“That’s nonsense! The master is leading us to eternal life! As long as we cleanse ourselves of karmic burdens, he’ll take us to a higher realm! There, everything exists—it’s ten thousand times better than this hell on earth!”
“The master is right! This world is devouring us! Only by abandoning our sins and becoming pure can we reach a higher realm!”
“We want to live! What’s wrong with wanting to live? Just because you give us charity every day, does that mean we’re not allowed to think for ourselves?”
Their hysterical shouting seemed to still the entire town.
Yuan Zhao could understand their suffering. But they had always continued giving aid, never abandoning these people—and in the end, it was seen as lofty charity.
It was… almost laughable.
“Don’t take it to heart. They’re not in their right minds right now. Those words aren’t what they truly mean,” Shi Wuxiang said quickly, pulling him back before he could spiral into dark thoughts.
“…I know. That’s why we have to find that demonic monk,” Yuan Zhao said.
He had seen with his own eyes how desperately these people once struggled to survive. Yet in just a few days, they had become so numb.
Their hearts must have already been full of despair—making it easy for ill-intentioned people to take advantage.
Yuan Zhao couldn’t blame them. Nor could he bring himself to.
Shi Wuxiang turned to the constable. “This must be reported to the magistrate first. We need his orders before taking further action. The best course is to arrest the monk—but if we’re not careful, it could provoke public outrage.”
“We understand,” the constable said with a bitter smile. “We’re more experienced in handling unruly crowds. We’ll report to the magistrate immediately.”
Shi Wuxiang glanced at the crowd, then gave the constable a look before raising his voice slightly. “That monk is spreading dangerous lies and misleading the people. He must be brought to justice! The safety of the town rests with the magistrate!”
The constable didn’t fully understand, but he caught the intent and loudly affirmed before turning to leave.
Yuan Zhao, Shi Wuxiang, and the servants from the merchant families stood outside the eatery. Even knowing the people had been misled, it was infuriating that they would starve themselves for some so-called higher realm.
But they couldn’t just let them die.
“We’ll keep distributing food every day. If you want to live, then eat. If you don’t, then watch as the food that should have been yours fills someone else’s stomach,” Yuan Zhao shouted, hoping to stir their will to live. Then he turned to Jia Xiaomei and Chen Yishu. “From now on, don’t cook so much porridge. They’ve been eating too well—that’s why they have time to overthink.”
“Yes.”
Shi Wuxiang patted his shoulder, urging him to calm down. In this blazing heat, such anger would only harm his health.
The merchant servants had long been dissatisfied but didn’t dare speak in front of Shi Wuxiang. They simply focused on overseeing the distribution.
“Come inside and rest,” Shi Wuxiang said, guiding Yuan Zhao in and fanning him with a palm leaf fan. “Once that monk is caught, this will end.”
“Why did you speak so loudly just now? What if they heard you and warned him? What if he runs?” Yuan Zhao snapped, his temper flaring like firecrackers.
“I did it on purpose,” Shi Wuxiang replied.
“On purpose?” Yuan Zhao’s voice shot up, nearly cracking. “How could you do that on purpose?!”
“Lower your voice.” Shi Wuxiang tapped his forehead. “If I didn’t say it loud enough for them to hear, how would that monk panic and try to flee? The magistrate will have all exits sealed. That’s how you catch a turtle in a jar.”
“Ohhh… I see! Then why didn’t you say so earlier? You made me misunderstand you!” Yuan Zhao laughed sheepishly and took the fan from him, fanning him instead. “It’s so hot—you really shouldn’t get angry!”
Shi Wuxiang snorted. “Have I gotten angry lately? I’ve been coaxing you every day, and you’re still not satisfied—always yelling at me. Is that how you treat your husband?”
Yuan Zhao didn’t answer, only grinned foolishly and lightly punched him a couple of times in a playful, affectionate way. He knew Shi Wuxiang had never truly been angry over such things.
“I can’t even be bothered to get mad at you,” Shi Wuxiang said.
“That’s because you’re good and I’m bad!” Yuan Zhao said quickly, sweet-talking him until Shi Wuxiang’s mood visibly lifted.
After resting a while, there was still porridge left. Yuan Zhao told those who wanted to live to bring pots from home and take the leftovers back.
As for those who didn’t want to live, he gave them no room to survive.
They didn’t leave immediately after. The constables came and went in a hurry, soon joined by guards. Before long, all exits from the town were sealed.
Shi Wuxiang recognized the lead guard and stepped forward. “Guard Zhou, what did the magistrate say?”
“I was just about to tell you,” Zhou Hu replied. “The magistrate understands your point. I’m here to capture those monks in one sweep. Anyone who obstructs will be arrested as well—no leniency.”
