Chapter 21: The Beginner’s Journey of the Fat Man

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“You old miser, you earned 600,000 but gave me only 500! What are you thinking? You’re such a tightwad! Am I not your own disciple?”

“You brat, I’m just trying to prevent you from wasting it all recklessly by holding onto it for you first. Having too much money in your hands will make you indulge in pleasures and neglect your cultivation. You should understand my good intentions,” the old man said, looking at Liu Jun as if everything was for his own good.

You read that right—Liu Jun had returned to the shop and immediately got into a quarrel with the old man over the commission.

“Nonsense! You old miser, you’re just stingy. You call yourself Qingfengzi, but you’re more like Stingypenny. I don’t care; give me 30,000. Even if I didn’t achieve anything, I still put in effort. With this pittance, forget buns—I’d have to eat plain steamed bread without any pickles just to last until the end of the month!” Liu Jun spat angrily.

“Eight hundred!” “Twenty thousand!” “Nine hundred!” “Ten thousand!” “One thousand, don’t get greedy.” “Eight thousand! Is this how you treat your own disciple?” “Two thousand! You little brat, why would I need your lessons on being a master? I’m just saving it for you; you’ll have plenty of expenses later.” “Five thousand! I believe you’re just being miserly! I wanted to buy an electric scooter, but this money isn’t even enough for the battery!” “Three thousand! Take it or leave it. If not, the money’s gone anyway. Don’t you think you should buy a used scooter first?”

“All right! You’re ruthless! Three thousand it is. Give me the money!” Liu Jun growled.

The old man took out 3,000 yuan and slammed it into Liu Jun’s hand.

Thus, Qingfengzi, a disciple of the Maoshan sect, and his master Jin Qianzi had an unpleasant discussion over the commission, but finally reached an agreement.

“Old man, I have a friend who wants to learn Daoist arts. He seems decent enough. Can you teach him?” Liu Jun asked, clutching the money as he reached the door, suddenly remembering the fat guy and turning back to ask the old man.

Though a bit of a troublemaker, the fat guy’s character wasn’t bad. If he could get along with the little fox spirit Baishusu, it meant he wasn’t wicked. Such a spiritual fox would instinctively sense a person’s virtue or evil. Given Baishusu’s nature, if the fat guy were truly evil, it would be strange if she didn’t swallow him whole.

“You can bring him here for a look, but even if he has the aptitude, he can only be a registered disciple. Also, little fox, if you chew on my grandmaster’s chair again, I’ll lock you up,” the old man warned, addressing Liu Jun first, then Baishusu, who had returned to her original form and was gnawing on the chair.

Liu Jun hurried over to pick up the little fox. That grandmaster’s chair wasn’t cheap, and if the old man made him pay for it, the freshly acquired 3,000 yuan might not be enough.

As they left, the fat guy called. When stepping off the train, he insisted on leaving his number or else he would follow persistently.

“Hey, Fatty, this is your brother Liu. You want to learn Daoist arts, right? My master is here today. Hurry over and check it out. The address is 89 Zhiyang Road.”

“Damn, Brother Liu, you’re my real brother! I’m coming right now,” the fat guy said excitedly on the other end.

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After a while, a taxi pulled up outside. The fat guy squeezed out of the car, and as he got out, the taxi bounced slightly. Spotting Liu Jun, he rushed over and gave him a huge bear hug, nearly crushing him.

“Brother Liu, you’re awesome! Whenever you need me, just say the word. I’ll go through fire and water for you.”

“Enough chatter. My master is waiting inside,” Liu Jun said, heading into the shop. Inside, the old man was sitting in the grandmaster’s chair, slowly sipping tea in his Daoist robe. At first glance, he really looked like a cultivated master.

“Master, this is my friend, Mi Gang.” Liu Jun had to say “master” in front of others. The fat guy’s real name was Mi Gang; he had told me on the train. Liu Jun had even teased him about it: “Mi Gang, rice barrel—your parents must be terrified you won’t gain weight.”

“Sit down first. I’ll take a look at your bone structure,” the old man said, adopting the pose of a master as he examined Mi Gang.

Mi Gang plopped into the grandmaster’s chair, which creaked under his weight. The old man winced. Mi Gang stretched out his hand. The master felt his palm and then motioned for him to lean his head forward, feeling it too. He frowned and fell silent for a long time.

“M-master, is there something wrong?” Mi Gang’s voice trembled. Anyone would panic seeing a master frown and go silent after checking their bones.

“You’re too fat,” the old man finally said, frowning.

“What?”

“I said you’re too fat. I couldn’t find your bones,” the old man repeated. Damn it, if he didn’t find the bones, why bother falling silent?

“Though I couldn’t find your bone structure, I observed your facial features. You have no affinity with Daoism but are connected to Buddhism. I have an old friend who’s been searching for a disciple to pass on Buddhist teachings. Unfortunately, he never found a suitable candidate before passing on. He entrusted me with his secret teachings and asked me to find someone. Would you be willing to cultivate Buddhism and take him as your master? His Buddhist practice is no less profound than my Daoist arts.” Unbeknownst to Liu Jun, the old man had a Buddhist master friend. Liu Jun thought: Why hasn’t that master enlightened him? At least he’d have renounced all attachments and viewed money as dirt.

“Well, Master, I want to practice Buddhism too, but I can’t handle all those rules. Shaving my head is fine, but no meat? That’s basically killing me,” Mi Gang complained.

“No, no, you don’t have to shave your head or avoid meat entirely if you study Buddhism under this master. The Buddha Shakyamuni said in the Vinaya that as long as the animal you eat wasn’t killed by you, wasn’t killed because of you, and you didn’t witness its slaughter, you can eat it. This is the origin of the Three Clean Meats and Five Clean Meats,” the old man explained.

Looks like Mi Gang had deep Buddhist roots. When the old man accepted Liu Jun, he never gave such advice.

“All right, I’ll take the master and practice Buddhism,” Mi Gang decided. If he couldn’t do Daoism, Buddhism would do—it was pretty impressive too.

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The old man, seeing Mi Gang’s agreement, went upstairs and brought down a bundle wrapped in golden cloth, placing it on the tea table and opening it. Inside were several books, a round golden bead, a begging bowl, and a string of Buddhist prayer beads.

He asked Mi Gang to kneel before the tea table while he bowed slightly beside him.

“Today, Qingfengzi of the Maoshan sect, on behalf of a friend, accepts a disciple to transmit Buddhist teachings. May the ancestors forgive.”

“On behalf of my friend, I confer the Dharma name Zhiruo upon the Buddhist disciple Mi Gang.”

“Upon entering Buddhism, you must observe its precepts—avoid lust, do not kill!”

After reciting the ritual, the old man signaled for Mi Gang to kowtow. Mi Gang was much more obedient than Liu Jun had been—he completed the kowtows and didn’t get up early.

“Your master’s Dharma name is Jueyuan. Remember it well. These are several Buddhist scriptures; study them carefully. This is your master’s relic; take good care of it. These prayer beads and begging bowl are your master’s Buddhist ritual implements,” the old man said, handing the items to Mi Gang before turning to leave.

“Wait, Master, if I don’t understand the teachings, can I ask you?” Mi Gang looked at the books like they were written in a celestial language, just like me back then.

“Why ask me? I am a bona fide Maoshan Daoist—I know nothing of Buddhism. That’s why you have to study on your own,” the old man said, walking away without looking back, as if afraid Mi Gang would change his mind.

Suddenly, Mi Gang felt the path of Buddhist cultivation was bleak and fraught with hardships.

But being carefree by nature, he soon cheered up, clutching his new treasures and chuckling foolishly to himself.