Chapter 27: Every Established Star Must Endorse

“Ah!”
Ye Dan cried out in alarm, thinking that there was something wrong with Ye Chang, prompting the old Taoist to prepare to cast a spell and capture him.
At this moment, however, Ye Chang had calmed down, smiling serenely. “Master, have you discerned anything?”
Luo Shouyi stroked his beard, the sharp gleam in his eyes fading. “Your pulse is steady, vigorous, and strong. You are indeed in excellent health.”
With that, he released Ye Chang’s wrist. Ye Chang stepped back two paces and invited, “Please, Master, come inside and sit. Xiang’er, Xiang’er!”
No sound came from Xiang’er. He must have gone to cut grass for the horse. Ye Chang entered himself and served Luo Shouyi some soup. “It’s hot today. I made some mung bean soup, cooled it with well water—it quenches thirst well. Please, Master, have some.”
Luo Shouyi took a sip of tea, as if pondering something, then raised his head. “You haven’t visited the Temple of the Medicine King in a long time. I hear you’ve been busy building a cottage and studying?”
“I found a secluded valley for some peace and quiet,” Ye Chang replied.
“I heard the valley was gifted to you by the monks of Ten Directions Temple?” Luo Shouyi continued.
Ye Chang was momentarily speechless. How small this world seemed! Pure Faith had only spoken yesterday about gifting him the valley, and today Luo Shouyi already knew!
Truly worthy of a Daoist—their talent for gossip was astonishing.
“Is it true?”
“The monks of Ten Directions Temple and you have never been close, yet they gave you a valley. I, as a friend from beyond the mundane world, cannot lag behind those monks. Therefore, I have brought these treasures as a gift to celebrate your new residence.”
With these words, Luo Shouyi produced a small wooden box, opened it himself, and pushed it before Ye Chang.
Ye Dan’s eyes nearly popped out.
The small wooden box was filled with gold ingots—by weight, it must have been about ten taels.
Ye Chang was also deeply surprised. Ten taels of gold was no small sum, equivalent to sixty strings of cash!
Just moments before, Qin Qinshou had gifted him twenty strings of cash and some gold—silver was mostly reserved by the government in these times, rarely used among the common folk. Luo Shouyi’s gift was indeed generous.
To buy the valley Ye Chang had chosen would cost, for its hundred or so acres of woodland, perhaps only thirty or forty strings of cash.
“Master, your gift is too generous. I am overwhelmed and dare not accept it.” He rose and pushed the box back.
“Why not accept it! You should, you must!” Luo Shouyi stroked his beard, insisting, “Given your relationship with our Medicine King Temple, this gift is not excessive.”
Ye Chang was about to decline further, but Luo Shouyi spoke again. “I hear you once encountered an immortal—the principle of drawing water through a rainbow channel, did you learn it in the immortal’s alchemical chamber?”
Ye Chang was once more certain that this Luo Shouyi was a master of gossip; even the story he had casually fabricated to explain his knowledge of siphoning had reached Luo Shouyi’s ears.
“Ah, yes, it is true.”
“That’s excellent.” Hearing this, Luo Shouyi stood, took a step back. Both Ye Chang and Ye Dan were startled by his action, but then witnessed something even more astonishing.

He raised his hand, performed a grand salute, bowing deeply to the ground.

Such a gesture was reserved only for juniors to elders, or those of humble status to the esteemed!

