Did they look alike? Yun Yi tried hard to recall.
The Daoist Xiao in her memory wore plain ancient robes, tall and thin, full of nonsense.
He had suddenly crashed into her at the cultural creative exhibition, smashing everything she bought.
Yun Yi dragged Daoist Xiao to the police station, intending to make him pay. But the man mysteriously vanished.
After that, she never saw him again.
Daoist Nun Xiao lightly kicked the urn with her toe and said smugly: “Just tell me—do they look alike? My brother also has a model face!”
Yun Yi turned to Xiao Zhi, then looked at the ID photo.
“Same gender, same race.”
She really couldn’t bring herself to say they looked alike with a clear conscience.
How could Daoist Xiao possibly look like Xiao Zhi?
It wasn’t favoritism—Xiao Zhi’s features were deep and three-dimensional, plus his innate imperial aura. Standing in a crowd, he was the most dazzling presence.
How could he possibly be mentioned in the same breath as that swindling Daoist Xiao?
Seeing Yun Yi’s non-reaction, Daoist Nun Xiao scooped up the urn and declared: “You don’t want the ID? Then I’ll go to the police station and get a death certificate. Once the household registration is canceled, this ID will be void.”
In that instant, Yun Yi snatched the ID.
“I want it!”
Xiao Zhi could buy a phone number now.
“But,” Yun Yi’s gaze circled back and forth on the urn, “without a death certificate, how do we cremate it at the funeral home?”
“That’s not your concern.” Daoist Nun Xiao patted the urn. “My brother’s mission is complete. Until we meet again.”
Yun Yi pulled Xiao Zhi and chased after her. “What about the household registration book?”
Daoist Nun Xiao: “It’s at Fuyun Temple. Ask Daoist Priest Qingxuan for it.”
“Quick, call her sister.” Yun Yi tilted her head and glared at him. Xiao Zhi lifted his chin, still wearing that noble air.
He took the ID and glanced at the photo.
No need to ask—it was certainly Qingxuan’s handiwork.
But this name.
“Xiao Daoshi,” Xiao Zhi’s eyes showed displeasure. “This name is usable?”
Yun Yi patted his arm. “Be content!”
A few days ago, she’d been worrying about his identity.
Yun Yi had considered many plans.
Pretend to be undocumented and explain the situation at the police station—this was vetoed by Yun Guoqiang.
“How many national censuses have there been? How could such a grown man have no household registration?”
Yun Guoqiang’s proposal: have Xiao Zhi smuggled abroad, live undocumented for a few years, and wait for a chance at a green card.
“Go to America and find your brother. At least you’d have someone to look after you.”
Yun Yi strongly opposed it.
A person who couldn’t even recognize all 26 English letters—how would he survive abroad?
Yun Guoqiang had his own clever idea: “Go work in the back kitchen of a Chinese restaurant. Wash dishes.”
The moment the words left his mouth, a dangerous pressure descended. Yun Guoqiang turned back sheepishly and saw Xiao Zhi sitting on the living room sofa, a fifth-grade math textbook spread on his lap, an empty plate on the coffee table.
Under his gaze, Yun Guoqiang silently carried the empty plate to the kitchen.
This living ancestor—how could he go wash dishes for people?
Xiao Zhi: “I want to change my name.”
Yun Yi vetoed it outright: “That’s not allowed. Who knows if the ID will even work.”
The most urgent thing now was to get a phone card first.
The ancient person finally had a phone.
On a street bench outside the service hall, sunlight filtered through the branches of the street trees, casting round spots of light.
Yun Yi taught Xiao Zhi hand-over-hand how to download WeChat.
“Mine, my dad’s… and Daoist Priest Qingxuan’s.”
Yun Yi pinned the cloud avatar representing herself to the top.
Xiao Zhi didn’t understand. He asked: “Why are you always at the top?”
His little scheme discovered, Yun Yi pointed at the sky and stubbornly said: “I’m a cloud, so of course I’m in the sky.”
