Before Wen Ning could speak, Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva slowly opened his eyes.
Those eyes did not look as fathomlessly deep as Tathagata's.
They held only a compassion that had settled after witnessing everything.
Not a compassion that looked down upon all living beings, but one that stood among them.
"I already know why you have come."
The golden rings atop Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva's staff clinked faintly in the depths of hell, their clear notes lingering in the air.
"Golden Cicada has indeed entered the cycle of reincarnation."
Wen Ning's heart jolted. Was Truth-Listening that powerful? I haven't even introduced myself, and the Bodhisattva already knows.
He asked the most important question.
"Then where is Golden Cicada now? Please guide me, Bodhisattva."
Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva did not answer directly.
He lowered his gaze to Wen Ning, his lips moving gently.
"All day I sought spring, yet spring was nowhere found; my straw sandals wore through as I trod the clouds on mountain crests."
"Returning, I smiled and lifted a plum blossom to my nose; there on the branches, spring was already in full bloom."
After reciting the poem, he raised his hand and waved gently at Wen Ning.
Wen Ning's vision blurred, and his body floated backward beyond his control.
By the time he recovered his senses, his feet were already on the mortal world's concrete pavement.
The night breeze washed over his face, carrying the scent of cumin from the nearby barbecue stall.
The streetlight at the mouth of the alley, broken for half a year, had actually been repaired. It shone on his utterly bewildered face.
Only those four lines kept running through his mind:
All day I sought spring, yet spring was nowhere found; my straw sandals wore through as I trod the clouds on mountain crests.
*Returning, I smiled and