Chapter 125: Can We Talk?

On the way back, Li Changqing pondered the true identity of the boatman surnamed Xie, as well as a lingering question. Earlier, when he had asked the boatman to help White Dragon, the man had refused, claiming there was no karmic link between them. Yet, he had saved Li Changqing. Was there a karmic link between them? He shook his head; these were questions for another time. For now, he needed to find Shen Qingdai, uncover the truth about that monster organization, and eradicate it.

By the time he returned to the bun shop, the sky had turned completely dark. Looking at the dilapidated shop, a flicker of vexation crossed his eyes; he did not want Li Lin or Li Qingxue to be put in danger because of him.

He knocked on the door. Tang Xiaoyu, who had not yet gone to sleep, ran down from the second-floor partition. Opening the door, she asked, "What happened?"

"Nothing," Li Changqing replied, shaking his head.

Tang Xiaoyu pursed her lips and said, "You rarely look this sour."

"Where are my sister and Qingxue? Are they already asleep?" Li Changqing looked toward the stairs.

The second floor of the bun shop had been divided into three small rooms for resting. Tang Xiaoyu nodded. "Yes."

"You go back up and rest, too. I’ll just get a little sleep downstairs; I have things to do tomorrow."

...

On the pitch-black street, Jinghui walked helplessly, clutching his sutras. As the cold wind began to howl, he felt a wave of exhaustion. He did not know where to go. Having grown up in the temple, he was used to slipping out for alms, but he had always had a home to return to. Now, his master was dead, the temple had been destroyed, and he had no money—not even a place to lay his head.

He spotted a piece of cardboard on the roadside, covered with a thin layer of weeds. Jinghui sat cross-legged on it to rest. Leaning his back against the wall, he looked up at the bright moon and pressed his palms together. *The Buddha still has mercy on me,* he thought. *Even in this state, he arranged a spot with cardboard and grass; at the very least, it is warmer than sleeping directly on the street.*

"Whose spot are you taking?"

A reprimanding voice rang out. A disheveled homeless man approached from nearby, frowning, and said, "I just went to use the bathroom, and someone has already taken my place."

"Benefactor, this humble monk..."

The homeless man scolded, "Don't 'benefactor' me. I don't have a cent to my name, so I have nothing to give you. Get lost." He pushed Jinghui aside, grumbling as he lay down and covered himself with the weeds.

Jinghui slowly stood up, pressed his palms together, and said, "My apologies." With that, he turned to leave.

In the distance, a young girl in a white dress stood quietly watching. Her brow furrowed, and she stepped forward.

"Master Jinghui," Shen Qingdai said softly, "what happened at the temple? I saw a great fire there not long ago."

Although Shen Qingdai had left Tongxin Temple, she still lived nearby. Upon seeing the fire, she had rushed over to investigate, only to find the ground littered with corpses. However, she could not find Jinghui’s body, so she had been searching the nearby streets. To her surprise, she had actually found him.

"Benefactor Shen." Upon seeing her, Jinghui took a deep breath and said slowly, "My master, my senior brothers, and my junior brothers—they are all dead."

"I have already seen it," Shen Qingdai said, grinding her teeth slightly. She could faintly guess who was responsible. Tongxin Temple had no enemies, let alone those who would commit such a massacre. The only possibility was that they were trying to find her.

Noticing the strange look on Shen Qingdai's face, Jinghui asked, "Do you know who did this, Benefactor Shen?"

"Come stay with me first," Shen Qingdai said. Seeing his inquiry, she dared not tell him the truth, fearing the monk would rush off to his death. "If you want revenge, Master Jinghui, we can only ask the Bureau of Occult Investigation for help. Li Changqing can contact people from the Thirty-Sixth Bureau."

...

At three in the morning, Li Changqing was awakened by the bustling sounds from the kitchen. He looked back to see that Li Lin was already up, sleeves rolled up, chatting and laughing with Tang Xiaoyu as they prepared buns for the morning.

"Go back upstairs and sleep a while," Li Lin said when she saw him wake. "It’s too cold to sleep down here."

"Sister, no need," Li Changqing waved her off. He walked into the kitchen and noticed that Tang Xiaoyu had become quite skilled at making buns. Tang Xiaoyu was happy; the morning snacks they made each day could be sold for a lot of money. A large bag of flour could be turned into buns that fetched many Lang coins. As long as it was something that earned money, she was interested.

Li Changqing felt embarrassed just watching them work. "Sister, is there anything I can help with?"

Li Lin paused, surprised. She hadn't expected him to offer help. The brat had always been resistant to the work in the bun shop; why the sudden change? She pointed to the mixing basin. "Knead the dough, then."

"Right."

Tang Xiaoyu skillfully wrapped a bun and said to him, "Actually, if we stop being detectives later, running the bun shop wouldn't be bad. Sister says that after costs, we can steadily earn seven or eight thousand Lang coins a month."

"Is that all you aspire to?" Li Changqing rolled his eyes at her. "If we're going to run a bun shop, our 'Listening Rain Pavilion' should at least be a century-old brand. We'd open chains, recruit franchisees..."

Hearing this, Li Lin felt pleased, feeling that her brother wasn't as resistant to the shop as he used to be. Noticing her expression, Li Changqing quickly dropped the subject. Money was tight right now, and the talk of franchises and chains was just empty bravado. He had to be self-aware; he didn't have the mind for business.

At dawn, the sky began to brighten. Li Qingxue woke up, ate breakfast, and rushed off to the bus stop with her schoolbag. Li Changqing and Tang Xiaoyu, having no further work to do, took the bus back to the detective agency at a leisurely pace.

When they reached the agency, they saw two figures standing by the door.

"Master Jinghui, Shen Qingdai." Li Changqing frowned. Why were these two here?

A faint smile appeared on Shen Qingdai's face. "Detective Li, can we talk?"

Li Changqing unlocked the door. "Perfect, I have something to discuss with you, too. Please, come in."

Once inside, Tang Xiaoyu ran to pour them tea.

"You have something to discuss with me, too, Detective Li?" Shen Qingdai asked after sitting down, accepting the tea and smiling at Tang Xiaoyu. "You go first, or should I?"

"You go first," Li Changqing replied slowly.

Shen Qingdai nodded. "After I left Nanlin and escaped from my father, I was saved by Master Jinghui’s Tongxin Temple..." She recounted how the temple had been destroyed by the monsters the night before.

After listening, Li Changqing frowned deeply. "Abbot Tongdeng is dead?"