The doctor had known the owner for two years, yet he never knew his name, nor did the owner know his. 

Heaven only knew how the man had managed to summon him straight out of the operating room to save a dog! 

Did he even own a phone? 

How did he know the doctor’s number? 

When the doctor checked his screen, it showed up as an unknown number.

Just then, the dog he had hastily renamed “Apache” seized the moment he wasn’t paying much attention and darted into the back room of the antique shop.

The owner was busy putting away the Fragrant Concubine Bracelet in the cabinet, fully focused and oblivious to the commotion. The doctor chased after the dog, encountering a jade-carved folding screen along the way.

The intricately carved screen towered as tall as a person, depicting a breathtaking garden scene. The craftsmanship was exquisite, utilizing the natural hues of the jade to create depth. As the doctor moved, the scenery displayed different perspectives of distance, with the pavilions appearing deep and three-dimensional. The figures’ expressions were so detailed that one could discern their emotions, and the flora and fauna were so vividly carved that he could almost hear birds chirping among the blossoms and the splash of fish leaping from the water.

The doctor was mesmerized, watching the jade shimmer under the shifting light. Unable to resist, he reached out, tempted to run his fingers over the smooth surface. 

“Woof! Woof!” Apache’s bark echoed from behind the screen. The doctor instinctively turned to call for the owner’s help, only to find that the person who had been standing at the counter was now gone.

Forget it.

He needed to catch the dog first. If the back room’s valuable antiques were damaged, he wouldn’t be able to afford the compensation. According to the owner, the antiques here were priceless.

Beyond the jade screen was a deep corridor, lined with small, unmarked rooms on either side. The dim lighting made it feel even more eerie and foreboding.

The antique shop seemed devoid of any electronics. Even the lighting in the outer room came from two Changxin Palace Lanterns. The doctor pulled out his phone to use as a flashlight, softly calling out to Apache as he walked his way down the corridor. 

Not far ahead, one of the doors was slightly ajar, emitting a faint light. The doctor approached and gently pushed the door.

The wooden door creaked open with an eerie groan. The oppressive atmosphere caused the doctor’s heart to leap into his throat. But when he saw what was inside the room, he breathed a sigh of relief.

The room was barely a few square meters wide, filled with a strange fragrance but otherwise empty except for a single lit red candle. Seeing no sign of the dog, the doctor turned to continue his search. 

As he turned, a chill ran down his spine, and he stopped dead in his tracks.

At some point, the owner had appeared behind him, watching him from the shadows with an unreadable expression.

“Are you trying to scare me to death?” It took the doctor several seconds to recover from the shock. He clutched his chest, feeling as if his heart rate had shot past 120—an absolute assault on an otherwise healthy cardiovascular system.

The owner’s pale face looked even more ghostly in the dim light. With a slight glance, he said, “Who told you to wander in here?”

“I’m looking for Apache,” the doctor forced a guilty smile.

The owner arched one of his phoenix-shaped eyebrows. “That dog? He just jumped onto my counter and is eating the breakfast you bought.”

“That little rascal!” The doctor feigned outrage before hastily defending himself, “I didn’t touch anything! Besides, there’s nothing in here anyway!”

The owner’s expression softened as he smiled and said, “Antiques are delicate things. Naturally, they must be categorized and stored carefully. Some require dry environments, some must avoid light, and others need to be sealed off from the air entirely. This candle produces heat, light, and dust as it burns, so it can’t be stored with other antiques.”

The doctor was incredulous. “Are you saying this candle is an antique? I thought it was just for lighting!” 

The candle was entirely red, about a foot long, no different from any other wax candle. Upon closer inspection, its base was slightly chipped.

The owner nodded. “This candle is made from the fat of a deep-sea mermaid. It can burn for over a thousand years. As of now, it’s been burning for more than 700 years.”

The doctor’s mouth formed an “O” shape.

Even a child wouldn’t believe such a myth.

The boss glanced at him and smiled slightly, “Do you want to hear the story of this candle?”

