Chapter 87: How Did You Save Up So Much Money?

Tang Xiaoyu stuck out her tongue with a playful smile; she understood the logic, of course.

Seated on the sofa, she asked curiously, “So, do you think she’s still lying by the river? Or is she already dead?”

“This has nothing to do with us. Let’s get some rest,” Li Changqing replied. After returning to his bedroom, he felt no urge to sleep. Instead, he took out paper, brush, and ink, and began practicing the Demon-Subduing Talisman from the Supreme Three Caverns Divine Seals.

He kept at it deep into the night.

The nights at Tongxin Temple were tranquil; a Buddhist sanctuary was a place of purity.

In a small bamboo grove on the temple’s left—

*Hiccup.*

Monk Jinghui stood beneath a bamboo stalk, relieving himself. During tonight’s almsgiving, the donors had been overly enthusiastic, and in the revelry, he’d drunk a bit too much.

He hiccuped, his whole body radiating the scent of liquor.

Once finished, with practiced hands, he took out a bottle of cologne and sprayed himself liberally. He’d rinse his mouth three times when he got back, and that should be enough to cover it. Besides, it was so late the abbot surely would be asleep by now.

In high spirits, he followed the stone path back towards the temple. Suddenly, his eyes flickered—at a distance, he saw a female benefactor, wounded and slumped against a wall.

He frowned but did not hesitate to approach her.

“Miss, miss, wake up, are you still breathing?” he called, reaching out to check—she was alive.

He studied Shen Qingdai for a moment, hesitated, and then muttered, “Heaven cherishes life. To encounter me is your good fortune, miss.”

With that, he hoisted her onto his back and hurried towards Tongxin Temple. He pushed open the door and made straight for the abbot’s quarters.

*Bang, bang, bang!*

“Master, master, I found a young woman in distress!”

Abbot Tongdeng, already abed, was startled awake by the shouts. Opening the door, he was shocked. “Quick, take her to the library!”

The library housed various medicinal supplies, and Abbot Tongxin was something of a doctor.

Usually, when the monks fell ill, it was the abbot who prescribed their remedies.

But these were trivial ailments like colds. The battered state of this young woman left the abbot at a loss—her wounds were severe.

Moreover, given the distinction between men and women, tending her injuries would mean contact, which was taboo for Buddhist monks.

Though her wounds were on her back, arms, and abdomen, even touching a woman’s body was strictly forbidden for someone of the abbot’s rank.

“Master, what are you waiting for?” Monk Jinghui frowned, seeing Shen Qingdai’s wounds still bleeding.

These weren’t ordinary wounds; a trace of demonic energy lingered. Unless it was dispelled, the bleeding would not stop.

“She’s a woman—I can’t treat her. Should we send her to the hospital?”

“If we take her to the hospital, she’ll likely bleed out before we arrive.”

“I’ll do it.” Jinghui knew his master was overly rigid, bound by rules, which was admirable, but saving lives sometimes meant bending them.

Abbot Tongdeng pressed his palms together, stepped back, and turned away, chanting, “Amitabha. To save a life is to build a tower of merit. I mean no offense; may the young lady forgive me.”

Jinghui placed his right hand over Shen Qingdai’s wounds, and a golden Buddhist light flared.

The black demonic energy clinging to her injuries dissipated instantly in the glow.

Jinghui quickly applied hemostatic medicine, bandaged the wounds, and soon the bleeding stopped.

“All done—hiccup,” Jinghui announced, hiccuping once more.

Only now did the abbot sniff the air. “Why do I smell liquor?”

“Surely the young lady must have drunk quite a bit. You’re right, master—alcohol leads only to harm, and has brought her to this sorry pass.”

The abbot nodded gravely. “Have her rest in my quarters for now.”

“I’ll move into the monks’ dormitory.”

“I’ll prepare some hot soup for her,” the abbot said, heading towards the kitchen.

Not long after he left, Shen Qingdai slowly opened her eyes. She looked around at the unfamiliar room, lined with bookshelves and ancient tomes.

She noticed her wounds had been properly dressed, and gratitude shone in her gaze. “Thank you, little master, for saving my life!”

“I apologize for any impropriety while tending your wounds,” Jinghui said, “but as you’re a demon, I trust you won’t mind human customs.”

Shen Qingdai, indeed, was unbothered by such things—most of her injuries were on her back, suffered while fleeing.

Besides, as a demon, she was already grateful the young monk had saved her at all.

But what surprised her was, “Little master, you know I’m a demon?”

“Since I knew, why would I save you?” she pressed.

Jinghui smiled. “The Buddha teaches that all beings are equal. Why shouldn’t I save you?”

Shen Qingdai was silent for a moment. “Do you really believe all beings are equal?”

“I don’t know about others’ beliefs,” he replied. “Nor do I care. But I believe it.”

He heard footsteps at the door and quickly whispered, “My master doesn’t know you’re a demon. Please, don’t reveal it—it would only frighten him.”

The abbot entered with a bowl of hot soup, relief on his face when he saw Shen Qingdai awake. “You’re awake? Drink some hot soup, and rest.”

“Thank you, master.”

Two kilometers from Tongxin Temple, on a quiet street, four men in black robes prowled through the night, searching.

“Where did she go?”

“No sign of her.”

Their eyes were cold, worry etched across their faces. Shen Qingdai’s ability to escape was remarkable—even gravely wounded, she had eluded them to flee this far.

Now, they’d lost her trail, and had been searching half the night.

“She really got away—damn it!”

“Wasn’t it said she had a detective acquaintance in Nanlin City? Should we pay him a visit?”

“I’ve heard this detective is connected to Bureau Thirty-Six. We can’t risk it, or we’ll alert them.”

“Let’s report back to the master and let him decide.”

...

“The sun is rising, such joy, oh what a day!”

Li Changqing hummed a tune, lounging on the balcony, basking in the morning sun, utterly content.

The warm rays didn’t scorch, but lifted the spirit.

As Li Changqing sang this unfamiliar song, Tang Xiaoyu sat beside him, calculator in hand, lost in her own calculations.

“What are you up to?” Li Changqing asked, glancing at her. “Counting your savings?”

Tang Xiaoyu looked up at the ceiling. “No.”

“So you are! Let me see—how much have you stashed away?”

He snatched the calculator and checked.

“Good heavens!”

“Three hundred seventy thousand Lang coins!”

“How did you save up so much?”

Li Changqing was stunned. This girl’s ability to save money was astonishing!

Tang Xiaoyu blinked. “If you don’t spend, you save.”