The Company

Chapter 4 Dumb Shop: Mermaid Candle

The Doctor had known the Boss for two years, yet neither knew the other's name. Heaven knew how the Boss had managed to summon him straight from the operating room to save a dog! Did he even own a phone? And how did he get the Doctor's number? The caller ID had shown a nonexistent number.

Now the dog, newly named "Apache," had seized a moment of inattention to dart into the antique shop's inner quarters.

The Boss was carefully storing Consort Xiang's Chain in a cabinet, completely absorbed in the task and utterly unaware. The Doctor chased after the dog until he encountered a jade screen.

This jade-carved screen stood as tall as a person, depicting a garden scene. The carving was exquisitely lifelike, skillfully utilizing the natural colors of the jade. As the Doctor moved, the landscape revealed depth and distance, while the pavilions conveyed profound spatial dimension. Even the embroidered figures displayed vivid expressions—joy, anger, sorrow, happiness—all clearly discernible. Flowers, birds, fish, and insects were so vividly rendered one could almost hear birds singing among blossoms or fish leaping from water.

The Doctor was instantly captivated. Watching the jade's shifting iridescence under changing light, he even reached out to touch it. "Woof! Woof!" Apache's barks came from behind the screen. The Doctor turned to call for the Boss's help, but the man who had been at the counter moments earlier had vanished.

Never mind—he'd retrieve the dog first. If Apache damaged anything in the inner quarters, the Doctor could never afford the compensation. According to the Boss, every antique here was priceless.

Behind the jade screen lay a deeply recessed corridor lined with small, unmarked rooms. The dim lighting intensified the eerie atmosphere.

The antique shop seemed devoid of electrical appliances; even the outer area was illuminated solely by two Changxin Palace Lanterns. The Doctor pulled out his phone for light, calling Apache's name softly as he proceeded down the corridor. A door slightly ajar ahead emitted a faint glow. Approaching it, the Doctor pushed gently.

The wooden door creaked open. The oppressive atmosphere along the way had tightened his nerves, but when he saw what was inside, he immediately relaxed.

The small room—only a few square meters—was filled with an exotic fragrance but contained nothing except a burning red candle. Finding no trace of the dog, the Doctor prepared to continue his search. Turning around, he discovered the Boss standing silently behind him in the darkness, gazing at him with an unsettling intensity.

"Are you trying to scare me to death?" the Doctor finally managed, clutching his chest. His heart rate had skyrocketed to 120—a severe strain on his healthy heart. The Boss's pale face appeared ghostly in the dark. He glanced coolly at the Doctor and said, "Who told you to come in here?"

"I'm looking for Apache," the Doctor replied with a guilty smile.

The Boss raised his phoenix eyes. "That dog? It jumped onto my counter just now and is eating the breakfast you bought."

"That rascal!" the Doctor feigned anger, defending himself: "I didn't touch anything! Besides, there's nothing in this room anyway!"Hearing this, the boss's expression softened as he smiled and said, "Antiques are delicate and must be stored according to their specific needs. Some require a dry environment, some need to avoid light, and others must be sealed from air. This candle produces heat, light, and soot when burning, so of course it can't be kept in the same room as other antiquities."

The doctor couldn't believe it: "You mean this candle is an antique? I thought it was just for lighting!" The candle was entirely red, just over a foot long, and looked no different from an ordinary candle. Upon closer inspection, a piece was missing from its base.

The boss nodded and said, "This candle is made from the fat of deep-sea mermaids and can burn for over a thousand years. It has already been burning for more than seven hundred years now."

The doctor's mouth formed an "O" shape, thinking to himself that not even a child would believe this. The boss glanced at him and smiled faintly, "Would you like to hear the story of this incense candle?"

"Go ahead, I'd like to know." The doctor prepared to listen to a story, thinking it didn't matter since he wasn't on duty today anyway.

Watching the candle smoke slowly rise from the burning incense candle, the boss began wistfully, "This all started one day over seven hundred years ago..."

