"Could it be... that your abbot has no hobbies at all?" Xiao Hua could not help interrupting Ming Shen's endless stream of words. Rather than listening to him talk about Great Chan Master Ji Mie's preferences, he seemed to be airing his grievances and recounting his own history of blood and tears.
"Flattery!!!" Ming Shen answered without hesitation. "But even if you flatter him until his ass is worn through, he still won't agree to help you!"
"His usual hobbies! For example, does he like any Buddhist artifacts or Buddhist teachings?"
"No!" Ming Shen shook his head, then explained, "Of course, this disciple does not cultivate Buddhist teachings, so I do not know whether the abbot likes such things. But speaking of what he likes..."
At this point, Ming Shen hesitated.
"What is it?" Xiao Hua immediately perked up and asked.
After some thought, Ming Shen lowered his voice. "Our abbot does have a strange quirk. This disciple only discovered it in recent years..."
"What strange quirk?"
"On the thirtieth day of the twelfth lunar month the year before last, this disciple went out to find wine and unexpectedly got dead drunk, failing to return to Golden Mountain Temple in time. By nightfall, the Chen River water had surged, and this disciple risked his life to steal a battered little boat and cross the river. But when the boat reached midstream, I suddenly saw the abbot sitting atop a tall rock by the riverbank. I was scared out of my wits and immediately knelt in the little boat, kowtowing and begging forgiveness. Yet after I had knocked my head on the deck who knew how many times, and the boat had drifted far away, the abbot still had not opened his eyes or spoken. Later, this disciple entered the temple