“Sure, I’d like to know,” the doctor replied with curiosity piqued. Since he wasn’t on duty today, he had nothing to lose by listening to a story.

Watching the smoke rise from the burning candle, the owner began, “This story begins over 700 years ago…”

Once upon a time, there was a mountain with a temple. Inside the temple, there was a monk. 

No mountains involved in this story, just a temple with more than one young monk. 

It was a time of war and famine. The land was ravaged, and starvation claimed countless lives. The temple sheltered several young monks; they were all sent there because their families were too poor to feed them. 

They had turned to Buddha’s mercy in the hope of simply staying alive.

The protagonist of this story was a young monk. As for his name—he couldn’t remember it himself. Even the temple’s abbot simply called him “little monk.” His duty was to tend to the incense in the Sangharama Temple. No matter the time, the incense in the great hall had to remain continuously burning, and the candles must never be extinguished.

During the day, many devout men and women came to offer incense, so he would hide beneath the altar table and sleep. At night, he would stay up to watch over the great hall, replenishing the incense and replacing burnt-out candles.

No one ever spoke to him, and he rarely even spoke. Even during scripture recitations, his voice was barely a whisper. The abbot deemed him lacking in spiritual affinity and assigned him to night duty in the great hall. The young monk’s world consisted solely of the pungent smell of incense and the flickering candle flames.

As war and turmoil spread, fewer people visited the temple to offer incense, and the number of donated candles dwindled. To keep the sacred flame alive, the young monk had to reduce the number of candles placed until, in the end, he could only offer one candle each night.

Then came one fateful night.

The young monk took out the last candle from the box and sighed deeply. He planned to tell the abbot the next day that more candles were needed, but he worried whether the temple had enough funds to buy them. As he pondered, he lit the last candle and respectfully placed it beside the Statue of Sangharama.

As usual, he stared at the flickering flame, emptying his mind of all thoughts, letting himself drift into a daze.

“Hey, little monk!” The voice came from above, and the young monk slowly looked up. 

Above him floated a translucent figure—a woman. 

She squinted her long, fox-like eyes, her gaze cast downward as she peered at him from above. “Little monk, how long do you think a human life truly is?” Her voice was ethereal, like the wisps of candle smoke surrounding her.

“Life may last only a few decades,” the young monk replied, his voice rough and hesitant. He seldom spoke, and his words were heavy with unfamiliarity and nervousness. 

The woman raised an eyebrow, her long, willow-leaf-shaped brow arching gracefully. Her eyes, slightly opened, glinted with amusement as she gazed down at him. “Are you the one who woke me up?”

“Woke you up?” The young monk repeated the words in confusion, “Lady, how did you get up so high?”

“Do you really think I’m human? I’m not! Aren’t you afraid I’m a ghost?” She blinked, her already stunning beauty becoming even more breathtaking.

The young monk shook his head earnestly, “This is Sangharama’s main hall. Demons and ghosts can’t enter here.”

“So devout!” She raised an eyebrow, glanced contemptuously at the unmoving Statue of Sangharama, and her lips curled in a disdainful smile.

Although the young monk was simple-minded, he wasn’t blind. He noticed the woman had no feet, and the smoke rising from the candle he had just lit had formed her figure.

“You’re… that candle?” The young monk blinked hard, thinking he was dreaming.

“That’s right, I am that candle. You can call me Zhu.” 

The young monk stared blankly at Zhu, who was floating in midair. The name that reflected her own appearance as a candle.

As more smoke rose from the candle, her form became increasingly clear. Her jade-like skin, with deep, enchanting eyes, seemed capable of capturing admirers’ souls. She had a graceful figure, unmatched beauty and wore luxurious clothing he had never seen before. Her hair, like silk, floated and swirled around her as if it had a life of its own.

“Hehe, little monk, do you like what you see?” Zhu gracefully twirled in the air and floated down to hover slightly above the young monk. With an enchanting smile, she said, “If you blow out this candle, I’ll become real and stay with you.”