There was once a mountain, and on the mountain stood a temple, and in the temple lived a monk. In this story, there was no mountain, but there was a temple, and there was more than just one little monk in the temple. At that time, war was rampant, famine spread across the land, and many people starved to death. The temple had several little monks, all from poor families who could no longer support them. They were sent to the temple to be tonsured, begging for the Buddha's mercy to barely survive.

The protagonist of the story was a little monk. He couldn't even remember his own name, and even the temple's abbot just called him Little Monk. His duty was to watch over the incense fires in the Sangharama Hall. No matter what, he had to ensure that the incense in the main hall never went out and the candles never stopped burning.

During the day, when many devotees came to burn incense, he would hide under the incense altar to sleep. At night, he would stay up all night guarding the main hall, adding incense and replacing candles.

No one ever talked to him, and he was always silent, rarely even making sounds when chanting scriptures. Therefore, the abbot deemed him someone without connection to Buddhism and assigned him to guard the main hall at night. In Little Monk's world, there was only the pungent smell of incense and the flickering candle flames.

As the situation became more turbulent and chaotic, fewer and fewer people came to the temple to offer incense, and the supply of incense candles dwindled. To keep the incense fires burning continuously, Little Monk had to reduce the number of candles displayed. Eventually, each night, he had to offer only one incense candle.

Then came one night when Little Monk took the last incense candle from the box and let out a long sigh. He needed to tell the abbot the next day that the temple needed more candles, but would the temple have money to buy them? Worried, Little Monk lit the final incense candle and reverently placed it to the right of the Sangharama Statue.

Then, as usual, he slowly watched the flickering flame, thinking of nothing, emptying his mind, truly lost in thought."Hey! Little Monk!" The voice came from above. The young monk slowly raised his head in delayed reaction. Hovering above him was a translucent figure floating in mid-air. The little monk blinked and realized this transparent being was a woman. She narrowed her enchanting, slender eyes, lowering her gaze to look down at him from above. "Little Monk, how long is a human life?" Her voice was ethereal, like the candle smoke swirling around her.

"Human life... perhaps spans several decades." The little monk paused, answering dazedly. He rarely spoke, so his voice came out hoarse and raspy, tinged with awkwardness and nervousness. The woman arched her willow-leaf-like eyebrows, opening her eyes slightly wider as she regarded him with interest. "Was it you who woke me?"

"Woke you?" The little monk hesitated. "Lady benefactor, how did you get up so high?"

"You think I'm human? I'm not human at all! Aren't you afraid I might be a ghost?" She blinked, her already devastating beauty becoming even more breathtaking.

The little monk shook his head honestly. "This is the Sangharama Hall. Evil spirits and demons cannot enter here."

"How devout!" She raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways at the unmoving Sangharama Statue before curling her lips in disdain.

Though the little monk was slow, he wasn't blind. He noticed the woman had no feet, and below her was the very incense candle he had just lit. The rising smoke from the burning candle had formed the shape of a woman.

"You... you're that incense candle?" The little monk blinked hard, wondering if he was dreaming.

"Correct, I am that incense candle. You may call me Zhu." The little monk stared blankly at Zhu materializing in mid-air. As more smoke rose from the candle, her form became increasingly distinct. Her jade-like fair skin complemented a pair of deep, enchanting eyes that seemed capable of stealing admirers' souls. Her figure was graceful, her beauty peerless, dressed in luxurious robes he had never seen before. Her satin-like hair floated around her as if alive, encircling her form.

"Hehe, little monk, do you like what you see?" Zhu elegantly twirled in the air, gently drifting down to hover slightly above the little monk's height. Looking down at him, she curled her lips in endless allure. "If you blow out this candle, I'll become real and come down to keep you company!"

Zhu's voice felt like the cotton pillow he'd slept on as a child - soft and comforting. Her smoke-formed hair mistily enveloped him. Wispy threads of fragrance subtly entered his nostrils, making him feel lightheaded and disconnected from reality. The little monk remained stunned for a long moment before finally processing her request, then shook his head vigorously like a rattle-drum.

