Chapter 60

Due to the morning’s discussions, the group set out a bit later than planned. The visitors from the county also slowed down the pace, struggling to climb the mountains. They were even less capable than Grandpa Qi. Fortunately, with Nian Qi leading the way, some paths didn’t require detours, allowing the group to arrive at the Wild Hermits’ Temple by dusk.

Standing at the foot of the stone steps, everyone looked up at the ancient mountain temple. It exuded a sense of timeless solemnity, steeped in desolation.

On the stone tablet of the cenotaph, there were several Taoist names and one inscribed simply as “Old Wu.” Zaojiao, at that time too young to know, never learned Old Wu’s full name.

[Seventeen in total, leaving the mountains to quell invaders, gone for over thirty years.
Buried in foreign lands, it is unknown if there are graves.
Thus, we erect this cenotaph. Though their bodies cannot return, may their souls find their way back.]

The words carved on the stone tablet, though numerous, were meticulously planned before engraving. Compared to the gravestone Zaojiao had made for himself, this one was far more orderly and deeply etched. Back then, he had been in his prime, full of strength.

The reporters were so moved that they forgot to take pictures.

As Chinese people, almost everyone shared a deep emotional connection to that part of history. In the morning, they had approached this trip with a skeptical mindset, wondering if it might all be a scam. Despite seeing Zaojiao’s handwritten notes earlier, the formal inspection atmosphere hadn’t allowed them to fully connect with the story.

But now, under the twilight’s glow, the ancient temple, the unheralded bravery of those nameless individuals, a child’s longing for their return, and an elder’s eventual resignation—all of it flooded their hearts like water, stirring emotions that couldn’t be held back.

Even Qinghua Daoist, who usually had little patience for dealing with officials and media, stood silently before the stone tablet for a long time.

At last, the deputy magistrate wiped his eyes, clapped his hands, and said, “Alright, let’s take a tour.”

From this point onward, Nian Qi didn’t need to guide the group. Grandpa Qi and Ruan Xiangyun instinctively transitioned into the role of hosts, leading the visitors around and providing introductions. Grandpa Qi even began telling old stories, passed down from his grandfather, about mountain Taoists performing miracles and treating the poor with kindness.

The deputy magistrate nodded as he listened, occasionally turning to the propaganda official beside him. “This is rich material. We should dig deeper into these stories. If done right, this could become a major highlight for our region, potentially even surpassing Lingcheng.”

Lingcheng had long relied on its reputation as an “ancient city,” with tourism contributing significantly to its economy.

The group toured the front, middle, and rear courtyards of the temple. Meanwhile, Nian Qi and Qinghua Daoist lagged behind, walking at a leisurely pace.

As night fell, the deputy magistrate gathered the township officials and Ruan Xiangyun in the courtyard, setting up chairs and tables to discuss plans for the project.

Dinner didn’t require Nian Qi’s involvement; Grandpa Qi and the accompanying villagers took care of it. Though everyone had brought their own food, the remaining chickens in the temple couldn’t escape becoming part of the meal. Grandpa Qi and the villagers prepared a large pot of rustic chicken soup.

Qinghua Daoist, uninterested in the meeting, performed his devotions to the Three Pure Ones and then joined Nian Qi in browsing the scriptures and texts preserved in the temple. However, they couldn’t find the version that Nian Qi had transcribed. The existing copies were not much different from modern versions, which Qinghua was already familiar with.

Nian Qi appeared unfazed. “Well, it is what it is,” he said calmly.

Disliking the meeting atmosphere, Qinghua asked Nian Qi to take him outside for a stroll. They explored the creek, the mountain spring, and the scattered vegetable gardens.

Nian Qi remarked, “It was better when my grandfather was here. Managing it alone just isn’t the same.”

Qinghua chuckled, “Can you at least get enough to eat?”

Nian Qi deliberately replied, “How could I go hungry in the mountains? There’s plenty of wild game, and I even raise chickens.”

Qinghua quickly corrected him, “That’s no longer allowed. Eating wild animals is illegal now. If you’re caught, it’s not just a fine—you could go to jail. This is serious business.”

Nian Qi already knew about this from Ruan Qing but couldn’t help venting a little: “Why can’t people even eat animals anymore?”

The evening had turned chilly, and Qinghua tucked his hands into his sleeves. “Well, there’s no choice. In the past, people saved themselves from animals; now, we have to save animals from people. Otherwise, they’d be driven to extinction.”

The two strolled back leisurely, as if the whole situation had nothing to do with them. Qinghua, intrigued by Nian Qi’s martial skills, asked about them.

“My grandfather taught me,” Nian Qi replied simply. “He said it’s something everyone here knows.”

Qinghua couldn’t get more details out of him and changed the subject, muttering, “I hope they wrap up that meeting soon. Small group meetings are annoying—everyone’s face-to-face, and you can’t even sneak a nap.”

After a while, he stopped and turned to Nian Qi. “Deputy Magistrate Xu is the second-in-command in the county. His word carries weight. I reckon this project will be approved. Since this is an ancestral temple, even if it’s developed, they can’t strip you of ownership. You’ll be able to negotiate revenue shares. These kinds of projects can be quite profitable. Even if you decide to enter secular life, it’ll be more than enough to cover your expenses. Think about it.”

Nian Qi wasn’t entirely unmoved. He wasn’t some lofty, unworldly figure; when it came to money, he was pragmatic. Moreover, he deeply wanted some financial security to bolster his confidence in proposing to Ruan Qing.

