Chapter 180 - 125: Zeng Anmin: Are Buddhas and Bodhisattvas Destined by Birth?!

Chapter 180: Chapter 125: Zeng Anmin: Are Buddhas and Bodhisattvas Destined by Birth?!

Zeng Anmin looked earnestly at the little monk, Yingchen. Seeing the candid smile on his face, he also smiled, casually slipping the candy back into his pocket. Afterward, Zeng Anmin strolled around with little Yingchen as if nothing had happened.

"You still haven’t thrown this little Wooden Sword away?" Zeng Anmin suddenly noticed Hu Zi’s small Wooden Sword in the little monk’s room.

Yingchen blinked his clear eyes and looked seriously at Zeng Anmin, asking, "Why should I throw away the gift Benefactor Hu gave me?"

"But that thing is also the murder weapon that struck your head and left a mark," Zeng Anmin said, finding it somewhat amusing. If someone had caught him off guard and struck him on the head with a sword like that, he would have definitely chopped the thing into pieces for firewood.

The little monk shook his head with solemn seriousness. "In misfortune lies the seed of fortune. If Benefactor Hu hadn’t struck my head with this object, how could I have received such an exquisite gift? With such a gift, my heart should be filled with joy. How could it be called a murder weapon?"

Zeng Anmin was somewhat touched by the little monk’s open-mindedness. He thought for a moment, took the piece of candy back out of his pocket, aimed it at the little monk’s head, and lightly tossed it.

TAP.

It hit dead center on that smooth bald head. The sound wasn’t loud, so it didn’t hurt.

"Uh..." Yingchen looked at Zeng Anmin in complete bewilderment.

"Now, you should be able to accept it, right?" Zeng Anmin smiled, catching the piece of candy as it fell and handing it to Yingchen. He blinked at the little monk.

The little monk stared blankly at the candy in Zeng Anmin’s large hand.

"This..." For a moment, he was left stunned by Zeng Anmin’s peculiar gesture.

"Hehe, what? You can make friends with Hu Zi, but you can’t make friends with me?" Zeng Anmin chuckled, stuffing the piece of candy into the little monk’s hand.

Yingchen pursed his lips, then gave a relieved smile. His smile was as pure as ever. "Then I thank the Benefactor."

After speaking, his fair, tender little hands solemnly placed the candy into his pocket.

"Just call me Brother Quan Fu from now on." Zeng Anmin found a patch of grass and lay down alongside Yingchen.

The two rested very close to each other, lying on their backs and looking up at the azure sky. A hint of complexity flashed in Zeng Anmin’s eyes, and his voice dropped low. "You know, little monk, I once knew a friend with a pure personality just like yours."

Yingchen didn’t understand why Zeng Anmin suddenly brought this up. He turned his head, the smooth back of his skull sliding against the grass, and looked at Zeng Anmin’s profile. Sensing a touch of melancholy on the Benefactor’s face, he asked curiously, "Was it also in the Capital City?"

"No, in Jiangnan, at an academy in Liangjiang Commandery." Zeng Anmin rested his head on his hands and slowly uncrossed his legs, his gaze growing distant. "If it weren’t for that accident, he and I probably would have met at the very peak of the Capital City..."

His tone carried an inexplicable sense of sorrow. Yingchen didn’t speak. He simply lay quietly beside Zeng Anmin, listening in silence. But Zeng Anmin didn’t continue either. He remained silent, quietly gazing at the sky, his eyes flickering with an unknown grief.

After a long while, Zeng Anmin let out a mournful sigh. "Now I can finally understand how Mr. Zuiyin felt when he wrote *Dreaming of Weizhi*."

Yingchen looked at Zeng Anmin curiously. "Who is Mr. Zuiyin?"

Zeng Anmin turned on his side, shaking his head with a wry smile. "A great poet from my dreams."

"And what is *Dreaming of Weizhi*?" Yingchen didn’t find Zeng Anmin’s words the least bit absurd. Instead, he felt that this newly made friend was very mysterious, making one want to chat with him for days on end.

Zeng Anmin didn’t explain much; he merely stared blankly at the sky. After a long pause, he pursed his lips. "Your bones are buried deep in the mud beneath the springs, while I remain in this realm... my head covered in snow."

Yingchen was slightly dazed. He was dazed because he couldn’t understand the poetry, so he could only stare blankly at Zeng Anmin. Yet, from those words, he could hear the melancholy in the Benefactor’s heart and the deep regret over that friend’s passing.

"From the moment he died, I made up my mind. I want to live a good life for his sake." Zeng Anmin slowly shifted his gaze to the side.

That direction pointed exactly toward the Huangque Nunnery not far away. His eyes were incredibly sharp, faintly carrying an inexplicable, piercing hatred.

"Those parasites in power who do absolutely nothing, who treat human life like dirt—they must pay the price for their actions." Zeng Anmin’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was resolute and powerful.

Even though Yingchen didn’t quite understand, he felt a surge of hot-blooded excitement flowing through his body. Holding his breath, he looked earnestly at the man beside him.

"Little monk, that small nunnery is called Huangque Nunnery, right?" Zeng Anmin slowly stood up, patted the grass off his clothes, and looked toward Yingchen, his expression perfectly calm.

"The Benefactor knows of it?" Yingchen stood up as well when he saw Zeng Anmin rise.

Upon receiving an affirmative answer, Zeng Anmin’s eyes sharpened further. "Then, in the past few days, has that crippled old man from Huangque Nunnery appeared?"

Hearing this, Yingchen furrowed his brows slightly, his face flashing with thoughtfulness. Then, he looked up at Zeng Anmin in confusion. "Mr. Huang?... He indeed hasn’t appeared these past few days, but it’s very difficult to see him anyway. Perhaps he is in the nunnery right now?"

"Mr. Huang?" Zeng Anmin keenly picked up on the name. It seemed the cripple who assassinated him that night was called Mr. Huang. "How much do you know about this Mr. Huang?"

Zeng Anmin looked casually at the little monk, a warm smile returning to his face. He was extremely patient.

"Mr. Huang..." Yingchen pondered.