"No..." He only managed half the word before quickly closing his mouth. He'd realized that merely speaking made his exhaled breath disturb her form slightly.

He held his breath, afraid he might blow her away. Zhu pouted, glared at the little monk, then floated back up into the air, turning her back to him.The little monk strained his neck to look up, unable to clearly see the expression on Zhu's face, yet he could imagine her profound disappointment. He wanted to comfort her but stumbled over his words, unsure how to begin. Perhaps she wouldn't remain disheartened for long—this candle would burn out by noon tomorrow, and then she would have her wish fulfilled.

For the first time all night, the little monk didn't watch the flickering flame. Instead, he kept his head tilted upward, gazing intently at Zhu's silhouette without once looking away.

At dawn the next day, the little monk opened his eyes to find the candle he had lit the previous night still burning. Strangely, it remained exactly as long as when he first took it out, not even an inch shorter!

How was this possible? The little monk rubbed his eyes, but the scene before him didn't change.

"Odd little monk," Zhu lay on the beam atop the hall, speaking with a tone of disdain, "You weren't surprised when you saw me, but now you're so agitated."

The little monk lifted his head. "This candle can't burn out?" Zhu nodded generously. "This candle is made from mermaid wax from two years ago. It was meant to burn for ten thousand years in Qin Shi Huang's tomb. I am one left behind, though I don't know how I ended up here."

"Mermaid?" Though not widely learned, the little monk knew mermaids were legendary creatures of extraordinary beauty, living in the sea with human upper bodies and fish tails... He looked at Zhu before him—her upper body formed from candle smoke took human shape, while her lower body twisted upward in curling tendrils of smoke.

"Zhu, were you originally a mermaid?"

Zhu neither confirmed nor denied, merely offering a stunning, enchanting smile. "Little monk, extinguish this candle! Then I can be free forever! I must destroy Qin Shi Huang's tomb. The emperor sought immortality, but human life lasts mere decades. Why should he have so many buried with him?" The little monk's neck ached from craning upward. He nearly succumbed to her mesmerizing smile when his eyes fell upon the Sangharama Statue beside her.

"Little monk, it's simple—just blow on this candle," Zhu urged impatiently, drifting down until her ethereal form encircled him. She floated from his left ear to his right, whispering temptations back and forth.

As her breathtaking beauty swayed before his eyes, the little monk quickly shut them. To prevent her melodious voice from swaying his heart, he began murmuring the Diamond Sutra.

"If you see me in form, if you seek me in sound, this person walks the path of error, unable to see the Tathagata..." Zhu's drifting figure hesitated. "Little monk, what does that mean?"

"Form and sound are both phenomena; all that has shape and appearance belongs to Mara. If someone tempts me with form and pleads with me in whispers, they tread heretical paths and cannot behold the true Buddha."

Zhu burst into clear, bell-like laughter. "Silly monk, who usually teaches you sutras? This verse means: You must not stubbornly seek Buddha's essence through form and sound, or you'll stray into heresy and fail to see the Tathagata."

The little monk listened with mixed doubt and belief. He was merely a night-watching novice—the Abbot had said he lacked deep spiritual roots and never intended to teach him scriptures. He only knew some superficial passages from hearing senior monks recite them, all half-understood.Zhu circled around to face the Little Monk, watching his eyeballs dart beneath closed eyelids. She couldn't help but chuckle: "The Diamond Sutra also says: 'All phenomena are illusory; if you see all phenomena as non-phenomena, then you see the Tathagata.' Everything in the world is subject to birth and death, all are illusory appearances. Every person possesses the wisdom and virtue of the Tathagata, which is their original face. Therefore, cultivating to return to one's original face is the true path."

The Little Monk sat pondering for a long while before finally opening his eyes. Zhu sat opposite him, wisps of candle smoke drifting from her body. The candle smoke emitted a faint fragrance, winding upward, circling and coiling endlessly. The morning light passed through her form, shining directly onto the floor tiles.