But the problem was, the temple wasn’t truly his. Knowing Ruan Qing’s personality, if he dared touch this money, she’d probably be the first to strike him down.

He sighed inwardly but outwardly maintained a nonchalant demeanor. “I don’t want it.”

“If you don’t want it, we’ll take it,” Qinghua said. “We’ll turn the ancestral temple into a public temple.”

Temples had two types of ownership in Taoism: ancestral temples (zisun miao) and public temples (conglin miao).

An ancestral temple was passed down through the master-disciple lineage. While visiting Taoist practitioners could stay and cultivate there, they weren’t allowed to interfere with temple affairs.

A public temple, however, transitioned from private ownership to collective religious property. It couldn’t accept personal disciples, its assets couldn’t be inherited, and any ordained Taoist disciple could live, cultivate, and manage it. The temple’s leadership positions were either elected by resident Taoists or assigned by the Taoist Association, which had much greater control over public temples than ancestral ones.

“Fine, take it,” Nian Qi said.

A temple with no one to manage it should return to the Taoist order. Rejoining the Taoist Association was the path Wild Hermits’ Temple was meant to take—the best choice for its future.

Nian Qi made only one request: “Please take good care of it.”

Though he didn’t know much about the temple’s history, he respected the righteous spirits it represented. Everyone at Wild Hermits’ Temple, past and present, had upheld their faith and dedicated themselves to virtuous deeds. It was their pursuit of the true Tao.

“Of course,” Qinghua replied earnestly. “If you’ve made up your mind, I won’t try to persuade you otherwise. But remember, the Taoist community is one family. Even if you don’t wear the official headdress, you’re still one of us. What you’re entitled to, I’ll fight for on your behalf. Rest assured.”

At this point, refusing further would only raise suspicion. Nian Qi could only thank him.

He suddenly let out a sigh.

“What’s the matter?” Qinghua asked.

Nian Qi said, “Money is really useful out there.”

Qinghua laughed.

He said, “How should I put this? As cultivators of the Tao, we cannot let ourselves be trapped by such things. But at the same time, we also need to eat, drink, and take care of our daily needs. We can’t do without money either. The key is to let money serve us, not let it disrupt our Taoist heart.”

After a pause, he added, “We can’t be like… well, certain others who’ve turned a perfectly good tradition into a circus performance troupe.”

Nian Qi didn’t understand what he was mocking. He asked, “Are you talking about my martial arts?”

Qinghua nearly bit his tongue and quickly waved his hands. “No, no! Not about you at all.”

But he offered advice, saying, “You have this skill, and they might want to use it to make something of it. But this is your business. The decision is yours to make.”

The choice, he implied, is always about staying true to one’s inner nature. It’s not about forcing someone who genuinely desires fame and fortune to feign indifference to it. The human heart is complex and multifaceted by nature.

When they returned to the temple, they were immediately called over: “Come on, join the meeting.”

Qinghua couldn’t dodge it this time and had no choice but to sit down. The others had dispersed, leaving only the core members: Deputy Magistrate Xu, the town mayor, the town secretary, and Ruan Xiangyun.

Qinghua had Nian Qi sit beside him.

Deputy Magistrate Xu began, “This project is essentially decided in principle. Once we return, I’ll present it to the county for formal research and planning. For now, I just wanted to share some preliminary thoughts with you two.”

He smiled warmly and said, “Nian Qi, the Wild Hermits’ Temple is a key part of our development plans. We’ll transform this place into a tourist destination that combines cultural heritage, history, and nature—a site both revolutionary and traditional.”

“And as the temple’s inheritor, you, Nian Qi, could serve as the face of our tourism district,” Xu continued, his smile widening. “With your image and knowledge, sharing your story through media will definitely resonate with the public.”

Earlier, Ruan Xiangyun had pitched his idea of making Nian Qi a social media influencer to promote Lao Mei Valley and Wild Hermits’ Temple’s development. Deputy Magistrate Xu was thoroughly impressed. In today’s world, understanding the internet and leveraging traffic economics had become essential skills for leaders.

The traditional development models of the past were no longer viable. For example, in a remote and impoverished area of Sichuan-Tibet, a single young influencer had successfully boosted regional tourism resources. Even the local tourism bureau’s director participated in videos and campaigns, significantly improving the region’s tourism industry. This case had become a popular model for local governments to study.

The county had tried similar strategies before, attempting to create rural influencers, but the results were lackluster. The contracted individuals and agencies didn’t deliver satisfactory outcomes.

Then today, Deputy Magistrate Xu saw Nian Qi—radiating natural charisma.

Nian Qi’s reluctance to appear in photos or videos due to his “old-fashioned mindset” wasn’t a problem in Xu’s eyes. People are inherently limited by their circumstances. He figured they could enroll Nian Qi in educational programs to cover the basics he missed during his nine years of compulsory education. With his foundation, cultural subjects wouldn’t be an issue; they’d just need to bring him up to speed on natural sciences to integrate him into modern society.

“He’s still young,” Xu thought. “Once he learns what he needs to, his views will naturally evolve.”

Xu’s plans were grand. However, Nian Qi simply said, “I’m not a Taoist.”

Qinghua added, “He’s not a Taoist.”

Deputy Magistrate Xu: “…?”

Everyone else: “…?”

Ruan Xiangyun: “…”

It was only then that Ruan Xiangyun remembered—Nian Qi truly wasn’t a Taoist.