Chapter 32: Enduring Great Hardship to Conceive an Heir

"This is a good thing; at home, we only ever have egg-fried rice."

I stepped out of the small room and saw my mistress turn off the washing machine. She glanced at me and called out in a fluster, "Hurry up!" I walked out, locked the iron door tight, and reached the outside of the residential complex, where a black sedan was parked. I wondered how much it might be worth.

A man reached out from the driver’s side window, waved a few times, then opened the door and got in. He backed out into the lane, pulled into a parking space, and after some commotion, stepped out.

His hair was perfectly groomed. He wore a black suit paired with a white tie—a better look than last night. He wore white socks with faux-leather shoes; it was barely passable.

I didn't know who he was or what he did for a living. Judging by the eagerness of our departure, the mistress had clearly spent the night with him.

He led the way to a restaurant. The mistress ordered dishes for the three of us, acting as if she were in charge.

I didn't say a word, but I understood. She had definitely shared some sweet moments with him; her spirit had completely changed, and her beautiful figure was on full display.

The mistress pondered for a moment, then took a green jade bead bracelet off her left wrist and said, "It’s too big for me; it doesn't look right. You’re tall, so it suits you better. Besides, I should probably return it to the owner when I get the chance."

"Mom, you’ve finally realized it? Still, I like wearing it; we can decide whether to return it later."

After eating, we got back into the car, drove down the lane, onto the highway, and in the blink of an eye, climbed a slope and parked on a level stretch of ground.

It was a parking lot filled with various cars. Someone shouted, "Twenty yuan parking fee."

He wanted to save face in front of the woman and paid without a word, while I remained completely bewildered, wondering why we had come here at all. The mistress was just as confused as I was, asking questions as we walked while he simply looked on.

I was the tallest of the group; the mistress was half a head shorter than me, and he only reached my shoulder. As for why we were here? I had no choice but to follow.

The mistress stopped at a window and spoke with someone for a long time, though I couldn't hear a word.

He turned his gaze toward me and asked, "What do you want to eat? I’ll buy it for you."

I didn't want to talk to him and waved my hand. Niu Zhenqing wasn't even dead yet, and this "Scarface" was already trying to claim another man's wife. I felt a deep sense of resentment.

Yet, on the other hand, without him, how long could the mistress and I have survived at home?

He gave me a gentle look and asked, "Are you in university yet?"

Because I was tall, that was his assumption. Since he didn't seem to have any malicious intent, I replied, "I'm in eighth grade. I don't even know what university is like."

The mistress went to another window on the left, but the queue was long, so we had to wait.

Taking the opportunity, Scarface chatted with me quite a bit, naturally closing the distance between us. The most puzzling thing was the scar on his face—it was terrifying, like a bandit who had been slashed in a fight.

He didn't try to hide it. "What era do you think this is? Where would you find bandits? This isn't a knife wound."

It was truly strange; I had clearly seen a scar, could it be something else?

Scarface told me a story: he loved mountain climbing and often carried a large pack filled with gear and rations. One day, he accidentally fell from a steep cliff and was gashed by sharp rocks. Thank heavens he fell into deep water, which saved his life. He never went climbing again.

I wanted to learn more; I felt he was better than Niu Zhenqing.

Just then, the mistress called out, "Let's go!"

I was so distracted! I hadn't even brought my phone. I asked Scarface, and he pulled his out, checked it, and said, "It’s 4:45 PM."

I looked at the sun in the sky; it didn't look like rain, though it wasn't hot either.

We followed the mistress to a small building. The lighting inside was dim, but there were guests waiting. Though there weren't many, the numbering system showed two people ahead of us.

I observed the room—about eighty square meters. On the front wall stood an altar with candles burning. On the other side sat a meter-high bronze incense burner, dense with the smoke of smoldering joss sticks stuck into the rice filling the burner.

In front of the altar lay two round cushions. A female guest was kneeling, bowing to the tall, seated statue, then drew three sticks of incense, lit them from the candle, and shoved them into the crowded pile of ashes.