What is an illusory appearance? This is an illusory appearance. Seeing the Little Monk simply staring dumbly at her, Zhu pursed her lips displeased. "So you are indeed attached to appearances? As you wish!" With that, she transformed into a bluish-white candle smoke and reshaped into another form.

Adorned with splendid tassels and wearing her hair in a coiled bun, with a black beard and red face, dressed in a deep green robe with a round collar. She looked exactly like the Sangharama Statue in the main hall. "Well? Little Monk? I am the Sangharama Bodhisattva! I don't need your single stick of incense or candle offering—go blow it out!" The Sangharama Bodhisattva transformed by Zhu even spoke in a rough, booming voice that echoed slightly in the hall.

The Little Monk gazed directly at the illusory Sangharama form before him. After a long while, he blinked, brought his hands together in front of his chest, and slowly recited: "If you see me through form, if you seek me through sound, this person is practicing a deviant path and cannot see the Tathagata..."

A long, long time later, an angry, delicate shout erupted in the hall: "Blockheaded fool!"

From then on, the Little Monk's life began to become colorful. He was actually an ordinary little monk—his life still revolved around the Sangharama Temple, and his daily routine remained the same.

Except now, there was a woman formed from candle smoke by his side. Although all she wanted was for him to blow out that candle he had lit, he couldn't agree. He told himself,

This was because she was the temple's last candle.

This last candle burned quietly in the divine hall. No one paid attention to why this candle never shortened, why it always remained the same length.

They focused on the Sangharama Statue, on the Buddhist sutras, or perhaps on whether they could still obtain alms for food tomorrow.

"Little Monk, how long is a human life after all?" This was Zhu's favorite question, one she always asked after each appearance.

"Probably, several decades," the Little Monk would always answer this way.

Upon hearing this, Zhu would fall silent. But she could only maintain this quiet for half a day before starting to pester him again about blowing out the candle.

Once, the Little Monk was actually persuaded by her. But just as he was about to speak to the Abbot, he noticed the Abbot was worrying about what to eat.

He couldn't bring himself to speak. Born in unlucky times! Rebel armies were springing up everywhere, people had stopped farming, and there was no grain. Without grain, rebellion became even more inevitable.

"Hmph! The overthrow of every dynasty requires war, but the cost of war is always borne by the common people," Zhu complained this way.

The Little Monk listened quietly, silently repeating her words twice in his heart, only half-understanding.

He truly didn't understand. But several of his senior brothers could no longer endure temple life—they abandoned the Buddhist sutras, left the monastic life, and joined the rebel armies.

"Little Monk, why don't you go with them?" Zhu asked.The Little Monk looked up, as he always did when looking at her. At first, his neck would ache, but over time, he had grown accustomed to the posture. "I won’t go. My duty is to ensure the incense before the Sangharama Statue never goes out," the Little Monk replied.

"Stubborn blockhead, even if you left, I wouldn’t go out. Ah, no, no—what if you, foolish monk, died on the battlefield? Then I’d never be free. You’d better stay here," Zhu grumbled back and forth. She was both annoyed by the Little Monk’s lack of ambition and afraid he might actually join the rebel army.

The Little Monk silently chewed on the hardened steamed bun in his hand, thinking she was so noisy.

And so endearing.

"Little Monk, how long is a human life?" Zhu still asked this question every day. "Perhaps, as long as a meal," the Little Monk mused, watching the dwindling food in his bowl. After hearing this, Zhu fell silent for much longer than usual.

More people left the temple, yet even more took vows and entered. Many, with nowhere else to turn, shaved their heads and became monks. The Abbot, compassionate at heart, took them all in. Though food was still scarce, the temple’s own farmland had begun to yield harvests, barely sustaining everyone.

The Little Monk suddenly gained many junior brothers. Yet his duty remained keeping watch in the Sangharama Temple at night. By nature, he was easily overlooked, but the junior brothers all knew of him. If he wasn’t sleeping during the day, he would always sit before the incense altar, devoutly gazing at the Sangharama Statue—for a long, long time. No one knew that what he was truly looking at was her, perched upon the statue.

