Chapter 46 This Old Monk Intends to Return to the Secular World

"When rich people think about food and drink..." Ye Xiu chuckled triumphantly, "They don't care about the best, only the most expensive!"

"The mindset of the rich?" Qi Santai scratched his head, "Never experienced it."

Ye Xiu said with absolute confidence, "You'll experience it very soon."

"Uncle Qi, my nephew is right."

The little chubby fellow curled the corners of his mouth slightly. "Some wealthy people care most about face and have a competitive urge. Therefore, if the Ten-Bowl Feast is priced higher, even more people will go to eat it. Besides, I've heard that your dishes have all been improved, giving you the first-mover advantage. You'll make a steady profit without any risk."

Just as everyone was laughing happily, they discovered that a big monk had come to Wulong Lane.

He specifically asked to see Ye Wuji, claiming he had important matters to discuss.

This wasn't the first time he had come to seek poetry from Ye Wuji, and without exception, he had been turned down every time.

Ye Wuji's poetry collection had been memorized purely to act pretentious later on, so naturally, he wouldn't bother with the monk.

Yet this old fellow had skin thicker than a city wall.

In the end, this arduous task fell upon Ye Xiu.

Inside the courtyard.

The charcoal in the pottery stove burned a fiery red.

Ye Xiu brewed a pot of tea and sat face-to-face with Abbot Yanguang.

"I observe, Master, that your eyes are still full of worldly dust." Ye Xiu pushed a cup of tea in front of Abbot Yanguang.

"I apologize for this abrupt intrusion, and I hope you will forgive me."

Abbot Yanguang pressed his palms together, preparing to chant Amitabha.

Yet before his hands had even been raised halfway, he dropped them, taking off his cassock along the way and completely dropping the act. "To be honest with you, Young Master, this poor monk wishes to return to secular life!"

Pfft!

Ye Xiu spat out a mouthful of tea. "No... You just finished collecting donations from my dad and the others, and now you're saying you want to return to secular life? Aren't you afraid Shen Wanshan will chop you into pieces and throw you into the Yangtze River to feed the fish?"

"Alas, this poor monk has his hardships!"

Abbot Yanguang picked up the wooden box beside him and opened it. Inside were entirely letters.

Ye Xiu subconsciously flipped through them; there were easily more than thirty letters.

The contents of every single one were little love poems written to Abbot Yanguang by a woman.

The handwriting was neat and graceful, the poetic imagery was profound, and the wit was sharp.

With a skill level like this, she would be more than qualified to teach students in a private school.

If Ye Xiu weren't a plagiarist from another world, he would have wanted to bow to her as his teacher and learn her craft.

Soon, Ye Xiu discovered that the stationery carried a fragrant, powdery scent.

It wasn't the kind ordinary people could afford.

After a brief moment of contemplation, Ye Xiu looked sharply at Abbot Yanguang. "The other party is a famous courtesan from Qinhuai?"

"Isn't that normal?"

Abbot Yanguang took a sip of tea, wearing the expression of a shameless rogue who couldn't be burned by boiling water. "If there were no famous courtesans and flower-tents to liven up poetry gatherings, who would even bother to go and join the fun?"

Ye Xiu suddenly remembered that Ye Wuji had once mentioned the big monk used to be a renowned scholar.

"So, Master, what is your ultimate request in seeking out my father?" Ye Xiu put down the letters and asked with a solemn expression.

"Help me write a poem, and give me a reason to return to secular life." Abbot Yanguang did not hide much.

"How can you be so sure my father can help you?" Ye Xiu frowned slightly.

"Young Master, please look. This is what your father donated to the temple on the day of the collection."

Abbot Yanguang produced the pigeon lottery ticket that Ye Wuji had donated to the temple. "This poor monk has never lost a battle of wits and Zen riddles, but I simply couldn't find a reasonable way to refute your father. Therefore, I believe your father can help me."

Looking at the three characters "Hit or Miss" written on the pigeon ticket, Ye Xiu burst out laughing. No wonder his old man had only brought loose change with him; so that was why.

"Does the Master truly wish to return to secular life?" Ye Xiu confirmed once more.

"Yes. Return to secular life, I must return!"

"Then is the Master prepared?" Ye Xiu straightened his collar and looked at Abbot Yanguang with a stern expression.

Abbot Yanguang was startled for a moment, but quickly understood Ye Xiu's intention. He put his cassock back on and recovered the dignified demeanor of an enlightened eminent monk.

