One divination a day, a trainee celestial master

A bunch of brass keys slammed onto the table with a dull thud.

"Your grandfather's will clearly stated—the grandson inherits the grandfather's debts." Jiang's father stubbed out his cigarette, looking at Jiang Shou. "If you don't take over this Taoist temple, the debt collectors will be at your door next week."

Jiang Shou stared at the broken copper key in silence.

……

Three days ago, he was riding his beat-up electric scooter all over Shanghai, delivering food in 38-degree Celsius heat, only to be complained about by a weird customer and end up losing 232 yuan. Then he got a call from his dad, and he thought it was another "boy who cried wolf" scenario.

Last time, the same alarming phrases were used: "He's about to die," "Come back quickly."

That was the fastest Jiang Shou had ever run. He bought a ticket for the earliest train overnight, and along the way he went through all sorts of worst-case scenarios in his mind, even a funeral speech, and shed half a pound of tears.

When they arrived back in their hometown, they pushed open the door to the county hospital ward. His grandfather was sitting cross-legged on the hospital bed, energetically munching on a large meat bun that Jiang's father had bought, his mouth dripping with oil.

"Oh, Little Shou's here?" The old man smiled, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth.

Jiang Shou stood at the door of the ward, looking at the old man with gray hair who could eat three steamed buns in one go, and forced back his tears. He threw his duffel bag on the ground without saying a word, sat down on the edge of the bed, and took a full five minutes of deep breaths before he could refrain from cursing.

In the following two weeks, Grandpa's condition improved day by day, and in the end, he was lively and energetic, personally seeing him off on the bus back to Shanghai.

This time, however, when I opened the ward door, the bed was empty, and the blankets were neatly folded.

Jiang's father sat on the edge of the bed, holding a payment slip in his hand, staring blankly out the window.

"Dad..." Jiang Shou swallowed, his voice trembling slightly, "Where's Grandpa? Did he go to buy steamed buns again?"

Jiang's father turned his head, his eyes red-rimmed. He looked at Jiang Shou for a long while, then sighed. "He went to the back. The morgue."

Jiang Shou's mind went blank. This time, the wolf really came.

"He passed away peacefully, without suffering much." Jiang Huaiyuan patted his son's shoulder, a little too hard. "Let's go home, we still have to hold a funeral."

The funeral was very simple. The Jiang family didn't have any wealthy relatives, and the grandfather didn't have any serious friends in the county town. Apart from some relatives, the people who came to pay their respects were just a few old men and women who were a bit eccentric.

Jiang Shou, dressed in mourning clothes, was like a puppet, kowtowing and offering cigarettes to everyone he met. After three days, his knees were bruised and his voice was hoarse. It drizzled a little on the day of the funeral.

In the evening, Jiang Shou and his father sat in the courtyard of the old house, smoking in silence. "Dad, did Grandpa leave any message before he passed away?" Jiang Shou flicked his cigarette ash and asked softly.

Jiang's father pulled a plastic bag from his back pocket and unwrapped it layer by layer. Jiang Shou's eyes lit up. A bankbook? A property deed? Or ancestral gold bars?

……

"Your grandfather passed away suddenly, without saying much." Jiang's father pushed the things in front of Jiang Shou, "He only told me that this set of keys can only be given to you."

"What's this?" Jiang Shou picked up the broken copper key, feeling that he could break it with a little force.

"That dilapidated Taoist temple halfway up Cuiwei Mountain in the western suburbs of Qiyun, your grandfather spent most of his life there." Jiang's father said in a complicated tone.

Jiang Shou was stunned. He remembered. He did often go there to play when he was a child. It was a small Taoist temple that didn't even have a proper name. It was called something like... Shouyi Temple.

In Jiang Shou's memory, it was a dilapidated courtyard surrounded by a few large tiled houses. There were peach and locust trees in the courtyard. When he was a naughty child, he often went to the Taoist temple to catch crickets.

Back then, Grandpa would wear a faded blue Taoist robe and sit in the courtyard basking in the sun, with a chubby orange cat always lying next to him.

These days, monks drive Porsches and Taoist priests sell exorbitantly priced talismans. But his grandfather was an exception. He guarded a temple that didn't sell tickets, and donations were given as they came by chance. Sometimes, even the apples on the offering table would be stolen by wild monkeys from the mountains.

"Why are you giving me this dump? Can it be demolished?" Jiang Shou was completely bewildered. "Demolish my ass, that's the Forestry Bureau's protected area." Jiang's father sneered. "Your grandfather said that everything in the temple is yours, but in return, you have to assume the temple's debts."

A sudden sense of foreboding washed over Jiang Shou: "Debt? What debt? The money for fixing the leaky roof?"

"No." Jiang's father pulled out a crumpled overdue payment slip from the bottom of the plastic bag. "Two years ago, your grandfather took out a loan to expand and renovate the main hall, insisting that good feng shui would bring wealth. Including interest, it wasn't much."

Jiang's father held up two fingers. "Twenty thousand?" Jiang Shou breathed a sigh of relief. Jiang's father shook his head: "Two hundred and fifty thousand."

"Holy crap!" The half-eaten Hongtashan cigarette that Jiang Shou was holding between his fingers fell directly onto his crotch, burning him so badly he jumped up. "Two hundred and fifty thousand?! What did a seventy-year-old man use as collateral?!"

"That dilapidated temple," Jiang's father said helplessly, spreading his hands. "Your grandfather clearly stated in his will that the debts of the grandfather must be borne by the grandson. If you don't take over, the temple will be taken away by the debt collectors in a few days."

Jiang Shou stared at the keys on the table and fell into a long silence.

When he was seven years old, his mother passed away suddenly. On the day of the funeral, he cried uncontrollably, curling up like a little chick soaked in the rain.

He remembered throwing himself into his grandfather's arms, clutching the rough, uncomfortable Taoist robe, and crying until his voice was hoarse.

Grandpa simply patted his back gently with his calloused hands.

It took a very long time to film.

When Jiang Shou was crying so hard he could hardly breathe, his grandfather whispered:

"Little Shou, in this life, fate has its ups and downs. Some things are predetermined by heaven, and some are brought about by one's own actions."

Jiang Shou still only has a vague understanding of this sentence, and only remembers that the rough Taoist robe was very warm.

"well……"