Xiao Zhi looked up. A plane drilled into the cotton-candy white clouds, trailing a long wake.
With WeChat came new trouble: the ancient person couldn’t type.
Xiao Zhi held the phone and became a member of the head-down tribe.
Proud as he was, saying he wasn’t frustrated would be a lie.
He couldn’t figure it out, so he just typed randomly and sent it to Yun Yi in a huff.
Yun Yi received his masterpiece and comforted him: “First graders can’t type either.”
One sentence broke Xiao Zhi’s composure: “I’ve studied to sixth grade! People’s Education Press sixth grade!”
“Pfft haha…” She really couldn’t hold it in and laughed first out of respect. “Alright, alright, sixth grade today. In a few more days you’ll be a glorious middle school student!”
A few middle schoolers in uniforms walked toward them, uniformly bespectacled, backpacks heavy, homework bags in hand, faces ashen, without a trace of youthful vitality.
Xiao Zhi thought to himself: Going to middle school was not a happy event.
“Of course you’re luckier than them.” Yun Yi helped him download delivery apps, Alipay, and other essential modern apps. “You don’t have to take the middle school or college entrance exams.”
She slapped her forehead as if she’d thought of something tremendous.
Xiao Zhi was stuffed into the car.
In the blink of an eye, they arrived at the mountainside of Emperor Ridge.
Before the Daoist temple, Daoist Priest Qingxuan and his disciples had long been waiting respectfully.
Seeing their knees go weak, about to kneel in greeting, Xiao Zhi quickly stopped them.
Xiao Zhi waved his hand and said: “Temple Master, no need for formalities. I am merely an ordinary person now.”
The disciples naturally didn’t know Xiao Zhi’s identity. They only felt this young benefactor before them exuded immense pressure—he must have considerable background.
“Temple Master,” Yun Yi extended her hand, “Xiao Zhi’s household registration book.”
Qingxuan reached into his robe sleeve and took out the household registration book, offering it respectfully.
The three characters “Xiao Daoshi” in the name column once again broke Xiao Zhi’s composure.
Yun Yi’s focus was different. She pointed at the education level column and let out a “yah”: “Why is Xiao Daoshi’s education level elementary school?!”
Yun Yi stomped her foot: “Doesn’t the Daoist temple require a bachelor’s degree for recruitment?”
Someone replied with a laugh: “That’s for Buddhists. Our Daoist temple—if you can read, you can come.”
“…”
Qingxuan smiled awkwardly: “This humble Daoist miscalculated. I assumed Benefactor Xiao, with his civil and martial talents, wouldn’t care about such empty titles.”
Yun Yi slumped: “Forget it. He was illiterate anyway. Writing graduate student wouldn’t mean anything either.”
Xiao Zhi’s eyelid twitched. Her courage had grown to such an extent? Openly calling him illiterate in front of outsiders?
Yun Yi tucked the household registration book away and looked at Xiao Zhi: “What now? You have no diploma. What employer would dare hire an elementary school student?”
Seeing a certain someone about to erupt, Qingxuan stepped between them: “Let’s not talk about that.”
Xiao Zhi: “What employer?”
Yun Yi pursed her lips: “Even an emperor has to work when he comes to the modern era. Otherwise, drink the northwest wind?”
Xiao Zhi laughed in anger: “I have no money?”
Such a big chest of gold, silver, and treasures—enough to feed him for several lifetimes.
The contents had been appraised by Yun Guoqiang. How much they were worth aside, he hadn’t slept all night, tossing and turning, examining them, treasuring them immensely.
It was said that any single piece taken to auction would be worth at least eight figures.
“If you can find a single coin on you, I lose.”
“…”
He indeed had none.
Yun Yi retreated under the elm tree, leaving space for the temple master and Xiao Zhi.
Today the temple was open to the public. Worshippers came in twos and threes.