Her voice was as soft and comforting as the cotton pillow the young monk had slept on as a child. Her hair, formed from the candle smoke, swirled around him like an ethereal mist. The scent from the smoke subtly drifted towards his nose, and it made him feel light as if he were floating, unable to tell where he was.

The young monk stood dazed for a moment before understanding her request and quickly shook his head like a rattle.

“No…” he began but then clamped his mouth shut. He realized that when he spoke, his breath had made her sway slightly.

Holding his breath, he feared that his exhalation might scatter her away. Zhu pursed her lips and shot the young monk a sideways glance before drifting back up, turning her back to him.

The young monk strained to look up, unable to see Zhu’s expression, but he could easily imagine her disappointment. He wanted to comfort her but couldn’t find the right words. At least, if she were disappointed, it wouldn’t be for long. The candle would eventually burn out by noon tomorrow, and then she would get her wish.

For the very first time that night, the young monk didn’t watch the flickering flame. Instead, he kept his eyes on her silhouette, never once diverting his gaze.

The next morning, the young monk opened his eyes to find the candle he had lit the previous night was still burning. But what truly startled him was that it remained the exact same length, not even a single centimeter!

How could that be? 

The young monk rubbed his eyes, but the sight before him remained unchanged.

“What a strange little monk, you weren’t surprised when you saw me, but now you’re so agitated,” Zhu remarked lazily from her perch atop a temple beam, her tone laced with mild disdain.

The young monk looked up, “This candle won’t burn out?” 

Zhu nodded without hesitation, “This candle is made from mermaid fat, meant to burn for ten thousand years in Emperor Qin Shi Huang’s tomb. I was left out and somehow ended up here.”

“Mermaid?” Although the young monk had limited knowledge, he knew that mermaids were a beautiful myth, living in the sea with a human upper body and a fishtail. He looked at Zhu, whose upper body was human-shaped and whose lower body was formed by the swirling candle smoke.

“Zhu, were you a mermaid?”

Zhu neither confirmed nor denied it, merely smiling enchantingly, “Young monk, blow out this candle, and I will be free forever! I want to destroy Emperor Qin Shi Huang’s tomb. He wanted immortality, but life only lasted a few decades. Why should so many be buried with him?” 

The young monk’s neck ached from looking up, nearly falling under her spell, but he caught sight of the Kālanemi statue beside her.

“Young monk, it’s simple. Just blow out this candle.” Zhu eagerly floated down, her ethereal form circling the young monk, whispering temptingly from ear to ear.

Seeing her breathtaking beauty hovering before him, the young monk quickly shut his eyes. To keep her mesmerizing voice from swaying his heart, he began to chant the Diamond Sutra softly to himself.

“If someone sees me by form, or seeks me by sound, that person practices a deviant path and cannot see the Tathāgata…” 

The flickering figure of Zhu paused, “Little monk, what does that mean?”

“All forms and sounds are mere illusions. Anything with shape and appearance is but a deception. If someone tries to entice me with their appearance or pleads with me humbly, they are on a deviant path and will never see the true Tathāgata.”

Zhu chuckled softly, her laughter clear and charming, “Silly monk, who usually teaches you to recite scriptures? This verse means that you should not seek the Buddha’s heart through appearances and sounds; otherwise, you will fall into a deviant path and cannot see the true Tathāgata.”

The young monk listened doubtfully. He was merely a night watchman, and the abbot had always said he lacked the wisdom for deep teachings. No one had formally taught him scripture—he had only memorized scattered verses from hearing his senior brothers chant, grasping little of their true meaning.

Zhu moved in front of the young monk, amused as she watched his closed eyelids tremble, betraying the restless movement of his eyes beneath. 

She chuckled, “There’s another verse in the Diamond Sutra: ‘All appearances are illusions. If you view all appearances as non-appearances, then you will see the Tathāgata.’ Everything in this world arises and fades, fleeting as a mirage. Yet within every being lies the wisdom and virtue of the Tathāgata—their true self. The right path is to return to that true self.”

