The three were talking in a corner of the main hall. Shen Dexian was saying, "...Floods and droughts have plagued us all year. How many people have starved to death outside the city? All the faithful in town are hoping for the protection of gods and Buddhas, for rites to deliver the dead. How could we possibly..."
Abbess Duanchen said, "This was never in keeping with the rules... What were the rules of the traditional city procession? Others may have forgotten, but this old nun has not."
Shen Dexian said, "Don't cling too tightly to old customs... Besides, back then... Whatever the rules, they had to begin somewhere. In a few years, the new will become an old tradition... Never mind the rest of the city-could you bear to disappoint all these believers who come to worship at Changqiu Temple?"
Abbess Duanchen gave a cold snort. "Do you take me for someone who covets incense offerings?"
"Of course you transcend worldly concerns and regard money as dirt," Shen Dexian said. "...But the guild has several hundred members, and with their families, that's over a thousand mouths. They all need to eat!"
Abbess Duanchen seemed ill-suited to arguing. She looked at the other man and asked, "What does Guildmaster Cao say? You're an Ascendant too."
The man stood with his back to the hall, a pair of short sabers tucked into his belt. At Abbess Duanchen's question, he turned toward the statue of Guanyin and said flatly, "This is already the eighth year."
The hall was filled with noisy voices, and Baozhu could not hear exactly what they were discussing. But her eyesight was excellent. Catching sight of the man's profile, she noticed a faint scar on his left eyebrow. Suspicion stirred in her heart, and she involuntarily caught Wei Xun's