The monk stood in the clearing behind the tree, looking up at the sky lanterns overhead.
He wore a red robe, not a kasaya, just an ordinary long red robe.
It was a little like the kind Qiguan Yuan wore, but a deeper shade, the sort of red that looked as though it had been washed many times.
He had no ordination scars on his head. His hair had been shaved clean, and his scalp reflected the light.
His face looked young, but the look in his eyes did not belong to a young man.
He stood there with his hands hanging at his sides and his head tilted slightly back, his expression as calm as a pool of water.
Sky lanterns rose steadily behind him, their orange-red light falling over him as his red robe stirred gently in the wind.
Shen Yuzhou saw him too. He whispered to Cheng Yanqiu, "Why is that monk wearing clothes like that? Is it something specific to this place? They look a bit like Mr. Qiguan's clothes."
Cheng Yanqiu did not answer, because she did not know either.
The monk seemed to sense someone watching him and slowly turned his head.
His gaze swept across their faces before settling on Pei Yubai, lingering for another two seconds.
Then he smiled. It was not a warm smile, but the sort that came from seeing something expected, and he gave a slight nod.
He walked over, pressed his palms together, and bowed his head slightly. "Amitabha."
His voice was quiet but clear. There was no chanting cadence to it; he simply spoke an ordinary phrase, yet somehow it made people feel at ease.
Shen Yuzhou hurriedly copied him, pressing his palms together. "Amitabha... Hello, Master."
The monk glanced at him, the corners of his mouth curving slightly. "This humble monk is no master, merely a temple caretaker."
Cheng Yanqiu asked, "Are you a monk here?"
The monk shook his head. "Not exactly. This humble monk has only lived here for a few years, helping look after the place." He paused, his gaze sweeping across their faces. "You all came from outside, didn't you?"
Lin Yanru nodded. "We're here to film a show."
"Oh," the monk said, showing no particular reaction.
He turned to glance at the sky lanterns overhead, then looked at the people writing on slips in the clearing, and slowly spoke.
"Fated ties arise and end, bringing people together and parting them. Marriage may seem to hang upon a red thread held by Yue Lao, but in truth, it hangs upon a single thought in the human heart. Whether you seek a fortune or release a lantern, all you want is to give yourself an answer."
He spoke slowly, his tone even.
But Shen Yuzhou listened in a daze, seeming to understand and yet not understand.
When the monk finished, he turned to look at them, his gaze pausing on their empty hands.
"Since you've come, won't you leave something?"
Shen Yuzhou looked down at his own hands, then at the others. "Leave what?"
The monk turned and pointed toward the temple entrance. Beside it stood a long table, with a stack of blank marriage fortune slips and several vermilion brushes on top.
The brushes had red handles, their tips dipped in cinnabar, a gleaming red.
"Write down what you wish to tell Yue Lao. Write it on a slip, then tie it to the tree or a sky lantern. Either is fine."
After saying that, the monk added, "You don't have to write anything, either. Yue Lao isn't particular about people. Sincerity is enough."
The guests were all quite interested. So this was where the marriage fortune slips they had found came from.
Only those marriage fortune slips had clearly borne fortune verses, while the ones here were blank.
Shen Yuzhou was the first to run over. He picked up a vermilion brush, took a blank slip, and bent over the table to start writing.
Cheng Yanqiu walked over and stood beside him. After a moment's thought, she picked up a brush too.
Ji Shiyu followed, took a slip, and stood by the table, head lowered, writing very slowly.
Lin Yanru went over but did not rush to write. Instead, she first spent a while looking at the completed slips on the table.
Someone had written, "May I win one faithful heart," someone else, "May we never part, even when our hair turns white," and another, "Peace and joy."
Some of the handwriting was neat and some scrawled, but every stroke had been written with care.
Jiang Wantang walked over, took a slip, and held the vermilion brush. After thinking for a while, she wrote a few characters.
When she finished, she turned the slip facedown on the table without showing it to anyone.
Pei Yubai was the last to walk over.
He stood before the table, looking down at the blank marriage fortune slips.
The bamboo slips were small, a little longer than a finger, with nothing on them but smooth bamboo.
He picked up a vermilion brush and dipped its tip in cinnabar. The tip was very red, as red as blood.
He held the brush suspended above the slip without moving.
At some point, the monk had come to stand beside him. Looking at the brush tip hovering in the air, he said softly, "If you don't know what to write, you don't have to write anything."
Pei Yubai did not look at him. The brush tip touched down.
He wrote three characters on the slip. Then he set down the vermilion brush and turned the slip facedown on the table, just as Jiang Wantang had, without showing anyone.
The monk glanced at his facedown slip, then at Pei Yubai's face.
His gaze lingered on Pei Yubai's face for a moment before moving away.
The bullet comments were guessing.
[What did Pei Yubai write?]
[Didn't see it. He turned it facedown.]
[Did he write someone's name?]
[No way, not with his personality.]
[Then what did he write?]
[No idea. I really want to know.]
Shen Yuzhou finished writing and ran over. "Brother Pei, what did you write?"
Pei Yubai ignored him and turned to walk toward the tree.
Shen Yuzhou wanted to follow, but Cheng Yanqiu held him back. She gave him a look and shook her head.
Although Shen Yuzhou was curious, he did not ask again.
Pei Yubai walked beneath the tree and stood among the dangling red cords. He looked down at the marriage fortune slip in his hand, with its three characters.
He read it himself once, then tied the slip to the lowest branch.
The slip made half a turn in the wind and stopped.
The side with the writing faced outward.
The monk stood a short distance away, looking at the three characters on the slip, and the corner of his mouth moved slightly.
He turned and walked toward the temple entrance. After a few steps, he stopped and looked back.
"There's a courtyard behind Yue Lao Temple. Those staying there tonight, remember to go to bed early. There will be morning prayers in the temple first thing tomorrow."
Shen Yuzhou asked, "What are morning prayers?"
The monk did not answer. He pushed open the temple door and went inside. His red robe flashed briefly through the doorway, then vanished.
The sky lanterns were still drifting overhead. Some had already risen very high, turning into tiny orange-red points of light among the stars, until it was impossible to tell which were lanterns and which were stars.
The red silk fluttered in the wind like countless fine red threads, coming from the sky and returning to it.
Jiang Wantang stood beneath the tree, her head tilted back, and said softly, "So beautiful."
Cheng Yanqiu stood beside her. She said nothing, but nodded.
After watching for a while, Shen Yuzhou suddenly said, "That monk said he wasn't a master. Then what is he?"
No one answered him.
Lin Yanru checked her watch. "It's eight thirty. Let's go to the courtyard out back. We have tasks tomorrow."
Pei Yubai walked at the very back. When he reached the moon gate, he paused.
He looked back at the tree covered in red cords. In the clearing beneath it, those twenty-odd people were still writing slips and releasing lanterns.
Orange-red light shone on their faces. Everyone was very quiet.
He watched for a while, then turned and stepped through the moon gate.
But after he turned away, the camera operator following him suddenly swung the camera aside for some unknown reason. The livestream view shifted, landing on the marriage tree once again.
[!!!]
[!!!!]
[Qiguan Yuan!!!! Aaaaaah!!!!]