Devotees often came to the temple to pray for the Sangharama’s protection, though few visited late at night. One night, as the Little Monk was lost in thought staring at Zhu, he suddenly realized someone had appeared beside him unnoticed.

The man was dressed entirely in black, his features obscured as if veiled in illusion. What stood out was the deep crimson dragon embroidered on his black robe. The dragon’s head adorned his right cuff, its body coiled up his arm, and its tail rested precisely on his right shoulder.

The Little Monk knew he shouldn’t stare, but the dragon was so vividly embroidered he couldn’t help but glance twice. With that second look, he noticed the visitor wasn’t looking at the Sangharama Statue but rather at the incense candle placed on the altar.

"This incense candle is quite fine," a deep voice suddenly remarked.

The Little Monk’s eyelids twitched, unsure how to respond. Zhu wasn’t manifesting at the moment, and the candle appeared utterly ordinary. Why praise such a common item?

"Little Monk, if you ever don’t want it anymore, you can pass it to me," the man continued, speaking as if to himself. "Don’t worry about finding me. The day you no longer want her, I will appear." Then, repeating that the candle was excellent, he left. The Little Monk rushed out, but the open temple gates revealed no one. The man had come and gone without a trace, leaving the Little Monk half-convinced he had encountered a ghost or spirit. For a long time afterward, he slept poorly, watching the incense candle on the altar day after day, terrified she might disappear.Little Monk suddenly became the idol worshiped by his junior fellow apprentices. He had no idea what the Buddhist scriptures they were asking about meant, yet his juniors took his responses as profound Zen sayings. He didn’t know how to explain himself; he still only liked talking to Zhu.

Even though whenever he spoke to Zhu, Zhu would invariably urge him to blow out the candle within three sentences, he still enjoyed it.

One evening, he was pestered by several junior fellow apprentices to explain Buddhist scriptures, and the pestering continued well into the night with no sign of stopping. The juniors knew his duty was to guard the temple hall, and one named Chongba volunteered to take his place.

Little Monk wanted to stop them but couldn’t find a reason. He was afraid others might see Zhu, and he feared Zhu was merely a figment of his imagination—that all of this was nothing but a dream. These complicated feelings left him utterly unable to speak up. He spent the whole night surrounded by enthusiastic juniors discussing Buddhist scriptures. In truth, they did all the talking while he just listened.

To be precise, he wasn't listening either, his entire mind had already drifted away from this place.

At the break of dawn, he immediately rushed to the Sangharama Temple, only to find the Abbot sternly reprimanding Junior Brother Zhongba, who had taken his night watch duty.

The Little Monk was startled, thinking the Abbot had discovered his Zhu. But the situation was more serious than he imagined. Last night, Junior Brother Zhongba had fallen asleep during his watch duty.

Mice had gnawed a notch in the incense candle, at the bottom.

The Little Monk was so heartbroken he nearly died. Though Junior Brother Zhongba was publicly reprimanded by the Abbot, the Little Monk wished he were the one being scolded instead. Junior Brother Zhongba had secretly used a broom to strike the Sangharama Statue at night, saying if the Sangharama God couldn't even protect the objects before him, how could he protect the temple, let alone the entire world? Junior Brother Zhongba somehow found a brush and wrote "Exiled Three Thousand Miles" on the back of the Sangharama Statue.

The Little Monk saw it all. But he didn't speak up to stop it. Because after that day, Zhu never appeared again. Although the Little Monk never saw Zhu again, this candle continued burning as usual, not diminishing in the slightest.

The Little Monk turned the mouse-gnawed notch to face the back, filling the gap with hardened wax from previous candle burns until it looked like a brand new candle. No one noticed this "trash" was actually the original candle. Though Zhu didn't appear, the Little Monk still guarded the temple night after night, watching over the incense candle.

Finally, one evening, Zhu reappeared before him, as beautiful as ever, radiant and stunning. Except, the sleeve of her left arm appeared to have been bitten off halfway, replaced by an extremely ugly piece of red wax cloth.