The young monk sat in a daze, lost in thought for a long while before he couldn’t help but open his eyes. Zhu was seated right across from him, her body emitting wisps of candle smoke with a faint fragrance, swirling upwards and intertwining. The morning light streamed through her translucent form, casting a straight beam onto the stone floor.

“What is an illusion?” Some might ask. This—this was an illusion. 

Seeing the young monk staring blankly at her, Zhu pouted in displeasure. “So, you really are someone who clings to appearances? Fine, have it your way!” 

As she spoke, her form dissolved into a swirl of bluish-white smoke, twisting and reshaping itself into a different figure.

With a tall bun and hanging red tassels, a black mustache, and a red face, dressed in a wide, deep green robe with a round collar, she became the spitting image of the temple’s Statue of Sangharama. “How about this, little monk?” Her voice now boomed with a rough, echoing force. “I am the Sangharama Bodhisattva. I don’t need your offering of a candle. Go ahead, blow it out!” 

The young monk stared at the illusion before him and blinked after a while. He joined his palms together in front of his chest and slowly recited, “If someone sees me by form, or seeks me by sound, that person practices a deviant path and cannot see the Tathāgata…” 

Silence stretched through the hall.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity, a sharp and indignant voice rang out—

“Blockhead!”

From then on, the young monk’s life became unexpectedly colorful. Although he was just an ordinary young monk living within the Temple of Sangharama, his daily routine followed the same rhythm as before.

However, a woman formed from candle smoke began to accompany him. Although all she requested was for him to extinguish the candle he had lit, he couldn’t agree. He told himself it was because she was the temple’s last candle.

This last candle burned quietly in the temple. No one paid attention to why it never shortened and always remained the same length.

People paid attention to the Statue of Sangharama, to the scriptures, or to whether they would be able to find enough alms to fill their stomachs tomorrow.

 “Little monk, how long do you think a human life truly is?” This was Zhu’s favorite question, and she asked it every time she appeared.

“Perhaps… only a few decades,” the young monk always answered.

Hearing this, Zhu would fall silent. But she could only remain quiet for half a day before starting to persuade him to blow out the candle.

Once, she almost convinced him. But just as he was about to discuss it with the abbot, he found the abbot was preoccupied about what to eat.

He couldn’t bring himself to speak.

It was an unfortunate time to be alive! 

Rebellions were rising across the land. No one was farming anymore, and without crops, there was no grain. Without grain, uprisings only grew.

“Hmph! Every change of dynasty comes with war, but it’s always the common folks who bear the brunt of it,” Zhu grumbled.

The young monk listened quietly, repeating her words twice in his mind, half understanding and half confused.

He truly never understood. But some of his senior brothers could no longer bear it. They cast aside their sutras, renounced their vows, and left to join the rebel armies.

“Little monk, why don’t you go with them?” Zhu asked.

The young monk tilted his head up to look at her—he had gotten used to looking up at her. At first, it made his neck sore, but over time, he grew accustomed to the motion. 

“I won’t go. My duty is to keep the candle burning before the Statue of Sangharama,” he replied.

“You blockhead,” She huffed. “Even if you go, I won’t extinguish. Ugh, no, no, if you die on the battlefield, I’ll never be free. It’s better for you to stay here.”

She kept grumbling, pacing back and forth, torn between annoyance at his lack of ambition and fear that he might actually leave.

The young monk silently chewed on the hardened steamed bun in his hand, thinking that she was terribly noisy yet terribly endearing.

“Little monk, how long do you think a human life truly is?” Zhu asked him this question every day. Perhaps it is in the span between meals, he thought, looking at the diminishing food in his bowl.

“Little monk, how long do you think a human life truly is?” Zhu asked him this question again.

“Perhaps… only as long as a meal,” the little monk replied, looking at the decreasing food in his bowl. 

This time, Zhu fell silent. Longer than ever before.

Many people left the temple, and many more shaved their heads to become monks. Desperate people found refuge in the temple, and although they still didn’t have enough to eat, the fields they cultivated began to yield crops, just enough to get by.

The young monk suddenly had many junior brothers. However, his duty remained to keep vigil in the Sangharama Hall. 

