Chapter One: Becoming a Little Pitiful

Mount Baiyun, Clear Breeze Temple.

"Master, you can't die! What will I do if you die? You are my pillar!"

The old man, frail and barely breathing, lay on his bed. With difficulty, he tried to rub his temples, only to find he couldn't even manage that. He sighed helplessly.

"You rebellious disciple! How did I end up adopting a disciple like you?"

Zhang Xiaorui's large eyes rolled around mischievously. "Master, listen to yourself. I'm your most obedient disciple! Now that you're about to pass away, why not leave your assets to me?"

The elder lying in bed frowned in resignation. "You little rascal, I am your master. Such an unfilial disciple... what sorrow!"

Fifteen years ago, Zhang Youde was returning from a feng shui consultation when he found a girl of about five or six years old standing by a trash bin, seemingly searching for food.

Feeling pity, Master Zhang took the girl back to the temple.

Zhang Xiaorui was originally the eldest daughter of the Zhang family in the capital. Her birth mother died in childbirth, and not long after, her father Zhang Xingwang remarried.

As the saying goes, when there’s a stepmother, there’s a stepfather. The new wife had a daughter of her own, and Zhang Xiaorui’s life in the Zhang family, never comfortable to begin with, became a daily struggle. This misery continued until she was five years old.

Eventually, her stepmother chased her out, saying, "Your mother was a jinx, and so are you. Get out of here."

Thus, Zhang Xiaorui was cast out, only to be taken in by her master and brought to the temple.

"Xiaorui, recently we renovated the temple and owe three million. You’ll have to pay it back. Be sure to restore the temple to its former glory..."

Before he could finish the sentence, Zhang Youde's breathing quickened—he was clearly dying.

"Master, you can't die! If you die, I won't live either."

Master Zhang tilted his head and departed with remarkable caprice, free and unburdened, leaving without a trace of cloud or a drop of rain. But what was Zhang Xiaorui to do now, left behind?

Birth and death aside, the pressing issue was the lack of money for food. Zhang Xiaorui sat on the temple steps, her face dark with worry.

"Master, how could you leave me like this? How is your disciple supposed to survive?"

"Master, you... you, old man, you can't just go!"

At that moment, Zhang Xiaorui wished she could drag the old man up for a sound beating, though it could only be a thought.

Suddenly, a thunderclap rang out in the sky, startling her. "Master, I wasn’t plotting against you! I was only thinking about it, don’t take it to heart!"

She was truly speechless. Not only did she inherit not a penny, but she was saddled with a debt of three million. She looked around at the empty temple.

In her big eyes, a hint of moisture gathered.

From then on, the temple was hers alone. "Master, my dear master, you've really put me in a tough spot!"

Zhang Xiaorui, as if possessed, slapped her hands against the ground, looking utterly bereaved, her expression full of inconsolable grief.

Of course, it wasn't really her fault. While her master was alive, the temple wasn’t rich, but at least they could fill their stomachs.

For those who follow the Dao, death is not the end, merely another beginning. Her master’s death did not sadden her.

Zhang Xiaorui stood up, her stomach growling loudly for food once again. Her face was full of despair, streaked with tears.

You might ask: the girl seems quite filial—her master’s been dead for days, why is she still so sad?

If you think this, you are gravely mistaken. The girl’s sorrow isn’t from missing her master.

She’s simply starving. In this age of advanced technology, who still believes in those nebulous occult arts, or that ghosts exist?

Temple visitors dwindled—nowadays, two or three days, even over ten days could pass without anyone coming. Where would incense offerings come from? Without money, how could she eat or drink?

Most importantly, she now bore a debt of three million.

Who could understand the pain in her heart? Zhang Xiaorui turned northwest, opening her mouth wide to breathe in fresh air.

As she breathed, she stretched out her pale, small hands, trying to send air to her mouth. Yet, the more she inhaled, the worse she felt.

She caught a foul stench, tinged with the acrid smell of urine. Only then did she open her eyes, and when she saw what lay before her, a single thought filled her mind:

"Heavens above, earth below, I don’t want to live anymore—these days are unbearable!"

Not far from her was a toilet, and the authentic odor wafted directly from there.

In a sense, one could say it’s making the most of local resources—no need to light a fire.

Zhang Xiaorui looked utterly defeated, tears streaming from her eyes. She truly wanted to cry out, "Why must fate treat me so cruelly? Why must I suffer so?"

But isn’t there a saying—if you can’t afford abalone and shark fin, even the scent of a toilet is cost-effective.

Zhang Xiaorui rubbed her stomach, muttering as though to a battered eggplant, "Ah, being with me, you suffer too."

The most urgent task before her was to earn a living, starting with a full meal.

If she couldn’t eat, how could she fulfill her master’s dying wish to restore the temple’s glory?

At this thought, her expression grew even gloomier.

She returned to the house, staring at the bowl on the table holding a dried, hardened bun. She swallowed, stretched her neck, and licked her cracked, bleeding lips.

Silently, she reached out, picked up the bun, and began eating. Her heart seethed with indignation. To think that she, once a master of the occult, had fallen so low that even a full meal was a luxury—Zhang Xiaorui was beside herself with rage.

Soon the bun was gone, but she was still hungry. What now?

Suddenly, a proverb surfaced in her mind: "Quench thirst by gazing at plums." On that note, she reached into her pocket for a phone with a cracked screen.

Her thought was: though she had no food now, she could browse food bloggers, see what they ate. Even if she couldn’t taste it, at least she could feast her eyes and quench her hunger, couldn't she?