Chapter 75: Solitary Mountain Island

The full name of the woman known as "White Moonlight" was Lin Zhixia.

Her father was the chairman of Kunpeng Capital in Haicheng, a company that rang the bell at the Hong Kong stock exchange thirty years ago. Her family was by no means nouveau riche; theirs was a clan steeped in deep heritage. During the era of warlords, they were already one of the wealthiest gentry families. After the opening up and reform, they caught the favorable winds of change, and their power grew even greater.

Kunpeng Capital was but one of the many businesses owned by her family. Lin Zhixia currently held the position of vice president at Kunpeng Capital. If her grandmother chose to transfer her shares to Lin Zhixia, she would become the largest shareholder of the entire company.

But her grandmother would not.

Because she had seven grandsons and five granddaughters. The most outstanding among them was not Lin Zhixia, but her cousin Lin Zhiyin.

As with all great families, theirs now faced the challenge of industrial transformation. The old labor-intensive industries could no longer generate sufficient profit. Coal and steel, limited by production capacity, were also on the decline. The future lay in the internet and finance.

Lin Zhixia’s vision was remarkably far-sighted; she awakened to this reality earlier than most and quickly began investing in internet ventures. Every film and short drama she backed became a hit. The website she founded, CoolJoy, had become one of the largest Chinese-language sites in the country, with over a hundred thousand online writers under its banner. In particular, their web novels were now beginning to expand overseas.

The nation itself paid close attention to these developments, for Lin Zhiyin had begun exporting Chinese culture. It was rumored she was now moving into comics and gaming as well. Every field Lin Zhiyin invested in featured low costs, rapid returns, and a short payback period.

But what of Lin Zhixia’s Kunpeng Capital? It was still investing in real estate and tourism—ventures with slow returns and lengthy cycles.

As Lin Zhiyin grew ever more accomplished, Lin Zhixia became increasingly anxious. If her grandmother were to give Kunpeng Capital’s shares to Lin Zhiyin, she might never surpass her cousin in this lifetime.

Faced with this problem, Lin Zhixia decided to take a different approach.

Her grandmother was a devout Buddhist. If Lin Zhixia could obtain two priceless Buddhist treasures and present them at her grandmother’s birthday banquet, she was sure her grandmother would be overjoyed. In such a moment of happiness, if she then requested those shares, her grandmother would surely agree.

That was Lin Zhixia’s plan.

In truth, her grandmother had been longing for these treasures for quite some time.

When the Living Buddha Kongzhou was still alive, her grandmother had once traveled all the way to the Potala Palace in Tibet, hoping to acquire the string of gold prayer beads, but was refused. The Living Buddha had said at the time, “Only those with true destiny shall receive them.”

Her grandmother was also very fond of the jade Buddha, for on its reverse side was engraved the Great Compassion Mantra—415 characters in all. To carve so many words onto a palm-sized piece of jade was a feat of artistry at its pinnacle.

That piece of jade was already worth a fortune; the rough stone alone had fetched over a million at the gambling house, to say nothing of the fact that it had been personally carved by a great monk. Thus, the jade Buddha was valued at around twelve million, yet was truly priceless and unobtainable.

Was Gushan Temple lacking in funds? Not in the least. In fact, no temple truly lacked money. It was entirely normal for a temple abbot to be worth hundreds of millions. Not to mention the offerings, a single fortune-telling session, blessing, or ritual for a wealthy patron could cost hundreds of thousands, even millions.

Some eminent monks would also offer feng shui consultations—tens of thousands for a visit. A five-yuan bracelet, once touched by the monk and declared “consecrated,” could be sold for 6,880, with the assurance that it was being offered only because of fate. You’d happily pay, afraid it might be sold to someone else. And these could be mass-produced.

If you happened to displease the monk, he might say, “Today, you may have the privilege of smelling the abbot’s shorts for 3,000 yuan,” and you’d feel as if you’d struck gold.

Only Taoist temples truly lacked money.

What? You say you don’t believe in such things? The bald monk can’t make a penny off you? If you believe, it is; if you don’t, it’s not. Believe as you will. If you don’t, plenty of others do.

But that’s enough digression; back to the story…

For Lin Zhixia, the jade Buddha had become a must-have. She had already tried both Jinshan Temple and Gushan Temple before the scenic area even opened, offering a high price, but was refused. The Buddhist world, after all, values fate.

“Miss Lin, on the yacht ahead—isn’t that Shen Xian?” her bodyguard asked, pointing forward.

Lin Zhixia looked closely. Who else could it be but Shen Xian? He stood on deck with Qingqing, watching the waves.

Qingqing’s voice was like a silver bell—bright and clear.

She was now two years old. Because of Zhou Wan’s career and the fact that she was born out of wedlock, Qingqing had barely left the house. This was her first time seeing the world.

Shen Xian, holding Qingqing, was also in high spirits. He liked this child—there was an inexplicable sense of closeness. More than that, she seemed to heal something within him, mending wounds he hardly knew were there.

“Comrade, your daughter is truly adorable,” Xu Zijian said, stepping out with a smile.

Shen Xian ruffled Qingqing’s hair. “Actually, she isn’t my daughter. She’s a friend’s child. My friend is busy with work today and asked me to look after her.”

Xu Zijian was even more astonished. A friend’s daughter, a bracelet worth a fortune—he could just give it away like that?

“Judging by your clothes and accessories, you don’t seem to come from wealth…” Xu Zijian ventured.

Shen Xian smiled. “Our family’s circumstances are ordinary. With three thousand yuan a month, I can live very well indeed.”

He would never tell others that he was an orphan, that his childhood was filled with hardship. Suffering, after all, is not something others can truly empathize with. So he didn’t speak of it—even with someone as close as Xiao Yang, Shen Xian never complained.

“And yet you gave away such an expensive piece of gold just like that?” Xu Zijian pressed.

Shen Xian replied, “Some things are beyond the reach of money. As much as I love money—so much I wish I could bury myself in it, dream of getting rich overnight, of achieving financial freedom—there are things that can’t be bought.”

Xu Zijian thought Shen Xian’s outlook on life was profound.

Shen Xian’s greatest dream was to earn a great deal of money, then build schools, and become a teacher. He knew all too well how hard it was to live without a guiding light; that’s why he desperately wanted to become that light for others, to illuminate their paths.

The orphanage director had done this for him in her own limited way.

Three years earlier, Shen Xian had often told Liu Ruyun that once he’d written a few more songs, he would dedicate himself to charity. Liu Ruyun had always responded with little more than a perfunctory “Mm-hmm.”

Xu Zijian watched as Shen Xian played with Qingqing on deck.

By now it was afternoon. Shen Xian squatted casually on the deck, waves surging behind him, sunlight bathing him in a golden glow. His features were both refined and resolute; his demeanor was sunny yet tinged with melancholy—a contradictory impression, but perfectly embodied in this single man. Xu Zijian found himself unable to see through Shen Xian.

Suddenly someone called out, “We’ve arrived at Gushan Island! Passengers, please disembark!”

Xu Zijian’s spirits lifted and he shouted, “Shen, we’re here!”