He had always been someone easily overlooked. But every new disciple quickly learned of him. Because when he wasn’t sleeping during the day, he could always be found sitting before the incense altar, gazing at the Statue of Sangharama. 

He would sit there for a long, long time.

No one knew that he wasn’t actually looking at the statue.

He was looking at her—perched just above it.

There were always worshippers who came to the temple seeking Sangharama’s blessing but rarely did anyone visit in the dead of night.

One such night, while the young monk was lost in his thoughts while staring at Zhu, he suddenly realized there was someone beside him.

The person was dressed in black, his features shrouded in an almost illusion manner, making them impossible to see clearly. What stood out was the deep red dragon embroidered on his black clothing. The dragon’s head was on the right sleeve cuff, its body coiling up his right arm, and its tail resting on his right shoulder.

The young monk knew he shouldn’t stare, but the dragon was so vividly embroidered that he couldn’t help but steal a second glance. With that single glance, he realized the visitor wasn’t looking at the Statue of Sangharama but rather at the candle on the altar.

“This candle is quite something,” the deep voice suddenly said.

The young monk’s eyelids twitched. He had no idea how to respond. Zhu hadn’t appeared, and the candle looked like an ordinary one. 

Why would he praise such an ordinary candle?

“Little monk, if you no longer want it, you can hand it over to me,” the man spoke as if talking to himself. “No need to worry about finding me. The day you decide to part with her, I will appear.” 

With that, he repeatedly mentioned how nice the candle was as he left. The young monk chased after him, but outside the open temple doors, there was no one in sight. 

The man’s comings and goings were so enigmatic that the young monk almost thought he had seen a ghost. He couldn’t sleep well for many nights, watching the candle on the altar every day. He was afraid that one day, she would be gone.

The young monk suddenly became a role model for his juniors. He had no idea what Buddhist scriptures they kept asking him about, but somehow, his vague responses were mistaken for profound Zen wisdom. He didn’t know how to explain; he only ever liked talking to Zhu.

Even if their conversations always revolved around Zhu urging him to blow out the candle, he still enjoyed it.

One night, he was entangled by several juniors who asked him to teach them sutras, keeping him busy until midnight. 

Knowing his duty was to guard the hall, one junior named Chongba volunteered to take his place. 

The young monk wanted to stop him but couldn’t find a reason. He feared others seeing Zhu, or worse, that Zhu was just a figment of his imagination. The complex emotions left him speechless. The enthusiastic juniors kept discussing the scriptures all night, though it was mostly them talking and him listening.

To be precise, he wasn’t really listening, as his mind had long since drifted elsewhere.

At dawn, he rushed to the Sangharama Hall, only to find the abbot severely reprimanding Chongba, who had taken his place the previous night.

The young monk was startled, fearing the abbot had discovered Zhu. But the situation was worse than he had imagined. The previous night, Chongba had fallen asleep while on duty.

Mice had gnawed a gap at the bottom of the candle.

The young monk’s heart ached as if it were about to shatter. Chongba was being harshly scolded by the abbot, yet he wished it were him instead.

That night, Congba had secretly struck the Statue of Sangharama with a broom, saying that a deity who couldn’t even protect the candle before him had no right to safeguard the temple—let alone the world. He had even found a brush from somewhere and scrawled “Exiled Three Thousand Miles” on the back of the statue.

The young monk witnessed it all but didn’t stop him. 

Ever since that day, Zhu had never appeared again. Although the little monk hadn’t seen Zhu since, the candle continued to burn as always, never diminishing in the slightest.

The young monk carefully turned the gnawed part of the candle to the back and filled the gap with wax drippings from previous candles. When he was done, it looked as flawless as ever.

No one noticed that the candle was still the same one. Zhu hadn’t appeared, but the young monk continued to keep vigil in the hall, watching the candle every night.

Finally, one night, Zhu reappeared before him, as beautiful and striking as ever. However, her left sleeve seemed to have been bitten off halfway, replaced by a layer of hideous red wax cloth.