“Good. As long as the magistrate has it handled.” Shi Wuxiang paused, then added, “The drought has lasted for days. Those monks likely didn’t just appear here—they may have come from other towns, or perhaps they aren’t even monks at all.”
Zhou Hu’s expression sharpened. “Understood.”
He immediately dispatched another team to search the entire town.
With the matter set in motion, Shi Wuxiang said no more. Even favored scholars could become annoying if they spoke too much.
He and Yuan Zhao said goodbye to Chen Yishu and returned to the village with Jia Xiaomei.
There was little more they could do beyond distributing aid. Pushing further might drag them into danger as well.
It was midsummer—once a season of lush greenery and blooming flowers. Now the roadside was barren and desolate. Dead trees clawed at the sky like vengeful spirits, as if trying to draw life from passersby.
Yuan Zhao didn’t dare look too long. He practically curled into Shi Wuxiang’s arms. “What kind of world is this…”
“Don’t think about it,” Shi Wuxiang said softly, patting his back. “How about I make fried meatballs when we get home? Ground meat mixed with vegetables, battered and fried—you loved them during New Year. Or is there something else you’d like?”
“I don’t want to eat anything.” Yuan Zhao pouted. “I just want water.”
Shi Wuxiang quickly poured him tea. Yuan Zhao gulped it down in one go, so he poured another.
“I drink this much and still don’t need to pee…” Yuan Zhao muttered, feeling strangely upset.
“You should just sleep,” Shi Wuxiang said, pulling him into his arms. “Once we’re home and you drink more, you will.”
When they got back, all three of them drank water as if they were draining a vat. Yuan Zhao was so full from drinking that he refused to eat anything. Shi Wuxiang still made fried meatballs, thinking he might get hungry later.
The family gathered in the innermost room. Several figures sprawled over the freshly wiped table. Even Shi Wuxiang rested his chin on his hand, idly flipping through a book, yawning now and then.
The blazing sun scorched the crops. Nearby canals had long since dried up, exposing the riverbed and the dead fish within. The entire village had fallen into silence—people slept by day and moved by night, surviving however they could.
Some villagers quietly came to borrow grain. The Shi family didn’t refuse—they didn’t ask for much, so they gave what they could.
Knock, knock, knock!
“Was that someone knocking?” Yuan Zhao sat up from the floor and nudged Shi Wuxiang, who had been dozing. “A’Xiang, I think someone’s at the door. I’ll go check.”
Without waiting, he got up, pulled on his inner robe and underpants. In that brief moment, he was already sweating again, and irritably pounded the floor.
“Why get upset? I’ll go check. The hotter it gets, the more irritable you become,” Shi Wuxiang said, fanning him gently. He didn’t stop him from getting dressed—whoever was knocking at this hour likely wasn’t here to borrow grain.
“Then I’ll wait for you.”
Shi Wuxiang casually threw on an outer robe and went to the front hall. Jia Xiaomei had already brought the visitor inside.
It was a constable.
The familiar constable immediately set down his teacup and stood when he saw Shi Wuxiang. “Mister Shi, we’ve been sent by the magistrate to invite you to the county office.”
“Is something urgent?” Shi Wuxiang asked.
“We’ve captured the demonic monk. But he spread a lot of rumors, and many of the townspeople have been misled—they’re making a scene and refusing to let us deal with him. The magistrate would like you to come,” the constable explained.
Shi Wuxiang nodded. “Understood. Let me change first. Please wait a moment.”
He hurried back to the room.
Yuan Zhao immediately sat up, looking anxious. “What is it? Did something happen?”
“The demonic monk’s been caught. The magistrate wants me at the county office,” Shi Wuxiang said as he changed clothes. “Stay home and rest. Let Mother know as well—they’re quiet in their room, probably still sleeping.”
“Can’t I go?” Yuan Zhao looked at him blankly.
Shi Wuxiang paused. “You complain just putting on clothes—why go out in this heat? Stay and be lazy. I’ll be back soon.”
Yuan Zhao shook his head, frowning slightly, his meaning obvious.
Shi Wuxiang didn’t dare refuse again. He quickly had him get dressed properly, and the two followed the constable toward the county seat.
Along the way, they saw people lying exposed under the scorching sun, as if calmly awaiting death—if not for the way they writhed in discomfort.
Passing through Qingshui Town, they could still hear people crying and shouting, demanding the release of the monk.
They were ignorant, yes—but if they hadn’t lost all hope of survival, they wouldn’t have fallen to this point.
In the end, it was the times that harmed people.
And it wasn’t just Qingshui Town. Along the official road, several other towns showed the same scene—people clamoring to have the monk released.
