"That was all more than seventy years ago-"
Old Mr. Zhu's gaze drifted deeper into the courtyard, as though he could see through the overlapping branches and leaves to the scenes of more than half a lifetime ago, his expression nostalgic.
"I was only twelve then. I fled the famine with people from my hometown and came to Yunchuan. My parents had died young, and creditors were blocking my door and searching everywhere for me. I had nowhere left to turn. I sat at the head of a bridge, thinking I might as well jump and end it all."
"That was when the shopkeeper appeared."
Old Mr. Zhu smiled, warmth welling in his eyes. "I still remember the faded Daoist robe he wore. He didn't preach any grand principles to me. He gave me a piping-hot steamed bun and said, 'Young fellow, you're destined for wealth and honor. It would be a shame to die.'"
"I thought he was a charlatan, so I ignored him. But I was hungry, truly hungry-hungry enough to stuff anything edible into my mouth."
"After I finished the bun, I went with him. It turned out he ran a teahouse in Town, called Yunji Teahouse-"
"From that day on, I called him the shopkeeper and became the teahouse's waiter."
"Only later did I learn that the shopkeeper was a real Taoist. Running a teahouse was merely one way for him to experience the mortal world after leaving the mountain. But I was different-the teahouse was my home, my life. I worked diligently and conscientiously. The shopkeeper roamed far and wide and was often away, so he left every matter, great and small, in my hands-"
"I was grateful for his trust, and grateful that he had saved my life. Without him, I would probably have