35: Open schemes abound, and people's hearts are in turmoil.
Five days after the work group went down the mountain, a notice titled "Notice on Regulating Tourism Order in the Yuntai Mountain Area" was posted on the bulletin board of the Zhaojiaao Village Village Committee.
The notice was rigorously worded, jointly issued by the County Bureau of Culture and Tourism, the Public Security Bureau, the Market Supervision and Administration Bureau, and the Yuntai Town Government. There were three core points:
1. Starting today, a reservation system for tourists will be implemented in the Yuntai Mountain area, with a daily limit of five hundred people;
2. Regulate the operation of agritainment businesses; they must obtain business licenses, hygiene permits, and fire safety inspection certificates;
3. Any unit or individual is prohibited from privately collecting "incense money" or "Karma funds." Donations to religious sites must be open and transparent.
In the bottom right corner of the notice, a row of bright red official seals was lined up.
The villagers gathered in front of the bulletin board, discussing animatedly.
"Limit of five hundred? There are at least two or three thousand people a day now!"
"Get licenses? Who ever cared about those licenses before? How much will it cost to get them now?"
"Not allowed to collect money? Then my family's well water..."
Fourth Zhao squeezed to the front, his face ashen: "This is aimed at us! What regulation? It's cutting off our livelihood!"
Zhao Desheng squatted on a stone roller in the distance, smoking in silence. He didn't understand those clauses, but his intuition told him: the wind was about to change.
The day after the notice was posted, the first law enforcement team entered Zhaojiaao Village.
Three law enforcement vehicles, twelve uniformed personnel—four each from market supervision, health, and fire departments. The leader was a deputy section chief from the Market Supervision Bureau, surnamed Sun, with a stern face and a folder in hand.
"Check the agritainment businesses one by one." Section Chief Sun's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an unquestionable authority.
The first one checked was Fourth Zhao's "Yuntai Inn."
"Business license?"
"Where is the fire equipment?"
"Food hygiene permit?"
"Does the room area meet the accommodation standards?"
Questions came one after another. Fourth Zhao's forehead broke out in sweat as he rummaged through boxes and cabinets to find a few crumpled pieces of paper—it was a "Rural Family Hostel Filing Form" that the town had made them do last year, and the handwriting was almost worn away.
"This is a filing, not a license." Section Chief Sun shook his head. "According to regulations, you must suspend operations for rectification and can only reopen once all procedures are complete."
"Leader, this..." Fourth Zhao grew anxious. "If I stop, who will compensate for the losses? The guests have all booked in advance!"
"Regulations are regulations." Section Chief Sun remained unmoved. "In addition, someone reported that you are selling well water at high prices. Is this true?"
Fourth Zhao was speechless.
That day, of the seven agritainment businesses in Zhaojiaao Village, five received a "Notice of Suspension for Rectification," and two were given a three-day deadline to complete their procedures. Any mountain product stalls without a food business license were all shut down.
For a time, the village entrance was filled with complaints.
Meanwhile, checkpoints were set up on the road up the mountain.
Two auxiliary police officers and two staff members from the Bureau of Culture and Tourism set up a table with a registration book and a QR code.
"Scan the code to make a reservation; those without a reservation cannot go up the mountain."
"Today's quota is full, please go back."
"Reservation? I don't know how to use a phone!"
"Then there's nothing we can do, those are the regulations."
The tourists exploded. Some cursed and turned around to leave, some tried to force their way through but were stopped, and some called to complain on the spot. A crowd quickly gathered in front of the checkpoint, noisy and clamorous.
Halfway up the mountain, Zhao Desheng and several elders spontaneously maintained order. Looking at the chaos below, he sighed and said to the old companion beside him: "See that? This is 'regulation'."
"Uncle Desheng, do you think this is a good thing or a bad thing?" someone asked.
Zhao Desheng didn't answer, just looked toward the mountain peak.
The Daoist temple loomed in the mist, as quiet as if it were a world apart from the noise below.
On the third day after the notice was posted, the village committee held a general meeting for all villagers.
The Deputy Secretary of the Town Party Committee personally presided over it, and Zhou Mingde also came. The meeting room was packed to the rafters, filled with smoke.
