"Ming Yue, prepare two doses of medicine for the old gentleman."
Daoist Jixin called out as he swiftly penned the prescription with a brush.
The young Daoist quickly walked over, following the prescription to gather the herbs, grinding them down with a pestle, and wrapping them in lotus leaves. All the while, he had to attend to other patients, and by the time he was done, a sheen of sweat had formed on his forehead.
The elderly man stood nervously nearby, watching the young Daoist work. When he finally received the medicine wrapped in lotus leaves, his hands trembled slightly. He hesitated before Daoist Jixin, waiting until the Daoist had finished attending to another patient. Then, he opened his palm and mumbled softly, "Living Immortal, you are so compassionate. I’ve only just arrived from the north, just found a place to stay, and my child only got work at the dock yesterday. The wages won’t come until next month, and all I have are these few coins..."
Daoist Jixin finished writing another prescription and handed it to Ming Yue. He then looked up at the old man and sighed softly. "Elder, this is enough to cover the cost of the medicine. There’s no need to worry about the consultation fee. When your situation improves, you can bring it later. I’ll just put it on the tab for now."
After Daoist Jixin made a note in the thick ledger, the old man left, full of gratitude.
Qin Sang sat at the back, watching the master and disciple bustle about. His thoughts were a swirl of emotions, and before he knew it, dusk had fallen. Only two people who had helped him up the mountain remained in front of him.
After seeing a dozen or so patients, more than half of whom were from the north, Daoist Jixin found that most of them could only have their fees recorded, as they couldn’t even afford the medicine. Throughout the entire afternoon, aside from a couple who came seeking talismans to ward off evil spirits and an elderly lady seeking fortune sticks[1], not a single person came to offer incense. The old Daoist earned little, yet neither he nor his disciple showed a hint of impatience, which deeply moved Qin Sang.
"Young man, lift your leg."
When the previous patients had been seen, Qin Sang hobbled over with his cane and lifted his injured leg as instructed by the old Daoist.
After writing the prescription and instructing Ming Yue to prepare the medicine, Daoist Jixin made a note in the ledger, his voice betraying a trace of fatigue. Qin Sang’s heart stirred as he spoke softly, "Daoist Master, I’ve heard that more and more people are fleeing from the north. The number of patients seeking your help will only increase, yet there are only you and your young disciple here, and you still need to gather herbs from the mountains. I’m afraid it will be too much for you to manage..."
Before he could finish, Qin Sang noticed from the corner of his eye that the young Daoist's face lit up with anticipation as he looked at his master.
Without raising his head, Daoist Jixin interrupted, "Young man, you’ve seen the state of the temple. The people who come here are all poor. As much as I wish to help, I’m powerless. We barely earn enough incense money in a year to support another Daoist, let alone pay you any wages."
The young Daoist’s eyes dimmed, and he pouted slightly.
Qin Sang hadn’t expected the old Daoist to be so blunt, but he wasn’t one to give up easily. Smiling awkwardly, he said, "To be honest, Daoist Master, I am indeed looking for a place to stay. Unfortunately, I injured my leg, making it difficult to find work. When I saw how busy you and your disciple were, I thought I could help. I don’t ask for any wages, just a place to shelter from the wind and rain, and some tasks to do."
"Mr. Qin, there are several vacant rooms here. You can choose one. I’ll go prepare dinner first, and later I’ll bring over some bedding and a Daoist robe for you."
After deciding to take in Qin Sang, Daoist Jixin waived the consultation fee and had Ming Yue lead Qin Sang to the back to select a room. Bedding and a Daoist robe were provided, and from now on, he would eat with them, with Ming Yue in charge of cooking.
"Junior Brother Ming Yue, since we’re both working under the Daoist Master and I’m a few years older than you, you should call me Senior Brother instead of addressing me so formally as 'Mister.'"
Qin Sang tried to build rapport with Ming Yue. "I’ll help you with the fire in a bit. Why don’t you show me around first? Where do you and the Daoist Master live?"
Ming Yue had lived with the old Daoist for a long time without many friends, so he felt a sense of closeness when someone suddenly claimed to be his Senior Brother. Smiling, he pointed to a place and said brightly, "Senior Brother, my master and I live over there!"
Qin Sang followed his gaze and saw that Ming Yue was pointing to the row of houses behind the Qingyang Hall.
Qingyang Temple had four courtyards, with three rows of houses behind Qingyang Hall. Each row had six rooms, with a stone-paved path running down the middle to the rear of the temple, three rooms on each side.
The houses were built of stone and structurally sound, though the roofs were in poor condition.
Daoist Jixin and Ming Yue lived in the first row, occupying the three rooms on the left.
Ming Yue pointed to the other three rooms and said, "These rooms have bamboo beds. If laypersons stay overnight or patients can’t make it down the mountain, they can stay here. Sometimes we don’t charge patients, but laypersons pay one coin per night, meals not included."
Qin Sang followed Ming Yue, listening as he explained.
When they reached the last row of houses, Qin Sang suddenly heard the sound of flowing water. He walked over and saw that Qingyang Temple had no back wall. Beyond it lay a large bamboo grove, and from deep within the grove, a spring flowed down from the mountain, forming a small stream that meandered through the forest. The sound of the spring water, along with the chirping of birds and insects, created a serene and peaceful environment.
Qin Sang took one look and immediately fell in love with the place.
1. Kau chim, kau cim, chien tung,[1] "lottery poetry" and Chinese fortune sticks are names for a fortune telling practice that originated in China in which a person poses questions and interprets answers from flat sticks inscribed with text or numerals. ☜