What Do You Mean, I Slipped Through Nine Years of Compulsory Education?!

For the first time, the incense ashes at Pure Dust Temple had piled up into a small hill.

Chen Shi'an crouched before the funeral basin, stirring the ashes with the chipped bronze bell his master had loved to fiddle with in life. His movements were as practiced as if he were frying leftover rice.

He had helped his master perform plenty of funeral rites, but he had never expected that the first soul-deliverance ceremony of his eighteenth year would be for his own master.

Of all Chen Shi'an's skills, performing rites to deliver the dead was the one he had mastered best.

No wonder his master had spent so much time teaching him this. Now the old man had arranged an opportunity for him to put it to use.

The eighteen-year-old wore a Taoist robe washed almost white, its cuffs still smeared with soot from burning spirit money. Gazing at the dense crowd packed into the mourning hall, he suddenly felt that his master had made a thoroughly underhanded exit-

While alive, he had run the temple like a branch of the Beggars' Guild, with enough debts to pave a road from the mountaintop to its foot. Even with his last breath, he had remembered to leave his disciple a generous parting gift.

Yes, after years devoted to Taoist cultivation, his master had long since lost touch with his worldly friends and relatives. Almost everyone who had come to mourn him today was a creditor...

The old man had predicted when he would ride the crane into the beyond. He had even called all these people the night before and invited them over!

"Shi'an, the debts we owe as master and disciple must be repaid. A man cannot stand without integrity. That holds true in life, and all the more so in cultivating the Tao. It isn't that I haven't meant to repay them all these years. I've merely delayed payment, paid slowly-but in the end, they must be repaid. With this entrusted to you, I can..."

"Master! Wait! Hold on! What do you mean, the debts we owe as master and disciple?!"

"Did you eat that half a pig from Old Liu at the east end of the village?"

"I did."

"Did you sleep in the bed we replaced in the eleventh lunar month?"

"I did."

"Then my debts are your debts."

Having said that, his master closed his eyes. Without waiting for Chen Shi'an to answer, he hopped aboard his crane and slipped away.

He left Chen Shi'an a letter, a ledger, and this decrepit temple: remote, dilapidated, obscure, and losing money year after year.

Chen Shi'an had not yet had time to read the letter or the ledger, but the sight of all the creditors crowding the mourning hall turned his face ashen and filled his heart with grief...

Master! You've really done me in! All these people-how much debt did you leave me?!

The young man, who had been so calm just moments earlier, suddenly burst into tears as the coffin was about to be closed. He flung himself over it and sobbed at the top of his lungs...

"Master!! Don't leave me all alone!!"

"Master!! Take me with you, Master!!"

How could the mourners fail to be moved by such profound affection between master and disciple?

"That young Taoist must be the disciple Master Chen mentioned?"

"Yes. Shi'an's a poor child, too. Master Chen found him abandoned during his travels years ago. They may have been master and disciple, but even a grandfather and grandson couldn't have been closer..."

"He doesn't look very old, does he?"

"He just turned eighteen this year."

"That's something, at least. He's old enough to stand on his own. Then, now that Master Chen's gone, this Pure Dust Temple..."

"There were only the two of them here. Naturally, Shi'an will inherit it, won't he?"

"But he's still just a boy... Can he manage?"

Chen Shi'an paid no attention to the murmurs in the crowd.

Truthfully, his master's death had not felt particularly real to him at first.

Even as the coffin lid slowly descended, Chen Shi'an was still lost in a daze.

He stared at the narrowing gap and saw his master's sparse white hair lying against the pillow, like a thin layer of snow that had not been swept away.

Only when the heavy wood blocked out the last sliver of light, and a muffled thud struck his heart, did he snap back to himself-

No one would knock on his door in the morning and call, "Time to copy the scriptures."

No one would hum a little tune while correcting his footwork.

And no one would slip a warmer beneath his quilt on a cold winter night.

When that realization hit, Chen Shi'an suddenly felt unable to breathe. It was like the time he had slipped while catching fish in a mountain stream as a child: the first thing he had felt upon falling into the water was not cold, but suffocation.

Now that same suffocating sensation gripped his lungs. His eyes stung and swelled as though exposed to the heat rising from an incense burner.

He remembered his master always saying, "Life and death alternate like day and night." He remembered the words he had copied: "Heaven and earth are impartial; they treat all things as straw dogs."

But the moment the coffin lid closed tight, all those teachings turned into bitter grains of sand in his mouth.

He could neither spit them clean nor swallow them down.

So no amount of understanding could withstand this sudden emptiness.

He had been wailing so loudly a moment ago, yet now he could not cry at all.

The others fell silent, too.

After its brief bustle, the mourning hall returned to solemn stillness...

When the rain stopped, water still dripped from the eaves.

Inside, candle stubs burned crookedly in the incense burner. Rings of smoke rose through the damp, cold air, struck the dusty, cobwebbed rafters, and dissolved into a fine haze.

The eastern hall's door hinges were badly rusted, creaking as the wind pushed against them.

Chen Shi'an had recovered somewhat.

He stood in the courtyard and, following the etiquette his master had taught him, directed the departing guests toward the path down the mountain.

"Shi'an, my condolences."

Uncle Liu, the pork seller from the east end of the village, patted Chen Shi'an's shoulder.

"I'm all right. Thank you, Uncle Liu."

"Your master always said you were the Star of Literary Eminence descended to earth. You just never had the chance to get a taste of scholarly life. But there's another saying, isn't there... Better to walk than read? If you ask me, Shi'an, you should go out and clear your head. You've spent all these years on the mountain. It's time you saw a bit of the world. Things change so fast these days."

