Taoist Priest of the Barren Mountain

An unnamed barren mountain.

A dilapidated Taoist temple.

Broken roof tiles. Peeling walls.

"Master!"

A child's plaintive cry shattered the mountain's stillness.

A young Taoist apprentice of seven or eight crouched before the stove, his face smeared with ash.

Clutching half a fire poker, he looked aggrievedly at the old Taoist reclining in a rocking chair.

"We're out of rice!"

"Really out!"

"Yesterday you insisted on drinking and spent our rice money on two lousy ounces of booze. What are we supposed to eat today?"

The old Taoist heard his apprentice's complaints.

He smacked his lips and wiped the wine from his beard.

"What are you shouting for?"

"If you're hungry, your mind isn't still. Quiet your mind, and you naturally won't feel hungry."

The young apprentice puffed out his cheeks. "Then stop sneaking the roasted sweet potatoes I hide!"

"I put one behind the statue last night. This morning, all that was left was the skin!"

The old Taoist's weathered face reddened.

He sat up straight and glared. "How can you call what a Taoist does stealing? I thought our founding master had manifested a miracle..."

The young apprentice rolled his eyes.

"Well, I can't bear being hungry anymore. If you don't think of something, I'm going down the mountain tomorrow. I heard Widow Liu's household is hiring farmhands..."

"Why, you little brat!"

The old Taoist was about to leap up and teach his rebellious apprentice a lesson.

Then, suddenly...

He froze. In that instant, his once-clouded, languid eyes turned deep as an abyss.

He slowly turned his head.

His gaze pierced the crumbling courtyard wall and the layers of clouds beyond.

"What's wrong?"

Startled by his master's sudden change, the young apprentice instinctively shrank back.

"Master... don't scare me. I won't go, all right?"

The old Taoist ignored