40: Human hearts are like water; only the person experiencing them knows whether they are hot or cold.
On the fifth day after the seizure order was issued, the morning in Zhaojiaao Village was exceptionally quiet.
The checkpoint at the village entrance was still there, but only a few scattered tourists remained in line—news of the temple's closure had spread, and many who had traveled from afar left in disappointment upon learning they couldn't go up the mountain. The agritainment business had plummeted; today, Fourth Zhao's 'Yuntai Inn' only hosted a pair of college students who had come to gather creative inspiration.
The village committee's loudspeaker blared through the morning mist: "Attention all villagers, please note. At ten o'clock this morning, a villagers' representative meeting will be held in the village committee courtyard to discuss the compensation and resettlement plan for the Yuntai Mountain tourism development. Please ensure a representative from each household attends on time..."
The voice echoed in the empty valley, carrying a cold sense of formality.
The village committee courtyard was packed with people.
Long benches were arranged tightly together. Villagers sat or stood, whispering to one another in a complex atmosphere. Seated on the rostrum were the Deputy Secretary of the Town Party Committee, Zhou Mingde, Village Party Secretary Zhao Founding of the Nation, and two unfamiliar faces—said to be representatives from the development company.
"Quiet down, folks!" Zhao Jianguo tapped the microphone. "I've called everyone here today to announce a major matter."
He stepped aside, and Zhou Mingde took the microphone.
"Fellow villagers, I am Zhou Mingde from the County United Front Work Department; I'm sure you all know me by now." Zhou Mingde smiled kindly. "I'm here today with good news—after much deliberation by the county, the compensation and resettlement plan for the Yuntai Mountain tourism development project has finally been finalized!"
The crowd below immediately erupted into a buzz of conversation.
A representative from the development company stood up. He was a middle-aged man wearing gold-rimmed glasses, surnamed Zheng. He turned on the projector, and a complex chart appeared on the screen.
"Please look, everyone. This is our compensation plan." General Manager Zheng's voice was amplified by the microphone, clear and articulate. "It is mainly divided into three parts: First, land requisition compensation. For all land and forests within the Yuntai Mountain development planning area, compensation will be paid at 20% above the current standard."
He clicked to the next page: "Second, employment placement. Once the scenic area is completed, priority will be given to hiring local villagers. We expect to provide 150 positions in cleaning, security, tour guiding, and catering, with a monthly salary of no less than 2,500 yuan."
The next page: "Third, equity dividends. We have innovatively proposed a 'village collective shareholding' model—in the name of the village collective, the compensation funds will be invested as shares in the scenic area, allowing for annual profit dividends. Based on preliminary estimates, each household can receive..."
He paused and held up three fingers: "No less than 3,000 yuan!"
The crowd below instantly exploded.
"Three thousand?!"
"Good heavens, really three thousand?"
"Then how much will my five mu of mountain land get?"
"Can the jobs be given to the young people?"
People spoke all at once, their eyes lighting up.
Fourth Zhao was the first to stand up: "General Manager Zheng, are you a man of your word?"
"It's in black and white, with the contract as proof." General Manager Zheng smiled. "If everyone agrees, you can sign the letter of intent today."
"I'll sign!" Fourth Zhao patted his chest. "My three mu of land—I'll give it all up!"
"I'll sign too!"
"Count me in!"
The scene grew heated.
Only in the corner, Zhao Desheng squatted on the ground, smoking in silence, saying nothing.
Zhou Mingde was sharp-eyed and saw him, signaling Zhao Jianguo to go over.
Zhao Jianguo walked over and squatted next to Zhao Desheng: "Uncle Desheng, you see everyone is in support, you..."
"I'm old, I don't understand these things." Zhao Desheng interrupted him, tapping his pipe on the ground. "I just want to ask one thing: What about the temple? What about Daoist Master Li?"
His voice wasn't loud, but in the noisy hall, it was like a needle popping an inflated balloon.
The hall gradually fell silent.
Everyone's eyes turned toward the corner.
General Manager Zheng adjusted his glasses: "Old man, rest assured. As a historical building, Qingfeng Temple will be fully preserved and funds will be invested for its renovation. As for Daoist Master Li, if he is willing to cooperate, he can serve as a cultural consultant for the scenic area; if not... the Daoist Association will make proper arrangements."
"Proper arrangements?" Zhao Desheng looked up, his eyes rimmed with red. "What kind of arrangements? Kick him out? Make him homeless?"
"Old Zhao, you can't put it like that." The Deputy Secretary of the Town Party Committee spoke up. "Daoist Master Li is a capable man; he can shine wherever he goes. We can't let one person hold back the future of hundreds of people in the village."
These words carried a lot of weight.
In the hall, many people lowered their heads.
Fourth Zhao couldn't help but say: "Uncle Desheng, we know you have deep feelings for the Abbot. But you also have to think of us—my child is in college, and tuition alone is twenty thousand a year. What do we do if we don't earn money? The Wang family's daughter-in-law has been sick for three years and is drowning in debt. How can they pay it back without earning money?"
"Exactly! The Abbot is a living Bodhisattva, but even a Bodhisattva has to let us eat!"
"The Abbot has helped us a lot over the years, but we can't just stay poor forever guarding a temple, can we?"
The voices grew louder and more discordant.
Zhao Desheng looked at the familiar faces—the same villagers who used to climb the mountain to bring rice and vegetables, who used to kowtow and pray for blessings before the temple. Now, their eyes held only the desire for three thousand yuan and job positions.
His heart sank bit by bit.
"Uncle Desheng." Zhao Jianguo lowered his voice. "Just give us a nod. If you don't, the young people will have a problem with it..."
