Chapter 39: Keeping Vigil by the Scent of Incense
“Ahua, I want you to have this.”
He let go of her, and his assistant brought in a jade pendant.
The pendant was carved with an openwork character for double happiness, and above it, a phoenix was depicted. The jade itself appeared somewhat somber, unlike a modern piece of craftsmanship.
“This is the Double Happiness Phoenix?”
She remembered that after she woke up, she had encountered him at the hotel and seen the Double Happiness Dragon in his hand.
“So, this Double Happiness Dragon and Phoenix from the Republic era—you sought them out on purpose and placed the Yin Phoenix pendant in my burial casket, didn’t you?”
“Yes. After you passed away, I specifically asked a Taoist temple to perform a ghost marriage so that I might meet you again. Now that your soul has returned, by rights, this Double Happiness Phoenix should belong to you. Otherwise, you’ll suffer from severe chills and physical weakness.”
She was thoroughly astonished. On reflection, he truly must have been mad.
She took the Double Happiness Phoenix pendant, and he personally put it around her neck.
“Didn’t you always say you didn’t believe in these things?”
Fu Yanyan had grown up under the red flag, always top of his class in physics and chemistry.
He never believed in ghosts, gods, or spirits. He only believed in quantum entanglement, the planets of the universe, the law of conservation of time…
“I believe now. If it means you can come back, I’m willing to believe anything.”
Suddenly realizing himself, he softened his voice further. “Ahua, you mustn’t feel burdened—don’t let my love for you become a weight.”
The assistant, standing awkwardly by, felt secondhand embarrassment for his boss. After all, he was the wealthiest man in the city, a business prodigy with global renown—was it necessary to humble himself so completely for a woman?
But he was used to it. Over the years, the boss’s every emotion had revolved around her. Now, with something so miraculous occurring, who wouldn’t be moved to tears of joy?
Zhong Huayan felt the jade pendant cold against her skin. Looking up, she saw the man’s gaze burning with intensity, his face pale with fear, as if she might shatter him with a single touch.
“I won’t. I won’t feel burdened.”
She always felt a kind of compassion toward Fu Yanyan. In truth, she owed him gratitude.
A drop of kindness should be repaid with a spring.
Fu Yanyan had helped her greatly these past two months.
“Fu Yanyan, do you have any wishes?”
“Ahua, will you come with me somewhere?”
He was sipping water when he heard her words. Clearly, he was pleasantly surprised, but dared not ask for too much, only venturing to create a chance for them to be alone.
“That’s all?”
“Yes. When the moon is full, it begins to wane. It’s unwise to ask for too much.”
His heart was a stormy sea, but on the surface, he was calm as a gentle breeze.
Zhong Huayan handed her painting, which had made it through the first round of the competition, to the people from Casseta Palace. They admired it so much they paid tens of thousands of euros out of their own pockets to hang it in the palace gallery.
She thought she’d better sign it as “No Self.”
Her phone constantly buzzed with notifications from the police or cultural relics bureaus in various cities.
After their meal, she and Fu Yanyan took a private jet back home.
Upon landing, she followed him to a quiet temple.
As soon as they stepped inside, the bells overhead tolled, as if ringing out across time, sounding just for her.
The sunlight was so dazzling she couldn’t open her eyes when she looked up. Only when she lowered her gaze and glimpsed the Double Happiness Phoenix pendant did she return to herself. The man beside her was utterly still, as tranquil as the moon vying with the sun for brilliance.
That day, he wore a fine gray coat and a white shirt, holding a long string of jet-black jade prayer beads. His pale, elegant fingers played slowly with the jade.
He walked to the incense burner. The abbot approached and lit for him the first incense stick, saved from the auction during the coldest days of winter.
Traditionally, the first incense is offered on New Year’s Eve, but for some reason, he had kept it until now.
Zhong Huayan also picked up a bundle of incense. The abbot, catching sight of her face, paused for a moment, then greeted her with a calm “Amitabha.”
She lit the incense.
The abbot’s eyes were half-closed, always seemingly beyond joy or sorrow.
He placed his hand directly over the flames and began to speak gently.
“If anyone else were to stand here and burn incense beside someone with Mr. Fu’s fate and birthright, it would sap their fortune. But this woman before you is also of noble birth, reborn and transformed.
Harmony between the zither and the lute, silence enduring through ages—you two will meet no matter how many lifetimes pass.
To forget each other’s faces would be to betray your very names. Even if you turn to bone, you could trade blood for life, and remain together without regret.”
Though Zhong Huayan had some knowledge of Buddhism, it was the first time she’d met an abbot quite like this one.
Beside her, Fu Yanyan removed his glasses, faced the Buddha shrine and incense altar, and gently raised a burning stick of incense.
He appeared as calm as ever—pious, untouched by the mortal world, yet also caught in its suffering, struggling in its depths. He turned and spoke softly, “Ahua, come here.”
She joined him in offering incense and praying to the Buddha.
Then they placed the burning incense, trailing black and white smoke, upon the altar.
“Mr. Fu, you have endured much hardship in this life, yet insisted on undertaking a westward journey, saving countless souls struggling in the mortal world. Yours is a heart of boundless compassion. Every year, you fund the temple’s renovations, keep its incense burning, and build countless schools. Truly, you are filled with love for the world.”
The abbot saw all, though he did not speak of it. Years ago, Fu Yanyan had knelt before countless temples and shrines across the capital, seeking only to save a woman.
He’d seen this woman burned by fire, her organs failing, and witnessed this scion of the highest lineage kneeling, pleading for any means to save her.
No matter if it was in Thailand or abroad, nothing could restore her color, let alone bring her back to life.
But, holding their birth charts and reading their faces, he had decided to try the most arcane of methods.
Transferring energy.
Because their birth charts were so similar, and the woman’s did not indicate a short life, her death seemed a miscarriage of fate.
First, he performed a ghost marriage for them. Then, he arranged for their graves to be relocated—the Fu family’s rented tomb and the woman’s body were both reburied in the most auspicious plot.
Finally, he began the transfer of energy. So long as the deceased’s spirit had accumulated great virtue, enough to move Heaven and Earth, fate could be exchanged for life—one fortune for one life, resurrection from death.
“Abbot, have you been well lately?”
“Quite well. This must be your beloved?”
The assistant, accompanied by bodyguards, handed a suitcase to the abbot. Fu Yanyan had always respected and trusted this man.
He stepped forward and spoke softly, “Abbot, could you tell us why Ahua’s soul has revived in another body? Is there a chance she might suddenly vanish?”
“Mr. Fu, the world is full of wonders—Heaven arranges all things. If I must speak from a Buddhist perspective, it seems Miss Zhong’s original body was destroyed, and this body’s soul was also extinguished. By chance, twin flames met. But, it is also due to your constant longing and good deeds that you have earned this blessing.”
The abbot accepted the suitcase, his expression unchanged; all he knew of such methods came from ancient texts passed down by his master.
When faced with such circumstances, all he could say was that it was Heaven’s will—far beyond his understanding.
Zhong Huayan did not fully grasp their conversation; she only wondered if her resurrection might have something to do with Fu Yanyan.