A Secret (GL) - Chapter 8

After reporting the progress of his investigation and proving that his team was working exceptionally hard for the client, Liu Guohua left.

Shen Juan did not linger and started the car immediately.

Gu Shuge hesitated in the back seat before cautiously moving back to the passenger seat. This had always been her place; in the past, whenever Shen Juan drove, she was always here.

Even if… even if she had misinterpreted things back then and Shen Juan didn’t harbor those feelings for her, they were still family. Sitting in the passenger seat was perfectly fine.

She did her best to ignore the true desire in her heart to be close to Shen Juan, and thus managed to convince herself.

Shen Juan was a steady driver, calm and composed amidst the city’s heavy traffic. Her eyes remained focused ahead, glancing at the mirrors occasionally, without a hint of distraction. Even while waiting for a red light, she remained focused on the road.

Gu Shuge didn’t know where they were going. Her mind began to wander, reflecting on the question Liu Guohua had raised.

Who knew in advance that she was returning to the country?

She searched her memories meticulously and realized that someone did know.

It was one of her classmates.

In class that day, while she was using her phone to book her flight, that classmate caught a glimpse of the screen and remarked, “You’re going home?”

Because the girl had immediately looked back down to take notes without waiting for an answer, it was a very brief fragment of memory—only about ten seconds long. That was why Gu Shuge hadn’t recalled it until now.

Thinking back, it still felt inconceivable.

That classmate was a girl she got along with quite well at school. Because her surname was Li, everyone called her Muzi. She was also Chinese, with a soft personality and two dimples that appeared when she smiled, giving her an air of innocent youth.

Her father was a doctor and her mother a middle school teacher—a very ordinary, middle-class family. Muzi had told her all this within three days of meeting her.

She was someone completely without guile; it couldn’t be her.

However, it was highly likely she had mentioned it to someone else. If that was the case, many people could have known. But that was an easy fix: she just needed to ask Muzi in person to get an accurate list of names.

Gu Shuge thought it through and found a lead, but then she hit that ever-present wall. She still hadn’t figured out how to tell Shen Juan about the clues she had discovered.

Gu Shuge’s head ached. She looked out the window and realized they had left the city.

Checking the time, she saw they had been driving for two hours. Where were they going? Utterly confused, she looked at Shen Juan, but she couldn’t discern anything from the older woman’s expression.

She could only sit back and wait.

After another two hours, they arrived at the foot of a mountain in a sparsely populated area.

Shen Juan got out of the car. As she walked, she scanned her surroundings until she found a path hidden behind a screen of trees and weeds. She stepped onto it.

Gu Shuge scrambled to follow.

The path was made of blue flagstones covered in withered yellow moss, looking many years old. The forest on either side was dense; one could imagine how lush and deep the foliage would be in spring or summer.

The path was narrow, barely wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side. Shen Juan walked in front, and Gu Shuge followed behind. She peered around curiously, unable to imagine why Shen Juan had come to these deep woods—or that such a primitive mountain could exist only two hours away from a bustling metropolis.

After walking for half an hour, they reached the mountainside, where a courtyard finally appeared. From a distance, she could see red walls and a large, open central gate. The interior was obscured from view.

As they drew closer, Gu Shuge realized it was a temple.

Why would Shen Juan travel so far to a temple in the wilderness? Gu Shuge was baffled, but she quickly thought of last night and what Liu Guohua had said at the end. It began to make sense.

Specialized tasks require specialists. For supernatural matters, seeking help from Buddhist or Taoist masters was the best approach.

Shen Juan wanted to know if she was really there. Or rather, she wanted to find her.

Gu Shuge followed behind Shen Juan with a complex expression, her limbs suddenly becoming very still as she gazed at Shen Juan’s slightly fragile-looking back.

The temple doors were wide open. A plaque above the entrance bore the words “Guangping Temple” in seal script. Through the gate, she could see a courtyard where thin coils of incense smoke drifted into the air.

Shen Juan stepped over the high threshold.

Gu Shuge followed, intending to cross as well. But just as she moved one leg forward, she found an invisible wall blocking her path.

Horrified, she reached out to feel it. There was indeed a wall in the air—unseen, yet very real.

Shen Juan continued inside, her figure growing distant. A sudden wave of panic surged through Gu Shuge, as if some thread connecting her to Shen Juan had been snapped. Frantic and disregarding her dignity, she began to hurl her body against the invisible barrier.

The temple was small, consisting of two courtyards. The front hall housed the Buddha statues for worshippers, while the back courtyard was where the monks lived, ate, and performed their morning lessons.

Shen Juan stepped into the temple, the scent of sandalwood swirling around her. A serene, distant atmosphere filled the grounds.

She first went to the front hall to light a stick of incense.