Ye Xiu stood up and walked up to Abbot Yanguang. "You monk, what do you gaze upon day after day, and what do you chant with your mouth?"

"This poor monk gazes upon what cannot be let go, and chants with his mouth what has been let go."

Abbot Yanguang's eyes lit up. Truly, a tiger father breeds no dog sons; this Zen riddle was played out brilliantly.

"Since that is the case, how many family members do you still have, and how many years has it been since you left home?" Ye Xiu asked again.

"I left home thirty years ago, and my parents are no longer alive in this world," Abbot Yanguang replied.

Ye Xiu smiled. "And who is in your heart?"

Abbot Yanguang pondered for a moment. "In my heart, I yearn for my parents, and in my heart, there is also a fair lady."

"Great monk, do you yearn for her or not?"

"I cannot help but yearn."

"Great monk, think back once more to the first question I asked you." Ye Xiu sat back down on the stone stool and poured another cup of tea for the monk.

"This poor monk may not speak of it with his mouth day by day, but his heart has already spoken; he may not gaze upon it day by day with his eyes, but his heart has already been looking."

The monk pondered for a long time, then suddenly awoke to the truth. He bowed deeply to Ye Xiu. "Thank you, Young Master, for your guidance. This poor monk shall return to secular life tomorrow!"

Ye Xiu smiled with satisfaction. He walked into the room, picked up a brush, composed a lyric to the tune of *Qing Yu An*, and handed it to the monk.

"Green pagoda trees and misty willows line the long pavilion path. Regretting this hasty, separated departure. Days drag on like years, sorrow is hard to bear. Looking back at the towering city, twilight clouds block everything completely, where can I strain my eyes to find you? Dismounting at the inn as dusk approaches, secretly remembering tens of thousands of whispered injunctions. How much emotion dwells in an inch of tender entrails? A thin quilt, a solitary pillow, waking from a dream in the quiet night, while a bleak, drizzling rain beats against the dawn."

Abbot Yanguang held the paper in his hands and read the words aloud.

Yet before he had even finished reading half of the lyric, he burst into tears with a wail.

This lyric was practically tailor-made for him, and was even a true portrayal of his youth.

He remembered her, whom he had met in his youth.

He remembered that the long pavilion shaded by green willows was the very place where they had parted.

That year, he had left in far too much haste;

That year, he would wake up startled from his dreams every single day;

That year, yearning for his lover, he had tossed and turned on a lonely pillow...

Truly, how much emotion dwells in an inch of tender entrails—it was enough to break one's heart into pieces.

"How does the Master feel right now?" Ye Xiu asked.

"After having a good cry, I feel much better." Abbot Yanguang wiped the corners of his eyes with his sleeve. "Toward the Buddha, I no longer harbor any sense of guilt."

"Master, Ye wishes you a triumphant victory." Ye Xiu cupped his fists in salute to Abbot Yanguang.

"Young Master Ye, there is no time to lose. This poor monk is going right now to redeem her!"

The big monk bowed respectfully to Ye Xiu and strode out of the courtyard with confident steps.

Zhao Youyou poked her head out, looked at Abbot Yanguang's retreating figure, and asked quizzically, "Brother You'an, what were you two just talking about? How could his transformation be so huge?"

"Just giving him an excuse to return to secular life, that's all." Ye Xiu wore a helpless expression. "The big monk quite cares about having a step down."

"Nephew, I just remembered..."

At this moment, Qi Santai walked into the courtyard. "If our restaurant has singing courtesans, it will be a huge help in attracting customers, and the patrons won't care about the ten taels per table for the Ten-Bowl Feast."

"Uncle Qi, are you sure we're opening a restaurant and not a brothel?" Ye Xiu frowned deeply upon hearing this. "A restaurant has no need to rely on sex appeal to draw people in."

"Nephew, you don't understand. Large, high-end restaurants all invite moderately famous courtesans to perform on-site." Qi Santai explained with a smile. "This isn't selling sex appeal. On the contrary, good lyrics and songs will attract even more scholars to come write calligraphy on our walls. This is also a means of effective publicity."

"In that case, I'll have to trouble Uncle Qi to find some courtesans tomorrow so we can audition their vocal tones together."

Ye Xiu readily agreed to Qi Santai's suggestion. Having transmigrated into this world without even visiting a pleasure house, he had to admit it would be a great regret.