By now, my brain was still a fog. Why bring me here? I asked the mistress, but she waved me off. "Don't speak, just watch..."

I was curious, staring at a nun of about fifty and a man in monk’s robes.

I couldn't name the large, gilded statue, and the traditional characters on either side of its head were unrecognizable to me.

The critical moment arrived. A woman in her thirties, looking incredibly devout, gazed at the nun and asked, "My husband and I have been married for over ten years, but we have no children. Could you please take a look for me?"

I knew the nun wasn't a Taoist priestess; Taoists practice in temples, while nuns and monks are of the same order.

The nun pointed to the monk sitting on the left. "Ask him!"

"Master, please, could you take a look for me?" the woman hurriedly moved over to plead.

"Amitabha, please wait a moment, patron," the monk said, pressing his palms together and bowing his head. Everyone could see the monk was busy.

I felt deeply skeptical. A woman wanting a child should go to a hospital, not here. Was something wrong with her brain?

The monk was about fifty, with a shaved head and yellow skin. Crow's feet lined the corners of his eyes. He wore sandalwood beads around his neck, held prayer beads in his left hand, and kept his right hand in a prayer position. There was no "immortal" aura about him, and a round cushion lay before him.

Though several people were standing around, he was quite busy. He spoke at length to one guest, wrote something on a piece of white paper, and handed it to her. "Do as it says, and you will be at peace!"

The guest held the paper, frowning and blinking, clearly still confused.

"Master, if I purchase a Buddha statue, is it enough to just place it by the bed?"

The monk pressed his palms together again. "Amitabha, the holy image must only be placed on the altar, and you must kneel and pray day and night for it to be effective."

I was completely annoyed; naturally, I didn't believe a word of it.

"Master, what about these items that haven't been sold yet?" the guest asked, still hesitant and full of doubt.

"There are instructions on it. Find that location, and everything you need is there. It’s only a few steps away; just ask and you'll find it." The monk wrote something else on the paper and handed it to her.

"Hey, I can help you with that." I was eager to see what the monk was writing, so I spoke up.

As soon as I spoke, the guest came over and handed me the paper. On it were written: two candle holders, two small incense burners, and joss paper.

"You should believe in science; this stuff is useless!" I whispered into her ear.

I meant well, but the guest didn't appreciate it. She shook her head, said nothing, and walked out with the slip of paper.

"Master, it’s an emergency! If I can't have a child, my husband is going to divorce me. Please, I beg you to grant me a boy!" It was the woman's turn. She knelt in a fluster on the cushion before the monk and kowtowed three times.

"Amitabha, come with me!" The monk muttered something unintelligible. His prayer beads moved constantly, his eyes half-closed. After about a minute, he stood up and pressed his palms together.

Since he was leaving, there was no point in us standing there, so we followed.

The monk didn't stop us. We reached the backyard and entered another small room. A massive gilded statue came into view—five meters tall and two meters wide, seated on a lotus throne. On either side were two celestial children, one held by the statue, the other draped across its lap. There were no lights on, yet the room was bright.

There was a place here to kneel and offer incense. The woman seemed particularly desperate; she kowtowed countless times on the cushion, stood up, finished her offering, and looked at the master with expectant eyes, waiting for his explanation.

"You must wait in line here; I will notify you via your phone number when the time comes." The monk pulled a phone from somewhere and turned it on to explain.

The woman’s expression brightened. She wasn't very old, but she clearly had suffered greatly in her quest for a child. She hurriedly took out her phone and gave him her number.

"Science is so advanced now, yet people still believe in this! Based on what I know from biology class, this has nothing to do with it." My brain was fried; I couldn't comprehend it.

"Your request has been granted. When you are notified, you must come. If you miss the time, someone else will snatch it away, and you'll have to wait again." The phone numbers were exchanged, and the monk had his final word.

"Does it actually work?" I blinked dozens of times, still completely baffled.

"It works! It really works! A woman in my village was the same. She went to the hospital without success, then tried this as a last resort, and the following year, she gave birth to a baby boy!" The monk didn't answer, but the woman chimed in eagerly.