Chen Shi'an nodded silently. I'm afraid you've got the wrong idea. The only thing I've soaked up is incense smoke-and now I suppose I'll have to add the creditors' resentment to that...

At that thought, Chen Shi'an finally found a moment to study the creditors who had come to offer their condolences.

What he saw was rather unexpected.

Young as Chen Shi'an was, and sheltered as his years in the mountains had left him, he was no slouch at reading people.

People carried an aura of their own, a reflection of their status, temperament, and emotions.

Yet the creditors attending his master's funeral showed little resentment on their faces. Most seemed genuinely saddened by his passing.

Chen Shi'an was puzzled. Could it be that the people least willing to see you die were actually your creditors?

And judging by their clothing and bearing, every one of these creditors seemed to be somebody of standing.

The path up the mountain was difficult enough normally, and even muddier in the rain. Cars could not make it up; visitors had to walk all the way from the foot of the mountain.

They had come such a long way, their shoes caked in mud, yet they had still been willing to make the trip.

Chen Shi'an was bright, and he sensed there was more to this than met the eye.

But he was not acquainted with these creditors

, and knew neither who was who nor who owed whom, let alone how much. Seeing that most had no intention of speaking to him specifically, he simply treated them politely, planning to check his master's ledger later and sort out the debts first.

Once everything was settled, a young man who had been waiting outside for some time walked in. His eyes swept over the dilapidated temple from behind his glasses, as though he were appraising an antique, before finally settling on Chen Shi'an.

"Hello, young Master Chen. I'm Yang Yao, a clerk with the Cloud Roost City Taoist Association. Under the regulations, inheriting a temple requires certain documents. I've come to handle the paperwork for you."

"That soon?"

Chen Shi'an had been planning to take care of it himself in a few days. He had not expected someone to come in person.

"Old Daoist Master Chen notified us in advance."

"..."

Fine, fine. You were already worrying about what would happen after your death while you were still alive. So much for taking life and death lightly.

But honestly, Master, how did I never realize you had this much pull? They normally make people come to them, yet you've made them come to us?

What standing does our shabby little temple have to deserve treatment like this?

Chen Shi'an went inside and fetched his Taoist priest certificate, his identification card, and the Transmission Certificate proving his lineage under his master.

"Young Master Chen, I'll also need proof of your education."

Chen Shi'an reached into his robe and produced his copy of the Dao De Jing, already creased and crumpled from countless readings.

The clerk and Chen Shi'an stared at each other, and silence settled between them.

"Young Master Chen, I'm sorry, but this... doesn't count as proof of education. I can't enter it into the system. Under the Compulsory Education Law, you need..."

"Hold on."

Chen Shi'an interrupted him. "I'm inheriting my master's temple. Why do I need a diploma? I've never been to school. Where am I supposed to get proof of education? Could you check again?"

Great. Not only had he slipped through nine years of compulsory education, he didn't know the law, either!

"Young Master Chen, here's the situation. Because of their special nature, Taoist temples aren't considered private property. To inherit one legally, you do need to provide the relevant documents..."

"What happens if I really can't?"

"Under the regulations, it will be treated as an ownerless asset and handed over to the association."

Chen Shi'an frowned.

Here he was, an exemplary Taoist who knew the doctrines and classics by heart, whose cultivation, character, and lineage were beyond reproach-and a piece of paper was going to trip him up on his path forward?

"Then what level of education do I need?"

"A state-recognized diploma from a key university."

Even the clerk found that unbelievable as he said it. An ordinary small temple usually needed no more than a high school diploma as a formality, let alone a rundown, neglected temple in such a remote location.

But before coming, he had checked the system at least three times. He had confirmed that the obscure Pure Dust Temple held a remarkably high classification. To inherit it legally and become its abbot, one really did need at least a bachelor's degree from a key university.

Chen Shi'an spread his hands. It was unclear whether he meant he did not have one or had not understood.

"Didn't you say my master contacted you beforehand? Did he know about this?"

"He did. There's no need to worry, young Master Chen."

As he spoke, the clerk took something from his briefcase. "When the elder Master Chen asked us to handle the paperwork, he also asked us to bring you this..."

Master left something for me with someone else, too?

Chen Shi'an lifted his gaze toward the open briefcase. A stiff piece of red paper was being drawn out.

Chen Shi'an blinked. Master really did know how to look after his disciple. Could he have gotten me a diploma outright?

At last, the stiff red paper was placed in his hands.

At the sight of the glittering gold lettering stamped across it, Chen Shi'an froze-

"Cloud Roost City No. 1 High School admission notice...?"

The diploma he had expected had turned into an admission notice. The absurd reversal left Chen Shi'an feeling as though the world had flipped upside down. He turned it over and over in disbelief.

"Are you sure this is what my master asked you to bring? You didn't pick up the wrong thing?"

"No, there's no mistake."

"Old Daoist Master Chen was always scrupulous about following the rules. He said you were the Star of Literary Eminence descended to earth, and getting into university would be no trouble for you. He told us to follow the proper procedures."

"Hah..."

Chen Shi'an stared at the words on the admission notice: "Please bring this notice to Senior Class Five on September 1 to register." Suddenly, he remembered the look in his master's eyes before his death. At the time, he had thought his master was worried about the temple's debts. Only now did he understand: the old man had known all along that he would be hitting the books!

"Where did this come from?"

"Old Daoist Master Chen said he borrowed a school place for you."

...Borrowed.

Then it would have to be repaid.

"Oh, and there's this..."

As he spoke, the clerk took a set of Five Years of Gaokao, Three Years of Simulation out of his backpack.

"Old Daoist Master Chen borrowed these from me. Feel free to use them, young Master Chen. You don't have to return these."

"..."

Well, aren't you generous!