"Blockhead! Tell me! How are you going to compensate for my dress?" Zhu said resentfully. The Little Monk grinned foolishly... She was still here, how wonderful.

"Blockhead, didn't you say you had no money to buy incense offerings? If I teach you how to make money, wouldn't you be able to earn plenty to provide incense for the temple?" Perhaps this incident had frightened Zhu, making her more persistent in persuading the Little Monk.

But those incense offerings, they're not you. The Little Monk thought silently in his heart, slowly shaking his head.

Furious, Zhu floated wildly around the main hall before stopping in front of the Little Monk, asking seriously: "Little Monk, what do you want then? I can give you anything!"

What did he want? The Little Monk stared blankly at her exquisitely beautiful features, his lips moving slightly without making a sound.

The next day, Junior Brother Zhongba approached and whispered, "Senior Brother, why didn't you agree? Don't you want gold, silver, jewels, power, or status?"

Startled, realizing Junior Brother Zhongba must have overheard his conversation with Zhu, the Little Monk replied calmly: "Wealth is external. If not sincerely offered before Buddha, what use is having it?"

Junior Brother Zhongba walked away in silence.

Zhu didn't give up on persuading the Little Monk. "Little Monk, many people want to become emperor. If you want to be emperor, I can tell you how!"

The Little Monk remained unmoved. Thinking he didn't believe her, Zhu hurriedly explained the entire process of becoming emperor in detail. Though residing in this isolated temple amidst the chaotic world, she could clearly describe all the factions, how to join one of them, and what steps to take next - leaving nothing out.After speaking, Zhu looked at the Little Monk who showed no reaction and immediately deflated. "Little Monk, that junior brother who tore my sleeve earlier was eavesdropping outside the door. He's probably already packed and on his way now. Are you really willing to let him become emperor?" Zhu lazily sat on the incense altar as she spoke.

"Qin lost its deer, and all under heaven pursued it—thus, those with talent and swift feet captured it first." The Little Monk thought for a long time before squeezing out this ancient saying he'd once heard. Zhu burst into laughter, feeling for the first time that this Little Monk was quite impressive.

"Zhongba comes from a poor peasant background. If he truly becomes emperor, it would be a blessing for the common people," the Little Monk said earnestly. Though he didn't believe that following Zhu's few words would make someone emperor, he genuinely hoped someone could save this chaotic world.

Zhu Zhongba indeed became the leader of the rebel army, overthrew the Yuan dynasty, established the Ming dynasty, changed his name to Zhu Yuanzhang, and became emperor. The temple where the Little Monk resided became the renowned Huangjue Temple. From then on, the Sangharama Temple flourished with endless streams of worshippers, no longer needing that ever-burning incense candle, as hundreds of incense candles replaced it.

Shortly after the new emperor's ascension, he visited Huangjue Temple and ordered a search among the hundreds of incense candles for one that had been gnawed by rats.

When the Little Monk was brought before his former Junior Brother Zhongba, he saw that incense candle—the one snatched away by soldiers—burning quietly. The disguise at the base of the candleholder had been removed, revealing its ugly gap underneath.

"Can you make that woman appear again?" asked the former junior brother, now emperor, urgently. The Little Monk honestly shook his head. Whether Zhu appeared or not was her own choice—he had no control over it.

The emperor frowned. Monks don't speak falsely, so he didn't press whether this was true. "What's the matter with this candle? Didn't she want freedom and liberation? Shouldn't it extinguish if blown out? Why can't I blow it out? Even pouring water on it does nothing!"

The Little Monk suddenly understood why Zhu had always pestered him. Only the person who lit this incense candle could blow it out.

"Senior Brother! Quickly find a way to make her appear—I must see her!" The emperor still called him senior brother, a rare courtesy. But the Little Monk still honestly shook his head—he truly couldn't do it. The emperor had once eavesdropped outside the Sangharama Hall when Zhu tried to tempt the Little Monk with wealth, so attempting bribery with money naturally wouldn't work.

