novelraw Chapter 2063 - 2065: A Plea for Help
Chapter 2063 - 2065: A Plea for Help
It’s not surprising that Ms. Luo would think this way. In the minds of ordinary people, seeing the Emperor in person is a rare honor for generations of a family. And now, not only can they be in the same hall with so many members of the imperial family, but the coffin can also be buried in the royal mausoleum. This is not sorrow, but an honor that ordinary people can never reach.
Yang Xiaochuan thought even more so, feeling a bit envious of his daughter. He wanted a son so much just to have someone to see him off when he passed away. He worked so hard to earn silver just to have a decent coffin when he died, hoping that his funeral affairs would be handled with dignity.
But now, the decency he wanted doesn’t even compare to a single pillar in the solemn imperial temple.
Sigh, Yang Xiaochuan was envious, truly envious.
If Yang Chuxia knew what he was thinking, she might be so angry she’d want to open his head to see what’s inside, wondering why a living person would envy a dead one so much.
"We probably cannot come here again, right?" Ms. Luo asked.
"Nonsense, this place looks hard to enter. How many times do you expect to come? We don’t even know how we got in this time." Yang Xiaochuan rebuked her with a couple of sentences.
He thought to himself again, once he gets back to Yangshu Village, he’d have something to boast about.
Whose daughter can still be so impressive after dying?
Who has ever been to the imperial temple?
Yang Chuxia, upon hearing this, said no more, naturally stepping into the front hall to pay her respects while passing by.
As they were leaving, a master in a gray robe emerged from the left side of the grand hall, his silhouette appearing somewhat frail.
"That’s our Master Sikong! He just arrived last month," the little novice beside them said.
"Master Sikong?" Yang Chuxia was momentarily stunned. The imperial temple isn’t a place any monk can enter; everyone who enters has a record.
The master who arrived last month must be the Grand Emperor.
Sikong, Sikong, the name is rather ironic, for what he desires all ends up being empty.
Perhaps sensing Yang Chuxia’s gaze, Master Sikong turned to look back when he reached a corner. Just one glance, and Yang Chuxia felt that the old man didn’t have much time left.
His gaze was as deep as an unfathomable dry well, his face so parched it nearly made her think a mummy plague had spread into the imperial temple.
Moreover, the color of his lips, black and purple, was a clear sign of poisoning. Whoever could poison him in the imperial temple, whoever wanted him dead, Yang Chuxia didn’t want to speculate.
"Xiaxia, is that man really a master? Can we ask him to tell your cousin’s fortune?"
Before Yang Chuxia could speak, the little novice next to them snickered softly. He just arrived last month, and you’re asking him for a fortune?
"The master probably needs to meditate. Let’s not disturb him, let’s go." Yang Chuxia didn’t elaborate, just led the two down the mountain, where Ming Lan and the others were waiting at the foot. They boarded the carriage, and the wheels began to roll.
Suddenly, shouts came from behind, "Benefactor, wait a moment, Benefactor, wait a moment!"
"Stop!"
Yang Chuxia got off the carriage and found it was the little novice.
"May I ask what business you have, young monk?"
"My master cast a divination for the lady benefactor. Here is the document!"
The little novice handed a small roll of paper to Yang Chuxia.
"Amitabha, this humble monk takes his leave!"
Yang Chuxia was somewhat puzzled. A divination for her? The best fortune teller in this imperial temple had already gone wandering, who else could it be? Could it still be Sikong?
Once aboard the carriage, she unrolled the paper, realizing it was indeed him.
It was just unexpected that he dared to. Wasn’t he afraid she’d hand over the paper?