The first light of dawn filtered through, and the sky outside the window gradually brightened. The rain had stopped; only the grass eaves still dripped, while the moist scent of vegetation filled the mountains.
The fire inside the thatched hermitage had died, leaving only a few wisps of blue smoke curling upward, turning into golden haze in the sunlight that slipped through the crack in the door.
The Blind Monk still sat quietly on his meditation cushion, his gaunt fingers slowly turning his prayer beads, as though he had become one with the dawn.
He An stepped forward and bowed respectfully. "Thank you for your guidance last night, Master."
The Blind Monk tilted his head slightly. His pale eyes seemed to gaze at He An through the darkness, and a compassionate smile touched his lips. "Why thank me, benefactor? Sharing a road through wind and rain is itself a bond of fate. Rather, it is this old monk who should thank you."
The middle-aged monk beside him had already packed his belongings and stood waiting with a bamboo staff in hand.
The Blind Monk rose and walked toward the door, his steps slow but steady. The morning sun fell upon him, gilding his lean figure.
At the entrance to the hermitage, the Blind Monk suddenly stopped and turned back toward He An. "Benefactor, the road ahead is long. Remember: see mountains as mountains, and waters as waters; see mountains as not mountains, and waters as not waters."
Those words echoed in He An's heart like morning bells and evening drums. He stared at the old monk, wanting to ask more, but the two men had already begun walking slowly down the damp mountain path.
The middle-aged monk remained half a step behind, occasionally looking back to nod farewell to He