Chapter Nine: A House That Accumulates Good Deeds Will Surely Enjoy Lasting Blessings

Days passed one after another, and Master Liaochen’s fame grew ever greater, to the point where he seemed more like a living immortal than a man. Not only was he known by everyone in the modest Dujiangyan, but even in the provincial city, people made special trips just to seek his guidance and have their fortunes told.

One day, as Liaochen was preparing to close his stall, a distant carriage rolled up and stopped before him. An elderly man, dressed as a steward, stepped down and respectfully presented a bright red invitation, saying, “My master wishes to invite the immortal to visit our residence for a conversation.”

Liaochen smiled and replied, “I’ve already finished ten readings today. Please come earlier tomorrow.” With that, he packed up and left, leaving the steward standing bewildered.

“How am I supposed to explain this to the madam?” the steward sighed, though he bore no grudge. The truth was, Liaochen’s reputation in the region was so legendary that a certain aloofness seemed natural.

“Let’s go back,” the steward sighed again and returned, dejected, to report.

In the study of the Chen Mansion in Jingdong—

“Master, I was unable to bring the forthright fortune-teller Yang to the house. What should I do...?”

“I understand. We lacked proper etiquette. Tomorrow morning, I’ll go personally to invite him. I’ll speak to Madam myself. You may go now,” Master Chen waved his hand.

“Yes, sir.” The steward breathed a sigh of relief and withdrew. Master Chen lingered in the study for a while before slowly heading to the back courtyard.

“Mother, that fortune-teller said he’s done for the day, and won’t come. Tomorrow I plan to go myself to invite him to the house. Do you think that’s alright?” Master Chen had lost his father young, and his mother had raised him and his brother alone. Later, both brothers passed the imperial exams and served as officials, but recalling their mother’s age and fearing she’d have no one to care for her, they discussed the matter and, as the eldest, Master Chen resigned his post to return home and care for her. Emperor Hongxiao, upon learning this, specially commended his filial devotion, granting Madam Chen a third-rank honor. Thus, in the small county of Jing, none outranked her.

“Extraordinary men have their ways; do not fail in courtesy. Tomorrow, I’ll go with you, so that the esteemed guest need not make another trip,” Madam Chen declared, her mind made up.

“Mother, your health...?” Master Chen hesitated.

“My health is robust; it’s only my heart that aches. How could it be that you and your brother... Ah, let’s not speak of it.” She sighed.

Master Chen fell silent. Of all unfilial acts, to leave no descendants was the worst. Strangely, though both brothers were nearly forty, neither had children, despite numerous wives and concubines. The physicians said there was nothing physically wrong, yet the household remained childless. Their mother often wept at night, feeling she had let down the Chen ancestors. What could Master Chen say?

The next morning, just after dawn, Master Chen was awakened by servants. The steward came in to report, “Madam has prepared everything and is waiting for you.” Master Chen broke into a sweat, hurriedly dressed and washed, then rushed to his mother.

When the carriage reached the City God Temple, they found Liaochen already waiting, smiling as he greeted Madam Chen.

Master Chen and Madam Chen were astonished—how had he known she would come?

They disembarked and saw a young Daoist in a plain, old robe, yet possessing an indescribable aura of immortality. He did not look at all like a worldly sage; he was simply too young.

“Greetings, Master,” Madam Chen said kindly, sitting before the stall, with Master Chen, the steward, and servants standing behind her.

“Madam has questions, and I have answers. But this reading is worth more than a thousand gold pieces; does Madam still wish to proceed?” Liaochen said.

Madam Chen, desperate for a grandson, would pay any price, even give up her fortune; she didn’t consult Master Chen but simply said, “Ask.”

“The poor Daoist observes that forty li from the city, atop Mount Qingcheng, lies the Xuanguang Temple. Since my master passed away, it has been neglected and is in ruin. I ask that the benevolent and blessed hands restore it. Will you?”

“Of course, of course! No problem!” Before Madam Chen could reply, Master Chen agreed eagerly. His desire for a son was no less than hers. To repair a Daoist temple was nothing for their wealthy family.

“Ha, many thanks,” Liaochen bowed, then produced a silk pouch, saying, “As I have said, your family will soon be blessed with children and prosperity. When you return, open this and hang it in your hall; you will see the result.”

Upon returning home, Madam Chen and Master Chen opened the pouch to find eight characters: “In a house that accumulates virtue, happiness will abound.”

A year later, Master Chen’s eldest son was born. Master Chen sent people to seek out Liaochen to thank him, but he was nowhere to be found. Others said he had not been seen for a year—he had vanished.

Master Chen sighed deeply and discussed with his mother. Now that their wish was fulfilled, it was time to repay the favor. He personally led a group to the wild mountain and discovered that the young man he had seen that day was truly an immortal in human form. He was greatly comforted; the immortal’s words had proved true. He vowed to restore the temple on a grand scale. The other gentry in the city, hearing the tale, generously contributed alongside the faithful, and together they repaired the ruined temple so thoroughly that Liaochen would scarcely have recognized it.

In truth, everyone shared the hope that since the immortal had instructed them to restore the temple, he would surely return. And then, perhaps, they might see that immortal again.