Shi Wuxiang had thought the county seat, being under the magistrate’s direct oversight, would be better. Instead, it was worse—crowds even pressed up against the yamen gates.
“Have they gone mad…” Yuan Zhao muttered.
“Shh.” Shi Wuxiang patted his back.
The constable led them in through the back gate. Fortunately, the crowd—so thoroughly misled—had not thought to block it, allowing them to enter smoothly.
They were quickly brought to the magistrate’s study. After a knock, they were summoned inside.
Magistrate Zheng looked more worn than before, though his spirits seemed slightly better. Seeing Shi Wuxiang, he brightened.
“This student greets Your Excellency, with his husband,” Shi Wuxiang said, cupping his hands in greeting. Yuan Zhao mimicked him.
“Sit, sit,” Zheng waved.
They sat without ceremony, waiting for him to speak.
Zheng wasted no time. After a brief pause, he explained everything.
The demonic monk could be executed immediately. But now, in the people’s eyes, he had become a divine figure. If he were killed outright, it might drive the people into despair, stripping them of any will to live.
As a magistrate, he could not abandon his people.
Much of this went over Yuan Zhao’s head. He quietly drank tea, occasionally admiring the patterns on the cup, his mind drifting away from the discussion.
“The only solution is to execute him,” Shi Wuxiang said lightly, yet with firm resolve. “If the monk is not removed, the situation cannot be resolved. You already know this, Your Excellency. Your hesitation comes from not being able to watch the people walk to their deaths.”
“Exactly. No matter how I urge them, it’s useless. I am angry—but how can I remain indifferent?” Zheng sighed deeply. If they were children, he could discipline them—but how could he manage so many people?
Shi Wuxiang understood. “Then you must watch them go to their deaths.”
Even Yuan Zhao froze at those cold words.
He quickly looked at Shi Wuxiang, but there was no cruelty—only calm honesty. Yuan Zhao trusted that there was a reason behind it.
“What do you mean?” Zheng’s voice trembled.
“I mean that if they want to make trouble, let them. If they want to die, let them,” Shi Wuxiang said steadily. “Using their lives to threaten you is not the behavior of good citizens. The more you hesitate, the more you fall into their trap.”
Zheng felt as though something suddenly clicked.
“You mean… they’ve grasped my weakness and are using it against me?” he asked in disbelief.
He wanted Shi Wuxiang to deny it—but instead, he confirmed it.
“Aren’t you being restrained precisely because of their threats?” Shi Wuxiang said plainly. “You care for the people. But right now, the people—blinded and misled—need to be saved.”
It was a harsh logic.
To save the many, a few might have to be sacrificed.
Zheng understood. Not truly sacrifice—but to make an example, to remind them that authority still stood.
“Guards! Parade the monk through the streets, then take him to the marketplace for public execution!”
“Yes, sir!”
Hearing that there would be a beheading, Yuan Zhao immediately perked up. He rarely came to the county seat and couldn’t help being curious—he wanted to see if the people would wake up after witnessing it.
“Should we go watch?” he whispered.
“Do you want to?” Shi Wuxiang asked.
Yuan Zhao nodded slightly.
Shi Wuxiang patted his shoulder and led him along.
The monk was paraded through the streets. To the people, it felt like provocation—their anger ignited instantly.
“Release the master! Give us back our god!”
“Heaven sent him to save us—why are you cutting off our hope? You are the evil ones! You deserve to die!”
“The master is right! Cleanse sin and ascend! We want to live! We want to become gods!”
…
From a higher vantage point, Shi Wuxiang and Yuan Zhao watched.
Shi Wuxiang didn’t feel anger—only a faint sense of irony.
If such a higher realm truly existed, why hadn’t the monk taken them there already? Why require death first?
After death, dust returns to dust. Who could lead them anywhere?
Though they had expected resistance, the starving crowd was too weak to do more than cry out. They could only watch helplessly as the monk was taken away.
At first, the monk sat calmly in the cage, putting on an act. But as the execution ground drew closer, he grew restless. He wanted to call for help—but feared losing his “divine” image.
Shi Wuxiang noticed immediately.
A soft scoff sounded nearby.
He turned and saw a tall, slender young man—clearly a “ge’er”—standing not far away, smiling at the same sight.
The man noticed his gaze and gave a slight nod before looking away again.
“A’Xiang, what are you laughing at?” Yuan Zhao tugged his arm.
The tall youth, who had just looked away, suddenly turned back—staring intently at Yuan Zhao as he clung to Shi Wuxiang in a playful manner.
Shi Wuxiang pulled Yuan Zhao closer. “That monk can’t sit still anymore.”
“He looks like he’s got ants in his pants… probably scared now that he’s about to die,” Yuan Zhao said seriously, leaning against him.
