Miaokong stood among the crowd like the moon surrounded by stars. Suddenly, he turned his head to look at Chu Ying, a trace of mockery on his face:
"This patron, surely you won't question this poor monk any longer now?"
"What? Someone actually dares to master Miaokong? Ridiculous! A true Buddha descends and they don't even know it, truly pitifully stupid..."
Without needing Miaokong to stir them up, countless believers had already begun raining verbal abuse down on Chu Ying.
The trouble had started because of him, and Song Juran felt guilty. He stood up to defend Chu Ying: "Master, as the saying goes, the ignorant are not to be blamed. Brother Chu is my friend and may have different beliefs from yours. Please forgive him this once."
"So the patron's surname is Chu." Monk Miaokong stepped out from the crowd and turned back. "This poor monk naturally has no issue with Patron Chu, but since the patron has repeatedly insulted the Buddha's teachings, surely there should be some explanation?"
He had long harbored dissatisfaction toward Chu Ying, and now, backed by the consensus of the crowd, how could he easily let the other man off?
Lei Kai swept his gaze over the fanatical believers, set down his cup, and whispered to Chu Ying: "Your Highness, this fellow seems to have some real skill, and he has so many followers around him. In my view... we should probably just apologize to him?"
"What, does Master also think this man is an accomplished eminent monk?" Chu Ying asked in an equally low voice.
"Isn't he?"
"Does Master trust me?"
"If I don't trust you, who else could I trust?"
"Good. Then do me a favor and snatch the monk's alms bowl."
The moment Chu Ying's voice fell, Lei Kai sprang into action. Like an agile ape, he dashed right in front of Miaokong in a flash.
Miaokong felt only a blur before his eyes. By the time he could see clearly again, Lei Kai was already back in his original spot, handing the alms bowl over to Chu Ying.
"You... why did you snatch this poor monk's alms bowl?"
Miaokong felt a pang of panic, his expression shifting rapidly.
"Nothing much. I just want to prove something."
Seeing that there was still nearly half a bowl of water inside, Chu Ying couldn't be bothered to add more. He pressed his hand into the water a few times, then flipped the bowl upside down—yet not a single drop of water spilled out.
"Everyone, take a look. There is no water in here, right?"
No one spoke. None of them understood the meaning of this, save for Miaokong, whose heart skipped a beat.
Only to see Chu Ying flip the alms bowl back over, hand it to Song Juran, and smile: "Brother Song, please pour a few drops of tea inside."
Song Juran looked at Chu Ying in shock, then picked up his teacup and repeated what had been done just moments before.
"Everyone, watch closely."
Supporting the alms bowl, Chu Ying imitated Miaokong's technique, shook it a few times, and then tilted the vessel.
*Whoosh, whoosh...*
A massive volume of clear water poured cascading down.
"This... isn't this uncontaminated rainwater? Could it be he also understands true Buddhist methods?"
"No way, didn't the Master say he has no affinity with the Buddha?"
"Please, Master Miaokong, enlighten us..."
Chu Ying's trick left everyone dumbfounded, utterly unable to believe what was happening before their eyes.
Even the Song siblings, Lei Kai, and Wang Pu looked at him in astonishment, having no idea how he had pulled it off.
Someone with no affinity with the Buddha was actually able to summon uncontaminated rainwater—Monk Miaokong's expression turned exceptionally ugly, the distinct feeling that he had lifted a rock only to drop it on his own feet.
Suddenly, inspiration struck him in his panic. He pointed a finger at Chu Ying and shouted sternly: "Heretic! That is no uncontaminated rainwater of yours; it is clearly a heterodox trick!"
"Ha. When you summon it, it's uncontaminated rainwater, but when I do it, it isn't? Could it be that your Buddhist teachings taught you to play the double standard like this?"
Chu Ying paused and added, "So-called double standards mean having two sets of rules. Understand?"
"You... Fine! Since that is the case, this poor monk shall compete with you to show what true Buddhist magic is. If you can pull this off as well, this poor monk will naturally have nothing more to say."
Cornered, Monk Miaokong decided to pull out his ultimate trump card.
