No one knows who named Fu Sheng, just like no one cares how many specks of cinnabar are hidden in the ashes raised by the broom when he cleans the toilet in Qingyun Temple every morning. As the lowest servant in the temple, what he has seen most is not the lingering fairy spirit, but the scraps of talismans discarded by the deacons and Taoist priests - those jute papers soaked in urine and stained with mud, but they always feel warm in his palms.
On the night when the Beidou Talisman passed through the border, the whole city of Chang'an was singing about how the golden light penetrated the clouds. Only Fu Sheng was squatting in front of the cesspool in the west courtyard, using the half-cut cinnabar pen he picked up to copy the lines of the Purification Talisman on the back of the toilet slip. When the viewer led hundreds of people to kneel in front of the Lingxiao Hall to receive the order, the cinnabar on his fingertips suddenly seeped into the bamboo slices, and a rune pattern emerged that even the deacon and Taoist priest could not understand.
"Receive the Fu Zhao? The handyman is only qualified to stand at the back wall of the toilet." Senior Brother Liu's scolding was still in his ears, but Fu Sheng stared at the broken stars reflected on the surface of the cesspool and smiled. Perhaps the Taoist sect's rules forgot to mention that when the filth is washed away and the color of cinnabar is washed away, the humblest toilet slip can also hide the talisman that moves the heaven and the earth.
