Chapter 56

After learning the stories of the people in the temple, they naturally began asking Nian Qi about himself. They asked his age, to which Nian Qi replied, “Probably over twenty.” Then they asked when Zaojiao had passed away. Nian Qi responded, “I don’t remember exactly, maybe ten years ago?” When asked when the will was written, he said, “Grandfather wrote it when I was still young.”

That turbulent period of foreign invasion in China had stretched over many years, and no one really knew exactly when the temple residents had come down the mountain. A loose estimate could easily miss by about ten years, and there was no way to verify. Nian Qi explained, “Grandfather lost track of time, and I didn’t bother keeping record when I got older. In the mountains, time just goes by. The seasons cycle through; you eat, drink, meditate, and the days are all the same.” His words naturally brought to mind the saying, “Time is forgotten in the mountains.”

To Ruan Xiangyun, these details weren’t so important. No one needed to play Sherlock Holmes and dig for precise answers. Suddenly, Grandpa Qi slapped his thigh, “I remember! Over twenty years ago, some girl in the village got pregnant before marriage and then married far away. No one knows where that child went!”

But that woman had left nearly thirty years ago, her parents had passed, and her family was an outside surname in the village, without close relatives. In those days, rural areas had no phones, especially in mountain villages like this one, unlike the plains where villages at least had a shared phone line. There was no way to find her or confirm anything.

Ruan Qing piped up, “So… would that make him a person from our village?”

Everyone paused, looking at Ruan Xiangyun, who hesitantly asked, “Do you… have household registration?”

Nian Qi, feigning innocence, replied, “What’s household registration?”

Grandpa Qi burst out, “Registration, my foot! My master spent most of his life in the mountains; who was going to register him? He was born before Liberation!”

“Oh my,” Ruan Qing covered her mouth, feigning shock and prompting, “So he’s undocumented! What’s to be done?”

Everyone found her exaggerated tone odd. When did Ruan Aihua’s daughter start acting this dramatically?

Grandpa Qi replied, “Simple—just add him to the records. No big deal in rural areas.”

Growing up in the city, Ruan Qing had assumed the world was orderly and bound by rules. She didn’t realize that in some poor or even moderately developed rural areas, things could be quite different. For example, some people lived to be fifty without ever being registered; a recent county survey uncovered several cases. And some couples, having married for over a decade and raised kids into their teens, would only discover they weren’t officially married when they wanted a divorce. This wasn’t uncommon in the village, where quite a few people had held weddings before reaching the legal marriage age and simply forgot to register later.

In the end, Grandpa Qi pointed at his son and said, “You handle it.” After all, this was in Lao Mei Valley Village, so it was his responsibility to take care of such matters now that he knew about Nian Qi’s undocumented status.

After hearing about the incredible stories of the people at Wild Hermits’ Temple and the background that led to Nian Qi’s “undocumented” status, Ruan Xiangyun felt deeply moved and couldn’t just ignore it. He agreed to help, though his mind wandered far from the present moment. Everything was moving along so smoothly! Ruan Qing couldn’t hide her excitement; her smile slipped through, drawing a few curious glances from the group. She quickly explained, “He’s my lifesaver—I’m just happy for him.”

Seeing that Ruan Xiangyun was daydreaming, she gave him a light kick. “So, tomorrow, let’s bring Nian Qi down the mountain with us?”

“Hm? Oh! Yes, sure.” Ruan Xiangyun snapped back to reality and said to Nian Qi, “Come down the mountain with us. There’s a lot of paperwork involved in getting you registered; it’ll take some days. You can stay in the village with me for a while.”

“Thank you,” Nian Qi replied, his demeanor carrying an old-world grace that charmed everyone, especially Grandpa Qi.

When night fell, Nian Qi stood up and arranged the sleeping arrangements. Ruan Qing’s complaint came through, this time without needing any acting: “Last night’s sleep made every bone in my body ache!” The others didn’t see what was so uncomfortable; after all, even with modern comforts, plenty of villagers still slept on wooden beds with just a mat in the summer. But Ruan Qing, a city girl used to plush mattresses, couldn’t adjust. Fortunately, everyone had brought blankets, and the only thick one was set aside especially for her.

In front of so many people, Ruan Qing couldn’t ask to sleep in the same room as Nian Qi again, so she could only watch as Grandpa Qi dragged him off to another room, saying, “Come on, tell me more about your master. Also, what kind of martial arts do you practice? Are they suitable for someone my age?”

Nian Qi could tell that Grandpa Qi and Ruan Qing were indeed family. Despite their seeming differences—urban versus rural, polished versus rugged, wealthy versus earthy—something fundamental ran in both their veins: a shared sense of adventure.