He took out a finger-sized object, cradled it in his palm, and presented it for everyone to see.
"Everyone, look. What is this?"
"This is... a lotus seed."
Soon, someone recognized the item.
"Correct. This is a lotus seed. The Buddha's dharma is vast; a single instant is eternity. Next, I shall make it sprout and bloom into a lotus flower in the span of a breath."
Miaokong's words shocked many: "How is that possible? A single lotus seed—how could it bloom instantly?"
There were also those who knew the inside story and were overwhelmingly excited, knowing they were finally going to witness the legendary lotus blooming from the void.
After showing it off, Miaokong had someone bring over a charcoal brazier used for warming against the fire—this was what set Taibai House apart, as they prepared this item free of charge for every table of diners.
He suddenly began chanting a spell, blew a breath onto the lotus seed, and tossed it directly into the brazier.
A miraculous scene unfolded.
As soon as the lotus seed entered the charcoal brazier, it instantly turned charred and black.
Then, with a soft *pop*, it transformed into a pink lotus flower larger than a fist, looking practically lifelike.
Seizing the opportunity, Monk Miaokong leaned over, swiftly fished out the lotus flower, and cupped it in his hands, smiling like a Buddha holding a flower:
"A single pot holds the world, a fraction of time contains winter and summer; capable of creating three thousand laws, able to make flowers bloom in an instant."
"Good heavens, growing a golden lotus in fire! This is true lotus blooming from the void—true Buddhist magic!"
"Amitabha. Having the fortune to witness this today, my life is without regret."
"Thank you, Master..."
This spectacle was far too shocking. Countless people dropped to their knees, chanting Buddhist names, truly regarding Monk Miaokong like a Buddha.
Even the Song siblings and the bodyguard Wang Pu were deeply moved, pressing their palms together to bow to Miaokong, stopping just short of kneeling.
Monk Miaokong kept his composure, though inwardly he felt immensely pleased.
This art of blooming lotuses from the void was his unique secret technique, and preparing it required a great deal of effort. He simply refused to believe Chu Ying had a way to replicate it.
Certain of victory, Monk Miaokong motioned for the crowd to quiet down, then stared at Chu Ying: "Heretic, the lotus flower represents the true Buddha dharma. This time, can you still pull this off?"
"I can't."
Chu Ying showed not the slightest sign of panic. Instead, he smiled brightly: "However, I can expose you... Master!"
Following their earlier coordination, Lei Kai grasped the intent instantly and bolted forward once more.
This time, Miaokong had been prepared and instinctively stepped back.
Unfortunately, who was Lei Kai? The commander of the Great Chu imperial guards—how could his martial prowess be something an ordinary monk could contend with?
Without any surprise, the lotus flower was snatched into Chu Ying's hands once again.
"You... You truly are a heretic, daring to seize the Buddhist golden lotus! Everyone, are you willing to protect the Dharma for this poor monk?"
Panicking and terrified of his ruse being exposed, Monk Miaokong incited the believers to step forward. A dozen people immediately rushed over with angry roars.
"Let's see who dares!"
Lei Kai stood guard in front of Chu Ying with the imposing aura of a fierce tiger descending a mountain. With a heavy stamp of his foot, the wooden floorboards trembled instantly, scaring the crowd into shrinking back.
"Master needn't trouble yourself. Leave this to me."
Chu Ying stepped out from behind Lei Kai and raised the lotus flower for all to see: "Everyone, you've been deceived. This isn't a lotus flower at all. Watch closely."
With a firm stroke downward, the pink lotus flower instantly disintegrated into tattered white grass residue, along with a length of twisted copper wire.
Monk Miaokong's body shuddered as a bad feeling washed over him...
"See that? This thing is actually made of pith paper. This white grass residue is the proof."
"He first crafts the petals, paints them, then uses copper wire wound into a tiny spiral, passes it through the stem of the pith paper, compresses the lotus flower into a small lump, and plugs it into a hollowed-out lotus seed, sealing it with peach gum. Finally, he camouflages it with a paintbrush, and it becomes a lotus seed capable of blooming in an instant."
