Chapter 31 – “You’re My Double‑First‑Draw”
1327 Words
The Bad Hot‑Pot
The Longjing hot‑pot was a disaster. The broth tasted like ripped‑out tea leaves, and the cheap‑cheese‑like meat left Luo Ye cursing in a string of profanity.
“Ugh! … Save me! … What the heck is this weird taste?!”
Disgusted, he left the restaurant and remembered the server’s earlier suggestion to try blue‑porridge ramen (a local name for a simple noodle dish). It was already noon—Su Bai‑Zhou should be home by now.
He pulled out his phone and sent a quick message.
Luo Ye: “Senior, have you gotten home yet?”
The reply was almost instantaneous.
Su Bai‑Zhou: “Not yet.”
Luo Ye thought, She can’t still be on a high‑speed train at this hour. He kept the conversation going.
Luo Ye: “Have you eaten yet?”
Su Bai‑Zhou: “No.”
Luo Ye: “What would you like? I can order delivery for you.”
Su Bai‑Zhou: “I don’t want anything.”
Luo Ye: “Not feeling hungry?”
Su Bai‑Zhou: “I don’t know.”
Luo Ye stared at the screen. Though her replies were short and cold, they came immediately—a contradictory mix of indifference and attentiveness.
Is she hinting that something’s wrong? He recalled Gu Ming‑Xuan’s warning before the break, and a new idea formed.
Luo Ye: “Your family’s in Hang City, right? Any places worth seeing?”
Su Bai‑Zhou: “Nothing.”
Luo Ye: “Any memorable spots? I’m planning to come back later and I have no idea what to do.”
Now Su Bai‑Zhou actually thought for a moment. Even though she had grown up in Hang City, she couldn’t instantly name a tourist attraction. She stared at the brief exchange, her face pale and tired.
Luo Ye: “Hang City actually has an astronomy museum! Do you like looking at stars?”
Su Bai‑Zhou looked up, a confused expression crossing her face. She glanced at the ceiling, as if searching for stars in daylight, then lowered her head again.
Luo Ye: “Senior! You’ve been duped—Hang City doesn’t have an astronomy museum!”
She let out a small laugh.
Luo Ye: “But Hang City does have Lingyin Temple! The one from the “Ji Gong” legend, right?”
Su Bai‑Zhou answered with a single “Yes.” Two simple characters lifted Luo Ye’s mood—her tone was no longer as icy.
He sensed her mood had improved, even if only a little.
Luo Ye: “Senior, want to draw a lottery/fortune‑stick? Maybe the bad things will leave you.”
He had actually planned to draw a love‑lot at Lingyin Temple himself. The seven‑day break meant the temple would be crowded, but he hoped to try anyway.
Su Bai‑Zhou’s face twisted a little, as if the suggestion sounded childish.
Su Bai‑Zhou (mutters under her breath): “Nag him about his head.”
She hadn’t tried any fortune‑drawing before and wondered if it was effective. She just wanted her mother’s health to improve. Earlier, her mother had messaged, saying she was at the countryside with her uncle and inviting Su Bai‑Zhou to visit.
Before heading home, Su Bai‑Zhou decided to visit Lingyin Temple herself, partly to pray for a safety talisman for her mother. She knew it was folk belief, but the intention mattered.
She stood up, the handprint on her cheek from her father’s slap still faintly visible, yet the pain had faded. She felt a strange calm.
On her way out of the residential complex, she spotted a familiar girl dragging a suitcase—a childhood friend, a girl she’d been close to through high school. Their relationship had soured after the rumors about Su Bai‑Zhou’s family. The friend had misjudged her, and Su Bai‑Zhou realized she had underestimated human nature. The encounter was brief, both looking past each other like strangers. Su Bai‑Zhou turned away, refusing to dwell on it. The city she grew up in now felt gray and unfamiliar.
She continued toward Lingyin Temple, laden with luggage.
Luo Ye at Lingyin Temple
Meanwhile, Luo Ye arrived at Lingyin Temple, a famous Buddhist site nestled among tea‑plantation hills. He took photos and posted them in the 515 dorm group chat, asking his roommates what kind of fortune‑stick they wanted.
Hammer: “Whoa, you actually went to Hang City?”
Li Hao‑Yang: “May Buddha have mercy.”
Shen Qiao: “LOL, Coach, Amitābha.”
The chat was a whirlwind of jokes—like fireworks tossed into a fire pit.
The temple grounds were crowded, with tea‑plantation slopes visible in the distance. Even though it was afternoon, the queue for fortune‑stick drawing already stretched toward evening.
He received a private message from Shen Qiao:
Shen Qiao (PM): “Could you get me a peace‑of‑mind amulet?”
Luo Ye replied enthusiastically, “Of course!” He didn’t know why Shen Qiao wanted a peace‑amulett—maybe he was just playing along.
He waited three hours in the line. When the temple doors finally closed for the day, he prepared to leave. He had just offered three wishes:
His parents to be happy in their next lives.
World peace.
Su Bai‑Zhou to become the happiest girl in the world.
He originally considered asking for romantic luck, but then realized that love isn’t something you force with a prayer; it’s something you earn. So he let go of that wish.
He stepped out of the temple at 6 p.m.—the gates were closed, preventing anyone else from entering.
Just then, through his peripheral vision, he caught a familiar figure near the entrance: a beautiful girl sitting on the stone steps with a suitcase, looking lost. It was Su Bai‑Zhou—she had arrived too late. She’d been waiting in the line for a long time, but by the time she reached the gate, the temple had already stopped serving visitors.
Was she destined not to receive a fortune‑stick? He wondered. Even if she didn’t get one, perhaps that outcome was itself a result—a sign.
Su Bai‑Zhou stared at the ground, emotionally numb, her usual ice‑queen aura replaced by an vulnerable girl, as if she’d lost her bearings.
A familiar voice rang out behind her:
“Amitābha.”
It was Luo Ye, his hands clasped in a prayer gesture, smiling gently.
“What troubles you, dear devotee? May I listen?”
Su Bai‑Zhou lifted her head, eyes glistening, a soft yet shaky voice escaping.
“I… I’m not sure what to do. My mother is ill, my family is falling apart, and I feel… powerless.”
She bowed her head again, tears threatening to spill. The silence of the temple seemed to echo her inner turmoil.
Luo Ye, though initially unsure how to comfort her, replied gently.
“You’re not alone. Even when everything feels dark, there’s still a chance for light. I’m here if you need someone to talk to.”
He sat down beside her on the stone steps, the evening breeze rustling the temple’s lanterns.
Even though she was still hearing Luo Ye’s voice, her expression softened—the large, immaculate cheeks that had always seemed frozen began to relax.
She didn’t receive a fortune‑stick, but Luo Ye’s presence became a different kind of blessing. While the temple’s ritual had stopped, their conversation felt like a new beginning—the most valuable sign she could have asked for.
End of Chapter 31
- Writer
