Wu Qiong Yin's whole life was ruined by his pretty face.
When his family fell into decline, he relied on that face to slip past the blades of rebel soldiers, before a loyal servant secretly sent him out of the city. Three months into fleeing famine, surviving on tree bark, that same face got him “kindly” taken in by villagers, who promised him an easy job: dress as Guanyin at a temple festival to honor the gods. Ten copper coins, food and lodging, and even a plot of land.
With hunger making his vision swim, he grabbed at this lifeline and agreed.
He had no idea it was a carefully planned deception ten years in the making.
The “dressing as Guanyin” at the temple festival was just a cover. Even the “pledge” he'd casually drawn when he was young and naive became a marriage proposal to the Divine Lord.
On the tenth year of the festival, Wu Qiong Yin stood on the altar, eyes lowered as he recited prayers whose meaning he didn't understand. He never saw the Divine Lord descend, or noticed that the Lord's gaze never left him.
Candlelight reflected on his pale face. The Divine Lord, who had come to stop the farce, smiled with great satisfaction.
After learning the truth, Wu Qiong Yin fled amid the chaos, but the villagers chased him to the edge of a cliff.
Just as he fell into the bottomless abyss, believing he was about to die, the real Divine Lord he'd impersonated for ten years came down through the clouds, scooped him into his arms, and carried the crisp, pure scent of an immortal mountain.
When he opened his eyes again, he was at the Twelve Peaks of Xianchan.
The Divine Lord said nothing about the temple festival marriage proposal. He simply handed over a sheet of paper. “I'll provide three meals a day and keep you safe. In exchange, sign a contract of servitude and accompany me, serving me by my side.”
Wu Qiong Yin stared blankly at the paper, unaware of how lucky he was.
He thought he'd simply been lucky enough to catch the Divine Lord's eye.
He had no idea that, in the Divine Lord's eyes, year after year, there had been a boy dressed as him, holding the purest of hearts, solemnly and devoutly proposing to his portrait.
“The festival drums and crowds resound in celebration of the god's birth; at one glance, I was smitten by the man dressed as me.”
“Our village holds temple festivals to honor the gods, and every year I dress as Guanyin. There's something strange about Guanyin's clothes: they look less like a goddess's robes and more like those of a beautiful young man.”
Theme: Clever deceit is no match for sincere simplicity