“Blockhead! Tell me! How are you going to compensate for my dress?” Zhu said angrily. 

The young monk simply stared at her with a foolish smile spreading across his face.

She was still there, and that was all that mattered.

“Listen, blockhead! You always say there is no money to buy more incense, right? If I teach you how to make money, won’t you earn a lot and bring more incense offerings to the temple?”

Perhaps the recent incident had shaken Zhu, making her more eager to persuade the young monk.

But those offerings… none of them would be you.

The young monk thought to himself and shook his head.

Annoyed, Zhu flitted restlessly around the temple before stopping before him. She studied him for a moment, then asked seriously, “Little monk, what do you want? Whatever it is, I can give it to you!”

“What do you want?” 

The young monk stared blankly at her delicate and beautiful features; his lips moved, but no words came out.

The next day, Chong Ba approached him quietly, “Senior, why did you refuse her? Gold, jewels, power, status—don’t you want any of these?”

The young monk was startled, realizing that Chongba must have overheard his conversation with Zhu. He replied calmly, “Wealth is external. If it is not sincerely offered before the Buddha, what use is it?”

Chongba fell silent and walked away.

Zhu, however, was far from giving up. She leaned in with a teasing lilt to her voice. “Little monk, many people want to be emperors. If you want to be an emperor, I can tell you how!”

The young monk remained unmoved. 

Thinking he didn’t believe her, Zhu hurriedly detailed the process of becoming an emperor. Despite the chaos in the world, she managed to explain all the factions in detail—how the world was in turmoil, which factions were rising, which ones were falling, which path he should take, and how to seize the throne.

After she finished, she looked at the unresponsive young monk and felt deflated. 

“Hey, little monk. The junior who ruined my sleeve was eavesdropping at the door. Now, he’s probably already packing up to set out. Are you willing to let him become emperor?” Zhu said lazily as she sat on the altar.

“When the Qin Dynasty fell, the entire world vied for control of the empire. Thus, the talented and quick-footed will be the first to gain it,” the young monk finally squeezed out this ancient saying after pondering for a long time.

Zhu burst into laughter. For the first time, she found this little monk rather intriguing.

“Chongba comes from a poor background. If he truly becomes the emperor, it will be a blessing for the people,” the young monk said earnestly. 

Though he didn’t believe that simply following Zhu’s instructions could make someone an emperor, he sincerely wished for someone to end the chaos of this troubled world.

Sure enough, Zhu Chongba rose as a leader of the rebel forces, overthrew the Yuan Dynasty, and established the Ming Dynasty. He took the name Zhu Yuanzhang and ascended to the throne. 

The monastery where the young monk resided became known across the land as Huangjue Temple. The Sangharama’s incense offerings flourished, and the temple no longer needed the everlasting candle, which was replaced by hundreds of other candles.

Not long after his coronation, the newly crowned emperor visited Huangjue Temple in person and commanded his men to search through the countless candles to find one—the one with a gnawed mark left by mice.

When the young monk was finally brought before his former junior, now the emperor, he saw that very candle still burning quietly. The disguise at the base of the candlestick was removed, revealing the unsightly gnawed gap.

“Can you make that woman appear again?” the emperor, once his junior brother, now asked urgently. 

The young monk shook his head honestly. Whether Zhu appeared or not was her own decision, and he had no control over it.

The emperor frowned, knowing that monks don’t lie, so he didn’t question further. Instead, his frustration deepened. “What’s the matter with this candle? Didn’t she want freedom to be released by extinguishing the flame? Why can’t I blow it out? Even water doesn’t work!”

The young monk suddenly understood why Zhu had been so insistent. Only the person who lit the candle could extinguish it.

“Senior! Find a way to make her come out; I must see her!” 

Despite being the emperor, he still addressed him as senior—a rare show of respect. But the young monk only shook his head again. He truly had no way to summon her.

The emperor had once eavesdropped outside the Sangharama Hall, hearing Zhu tempt the young monk with wealth. Since he knew money and power couldn’t sway him, he would have to find another way.

However, the emperor had other methods. 