Although Nian Qi, the “human furnace,” wasn’t there to keep her warm, Ruan Qing was much more comfortable this time. She bundled herself up in the thick blanket, half under her and half over, sleeping far better than the previous night. The others, thrilled by the stories they had heard and the martial arts display they had witnessed, whispered about Nian Qi’s flying skills before gradually falling asleep. Even Grandpa Qi, who had been pestering Nian Qi with endless questions, finally dozed off with a snore.

Only Ruan Xiangyun couldn’t sleep. The responsibility he felt, the demands of his position, kept his mind busy. Grandpa Qi thought only of temples, martial arts, and masters. But Ruan Xiangyun? He lay there, restless, his mind repeating one thought: Stories, stories, stories! Development, development, development! Funding, funding, funding! Roads, roads, roads! Tourism, tourism, tourism! Jobs, jobs, jobs! Inns, inns, inns! Prosperity, prosperity, prosperity!

He was a village leader, for the people’s sake. Years back, he had pushed hard for a tourism project to come to Lao Mei Valley, but it had ultimately gone to Hujiamiao Village, miles away, all because they had an ancient temple, an official cultural site. The tourism bureau dug up a few old legends from the county annals and developed Hujiamiao as a scenic destination.

Now, Hujiamiao villagers were running inns, restaurants, parking lots, and souvenir shops. Local produce sold hand-in-hand with the rise in tourism.

Within a few years, every household was making a fortune and began renovating their homes. They even standardized the design, opting for traditional-style architecture, which only drew more tourists. Secretary Ruan had been enviously watching this for years, all because of one dilapidated temple. The county record was filled with simplistic “good deeds are rewarded, evil deeds are punished” tales, no one knew if they were real or not, yet they still managed to turn it into a tourism hotspot. But the Wild Hermits’ Temple? It had genuine, moving stories, an indomitable spirit, and true Daoist character—solid evidence in his hands! How could this not beat a crumbling temple?

Tomorrow! As soon as he got signal coming down the mountain, he was calling the county leaders, the tourism bureau, the Daoist Association, the ethnic and religious affairs bureau—and the media too! He had to make this place famous! Right, and now online promotion was key… How would he handle that? He’d call his contact in the county’s publicity office tomorrow to consult on it! Secretary Ruan got more excited the more he thought about it, and only managed to fall asleep late in the night.

Early the next morning, he was woken up by a heated argument outside. Two villagers were bickering:

“The inscription on the tombstone says ‘Dao name Weide’—so he’s ‘Weide Master,’ right?”
“No, it says he didn’t receive a Dao name; it’s ‘no name given.’”
“Right, exactly! So he’s Dao name Weide!”
“No, it means he never received a Dao name, not that his name is ‘Weide’!”

One of them, known for his stubbornness, couldn’t let it go, standing firm: “Look, you’re even saying it yourself—he’s Dao name Weide!” The other was on the verge of giving up in frustration.

Ruan Xiangyun stepped outside, rubbing his temples, his head pounding from lack of sleep, only to find that everyone else was already up. “Uncle Xiangyun, come have breakfast!” Ruan Qing called, munching on a roasted potato. Last night, Nian Qi had buried the remaining potatoes in the ash under the stove, leaving them to bake on a low heat. By morning, they were perfectly roasted, giving off a delicious aroma. With a sprinkle of salt, they tasted great, and Ruan Qing devoured a whole one.

As agreed the previous night, Nian Qi would head down the mountain with them today to handle the registration paperwork. He prepared breakfast for everyone, tidied up the temple, carefully closing all the doors and windows. With his new identity, he likely wouldn’t be back. Just as they reached the front yard and were about to leave, Ruan Qing paused on the stone path, glancing back at the ancient temple, then at Nian Qi. He understood what she was thinking; he still remembered how she had wept openly the other day.

In front of everyone, Nian Qi lifted his robes, knelt before the Sanqing Hall and the two graves, and said, “Grandfather, I’m heading down the mountain.” He respectfully bowed three times.

To the Three Pure Ones and the spirits above, I, Nian Qi, am a rootless wanderer in this world. Out of necessity, I have borrowed the name of this temple to create a new origin for myself. My past life of danger and hardship I have left behind and will not return to. In the days ahead, I vow never to do evil. Should I break this oath, may I be punished.

Grandpa Qi sighed, “Now that’s what I call a proper kneel. What you all do at New Year, sitting back on your heels to ‘kneel’ before your ancestors, that’s just sitting, not kneeling.” With that, he hiked up his trousers, bowed towards Zaojiao’s grave, and said, “Master, I’m taking him down the mountain. Once he’s registered, I’ll bring him back.”

Ruan Qing’s expression shifted. “Wait! Who said he’s coming back? You don’t just get to decide that on your own!”