Shen Juan had no religious beliefs, but whether she visited a temple or a shrine, she would always offer incense—not to pray for protection, but to follow local customs and show respect to the master of the place.

This time, however, as she knelt before the Buddha, she was more devout than ever before.

A monk wearing a kashaya robe and sporting ritual scars on his head stepped out from a side hall. He waited for Shen Juan to finish her offering before asking, “Has the benefactor come to our humble temple for a ritual service, or to seek a lot for divination?”

Guangping Temple was remote and obscure; pilgrims who traveled this far usually came through word-of-mouth with a specific request.

Shen Juan nodded slightly to him. The monk pressed his palms together and returned the gesture.

“I am here to find someone,” Shen Juan said. “Is it convenient for Master Jingyun to meet with me?”

“Senior Brother Jingyun?” The monk looked startled, then smiled. “That is unfortunate. Senior Brother left the temple to go on a pilgrimage a year ago. His return date is undecided.”

In a modern world of steel and concrete, the term “pilgrimage” felt out of place, yet the old monk spoke it naturally—as if once you left the mountain temple, the world outside was still the ancient landscape of green hills and immortal realms.

Shen Juan asked, “Can he be contacted?”

The monk shook his head. “Senior Brother Jingyun’s heart is free of attachments; he left no contact information.”

“Do you know the path of his pilgrimage?”

The monk shook his head again. “I do not.”

It seemed she wouldn’t see him, nor could he be found within a few days.

Shen Juan took a check from her bag and handed it to the monk. “There is something I must ask of a master.”

The monk glanced at the amount on the check, accepted it, pressed his palms together, and chanted a Buddhist prayer. “Benefactor, please follow me to the back courtyard to speak in detail.”

The back courtyard was even more primitive, built in a medieval style with low eaves. Beneath the eaves was a wooden deck where a low table sat. An incense burner rested on the table, flanked by two circular prayer mats.

The two took their seats on opposite sides. The monk poured two cups of clear tea. Shen Juan took out the talisman pouch and told the story from the beginning.

“Two years ago, by a stroke of fate, Master Jingyun gave me this pouch. He said it could block one fatal calamity. I gave it to someone else.” Shen Juan lowered her gaze to the tea on the table. “Yesterday, she died in a car accident. Her remains are still at the hospital.”

The monk’s expression grew solemn. He took the pouch and examined it closely for a long time, a look of confusion crossing his face. “Strange. This talisman has already been used once.”

Shen Juan had already suspected as much. “I have seen Master Jingyun’s abilities, so it isn’t that the talisman was useless. There must have been a prior fatal calamity.”

The monk nodded repeatedly. In modern society, people believe in science; things involving gods and ghosts are often dismissed as superstitious scams. But since these legends have persisted for thousands of years without dying out, there is naturally some truth to them. There are still people in this world with genuine power.

Most of those with such power possess a degree of pride; unwilling to endure the cold stares and prejudices of the world, they hide themselves away in mountain forests.

Master Jingyun was one of them—a man of true capability.

The monk was well-versed in the ways of the world from hosting many pilgrims. Seeing Shen Juan’s expression, he offered a word of comfort: “Life, death, fortune, and misfortune are determined by Heaven. The benefactor need not blame herself. No one can protect another person for an entire lifetime.”

This talisman was a priceless treasure, the only one of its kind in the world. For Senior Brother Jingyun to give it to her, she must have done him a great favor. Yet she had given such a precious, life-saving item directly to someone else.

This ‘someone else’ is likely more important to her than her own life, the monk thought.

A person’s fate is destined. Since she had done all she could, there was truly no need for excessive guilt.

The temple bell rang. Monks emerged from their rooms for morning lessons, and a few young novices began to chase each other playfully in the courtyard.

Shen Juan didn’t seem to hear. She stared into the courtyard for a moment before stating her true intent: “Last night, I felt her. I felt her right behind me, watching me.”

The monk realized: So, it’s a haunting. This wasn’t unprecedented, though usually people came to ask him to exorcise evil spirits. For this benefactor, however, she likely wanted him to perform a rite to settle the soul so the deceased could move on to reincarnation.

He was about to speak and accept the commission.

Then Shen Juan added: “I want to see her.”

The monk was shocked, but he soon rationalized it; there was likely some deep-seated love or regret involved. Buddhism emphasizes a mind free of desire and attachments. He advised her: “When humans experience a ‘fatal calamity,’ there is always resentment. Only those with heavy resentment turn into ghosts and remain in the human world. Ghosts are formed from evil thoughts; they cannot remember the people or events of their lives. Even if you see her, she won’t be the person you are looking for. She might even cause harm, dragging you down with her.”

“I want to see her.” Shen Juan’s tone was calm, but her delicate, soft features betrayed a rare, stubborn obsession. She said, “Even if she has become an evil spirit, even if it costs me my own life, I must see her once more.”