"Fellow villagers!" The Deputy Secretary's voice was resonant. "The county has introduced these policies for everyone's good! It's for the long-term development of Yuntai Mountain!"
He counted on his fingers: "First, the limit is for safety. The mountain roads are narrow; what if an accident happens with so many people? Second, regulating operations is to protect the rights of tourists and our own rights. Third, religious sites should be peaceful and cannot become tools for amassing wealth—this is to protect Daoist Master Li!"
There was a buzz of conversation from the audience.
Fourth Zhao couldn't help but stand up: "Secretary, everything you said is right! But we common folk need to eat! To get those licenses and run to those departments, it won't be done in a month! Are we supposed to live on air for this month?"
"Exactly! No one cared before, and now it's suddenly so strict!"
"A limit of five hundred, how much money will our village lose?"
The Deputy Secretary pressed his hands down, signaling for silence: "The government has considered everyone's difficulties. Therefore—" he drew out his voice, "as long as you cooperate with the regulations and are included in the unified management, the government will prioritize low-interest loans to help with renovations and upgrades. Additionally, after the scenic area is completed, local villagers will be prioritized for employment."
He paused and dropped a bombshell: "In the preliminary planning, after the scenic area is completed, every household in Zhaojiaao Village can receive annual profit dividends from the scenic area, estimated to be no less than this amount—"
He held up three fingers.
"Three hundred?" someone asked quietly.
"Three thousand!" The Deputy Secretary raised his voice.
The meeting hall went silent for a moment, then erupted into even louder discussion.
Three thousand! For this mountain village where the average annual income was less than eight thousand, it was practically an astronomical figure.
"Of course," the Deputy Secretary's tone shifted, "this requires the whole village to be of one heart and support the development of the scenic area. If anyone obstructs..." He didn't finish, but the meaning was clear.
In private after the meeting, the work group began "ideological work" on key figures.
Zhou Mingde personally invited Zhao Desheng for tea.
"Old Zhao, you're an old Party member with high awareness." Zhou Mingde poured him tea. "You've seen the current situation in the village; the young people want to make money, which is a good thing. As for Daoist Master Li, we respect him, but the Daoist temple isn't private property after all; it must serve the overall situation."
Zhao Desheng smoked in silence.
"I know you have a deep relationship with the Abbot." Zhou Mingde continued. "But you have to think, should we keep a dilapidated temple and let the whole village stay poor, or lead everyone to wealth together? Daoist Master Li is a cultivator with a compassionate heart; he can't just watch the villagers suffer, can he?"
These words were like a needle hidden in silk.
Zhao Desheng finally looked up: "Minister Zhou, I'm not against development. I'm afraid... afraid that after all the tossing and turning, the temple will be ruined and no money will be made."
"How could that be?" Zhou Mingde smiled. "Government-led development, scientific planning, sustainable development. The temple will only be better repaired, and the incense will be even more prosperous. If Daoist Master Li is willing to cooperate, he'll gain both fame and fortune; if not... the Daoist Association can coordinate, and it wouldn't be impossible to change to a more 'enlightened' Abbot."
This last sentence was light, but it made Zhao Desheng's heart sink.
Up on the mountain, Li Muchen saw everything below as clearly as fire.
His Spiritual Sense was like a net, covering several miles around. The arguments at the checkpoint, the villagers' complaints, the mobilization in the meeting room, Zhao Desheng's silence... every little detail was within his perception.
He still performed his morning and evening lessons, swept the grounds, and received guests every day.
Only there were fewer visitors—with the daily limit of five hundred and strict reservation reviews, most who could come up the mountain were those truly seeking the Dao or piously praying for blessings. The Daoist temple regained its tranquility, and birds gradually flew back to the eaves.
This afternoon, Zhao Desheng went up the mountain alone.
Carrying half a bag of new rice, he hesitated for a long time outside the hall before daring to step in.
Li Muchen was sweeping fallen leaves under the ancient cypress tree. Seeing him come, he nodded slightly: "Layman Zhao."
"Abbot..." Zhao Desheng put down the rice bag, his lips trembling, wanting to speak but stopping.