However, the emperor could try other methods. In a secret room at Huangjue Temple, the Little Monk was whipped until covered in wounds. The emperor thought this would force Zhu to appear, but in the secret room, the incense candle merely continued burning quietly.

The Little Monk gritted his teeth, struggling not to make a sound. He didn't know if Zhu could see, but he didn't want her to hear. Junior Brother Zhongba had changed—not just because his hair had grown out, nor merely because he'd changed his name. He had transformed completely, becoming ruthless and unscrupulous.

The emperor locked the Little Monk alone in the secret chamber. Just before he was about to faint, a wisp of candle smoke drifted before him, forming into Zhu's concerned face. "Little Monk, how long is a human life after all?" he heard her ask, just as she always did.

Why did she like asking this question so much? The Little Monk thought hazily, mustering his last bit of strength to reply: "Human life... exists... between one breath and the next."Zhu was startled, her gaze growing complex. But Little Monk lacked the strength to scrutinize her expression, helplessly closing his eyes.

In his delirium, he faintly caught the familiar scent of sandalwood incense. Struggling to open his eyes, he found himself enveloped in thick candle smoke.

He still lay in the secret chamber, his flesh torn and wracked with unbearable pain, yet he managed a smile. The incense candle burning on the table remained his own.

He saw no sign of Zhu, surrounded only by the swirling smoke. But as if sensing his awakening, the candle flame flickered twice. The smoke elongated, snaking through the door crack—Zhu was showing him the escape route. Understanding, Little Monk rose to his feet. Though he spent every day in the Sangharama Temple, having grown up in this monastery since childhood, he knew its secret passages like the back of his hand.

Whether by divine protection or because no one considered him significant, Little Monk miraculously mustered the strength to carry Zhu through the heavily guarded temple. "For my sake, you've left the temple you served for years. Do you regret it?" Zhu drifted beside him, her voice ethereal.

"No regrets." Through the pitch-black night, Little Monk cradled the incense candle as he fled deep into the mountains. That temple had lost its essence because of his junior brother. He recalled the Sangharama Statue regilded with gold leaf and felt a pang of sorrow. However splendid the exterior, beneath the gilt remained a decaying idol.

"Blow me out. Otherwise, they'll eventually track the flame and find you," Zhu urged by his ear. For the first time, her concern wasn't for herself but for this fool.

Little Monk gazed deeply at her, then finally raised his hand. A complex mix of relief and reluctance crossed Zhu's face as she slowly closed her eyes.

It was finally over. This was the moment she had longed for, so why did she feel this unwillingness? Images of her first meeting with Little Monk flashed before her—back when he was just a boy... After a long moment, Zhu felt no change. Puzzled, she opened her eyes to complete darkness, the flame entirely gone, yet she could see clearly by the moonlight.

Tendrils of smoke that formed her being rose from above Little Monk's palm—he had cupped the entire candle flame with his bare hand! The merciless fire licked at his palm, its raging light visible between his fingers.

"Why?" Zhu fluttered anxiously around him, trying to move his hand away. But she discovered helplessly that her touch merely dissolved into wispy smoke. Little Monk was drenched in sweat, his face contorted with pain, yet he maintained a gentle smile. Zhu stared in shock, only now realizing the Little Monk from her memories had grown up.

Unbeknownst to her, he had matured into a heroic man, his once youthful confusion replaced by determination. Sweat streamed down his dignified face, betraying the unspeakable agony he endured.But his eyes kept smiling at her. Zhu suddenly remembered that for so many years, the Little Monk had always been like this. In the temple, he was the most devout one, his face expressionless, especially his eyes—unfocused and utterly vacant. It seemed as though he saw nothing, yet also as if he saw everything. Only when she appeared before him did his gaze instantly change, becoming as gentle as water.

"Zhu, I know you wish for liberation. I don't know what you are, but to me, you are truly alive. How could I possibly take a life?" The Little Monk's soft voice continued to reach her, and he smiled, "I cannot protect you. So, I have no choice but to entrust you to someone who can... Please don't be angry..."

