Shen Yuan held his pack to his chest as he crossed the narrow bridge. Little more than a couple planks of wood nailed together above a steep drop. He couldn’t see the bottom. Fog filled the gorge below. But considering how high he had climbed he could imagine it.
And imagine his body at the bottom.
Carefully, he put each foot in front of the other. His back was as rigid as a steel pipe. He only relaxed when he reached solid ground. Fuck!! He was going to have to do that again on the way back. Damn old man. Who chose to retire in the middle of nowhere?
Still grumbling he made his way up the overgrown path. Ducking under branches and stepping over bushes.
The forest was buzzing with life. He could hear animals dashing through the leaves and birds sweetly piping in the tree boughs.
Shen Yuan could do without the bugs though. He swatted away a particularly ambitious fly.
“You’d love it here Shang Qinghua.” Shen Yuan said to the empty air. “The air is so fresh. Nothing like the city. Maybe I’ll cut a tree down. Make you a small shrine. Though I’m not very good at it…”
Shen Yuan grabbed his compass. Squinting down at it in the bright light to make sure he was still heading east. Doubts assuaged. He picked up his pace. Wanting to reach his destination before nightfall.
“Not that you have any right to complain about the quality.” He continued. “Your craftsmanship is even worse than mine. As a god shouldn’t you feel more embarrassed about it? I am just a lowly human.”
He stopped and took out a talisman stamped with Shang Qinghua’s name. Left it hanging from an old maple.
Despite his sacrilegious words which would have gotten him smote by any other god Shen Yuan was actually a dutiful disciple. Always looking for new ways to expand Shang Qinghua’s influence.
He was a small time god. It was a rare day when he wasn’t getting bullied by someone. Shen Yuan could have gone to any other temple. Gotten the respect from being a disciple of Yue Qingyuan or the prestige from Shen Qingqiu, but then he would have to deal with the ceremonies and the risk of being punished.
With Shang Qinghua it didn’t matter if he was late pouring the tea or if he used the wrong kind. It was a much more casual relationship.
Safe enough that Shen Yuan felt comfortable narrating his day to Shang Qinghua whenever he pleased.
Liu Qingge disciples loved to judge him for it, but Shang Qinghua didn’t care. In fact he often showed up to the temple to cry about how his day went. So it went both ways.
Would it be weird to call a god his friend? Probably, but fuck it.
Shen Yuan felt like Shang Qinghua was his friend more than anything and he wouldn’t change it for all the riches in the world.
He stumbled over a rock that had been hidden beneath green moss. Ow! Motherfuck that hurt.
He clutched his foot. Squeezing to try to stop the pain, but that just made it worse.
“That old hermit better have that book or I’ll beat him with my fan.” He hissed out.
While he was crouched down he wasn’t visible through the thick trees. That was the only thing that saved him from an arrow to the face when bandits crept along the path.
“Where is he? It’s been over a month. It don’t take that long to get here from the mainland.” One spit.
“That’s for us. You gotta remember he’s a city boy. Soft thing. Might take him another month to get here.” The man scratched his stomach. His pole arm carelessly slung over his shoulders.
“Are we sure that Hu Yin even sent the note? That guy is a no good drunk. I wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot.” He took a swig of his own bottle of wine. Outing him as a hypocrite.
“He did it. I was with him when he sent it. Even looked over for grammar. Shang Qinghua’s disciple will be here soon. We just have to be patient.”
Shit!!!!
Shang Qinghua’s disciple was Shen Yuan.
And from the sounds of it they were the ones who sent the note. Shang Qinghua had said it was too good to be true that there were no old hermits hoarding rare books in the middle of the mountains, but he didn’t think he was right.
Now he was totally screwed. Well. Not entirely. They haven’t spotted him yet. There’s a chance he could get away still.
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So on saturday im driving home with my boyfriend. His sister is like what the fuck. I look out my window. There is a very pale man in a black cloak with a black hood just standing on the side of the road with his hands folded in front of him. He has a silver cross around his neck. He isnt moving at all. She said is he a monk?? I dont know who the hell he was but it gave me chills. Like who was he??
