The evening bell at Qingyun Guan rang for the third time.
Li Qingzhou knelt before the spirit hall, the yellow paper in his hands burned down to the last few pale-white embers. He skillfully poked at the mourning basin with fire tongs, his movements smooth and practiced, as if this were not his first time arranging a funeral for his master, but a daily morning routine he had rehearsed countless times.
The eighteen-year-old youth wore a washed-out blue Daoist robe, with gold powder still lingering on his cuffs from when he folded paper ingots earlier. He raised his head and scanned the densely packed crowd in the spirit hall, unable to suppress the surge of grief and indignation in his heart—
The old man had left without any regard for propriety.
He had run the Taoist temple like a branch of the Beggar's Sect, leaving behind debts that could stretch from the mountainside to the foot of the mountain. Yet, at the very moment of his passing, he had the audacity to leave his disciple a "surprise."
Yes, his master, Daoist Xuanwei, had devoted himself to cultivation for many years and had long severed all mortal ties. Among the guests present today to offer condolences, not a single one was a relative; they were all creditors.
Even more incredibly, the old man seemed to have calculated the exact time of his departure. These creditors had all been personally notified by him on the phone the night before he breathed his last!
[Qingzhou, ah, the debts incurred by us, master and disciple, must eventually be repaid. A man cannot stand without trust, and this is even truer for cultivators. I have not refused to repay these years, merely delayed repayment, slowed repayment, but the debt must ultimately be settled. I leave this matter to you, so that I may depart in peace...]
[Master! Wait! What do you mean, debts incurred by us, master and disciple?!]
[Did you drink those two jars of fine wine from Old Wang's house in the East Village?]
[I drank them.]
[Did you wear that new cotton jacket made at the tailor's shop in town?]
[I wore it.]
[Then naturally, my debts are your debts.]
As soon as the words fell, the old man closed his eyes, kicked his legs, and coolly left the mortal coil, leaving Li Qingzhou alone to stand bewildered in the wind.
All that remained for Li Qingzhou was a handwritten letter, a thick ledger, and this remote Taoist temple with its dwindling incense offerings...
Yet the creditors who had come to attend his master's funeral did not look especially resentful. On most of their faces, what showed instead was sincere regret.
Li Qingzhou found himself a little bewildered. Could it be that, in this world, the people least willing to see you die were actually your creditors?
And judging from their clothes and bearing, every one of them seemed to have some standing.
The path up the mountain was hard enough to walk in clear weather; on a rainy day it turned to mud, and no car could drive up. They had all come on foot from the foot of the mountain, shoes caked in mud, yet they had still come.
Li Qingzhou was quick-witted, and he vaguely felt that things were not simple.
But he did not know any of these creditors personally. He had no idea who owed whom, or how much. Since most of them had no intention of speaking to him in detail, he merely treated them with courtesy, planning to go through his master's ledger later and sort out the debts first.
When things here were nearly done, a young man who had clearly been waiting outside for quite some time walked in. Behind his glasses, his eyes swept across the shabby Taoist temple as though he were appraising antiques, before finally locking onto Li Qingzhou.
"Hello, little Daoist Chen. I'm Yang Yao, a clerk from the Yunqi City Taoist Association. According to regulations, inheriting a Taoist temple requires certain documents. I've come to help you handle the formalities."
"That fast?"
Li Qingzhou had been thinking he would go deal with it himself in a few days. He had not expected them to come to him.
"Old Daoist Chen informed us in advance."
"..."
Fine, fine. So while he was still alive, the old man had already been planning for after his own death. So much for being detached from life and death.
Still, Li Qingzhou had to admit that he had never realized his master had such influence. People were actually coming to do paperwork for him in person? What rank was their shabby little Taoist temple supposed to be, to get this kind of treatment?
Li Qingzhou went back inside and fetched his Daoist certificate, identity card, and the ordination document proving the master-disciple line of inheritance.
"Little Daoist Chen, we also need proof of education."
Li Qingzhou immediately pulled from his robe the much-thumbed copy of the Dao De Jing he kept on him.
The clerk and Li Qingzhou looked at each other in silence. For a moment, the atmosphere froze.
"Little Daoist Chen, I'm sorry, but this... does not count as proof of education. It can't be entered into the system. According to the compulsory education law, you need to..."
"Wait."
Li Qingzhou cut him off. "I'm inheriting my master's Taoist temple. Why do I suddenly need a diploma? I've never gone to school. Where would I even get proof of education? How about you check again?"
Wonderful. Not only was he a dropout fish with nine holes in the net, he was also legally illiterate.
"It's like this, Little Daoist Chen. Because of its special nature, a Taoist temple does not count as private property. If you want to inherit it legally, you really do have to provide the relevant documents..."
"And if I absolutely can't?"
"Then, according to procedure, it will be treated as ownerless property and transferred to the Association for disposal."
Li Qingzhou frowned.
He thought about how he was clearly a model Daoist, one who knew the teachings and classics by heart and whose cultivation, character, and line of inheritance were beyond reproach, yet his path to advancement was going to be tripped up by a single diploma.
"Then what level of education is required?"
"A diploma from a nationally recognized key university."
Even the clerk felt that answer was absurd when he said it out loud. Normally, a small Taoist temple would be satisfied if the inheritor merely had a high-school diploma in name, let alone a ramshackle, little-known temple in a remote place like this.
But before coming, he had checked the system no fewer than three times. This obscure Jingchen Taoist Temple was listed at an unexpectedly high grade. If one wanted to inherit it legally and become its temple master, one really did need at least a key-university undergraduate degree.
Li Qingzhou spread his hands, not making it clear whether that meant he did not have one or simply did not understand.
"You said my master contacted you in advance. Did he know about this?"
"He did. There's no need to worry, Little Daoist Chen."
As he spoke, the clerk took something out of his briefcase. "When old Daoist Chen asked us to come handle the procedures, he also told us to bring this to you..."
My master left something for me through someone else?
Li Qingzhou lifted his brows and watched the clerk open the briefcase. A stiff, red paper folder was being taken out.
He blinked, thinking that his master really did know how to care for his disciple. Could it be that he had directly gotten him a diploma?
At last, the red stiff document was placed in his hands.
When he saw the glittering gold-stamped words on the cover, Li Qingzhou froze.
"Yunqi City No. 1 High School Admission Notice...?"
What had supposedly been a diploma had turned into an admission letter. The absurd reversal left Li Qingzhou staring at it over and over in disbelief.
"Are you sure this is what my master told you to bring me? You didn't take the wrong thing?"
"No mistake."
"Old Daoist Chen was a man who followed the rules more than anyone. He said that Little Daoist Chen is the reincarnation of the God of Literature. Getting into university would be no difficult matter for you, and we only needed to follow the regulations."
"Heh..."
Li Qingzhou stared at the line that read, "Please report to Class Five, Year Two, on September 1st." Suddenly he remembered the look in his master's eyes before he died. At the time, Li Qingzhou had thought his master was worried about the temple's debts. Only now did he understand: the old man had already known he was about to be thrown into a pile of textbooks.
"Where did this thing even come from?"
"Old Daoist Chen said he borrowed a student status for you."
Borrowed...
Meaning it would have to be returned.
"Oh, and this too..."
As he spoke, the clerk pulled another item from his bag: a full boxed set of Five Years of Gaokao, Three Years of Mock Exams.
"Old Daoist Chen borrowed this from me. Little Daoist Chen, just use it as you please. This one doesn't need to be returned."
"..."
Well, thank you so very much.