It was both a threat and a plea.
Zhao Desheng closed his eyes for a long time, then let out a long sigh.
His pipe fell to the ground, sparks scattering.
He stood up shakily, looked at the people on the rostrum, then at the villagers below. His lips trembled for a long time before he finally uttered three words:
"I... abstain."
After saying that, he walked out of the hall step by step with a hunched back.
His silhouette in the morning light looked so old and so lonely.
Inside the hall, the signing ceremony continued.
Letters of intent were handed out one by one. Villagers crowded around the tables to press their thumbprints and sign. Those who were illiterate had others sign for them, then pressed a red thumbprint over the name.
The red thumbprints were dense, looking like patches of bloodstains.
General Manager Zheng was all smiles, nodding repeatedly: "Good, good! Rest assured, everyone, as long as you sign the letter of intent, the first installment of compensation will be transferred to the village collective account within three days!"
Zhou Mingde sat on the rostrum, watching this scene, but his heart was not at ease.
He thought of the news he had received this morning: Li Muchen was still in the temple.
It had been five days since the seizure, and that young Daoist had not stepped out of the mountain gate once. The duty personnel reported that they only saw cooking smoke rising daily and occasionally heard the sound of chanting, but other than that, everything was as usual.
This was too abnormal.
A normal person facing a seizure would either be panicked, angry, or pleading for mercy. But Li Muchen? He was terrifyingly calm.
The sense of unease in Zhou Mingde's heart grew heavier and heavier.
On the mountain, inside the temple.
Li Muchen was watering the vegetable patch in the backyard.
After the seizure, tourists had vanished, and the temple had returned to silence. The birds of the ancient cypress tree had flown back; in the early morning, one could hear the chorus of a hundred birds again. The cabbage and radishes in the vegetable patch were growing well and would be ready for harvest in a few days.
When Zhao Desheng climbed the mountain, Li Muchen was squatting by the vegetable patch, picking off a leaf that had been bitten by an insect.
"Abbot..." The old man stood outside the fence, his voice choked with emotion.
Li Muchen looked up, saw his red and swollen eyes, and gave an understanding smile: "Layman Zhao is here. Just in time, the cabbage is almost ripe; take a few down the mountain with you."
"Abbot, I've failed you..." Zhao Desheng fell to his knees with a thud. "The village... everyone in the village has signed... I couldn't stop them..."
Li Muchen put down the water ladle and went over to help him up: "Get up quickly, why are you doing this?"
"They say they're going to drive you away..." The old man wept uncontrollably. "For three thousand yuan, they sold their conscience... I, I..."
"Layman Zhao." Li Muchen helped him sit down, his voice gentle. "You didn't sell your conscience; you were simply powerless to stop it. This is not your fault."
He looked at the mist-shrouded peaks in the distance and said slowly, "Human hearts are like water; only the one who drinks knows if it's cold or warm. They feel cold, so they want money for warmth; you feel warm, so you don't want money. Everyone has their own karmic destiny; it cannot be forced."
"But Abbot, what will you do?"
"Me?" Li Muchen smiled. "I cultivate here, so I stay here. They want to develop, so let them develop. Each cultivates their own Dao, and each walks their own path."
He paused and looked toward the mountain gate: "It's just that some people always think their path is the only right path and everyone else's is a detour. They insist on others changing their course, insist on trampling over others' paths."
"Then you..."
"I cultivate my Dao, and they build their road." Li Muchen stood up, his green cloth Daoist robe fluttering lightly in the wind. "If they are merely building a road, I will not stop them; but if they intend to trample my Dao..."
He turned and looked toward the Main Hall.
The hall doors were wide open, and the deity statue sat quietly in the dim light.
"Then let them come and try to trample it."
His voice was calm, yet it possessed a mountain-like steadfastness.
Zhao Desheng stared at him blankly, suddenly feeling that the figure of this young Abbot at this moment was so tall it seemed to merge with the entire mountain.
"Abbot, whatever you need me to do, just give the word." The old man stood up and wiped his tears. "These old bones of mine can still hold out for a while."
Li Muchen shook his head: "You don't need to do anything. Just live well and watch."
He looked down the mountain, his gaze distant:
"Watch how these human hearts shift, watch how the world changes, and watch this mountain... to whose hands it ultimately belongs."
In the evening, the last batch of villagers who had signed the letters of intent dispersed.
In the village committee courtyard, General Manager Zheng was organizing documents while Zhou Mingde stood by the window, gazing at the mountain peak.
As the sun set, the temple was reduced to a mere silhouette in the afterglow.
"Minister Zhou, eighty percent of the letters of intent have been signed; we can proceed to the next step." General Manager Zheng walked over and said in a low voice, "As soon as we get the villagers' consent forms, we can apply for the mandatory demolition of those illegal structures..."
The "illegal structures" he referred to included the several wing rooms in the temple's backyard and might even include the Main Hall—if the "safety assessment" failed to pass.
Zhou Mingde didn't respond, only continued to stare at the mountain peak.
After a long while, he finally said slowly, "Wait a bit longer."
"Wait for what?"
"Wait for him... to come down the mountain of his own accord."
Zhou Mingde turned around, his face obscured in the deepening twilight.
"I don't want to push things to the absolute limit."
General Manager Zheng was stunned for a moment, then smiled. "Minister Zhou is kind-hearted. But the business world is like a battlefield; if you don't push things to the limit, others will push you to yours."
Zhou Mingde said no more.
Outside the window, night fell.
The temple on the mountain peak slowly faded into the darkness.
Only a single point of lamplight remained, stubbornly shining in the heavy night.
Like an eye, quietly watching the clamor and calculations down the mountain.