Pointing at the glowing charcoal brazier, Chu Ying continued: "As everyone knows, peach gum melts upon encountering fire. Once the lotus seed blossoms, the lotus formed from the coiled copper wire springs out, and then you all see it bloom..."
"The reason this monk snatched the lotus flower away so quickly is simply because he knew the truth and was terrified that the fire would burn the flower and expose the trick. He had no choice but to do it, and he casually recited a poem along the way to divert your attention."
With every word Chu Ying spoke, Miaokong's complexion grew a shade paler.
By the end, his entire face was completely devoid of blood. He felt his limbs grow icy, his body trembling uncontrollably.
Because every single word Chu Ying said was true—his deception had been thoroughly seen through.
Monk Miaokong cursed his wretched luck inwardly. How could he have run into such a shrewd fellow?
How could he possibly know?
During missions in backward nations in his past life, Chu Ying had seen far too many ignorant locals deceived by similar magic tricks into believing them to be divine miracles.
In the end, they willingly joined certain cults and committed atrocities that outraged both man and god.
To help eradicate ignorance in those regions, Chu Ying and his comrades had deliberately studied these stage magic tricks, making them crystal clear on all the mechanics involved.
There weren't many fools present. Once he laid it out, backed by the copper wire and pith paper as evidence, quite a few people caught on.
"What 'lotus blooming from the void'—it turns out he's just a swindler! And here I was treating him like an eminent monk. Bald donkey, you've got some nerve coming here to pull off a scam..."
Seeing the unfriendly looks on the crowd's faces, Monk Miaokong grew alarmed and terrified. He hastily pointed at Chu Ying and shouted:
"Everyone, don't believe this man's words! He is a heretic deliberately misleading you, trying to make you desecrate the Buddha's dharma..."
Without explaining further, Chu Ying grabbed the earlier alms bowl, scooped out a transparent, slightly whitish circular thin membrane from it, and continued his popular science lesson:
"And as for this uncontaminated rainwater—actually, he had already poured water into the bowl beforehand, covered it with this thin cowhide membrane, and utilized atmospheric pressure... Never mind, you just need to know that once this thing is stretched across the top, as long as it's airtight, the water won't pour out."
With that, he poured some water into the alms bowl and demonstrated. True to his word, the water did not spill, drawing murmurs of wonder from the crowd.
"Good thing we had this kind sir to clear things up for us. It turns out the so-called true Buddhist methods are all just street magic tricks. It's our own foolishness for almost falling for this bald donkey's scheme..."
With evidence hard as nails, the crowd placed their complete trust in Chu Ying once more, stepping forward one after another to express their gratitude.
"Don't believe him! This man is talking pure nonsense... That's right, he's the one playing tricks! This poor monk used the real—ow!"
Monk Miaokong refused to give up. Before he could finish speaking, a fist smashed squarely into his eye, instantly drawing a miserable scream.
"Real your sister! Damn bald donkey, you still take us for fools? Let's all pile on and beat him!"
Having lost face, the crowd was just looking for a vent for their frustration. Hearing that shout, responses rang out immediately like an echo. They swarmed forward, raining punches and kicks down on the monk.
"Ow, ow, ow, ow... It hurts, it hurts! This little monk knows his error! Good heroes, spare my life, spare my life..."
Beaten black and blue, Monk Miaokong scurried about clutching his head, trying to break through in all directions, but helplessly, the crowd he had lured in was simply too large for him to escape.
In the end, with his robes in tatters and his face bruised and swollen, he could only curl up on the ground and beg for mercy—truly reaping what he had sown.
Fortunately, Song Juran finally stepped in to block the crowd, saving his life just in the nick of time.
" Sank you, Sone... Sone Patwron, many thanks. This little mon' ca'n't pr-pronun... ca'n't speak propewy..."
Monk Miaokong stuttered out his bows and expressions of gratitude, his speech whistling through the gaps where a few teeth had been knocked out.
Song Juran didn't give him a pleasant look, waving his hand impatiently: "Forget it. I'm saving you only to ask you one question: out of everyone you could scam, why did you have to target me?"