Li Muchen put down the broom and led him to a stone bench to sit: "I know a thing or two about the matters down the mountain. If you have something to say, feel free, Lay Practitioner."
Zhao Desheng's eyes reddened: "Abbot, I... I've failed you. Those people in the village, for money, want to sell the temple..."
He recounted everything from the past few days: the notice, law enforcement, the meeting, the promise of three thousand yuan in dividends, and Zhou Mingde's "change the Abbot" comment.
At the end, the old man's voice choked: "I can't stop them... my son also says I'm an old fool, saying this is a once-in-a-thousand-years opportunity..."
Li Muchen listened quietly. When he finished, he said softly: "Lay Practitioner, you don't need to blame yourself. The human heart is like water, flowing with the current; there is no right or wrong."
He looked down the mountain, his gaze distant: "They want to develop and get rich; that is only human nature. My cultivation here is not meant to block anyone's livelihood."
"But Abbot, they want to..."
"Do you know, Lay Practitioner," Li Muchen interrupted him, pointing to the ancient cypress tree, "this tree has stood here for three hundred years, through war, natural disasters, and man-made calamities. Some wanted to chop it for firewood, some wanted to move it for landscaping, some wanted to peel its bark for medicine. Yet it still stands here today. Why?"
Zhao Desheng shook his head blankly.
"Because its roots are deep," Li Muchen withdrew his hand. "When the roots are there, it fears no wind or rain, and no axe can harm it. The human heart is like water; it can be channeled and guided, but not forcefully blocked. If they want to develop, let them develop. If they want to make money, let them make money, Lay Practitioner."
He paused, his voice deepening: "But if anyone wants to touch the Foundation of this temple, or destroy the peace of this mountain... then we shall see whether their axes are sharper, or the roots of this temple are deeper."
As he finished, a mountain wind suddenly rose.
The branches and leaves of the ancient cypress tree rustled loudly, like waves.
Zhao Desheng stared blankly at Li Muchen, feeling that the figure of this young Abbot in the wind was as majestic as a mountain, immovable.
He suddenly remembered the stories his grandfather told him as a child: there are true cultivators in the mountains who appear like Mortals normally, but manifest divinity when things happen.
"Abbot..." he murmured, "you really are..."
"I am just a temple keeper." Li Muchen smiled and helped him up. "Go back now, Lay Practitioner. Tell the villagers that the temple is here; it won't block anyone's livelihood, nor will it allow anyone to be insolent. If everyone is well, it will be a fine day."
Zhao Desheng bowed deeply and turned to go down the mountain.
His steps were much steadier than when he came.
At dusk, the last batch of reserved tourists went down the mountain.
The Daoist temple returned to silence.
Li Muchen stood before the mountain gate, his moon-white Daoist robe shimmering in the twilight. He looked down the mountain—the lights of Zhaojiaao Village were dotted, the neon signs of the agritainment businesses were mostly extinguished, and only the windows of the village committee were still lit.
There, they should still be in a meeting.
Discussing how to "persuade" him, how to "regulate" the temple, and how to incorporate this peaceful place into the blueprint they had planned.
He lightly flicked his sleeve.
In his sleeve, a newly signed-in earth vein suppression talisman was slightly warm.
His Spiritual Sense sank into the ground, perceiving the flow of the Spiritual Vein in the mountain. The Spirit Gathering Formation was operating silently, the roots of the ancient cypress tree reached deep into the rock layers, and the water veins of the Spirit Well connected to the earth qi.
This temple, this mountain, had long been connected to his aura.
Overt schemes like the tide, unsettled hearts.
Then let the tide come, and let the hearts be moved.
He wanted to see what kind of waves would be stirred when the rules of the secular world and the calculations of interests collided with the dao rhyme rooted for a hundred years and the gradually awakening Spiritual Vein.
He turned and returned to the hall.
The hall doors closed, shutting out the deepening night.
Under the ever-burning lamp, the statue sat quietly.
Its features were compassionate, its appearance solemn.
A mountain storm was coming, but the temple was silent.
In the silence, thunder was brewing.