Shi Wuxiang laughed. “When did you become so clever?”
“I’ve always been clever—you’re the one who treats me like a fool.” Yuan Zhao punched him lightly, then grinned. “But since you’re so good at coaxing me, I’ll generously forgive you!”
“Thank you, young master,” Shi Wuxiang replied with mock humility.
As they joked, neither noticed the tall youth’s darkening expression. A trace of hurt flickered in his eyes before he turned and left with his attendant.
Shi Wuxiang glanced after him thoughtfully, then asked, “Do you know any tall young men?”
“How would I? Aside from He-ge’er, I don’t know any strangers… ah!” Yuan Zhao suddenly exclaimed. “Didn’t I tell you? On the way back once, I saved a young man—he was tall too.”
Shi Wuxiang nodded. If his instincts were right, that person just now was likely the one Yuan Zhao had saved—though his build didn’t quite match.
Yuan Zhao had probably, without realizing it, gotten entangled with someone again.
“That young man seems to come from a wealthy family. Don’t get too close,” Shi Wuxiang said, a hint of possessiveness in his tone.
“There you go again, treating me like a fool. Of course I know not to get close. His clothes and carriage were expensive—but he was left unattended on the road. Something was definitely wrong… I just don’t know what.” Yuan Zhao nodded seriously. “Better to stay far away. Far away is best.”
“Very smart. From now on I won’t treat you as Yuan ge’er anymore.” Shi Wuxiang pinched his fingertip, making Yuan Zhao let out a chuckling laugh.
While the two were still chatting idly, that demonic monk had already been escorted to the execution ground at the marketplace entrance, and those common people had already chased after him.
After the demonic monk was pushed onto the execution platform, he completely lost his composure. He began to incite the people, “A sinful body is about to devour the divine. All you people, if you wish to ascend to the highest realm, you must overthrow these vile sins!”
“Overthrow sin, only then can we save the Master!”
“Let’s overthrow sin! We break into the prison and make them release the Master!”
“Rescue the Master!”
The common people immediately surged forward in a swarm, ignoring the constables’ obstruction and rushing onto the execution ground. In their hearts, the county magistrate would not kill them, otherwise he would not have gone to such lengths to give alms to save them.
But the magistrate’s almsgiving could not truly save them, so they needed the Master. Only the Master could lead them away!
The constables immediately drew their blades to block them, barely forcing the people to retreat a little.
“You say a sinful body is about to devour the divine. Then what are you? You are a monk with戒 scars on your head! You are by no means of the same origin as the divine—how can you act as the master of the divine!” Magistrate Zheng suddenly shouted, pressing him with every sentence.
A monk wearing a robe with戒 scars on his head—if he claimed anything, it should be Buddha, yet he absurdly claimed to be divine. It was truly ridiculous to the extreme!
It would only fool those ignorant people with weak will; anyone a bit clear-headed would not be deceived by him.
“Amitabha, gods and Buddhas both deliver all living beings. As long as one can save the people, what difference is there between gods and Buddhas?” the demonic monk retorted stubbornly.
If these words had come from a proper eminent monk, they might carry some truth, but this was merely a demonic monk who bewitched people’s hearts.
Magistrate Zheng sneered, “You spread heretical words to confuse the masses, telling the people to abandon worldly things and karmic burdens, yet you take their grain to feed yourself. Do you dare say you can go without eating or drinking every day?”
“I can!”
“Since you can, then let us try it, shall we? If you neither eat nor drink for fifteen days and still live, and can reach the so-called highest realm you speak of, then this official will spare you!” Magistrate Zheng looked at him coldly. “You made the people starve to death alive—I want to see whether you can also endure fifteen days!”
The demonic monk immediately panicked, “You want to starve me to death—that is killing!”
“You should have died to begin with!” Magistrate Zheng stepped forward, grabbed his collar, and said viciously, “You! Should have died to begin with!”
For a moment, the entire execution ground fell into complete silence. Many people did not even dare raise a hand to wipe the sweat dripping into their eyes.
At this moment, one commoner suddenly shouted angrily, “Release our Master!”
Magistrate Zheng suddenly turned his head, his expression furious. “Even after this official has already exposed him as a fake Master, you still persist in your delusion and want me to release a murderer without guilt? Is this the divine heart you believe in!”
“Then who can save us! At a time like this, only the Master is saving us!”
“Absurd!” Magistrate Zheng roared. “Since the drought began, merchants have been giving alms and have never abandoned you. They preserved your lives—is that not saving you! Ignorant, foolish idiots!”
“We don’t care—release the Master!”
Magistrate Zheng closed his eyes briefly. “Men, administer the whipping!”