“Luo Shouyi, second-generation disciple of the Medicine King Temple, greets Uncle-Master and wishes you eternal well-being!”
What shocked Ye Chang and Ye Dan even more was Luo Shouyi’s address: this aged Taoist was calling Ye Chang “Uncle-Master”!
Ye Chang was baffled. Since arriving in this world, every achievement had been earned by painstaking effort. Why was this old Daoist sending gold and bowing at first sight? Had he finally gained some aura that made others bow in reverence?
“Master, please rise quickly. What is the meaning of this?” Uncertain, Ye Chang dared not accept Luo Shouyi’s courtesy, hurriedly stepping aside and helping the old Taoist up.
“The immortal you met was our founder, Sun Zhenren. Since you were accepted as a furnace boy under Sun Zhenren, you are his disciple. I am a disciple two generations removed, so it is only proper for me to address you as Uncle-Master.”
“Ah?” Ye Chang had never expected that his fabricated story of meeting an immortal would earn him a junior disciple.
Ye Chang was not arrogant enough to believe that his tale alone would bring Luo Shouyi to claim kinship; there must be deeper considerations at play. Yet with Luo Shouyi present, he had no time for thorough analysis.
“If Uncle Ye has time, you should return to the Medicine King Temple and pay respects to the founder’s statue,” Luo Shouyi said.
The word “return” caught Ye Chang’s attention. Suddenly, he grasped the crux of the matter.
He was no longer the obscure country youth newly arrived in this world. Over time, by leveraging opportunities, he had gained considerable influence, especially among the people of Xiuwu County and its neighboring villages. Stories about him circulated widely, touching upon his deeds.
In all these tales, from being identified as a “star descending to earth” and the “encounter with an immortal,” to the Bodhisattva’s judgment, Ten Directions Temple was always closely involved. Ten Directions Temple would inevitably benefit, with incense offerings flourishing—hence Pure Faith’s gift of temple property.
The Medicine King Temple, originally thriving, would not sit idly by as a competitor prospered!
Luo Shouyi’s methods were clever, surpassing even the abbot of Ten Directions Temple. His solution was to pull Ye Chang into his fold, affirming him as a disciple of a Daoist immortal. If Ye Chang acknowledged the status of “junior uncle” to the Medicine King Temple, people would say, “The junior uncle of Medicine King Temple commanded the Bodhisattva to judge a case”—thus, Medicine King Temple would surely reign supreme over Ten Directions Temple.
Moreover, unlike Pure Faith, who only invested in Ye Chang after suffering losses, Luo Shouyi was willing to make a large investment from the start, gifting ten taels of gold. Whether Ye Chang accepted or not, it would be awkward to refuse outright.
Understanding this, Ye Chang abandoned his initial intention to decline.
He was now the “star” of Xiuwu County, while Medicine King Temple and Ten Directions Temple were “businesses” competing for his endorsement. Since there was no exclusive contract, why not profit from both sides?
“Master Luo, I merely had a dream. Whether I truly met an immortal is uncertain. The figure I saw resembled the Medicine King immortal’s statue, but never claimed to be Sun Immortal. Moreover, I was only accepted as a furnace boy, not formally inducted as a disciple. Thus, I dare not claim to be your uncle. If you do not mind, please call me by my name. I am willing to follow you up the mountain and pay respects to Sun Immortal’s statue.”
At first, Luo Shouyi was displeased, thinking this youth unappreciative. But hearing the latter part, his view changed: this youth was not unappreciative—he was exceedingly shrewd!
“Ha ha, since you insist on modesty, I won’t press further… But since you were the founder’s furnace boy, you are one of us at Medicine King Temple. Let me take the liberty, then, as your senior to accept you as a disciple; you shall be my secular junior. How do you see that?”
This old Daoist was indeed more formidable than Pure Faith, smoothly lowering Ye Chang’s rank by one, yet still determined to bring him into Medicine King Temple. Ye Chang did not hesitate this time, immediately saluting. “Ye Chang greets Senior Brother Luo!”
The old Daoist stroked his beard and smiled, clearly very satisfied with Ye Chang.
So all parties were pleased—except perhaps the monks of Ten Directions Temple, who must feel as if they had swallowed a fly. The Tang Dynasty had long promoted Daoism over Buddhism, though during Wu Zhou’s reign, the situation reversed. Now, with Li Sanlang as emperor, the rivalry between Daoism and Buddhism was surging beneath the surface. Ye Chang did not fully grasp this yet; whether his plunge into these circles would bring fortune or disaster remained to be seen. For now, Medicine King Temple held great influence in Xiuwu County, and Sun Simiao the immortal was a household name. Becoming a secular disciple of Medicine King Temple was hardly a loss.
He had seized yet another opportunity.
Ye Dan was utterly stunned by the scene.

