Chapter 209: Forced Demand

Chapter 209: Forcing Matters

"By the way, I heard there is a Jizhao Temple in the southern city. Though small, its environment is really peaceful and quiet."

"There are a few old plum trees in the temple. I heard that the cold came early this year, and they already have buds on the branches."

"Behind the temple there is also a small bamboo grove, still verdant in winter. How about letting the young master go there to relax tomorrow?"

Lü Rou thought this idea was excellent and immediately went to tell Cheng Ge.

Cheng Ge didn't want to go out at first, but seeing Lü Rou’s concerned face, he couldn’t bear to reject their kindness and had to muster his spirits and nod in agreement.

The next day, the weather was dry and cold, the sky that gray-white typical of winter days.

The three of them took a carriage to Jizhao Temple in the southern city.

Just as Funiang had said earlier, the temple had white walls and gray tiles, not grand, but peaceful and simple.

The stone steps in front of the temple gate were swept clean, with few pilgrims around.

Those old plum trees had gnarled branches dotted with dark red and pale white buds.

Cheng Ge wandered around a few times in the chilly courtyard of Jizhao Temple, looking at the budding old plum trees and the verdant bamboo grove.

His pent-up frustration seemed somewhat eased by the serene environment, but that profound feeling of powerlessness still lingered.

He strolled into the main hall, where sandalwood incense curled upward, and the Buddha statue was serene and majestic.

He saw a container of fortune-telling sticks placed before the Buddha, where a few pilgrims were earnestly shaking the container to get a stick, while a monk interpreted.

Cheng Ge had been extremely bored, but seeing this scene, he felt a sudden urge.

With his future uncertain and torn between staying and leaving, maybe seeking guidance from the Buddha... was a way out?

Although he usually didn’t believe in such things, at this moment he couldn’t help but grasp at straws.

He stepped forward, made a donation, and took the container of lots from the kind-faced old monk.

What should he ask about? Official fortune? His future? Right now he only wanted to quit and run away; that didn't seem like the right thing to ask.

Family? He was alone... Forget it, he would ask about... his love life.

He wanted to see what his romantic prospects would be like after avoiding those gays.

Silently making a wish, Cheng Ge began to shake the container. The bamboo sticks rattled, and soon a stick jumped out.

He picked it up and saw it was the worst possible lot.

Cheng Ge’s eyebrows twitched; he already had a feeling of foreboding. He handed the stick to the monk in charge of interpreting the lots.

The old monk took the stick, looked it up in the fortune book, then put his palms together and chanted 'Amitabha'. He looked at Cheng Ge with a rather pitying expression.

"Amitabha, benefactor, this stick... is an omen of great misfortune."

"The verse says: 'Mirror flowers and moon on water – all empty; you toil and fret, but fortune won't flow; seeking fire from a stone yields no spark; fishing for the moon in water – all in vain.'"

"This is a sign, as the saying goes, of climbing a tree to catch fish, indicating that the matter you seek may be... an illusion, ultimately fruitless."

"Especially on the path of romance, I'm afraid... you have little luck with women; forcing it will bring no benefit, only burden you."

Cheng Ge: "???"

What the heck? No luck with women? Then what could there be?

Although he currently had no interest in women either, being told outright by a monk that he had no luck with women was still too discouraging.

"Impossible, absolutely impossible!" Cheng Ge immediately felt unconvinced; the lot container must be flawed. "Master, let me try once more!"

The old monk shook his head: "Benefactor, sincerity brings results. One matter, one lot."

"What is fated to come will come; do not force matters of fate..."

Cheng Ge: Hilarious! 'What is fated to come will come'? If it's not fated, I'll force it, I'll beg, I'll demand!

"I'll donate more incense money!" Without waiting for a reply, Cheng Ge shoved another small silver ingot into the monk's hand, picked up the container again, and shook it even harder.

Rattle — slap!

Another stick jumped out. He picked it up and saw — another worst possible lot.

The interpretation was even worse than the last one, saying something like: 'A lone wild goose on the horizon, solitary shadow; snow blocks the Blue Pass, the horse won't go forward.'

Cheng Ge’s face darkened completely. He refused to accept this and donated more money, then shook again!

Third stick — worst possible omen!

The verse: 'A twist of fate makes wishes hard to fulfill; clouds and fog block the sky from view.'

Fourth stick — still worst possible omen! 'Flowing water and falling flowers, spring has gone; fated not to be, even face to face, hands can't hold.'

Fifth stick, sixth stick... Cheng Ge was almost determined to beat the container; he just couldn't believe he couldn't shake out a good lot.

He donated incense money again and again, drawing sideways glances from the few pilgrims around, who whispered about where this big spender came from.

The old monk interpreting the lots went from initial pity, to later surprise, and finally to numbness.

He mechanically repeated the action of handing the book and reciting the verse, his look said he thought Cheng Ge was a big sucker.

Cheng Ge shook until his arm ached, nearly shaking all the sticks in the container, but every single one that jumped out was the worst possible lot.

Occasionally there were one or two average lots, but the interpretations were vague and unremarkable.

"This is outrageous! Is your container broken, rigged against me?!"

Cheng Ge, both anxious and angry, grabbed the container with both hands and shook it wildly with all his might.

Just as he was shaking desperately, he heard a crisp crack—

The originally sturdy bamboo container could not withstand his rough handling and split in two with a loud crack.

All the bamboo sticks inside scattered with a crash, spilling across the floor.

Cheng Ge: "..."

The whole hall instantly fell silent; all the pilgrims stared in shock at this scene.

Cheng Ge held the broken halves of the container in his hands, frozen on the spot, his face turning red and then white.

The gazes of the surrounding pilgrims pricked him like needles, and whispers buzzed around.

The scent of sandalwood in the main hall now carried an awkwardness.

The old monk who reads the fortune sticks finally snapped out of his daze, looking at the scattered bamboo slips on the floor and the broken fortune stick holder in Cheng Ge's hand.

He uttered slowly: "Amitabha—well then, well then."

Cheng Ge: "..."

He lifted his eyes and looked at Cheng Ge with a complex expression, his gaze mixed with helplessness and pity.

Cheng Ge's fingers tightened without thinking. Staring at the bald monk in front of him, his mind started racing with gripes.

Seriously... did the temple's purchasing guy get a kickback? What cheap junk is this stick holder made of?

He only used that little bit of strength—how did it crack? The quality was just too shoddy.

"Devotee," the old monk's voice carried the weariness of one who had seen through worldly affairs, and he actually began to console Cheng Ge.

"All things have their end. This stick holder is old, and today its destiny is fulfilled—it is also fate..."

Fanqie (the novel platform) said the book title and synopsis had issues, so they were changed.