Shi Qingjue returned to the temple to visit his master, but ran into a bit of trouble. The reception monk refused to let him in or even pass along a message, repeating just one thing: "You left the monastic life, so you left it. The bond between master and disciple is over. There's no precedent for coming back to ask to be a disciple again..."
Shi Qingjue wasn't particularly familiar with the reception monk. Seeing the man's cold, dismissive expression, he couldn't help wondering if he'd been just as unpleasant himself back in the day. He put on a smile and, like an old friend, warmly clasped the monk's hand. With a hint of sadness, he said, "Well, that's true, but I can't just forget the kindness my master showed me for over a decade. I'm sentimental. I remember how well my senior brother looked after me..."
The reception monk felt a hard object drop into his hand. It was surprisingly heavy. He immediately changed his tune and smiled. "It's touching that you still remember. Ah, we were fellow disciples, after all. I'll make an exception for you, just this once."
A quarter of an hour later, Shi Qingjue was escorted to the main kitchen to wait for his master to summon him. The reception monk could do no more than that; he couldn't decide which eminent monks of the temple saw people, or didn't, and he couldn't just go and notify them on a whim.
Shi Qingjue didn't make things difficult for the reception monk. He only asked him to notify one of his senior brothers to meet him in the main kitchen.
He waited for more than half an hour.
Most of the kitchen workers were laymen; only five of the supervisors were monks. They'd been on nodding