What? What was he saying? The usually taciturn Little Monk had suddenly spoken so much, leaving Zhu unable to process it. She didn't understand... Then, a deep red Dragon appeared in her line of sight.

"Please take good care of her," the Little Monk lifted his head and solemnly addressed someone. No one spoke. The red Dragon moved forward and took the incense candle from his hand. The flame flowed out from the Little Monk's palm. Only then did Zhu realize that this deep red Dragon wasn't real—it was embroidered on the right sleeve of someone's robe. Black fabric with red threads, so exquisitely crafted that at first glance, it looked lifelike.

This vivid Dragon, with its head facing the cuff, seemed as though it could soar through the clouds at any moment.

Zhu didn't know how this man had broken through the heavy encirclement to appear here. But when she saw him pick up the incense candle, she couldn't help but tremble.

In the darkness, the incense candle looked as though it were held in the mouth of that red Dragon.

"Little Monk!" Zhu desperately clung to the Little Monk, but the incense candle gradually moved away, the candle smoke thinning, and she grew increasingly transparent. She refused to accept this! What right did he have to decide for her? He was just a Little Monk!

"How long... is a lifetime, after all?" The Little Monk spat out a mouthful of blood and asked haltingly. Zhu froze. This was a question she had always asked him, and now that it was turned back on her, she found herself momentarily unable to answer.

The Little Monk gave her a gentle smile. "A lifetime... exists between you and me." Zhu was stunned. The candle smoke could no longer sustain her human form, and in an instant, she vanished toward that faint point of light in the darkness.

This was the last time Zhu ever saw the Little Monk.

"Is the story over?" The Doctor leaned against the wall, noticing that the Boss showed no intention of continuing, and asked in surprise.

"It's over," the Boss nodded.

"Then what about the ending?" The Doctor gritted his teeth. "Shouldn't stories like these have a happy ending to comfort the audience?"

"Ending? This is the ending."

"Did the Little Monk die?"

"The Little Monk wasn't a deity, of course he died, but at that time, he only fainted. Zhu Yuanzhang couldn't find the whereabouts of the incense candle and had to give up. The Little Monk returned to Huangjue Temple and continued tending the incense before the Sangharama Statue. Every day, he lit countless incense candles, watching them burn quietly and extinguish, yet never finding the one that was his," the Boss recounted calmly.

"And then? What happened in the end?" the Doctor pressed anxiously.

"In the end, the Little Monk became an old monk, and the old monk died."The doctor stared at him speechlessly, suddenly feeling like an idiot for standing in this eerie place listening to stories. "Too fake. Things that happened hundreds of years ago, and even involving Zhu Yuanzhang? How could you know all this so clearly? Also, that person wearing the red Dragon robe wasn't you, was it?" The doctor fixed his gaze on the Boss, still remembering that the red Dragon should have been embroidered on his back, while in the story, the Dragon's head was embroidered on the sleeve cuff.

The doctor tried hard to recall—no matter how the Dragon's posture changed, its head always seemed to point toward the Boss's neck, as if trying to devour him.

The Boss smiled mysteriously without answering. He gazed deeply at the candle, not seeming to address anyone in particular, and said, "Sometimes, neither glory and wealth nor being the supreme ruler of the world can compare to having one truly beloved person."

The flame on the incense candle flickered violently. The Boss turned and said, "Let's go check if your breakfast has been eaten up. How about we go out for a meal? Of course, you're treating."

The doctor curled his lips helplessly—this Boss never missed a chance to take advantage of him! Before leaving, he couldn't resist glancing back at the candle still burning in the dark room. No matter how he looked at it, it seemed like just an ordinary candle.

He shrugged and muttered to himself, "I really don't understand what that Little Monk was thinking. Clearly, he liked you but never said it out loud. Ah! I must be crazy to actually believe this story. Hey! Where are we eating? I can't afford anything too expensive!"

The door closed.

The flame of the incense candle flickered once more.

A glistening drop of wax tear slowly trickled down the candle's body.

(End of Chapter)