh of relief, but his heart pounded again. The Sutra Repository had been ransacked; was the thing entrusted to him by the Mo family still there?

The donkey trudged along, its feet sinking into the muddy ground. A sliver of moon peeked out from behind the clouds, its pale light illuminating the desolate wilderness. Chen Che suddenly recalled the expression on Xu Xiucai's face when he uttered those words—a worry suppressed for decades, as if he already knew what was going to happen.

"Brother Sun," he asked, "who are those soldiers? Where did they come from?"

"I heard they came from the north, defeated soldiers who scattered and are now wandering around. In this day and age, having a gun is law." Sun Er shook his head. "Those Shaolin monks, despite their martial arts training, can't really stop a bullet. This world..."

He didn't continue, but just sighed heavily.

After passing the Eighteen Bends, dawn was breaking. Chen Che had been bouncing around on the donkey's back all night, his body felt like it was falling apart, and the insides of his thighs were chafed and sore. But when he rounded the last bend and saw the Shaolin Temple gate faintly visible in the morning mist, all his fatigue suddenly vanished.

It was a mountain gate he had imagined countless times: blue bricks and gray tiles, mottled red-lacquered pillars, and the three characters "Shaolin Temple" on the lintel blurred by time. It was smaller, older, and quieter than he had imagined. A faint scent of incense drifted in the morning mist, and occasionally a bell rang, echoing for a long time in the valley.

Sun Er stopped outside the mountain gate: "Sir, I'll leave you here. Donkeys aren't allowed into the temple."

Chen Che rolled off the bed and pulled out another silver dollar from his pocket, handing it over. Sun Er waved his hands repeatedly, "That's too much, too much. Three dollars is enough."

"Take it, thank you for your hard work."

Sun Er chuckled and took it, then added, "Sir, things aren't very peaceful at the temple right now. Please come out as soon as you're done. This mountain area... isn't always clean."

Chen Che ignored his last sentence and walked to the mountain gate with his suitcase. The door was ajar, and he gently pushed it, the heavy wooden door groaning softly.

The gate led to a spacious courtyard paved with bluestone slabs, with withered grass growing in the cracks. A young monk was sweeping the floor with a broom when he heard the door open. He looked up, saw Chen Che, and paused in surprise.

"Esteemed benefactor, you...so early?"

"I'm looking for Master Jueyuan," Chen Che said.

The young monk sized him up, his gaze lingering on his city-man attire. He hesitated before saying, "The abbot is not seeing guests lately. If you've come to burn incense, the main hall is—"

"I'm not here to burn incense." Chen Che took out the dark green jade pendant from his pocket and held it in his palm. "I've come from Shanghai on someone's behalf. I have important business with Master Jueyuan. Please inform him."

The young monk's expression suddenly changed when he saw the jade pendant. He dropped his broom, quickly walked up to Chen Che, took a closer look, then stepped back two paces, put his hands together, and respectfully bowed.

"Please wait a moment, I will go and report this immediately."

He turned and ran inside, his monk's robes fluttering in the morning breeze, his steps so fast they seemed unlike those of a novice sweeping the floor.

Chen Che stood in the courtyard, looking around the ancient temple. The roof of the main hall was covered with withered leaves, and sure enough, there was a charred patch on the east side hall, with burn marks still visible on the beams and pillars. A few broken tiles lay scattered on the ground, not yet cleaned up.

Several sparrows hopped around on the roof ridge, chirping away.

Before long, the young monk returned, followed by an old monk. The old monk wore a faded gray robe, with a sling over his left arm, and several scars on his face that had not yet fully healed. His eyebrows were long and completely white, drooping to the sides of his eyes, making his eyes appear exceptionally deep.

He walked up to Chen Che, his gaze lingering on the jade pendant in Chen Che's palm for a long while.

"Are you from Shanghai, benefactor?" The old monk's voice was low and hoarse, as if his throat had been injured.

"Yes." Chen Che tried to calm himself down. "You must be Master Jueyuan?"

The old monk nodded, neither denying nor admitting it. He simply looked at the jade pendant, his gaze containing a complex mix of emotions—a mixture of nostalgia and long-suppressed feelings.

"This keepsake," he said slowly, "hasn't been seen for decades."

He raised his uninjured hand and gently touched the surface of the jade pendant, his fingertips trembling slightly.

"Esteemed benefactor," he raised his head, his deep eyes fixed on Chen Che, "why have you come?"

Chen Che took a deep breath and recited, word by word, the sentence that Xu Xiucai had taught him:

"The lock of the Mohists, the key of the Shaolin. The Big Dipper divides into seven parts, martial arts serve as the guide."

Master Jueyuan's eyes widened suddenly.

He stared at Chen Che for a long time, so long that Chen Che almost thought he had said something wrong. Then, the old monk suddenly reached out and grasped his wrist. The hand was thin and bony, with thick knuckles, but the strength was astonishing—not the strength one would expect from an injured, elderly man.

"Come with me," he said, turning and walking inside.