Today's events left him dazzled. First, Qin Qinshou had come from afar to deliver fifty strings of gold and copper coins, then gifted a horse. Next, the venerable old Daoist Luo Shouyi arrived, tearfully insisting on recognizing Ye Chang as uncle-master, and brought gold worth sixty strings—Ye Chang refused, but reluctantly accepted the role of junior brother to the temple master.
In nearly sixty years of life, only yesterday’s Bodhisattva’s judgment rivaled today's dramatic twists.
Thus, when Ye Chang turned to salute him, asking him to mind the house while he went up to Medicine King Temple overnight, Ye Dan instinctively replied, “Oh,” before realizing and inquiring, “Isn’t it too late to go now?”
“It’s not, not at all. I’ll bring my junior brother home early tomorrow, so you won’t miss any household matters. By the way, if you’re building a cottage, I know some carpenters. Shall I invite them for you?”
Wu Zepei lacked skilled carpenters, as the old Daoist well knew. Over the years, Medicine King Temple had prospered, and most local carpenters had worked there. Ye Chang smiled without replying, politely declining. After all, Ye Zhi was family; inviting outsiders without consultation would diminish his standing, especially as these craftsmen were local, not renowned masters.
From Wu Zepei to Medicine King Temple was much farther than to Ten Directions Temple, no different from going to the county seat. They set out in the afternoon, and by the time they arrived, the moon was already rising above the treetops—it had taken nearly two hours. Ye Chang, young and strong, and the old Daoist, surprisingly nimble, made swift progress. Considering Luo Shouyi was a second-generation disciple of Sun Simiao, Ye Chang was not surprised; the ancient texts he had read described Sun Simiao as a master of longevity, living over a hundred years.
Medicine King Temple was situated halfway up the mountain known locally as Medicine King Mountain, occupying two or three acres, built according to the terrain, and quite imposing. Dozens of Daoists resided there. When the temple master returned, they all greeted him, curious about Ye Chang.
At this point, Ye Chang followed Luo Shouyi’s lead entirely: worshipping the gods, greeting everyone, accepting gifts as appropriate. Soon, all the Daoists knew that the youth accompanying the temple master was the Ye Chang they had heard about countless times recently.
After all the rituals, it was already late at night.
Resting in the temple for the night, Ye Chang kept to his habit of rising early for a jog around the temple grounds. He thought he was up early, but found Daoists already appearing in groups for morning practice—some outside, exercising or breathing exercises. No one interrupted his run, though they were curious.
He followed a small path out, bordered by low trees, all showing signs of cultivation and irrigation. Ye Chang paused in surprise; he recognized these as tea trees.
Xiuwu was not ideal for tea cultivation, so these were not wild, but deliberately planted. Ye Chang estimated there were over a hundred well-grown trees; as summer approached, the tea was budding—if harvested and roasted, it would make excellent tea.
Tea making was familiar to Ye Chang. In the southwestern mountains where he had taught, tea was one of the few profitable local products. During those years, he had learned tea roasting from local farmers, helped them find buyers, and accomplished much. Thus, seeing these tea trees, he felt a certain affection.
Of course, more importantly, he had tasted the tea currently sold: blended with ginger, oil, even pepper—utterly alien to his palate. As for Lu Yu, the sage of tea, he was probably still a monk somewhere, beating the temple bell day by day.
Inspired, Ye Chang returned to the temple, fetched a basket, picked a basketful of tender buds—enough for about a pound of dried tea—and brought them back to the temple.
“Junior brother, you like bitter tea?” Seeing him picking leaves, Luo Shouyi was curious. “This can be used as medicine. When our founder was here, he planted over two hundred trees; now only half remain.”
“Bitter tea? Isn’t this just tea?” Ye Chang was surprised; he was sure he hadn’t mistaken it.
“It is tea, but in the emperor’s ‘Kaiyuan Dictionary of Pronunciation and Meaning,’ it was renamed; formerly it was mostly called ‘tu.’”
Ye Chang was enlightened: the character for tea was indeed the same as that for ‘tu’ in ‘poison.’ He laughed. “I vaguely recall a method of tea-making that produces tea far superior to the current cakes; I’ll try it and if successful, bring some to honor you.”
These words delighted Luo Shouyi, who thought his junior brother truly knew how to behave. But then he asked, with a solemn gesture—two fingers pointing skyward, implying the method might be from Ye Chang’s encounter with the immortal. Ye Chang did not deny it, nodding slightly, and Luo Shouyi rejoiced. “It’s an immortal’s recipe, then. I shall await it eagerly!”
“At Dragon Boat Festival, I’ll return to hear your guidance, and bring the tea as well.” Ye Chang saluted. “I still have affairs in the secular world, so I’ll take my leave now.”
“Go then. If you need anything, come find me at the temple.” Luo Shouyi beamed.
He was genuinely happy. If Ye Chang really brought a rare immortal tea, he would have contributed yet another merit to the Daoist tradition.