In the secret chamber of Huangjue Temple, the young monk was whipped until his body was covered in wounds. The emperor thought this would force Zhu to appear, but the candle on the table continued to burn quietly.

The young monk clenched his teeth, trying not to make a sound. He didn’t know if Zhu could see him, but he definitely didn’t want her to hear him. 

Chong Ba had changed. Not only had he let his hair grow out and taken on a new name, but his entire demeanor had become ruthless and unscrupulous.

The emperor locked the young monk alone in the secret chamber. Just as he was about to lose consciousness, a wisp of candle smoke drifted before him, transforming into Zhu’s concerned face. 

“Little monk, how long do you think a human life truly is?” she asked, just as she always did.

Why did she like asking this question so much?

The young monk thought hazily and, with great effort, whispered, “Life… is between a breath.”

Zhu was startled, her expression became complex. But the young monk had no strength left to study her face. His eyes eventually shut against his will.

As he faded into unconsciousness, a familiar scent of sandalwood filled the air. Struggling to open his eyes, he found himself surrounded by dense candle smoke.

He was still lying in the secret chamber, his body in immense pain, but he managed a smile because the candle on the table was still burning.

Zhu was nowhere to be seen, only the thick smoke swirling around him. 

Yet, as if sensing his awakening, the flame flickered twice. The smoke stretched out, twisting into a thin, snaking line that slipped through the crack beneath the door. 

It was Zhu showing him the escape route.

The young monk understood and stood up. Although he spent his days in the Sangharama Hall, he had grown up in this temple and knew its hidden passageways like the back of his hand.

Perhaps it was divine protection, or perhaps no one thought he was worth noticing. The young monk, despite his severe injuries, managed to take Zhu out of the heavily guarded temple. 

“You left the temple you had served for so many years… for me. Do you regret it?” Zhu floated beside him, asking softly.

“No.” 

In the pitch-black night, the young monk ran through the deep mountains, cradling the candle in his hands. 

That temple, twisted by his junior brother’s rule, was no longer the place he once knew.

He thought of the newly gilded Statue of Sangharama and felt a sorrow through his heart. No matter how splendid the exterior, it was still a dilapidated statue beneath the gold.

“Blow me out, or they’ll track you down by the light,” Zhu urged in his ear. For the first time, it wasn’t for herself but for this foolish monk.

The young monk gazed deeply at her and finally raised his hand. A mix of relief and reluctance crossed Zhu’s face as she slowly closed her eyes.

It was finally over. This moment was what she had yearned for, so why did she feel such reluctance? 

Images of their first meeting flashed before her eyes; back then, he was just a boy… 

But moments passed, and nothing changed. 

Confused, she opened her eyes. The world before her was shrouded in darkness. There was no longer any firelight, yet she could see everything under the moon’s glow.

The wisps of smoke that formed her rose from the young monk’s palm. He had covered the candle’s flame with his entire hand! The merciless fire licked his palm, and through his fingers, she could see the fierce flames.

“Why?” Zhu frantically floated around him, trying to pry his hand away. But she helplessly realized that her hand turned into ethereal smoke upon touching him. 

The young monk was drenched in sweat, his face contorted with pain, yet he maintained a gentle smile. Zhu was stunned, only now noticing that the young monk from her memory had grown up.

Unknowingly, he had grown into a handsome and resolute man. The once youthful and confused expression had been replaced with determination. Sweat dripped down his well-defined face, showing the immense pain he was enduring.

Yet, through it all, his eyes never stop smiling at her. 

Zhu suddenly recalled that, over the years, the young monk had always been like this. In the temple, he was the most devout among them, his face perpetually composed, his eyes distant and hollow, as if he saw everything yet nothing at all. 

Yet every time she appeared before him, his gaze would change in an instant, turning as gentle as flowing water.

“Zhu, I know you wish to be free. I don’t know what you are, but to me, you are truly alive. How could I possibly take a life?” The young monk’s gentle voice continued, accompanied by a smile, “I can’t protect you. So, I must entrust you to someone who can… please don’t be angry…”

What? 

