Master Li and his two sons-in-law were heading out to meet this so-called enlightened monk, and Zhu Ping’an naturally couldn’t stay in the room. He got up and followed his father-in-law and brothers-in-law to see this supposed high monk.
Master Li emerged first, taking the lead, with the two brothers-in-law behind him and Zhu Ping’an at the rear.
Master Li was very stout, and the two brothers-in-law were similarly robust. The three of them standing in front formed a wall, almost completely blocking Zhu Ping’an from view.
“Amitabha, dear benefactors, this humble monk has come uninvited and disturbed you.” The fat monk gave a one-handed salute to Master Li and the others. When Zhu Ping’an appeared at the back, the monk’s eyelids twitched slightly, though he quickly resumed his usual composure.
“You’re too kind, Master. May I ask in which temple you practice?” Master Li clasped his hands together and asked.
“This humble monk resides at Lingyin Temple in Hangzhou. I’ve come down the mountain to refine my Buddhist practice. Passing through this place, I saw two beams of auspicious fortune, hundreds of metres high, rising from the rear courtyard of your residence. Pinching my fingers to calculate, I deduced that two little nobles have been born. Thus, I came uninvited to forge a good karmic bond and accumulate some merit. Amitabha.”
The fat monk presented his monastic certificate to verify his identity.
The certificate was legitimate, issued by the Ministry of Rites’ Monastic Registry, complete with the official seal and an excerpt from the Ming Code: “Monks and Taoists without a certificate who privately ordain shall receive eighty strokes…” It listed the monk’s dharma name, place of origin, secular name, age, and affiliated temple.
The certificate made Master Li nod in approval.
After confirming its authenticity, Master Li, rubbing his hands with pride, asked, “Master, you truly saw two beams of auspicious fortune hundreds of metres high?”
Elders love hearing praise, especially about their descendants’ exceptional qualities, whether it’s sincere, flattery, or otherwise.
Say it a few more times—they love to hear it.
“Amitabha, monks do not lie. I personally saw two beams of auspicious fortune, hundreds of metres high, rising from this place. Such fortune rivals that of kings and generals. The two little nobles are of immeasurable worth and will surely bring glory to their ancestors,” the fat monk replied, twirling his prayer beads and giving a one-handed salute.
“Wonderful, wonderful.” Master Li nodded repeatedly, delighted.
“Did you hear that, brother-in-law? The master says your two nephews will bring glory to the family, probably outshining even you. You’re in for a life of ease!” The two brothers-in-law slapped Zhu Ping’an’s shoulders, chuckling.
“Hehe, I don’t wish for them to bring glory to the family. I only hope they grow up safe, happy, and carefree…”
Zhu Ping’an gave a soft laugh. As a new father, looking at those tiny, soft little bundles, his only wish was for them to grow up safe and joyful. That was enough.
Just as he finished speaking, three streams of fortune suddenly appeared in his vision.
Above Master Li and his two brothers-in-law, who stood in front of him, were streams of cyan fortune. Zhu Ping’an realised he had mentioned “bringing glory to the family” again.
Over the years, Zhu Ping’an had grown accustomed to his fortune-seeing ability, remaining unflappable, his mind as still as a calm lake.
The cyan fortune above Master Li and his brothers-in-law wasn’t the white aura of commoners. It suggested future opportunities—perhaps official positions. That made sense; Master Li was the second master of a marquis’s household, likely holding an honorary title from inherited privilege. With his wealth, securing a purchased academic status for his sons wouldn’t be difficult.
Their cyan fortune was understandable to Zhu Ping’an. After all, when Li Shu was young, she had a purple aura soaring to the heavens.
Normal, normal.
Calmly, Zhu Ping’an shifted his gaze to the supposed enlightened monk, curious about the colour of his fortune.
Then, the usually unflappable Zhu Ping’an’s eyelids twitched.
The reason?
Above the so-called enlightened monk’s head was a blood-red fortune mixed with black, swirling like a wolf’s smoke—a sign of ferocity, killing intent, and impending calamity, an extremely dangerous omen.
This supposed high monk harboured ferocity and killing intent. His claims of seeing two beams of auspicious fortune and noble births were mere pretexts. His true aim was to enter the rear courtyard.
His intentions were malicious.
The two babies had just been born, so they couldn’t be his target. Nor could it be Li Shu—she’d been pregnant for ten months, mostly staying in the rear courtyard, unlikely to have provoked a deadly vendetta. As for his father-in-law and brothers-in-law, they weren’t likely targets either. If someone wanted to harm them, it would be easier to strike on the road rather than in the heavily guarded rear courtyard of the governor’s residence.
Considering the current political climate, Zhu Ping’an was certain this so-called monk was after him.
He was using the pretext of forging a bond with the babies to enter the courtyard, get close to Zhu Ping’an, and launch a surprise attack.
Alarm bells rang in Zhu Ping’an’s mind, but years of experience in officialdom and on the battlefield kept his expression neutral.
His gaze subtly scanned the assassin disguised as a monk. He noticed the monk was also covertly sizing him up. When their eyes accidentally met, the monk calmly gave a one-handed salute. Without Zhu Ping’an’s fortune-seeing ability revealing the truth, he might not have noticed.
The disguised assassin hadn’t acted yet for two reasons: Zhu Ping’an was blocked by his father-in-law and brothers-in-law, and the distance between them was too great for the monk to strike with certainty.
*Trying to kill me? Heh, you’re not leaving here.*
“Master, what position do you hold at Lingyin Temple?” Zhu Ping’an asked, maintaining distance and subtly positioning himself further behind his father-in-law and brothers-in-law—not to use them as shields, but to deny the assassin an opportunity to strike.
His question carried an official air, with a hint of haughty superiority.
It conveyed: *I’m the Governor of Zhejiang. You want to recite scriptures and forge a bond with my children? What kind of monk are you, and are you even qualified?*
“Amitabha, this humble monk is merely an ordinary guest monk. However, my master is the abbot of Lingyin Temple, and he has shown me much care,” the fat monk replied, chanting a Buddhist phrase.
*Don’t underestimate me as just a guest monk—my master is the abbot, so my status in the temple is significant. I’m qualified to recite scriptures for your children.*
“So, you’re the esteemed disciple of the abbot. My apologies, my apologies. Qin’er, go brew a pot of our finest Biluochun tea,” Zhu Ping’an said, his tone shifting from aloof to deferential, as if eager to offer fine tea.
The fat monk found Zhu Ping’an’s change in attitude unsurprising. In both Ming China and Japan, officials were often like this—fawning over the powerful, dismissive of the lowly, always sizing people up. Zhu Ping’an, as the Governor of Zhejiang, equivalent to a ruler of a Japanese domain, displaying such snobbery was perfectly normal.