"Because... because this poor monk once traveled through the Donglan Kingdom and saw His Highness on an imperial tour. I heard His Highness had come here, so..."
"So you recognized my identity. No wonder..."
Song Juran finally understood that this fellow couldn't actually read fortunes—he had simply been recognized and treated as a fat pig ready for slaughter.
He was thoroughly furious. He had lost an immense amount of face tonight.
To thank Chu Ying, he had the staff replace the wine and dishes, restarting the banquet.
As for Monk Miaokong, he had Wang Pu tie him up and drag him away so he wouldn't stick around and ruin the mood.
After downing several cups, Song Juran finally calmed down, his attitude even turning proactive.
Pouring a full cup of wine, he suddenly stood up and faced Chu Ying:
"What just happened made a fool of me in front of Brother Chu. To think I fancied myself clever, only to be played in the palm of a charlatan's hand. Thankfully, Brother Chu stepped in just in time. I am truly ashamed. This cup of wine is my toast to you."
Seeing him lower his posture so much, Song Shishi couldn't help muttering: "Brother, why are you thanking him? Didn't he arrive late too? We're basically even."
"Don't talk nonsense. Without Brother Chu's help, your elder brother would have become a laughingstock after tonight."
Song Juran glared at her, finished his wine, sat back down, and looked at Chu Ying, hesitating for a moment: "Brother Chu, I have something I'm wondering if I ought to say?"
"Brother Song, please speak." Chu Ying paused his chopsticks.
Song Juran was already slightly drunk, his expression tinged with excitement: "I remember when Brother Chu stepped in just now, you mentioned that you also understand statecraft and governance, and even said you wanted to earn my silver?"
"That's right." Chu Ying smiled. "What, is Brother Song actually prepared to send silver my way?"
"Those were Brother Chu's own words, and indeed, I have precisely that intention."
Song Juran seized the opportunity to nod: "Brother Chu knows my true identity. To tell you the truth, the reason I fell so easily for that trick is precisely because I lack confidence when it comes to political affairs."
"Concerning the future well-being of the common people of Donglan, I often feel as though I am walking on thin ice, not daring to slack off for even a moment. It's a pity my talent is limited... Brother Chu is well-read and profoundly knowledgeable, as demonstrated by your actions just now. If you have any insights in this area, please do not hesitate to guide me."
At this, he stood up once again, executed a solemn bow toward Chu Ying, and produced the earlier banknotes, placing them right on the table:
"If Brother Chu is willing, please take these banknotes as you please."
Chu Ying fell silent.
To be honest, what he had said earlier was merely a joke.
If he were actually going to earn money from an acquaintance using this, he would feel somewhat ill at ease.
"What is Brother Chu hesitating for? I am sincerely seeking instruction. If you consider me, Song Juran, a friend, then please enlighten me!"
Song Juran offered yet another bow.
Seeing his sincere attitude, Chu Ying suddenly thought of his mother, Consort Rong.
He was about to leave the Capital, leaving his mother behind alone. In the short term, there was no way he could repay her nurturing grace.
If he could leave behind a bit of security for her, at least once he reached Shuncheng, he would have a little less to worry about...
For the sake of Consort Rong, Chu Ying ultimately agreed to Song Juran's request:
"Very well. Since Brother Song insists, I won't take advantage of you either. One hundred taels per question. If Brother Song feels satisfied, you pay afterward. How does that sound?"
Relying on his reflections on politics from his past life, coupled with his deep immersion in millennia of history, Chu Ying felt he should be able to handle this.
The moment his voice fell, he heard Song Shishi teasing: "I advise you to ask for a lot more all at once. My brother is a famously brilliant scholar in Donglan; there aren't many questions that can stump him."
"A hundred taels is enough." Chu Ying remained unmoved. One word was as good as gold—that was his principle in life.
"Thank you, Brother Chu!"
Overjoyed, Song Juran quickly sat down and lowered his voice: "There is a question that has troubled me for a very long time. Brother Chu should know about vassal kings—these men hold fiefdoms so vast that once they harbor disloyal thoughts, they pose a tremendous threat to the imperial court. How should one guard against this?"
