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In the blink of an eye, the fat Taoist arrived outside his little Taoist temple.
But today was different. Usually, he could cheerfully amble inside, humming a tune with a bun in hand, then feed the fish in the pond and chat with them on his way in.
Today, however, he stood outside, craning his neck to observe in secret. After watching for a long while, he straightened his clothes over and over, smoothing every crease. Only after easing his nerves did he grit his teeth, bow three times toward the main hall beyond the entrance, and repeatedly cup his hands in salute. Muttering pleas for the patriarch's forgiveness and assurances that no taboos applied, he shouldered his "Iron-Mouth Divination" banner, pushed open the entrance, and walked in.
Once inside, the fat Taoist craned his neck again, looking toward the offering table with anticipation and unease.
Nothing out of a story happened, however. The statue of their patriarch-the Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth for Blessings-remained perfectly intact in its place. It had not come alive, nor had its pose changed.
Looking again, he saw quite a few extra things on the offering table. The three incense sticks he had lit before going out at noon were still burning at a normal rate, and someone who looked just as ill at ease as he did stood in a corner of the main hall. The fat Taoist looked over just as the other man looked his way. Their gazes met in the middle of the hall, and, with remarkable understanding, they asked in unison:
"You saw it too?"
With that question, both knew where things stood. The fat Taoist leaned his white cloth banner against the wall, and his tall, thin fellow disciple strode across the main hall and out