The temple master said Daoist Xiao had originally been his disciple, rebellious against orthodoxy, recklessly sowing karma in the world.
Various causes led to Yun Yi’s soul transmigrating to Yan.
The interweaving of fate led to Xiao Zhi transmigrating to the modern era.
“It was my disciple’s fault. As his master, I am willing to bear it for him. If you wish to punish, Qingxuan will not utter a word.”
“Temple Master is too serious.” Xiao Zhi gazed at the girl squatting under the tree, his tone soft. “Everything is karma. I have long seen through it.”
This era wasn’t bad.
There was simply too much to learn. He’d work hard and keep up with the pace of the times.
Yun Yi came over with her phone and said hurriedly: “Duck down a bit.”
The tall man didn’t understand why, but obediently cooperated, bending down with good temper, looking at the girl before him.
Bright eyes and good eyesight. The smile at the corner of her mouth spread like a smear of sweet cream.
“Why are you looking at me?” Yun Yi was puzzled. “Look at the phone.”
“Oh.”
After the face scan, Alipay was registered.
A notification sounded from the phone: “Your Alipay has received ten thousand yuan.”
Yun Yi explained: “I edited two of your vlogs. This is the income. Even though you have no diploma, you can still earn money through labor.”
She wouldn’t tell Xiao Zhi that all her fans had defected.
[Streamer, please, can you stop blurring your boyfriend!]
[Yun Yi: He’s shy. PS: Not yet my boyfriend.]
[This hand fetishist has gone crazy! Ahh, I want to be kneaded, rubbed, and hooked by this hand…]
[Yun Yi: …]
Of course, she also wouldn’t tell Xiao Zhi that two videos couldn’t earn ten thousand yuan. This money was saved from her hard work running her account—she was just sharing a bit with him.
On the elm tree, all kinds of peace talismans hung from the branches. The warm sun was gentle. The talismans fluttered.
Tourists looked curiously at the man and woman under the tree.
The man leaned lazily against the tree. The girl leaned beside him, earnestly teaching him something.
With every sentence she said, his slender finger obediently swiped on the screen.
“Teachability.”
“Nothing can stump me.”
“Go home and do a fifth-grade math olympiad set?”
“Have mercy.”
“That won’t do, unless you beg me… quick, call me Great King.”
“Great King, spare me.”
The girl giggled. The man said nothing, his eyes full of indulgence.
Yun Yi’s eyes suddenly lit up. She waved at a delivery rider: “Here!”
Xiao Zhi witnessed the speed of delivery for the first time.
From order to receipt, less than 20 minutes.
“Temple Master, Xiao Zhi is treating! This is his first time ordering delivery!”
The young Daoist from the temple dashed out. “Thank you, Benefactor Xiao!”
Xiao Zhi pulled out a cup of “sweet orange milk green” from the pile of milk teas, pinched open the straw, inserted it, and only then handed it to Yun Yi.
“How did you know this one was mine?” Yun Yi took a sip without thinking and stuffed the milk tea back into Xiao Zhi’s hand. “Try it. It’s good.”
Xiao Zhi looked down at the straw she had drunk from, pondered for a second, and imitated her, taking a light sip.
“You often ate dried tangerine slices in the palace. It’s this flavor.”
“You actually remember.”
The two sides’ time wasn’t synchronized.
Her stealing his candied fruit in the palace—on Xiao Zhi’s timeline, it had been too long ago.
Xiao Zhi took another sip, his tongue grinding a few bits of orange pulp. “Everything about you, I keep in my heart.”
“Oh.” Yun Yi’s gaze fixed blatantly on the milk tea.
His fingers were indeed as her fans said—bony and sharp at the joints, the skin on the back of his hand very thin, the stone-blue veins like coiled azure dragons winding upward, disappearing into his sleeve.
Seeing her greedy look, Xiao Zhi handed over the milk tea, the straw poking at her lips.
“Greedy cat, drink.”
Leave a Reply