What was he saying? 

The usually quiet young monk suddenly spoke so many words, leaving Zhu unable to comprehend. 

She didn’t understand… 

Then, a deep red dragon appeared in her vision.

“Please take good care of her,” the young monk looked up and said solemnly to someone. 

There was no reply.

The red dragon moved forward and accepted the candle from his grasp. The flame poured out from the young monk’s burned palm. 

It was only then that Zhu realized the deep red dragon wasn’t real, but it was embroidered on a person’s right sleeve. Against the black fabric, the red thread made the embroidery so vivid that it looked lifelike.

Its head was poised at the edge of the sleeve as though it might break free from the fabric and soar into the clouds at any second.

Zhu didn’t understand how this man could break through the heavy guards and appear here. But when she saw him take the candle, she couldn’t help but tremble.

In the darkness, the candle seemed to be clutched by the red dragon’s mouth.

“Little monk!” Zhu desperately clung to him, but as the candle moved further away, the candle smoke grew thinner, and she became increasingly transparent. 

She refused to accept this! 

How could he make decisions for her? 

He was just a little monk!

“How long do you think… a human life truly is?” the young monk asked, coughing out blood and struggling to speak. 

Zhu froze. 

It had always been her asking him this question, but now, being asked in return, she couldn’t find the answer.

The young monk smiled gently at her, “Life… is… between you and me.” 

Zhu’s mind went blank, and the candle smoke could no longer maintain her form. In an instant, she was dissipated towards the distant flame in the darkness.

That was the last time she ever saw him.

“The story’s over?” 

The doctor, leaning against the wall, realized the owner had no intention of continuing and asked in astonishment.

“Yes, it’s over,” the owner nodded.

“What about the ending?” The doctor gritted his teeth. “Shouldn’t stories like this have a happy ending to comfort the audience?”

“The ending? This is the ending.”

“So… little monk died?”

The boss spoke in an even tone as if recounting an insignificant matter. “He wasn’t a deity; he would die eventually. But at that time, he merely passed out. 

“Zhu Yuanzhang never found the candle, so he had no choice but to give up. The young monk returned to Huangjue Temple and resumed his days tending to the incense before the Statue of Sangharama. Every day, he lit countless candles, watching them burn quietly and extinguish, but never his own candle.”

“Then what? What happened in the end?” the doctor asked anxiously.

“In the end, he grew into an old monk, and the old monk died.”

The doctor was speechless. 

He stood there feeling foolish for listening to the story in such a spooky place. “This is ridiculous! Something that happened hundreds of years ago, somehow tied to Zhu Yuanzhang? How could you possibly know all this? 

“… and that man with the red dragon on his clothes…” the doctor narrowed his eyes at the owner and continued, “That wasn’t you, was it?” 

He distinctly remembered that the dragon embroidered on the owner’s shirt was on his back. But in the story, the dragon’s head was on the sleeve.

The doctor struggled to remember, noticing that regardless of the dragon’s posture, its head always seemed to face the owner’s neck as if ready to devour him.

The owner smiled mysteriously but didn’t answer. He gazed deeply at the flickering flame of that candle. It was unclear whom he was speaking to when he murmured, “Sometimes, all the riches in the world, all the power beneath the heavens, none of it can be compared to one’s true love.”

The candle flame flickered fiercely, and the owner turned around. 

“Come on,” he said, striding toward the exit. “Let’s see if your breakfast has been completely devoured. Or maybe we’ll grab a bite outside, your treat, of course.”

The doctor sighed in exasperation, realizing the owner never missed a chance to take advantage of him. Before leaving, he couldn’t help but glance back at the candle still burning in the dim room. 

No matter how he looked at it, to him, it was nothing more than an ordinary candle.

He shrugged, muttering to himself, “I really don’t understand that little monk. He clearly liked you but never said anything. Ugh! I must be mad for actually believing this story… Hey! Where are we eating? I can’t afford anything too expensive!”

The door closed.

The flame on the candle flickered once, and a single crystal-clear tear of wax slowly trickled down its body.