"That's simple. While they haven't grown strong yet, you can implement the 'Subdivision Edict'."
Chu Ying thought to himself that this was indeed within his capabilities; those hundred taels were secured.
"Subdivision Edict?" Song Juran looked blank. In this era, there was no Emperor Wu of Han.
"It means the imperial court issues an edict in the name of imperial grace stating that upon a vassal king's death, he must divide his fiefdom among all his sons, and those sons must in turn divide it among all their grandsons. By continuing to divide the land this way generation after generation, the fiefs become thinned out, and the crisis resolves itself."
"Brilliant strategy! Brother Chu truly possesses great talent. I've asked the right person this time."
Song Juran's eyes lit up as he listened, resolving to strongly urge his royal father to make those vassal kings produce more sons when he returned.
He drew out a hundred taels, respectfully placed it before Chu Ying, and after a moment's thought, continued: "My second question..."
This question happened to be something Chu Ying had seen in his past life as well—similar to replacing native chieftains with appointed officials—and naturally, he provided the optimal solution.
The more Song Juran listened, the more alarmed he became.
He discovered that no matter how tricky his questions were, Chu Ying could always promptly deliver a solution.
Moreover, Chu Ying's perspective on problems was consistently high-reaching and hit the nail right on the head, even able to foresee societal changes a century into the future.
Many problems that had left him scratching his head were suddenly illuminated under Chu Ying's guidance, making him realize just how naive he had been before.
He felt as though he were no longer facing a peer, but rather his own unfathomable imperial father.
In fact, Chu Ying might even surpass his father.
After consulting on seven or eight consecutive questions, Song Juran had long since admired Chu Ying to the point of complete submission.
Just like an ignorant schoolboy facing a learned grand master, he felt as though he stood before a boundless ocean, its depths unfathomable.
"To hear you speak for a moment is better than reading books for ten years. Brother Chu's great talent is far beyond my reach."
By the time Chu Ying had earned nine hundred taels, Song Juran finally couldn't help exclaiming in awe.
"Brother Song flatters me. These are merely my own superficial views, hardly worth mentioning."
Chu Ying had never seen so much money in his life. A wave of joy surged in his heart, causing him to blurt out, "Why isn't Brother Song asking anymore? At least wait until I round it up to a thousand taels?"
"Uh..."
Song Juran smiled bitterly: "Brother Chu's scholarship is simply too profound. I'm afraid if I keep asking, I'll have nowhere to hide my shame."
Seeing Song Juran conceding defeat in front of Chu Ying, Song Shishi felt unconvinced and couldn't help chiming in:
"Hmph! Does statecraft and governance even count as true scholarship? If you've really got skills, try comparing poetry and lyrics! My brother is a famously great talent in Donglan; hardly anyone can compare to him..."
Before she even finished speaking, the street outside Taibai House suddenly grew bustling and noisy, filled with a deafening cacophony of gongs, drums, and human voices.
Following that, dazzling multicolored lights erupted across the street as a golden-red dragon meandered in from afar.
Playing the part of a young girl after all, Song Shishi hastily rushed over to the window to look down, crying out in pleasant surprise:
"It's a dragon lantern dance! The Lantern Festival is coming, and the dragon lantern performances have started already? How pretty! Brother, come look!"
Seeing that Song Juran unusually ignored her, she suddenly turned her head, looking displeased at Chu Ying.
Beneath her delicate crescent eyebrows, her lake-like eyes held a trace of mischievous cunning as she clapped her hands and smiled:
"I've got it! Since Brother Chu is so talented, this younger sister would also like to pose a challenge. Let's take the Lantern Festival and the dragon lanterns as the theme, and ask you to compose a poem. How about that?"
"Why should I compose a poem?" Chu Ying saw right through her little trick. "If I write it poorly, wouldn't I just become a laughingstock for no reason?"
"Then that means you don't dare?"
Song Shishi's true colors were exposed. Believing she had clawed back a victory, she folded her arms across her chest: "I knew it. You only know a bit more about political affairs. If you really want to compete with my brother in poetry and lyrics, you're still far behind."