Jiang Cheng smiled without changing his expression. "Master, what do you mean by this?"
The dark-skinned monk who had spoken with Jiang Cheng earlier froze, then noticed the other two bowls of congee on the table. Another monk had brought them.
"Junior Brother Huicong, don't fool around." The dark-skinned monk sternly rebuked him.
Compared with the dark-skinned monk, this monk, whose dharma name was Huicong, was much stranger. He was remarkably thin and filthy from head to toe. His old monk's robe was covered in patches, and he didn't seem to care about being scolded. He just stood there grinning foolishly, looking none too bright.
Despite his foolish appearance, Monk Huicong had an unusually bright pair of eyes. Clumsily gesturing with his hands, he said, "Heh heh, eat, eat. You came together, so you should... should eat together, heh heh..."
The moment the Fatty saw Monk Huicong's snot nearly drip into the bowl, he grumbled to himself. Which genius had come up with the dharma name Huicong for him? Wasn't that just making fun of the poor guy?
The dark-skinned monk looked a little embarrassed by the scene, but still tried to reason with him patiently. "Junior Brother Huicong, those benefactors are in the West Wing, not here. Don't fool around. You've already eaten, so go outside. Later, your senior brother will take you to cultivate merit. How about that?"
At the words "cultivate merit," Monk Huicong's brows furrowed. Then he wiped his nose with his sleeve, picked up the bowl, and immediately ran off, muttering a half-sung refrain as he went. "Came together, heh... heh heh, not here! Not here!"
After sending Monk Huicong away, the dark-skinned monk gave Jiang Cheng and the Fatty an apologetic smile and pressed his palms together. "I'm sorry, benefactors. Though my junior brother