As evening descended, Mowen and Lincoln found themselves together again in the fire corridor. Lincoln ordered takeout, and Mowen decided to take on the job as well, seizing the chance to catch up with a friend.
"Lincoln, you shouldn't keep eating takeout all the time. It's not good for your health. You should cook something healthy yourself," Mowen said.
"Mo, you're eating your boss's food and messing up his pots. Be careful not to get fired," Lincoln retorted.
"you are not a stranger, have you been scolded again?" Mowen similes.
"Yeah," Lincoln replied, lowering his head and lighting a cigarette.
"I feel like a dog in my boss's eyes, always expected to read his mind. Last time, I missed the company's call during a meeting, and that jerk scolded me. But when I do answer the call next time, he'll scold me for not showing him enough respect."
"He expects me to press the elevator buttons and open the car door for him. This guy must think his hands are broken or something. He even prefers to treat young people like pets rather than colleagues or equals. But I refuse to be a mind-reading dog."
Mowen playfully checked behind Lincoln to see if he had a tail, and Lincoln responded by almost kicking him.
"When I first came, I was assigned a seemingly impossible project, said to be a test for newcomers. I worked tirelessly all night and eventually achieved success.
The praise from the boss and colleagues made me think I had found my place, but soon I realized it was a project that other colleagues hadn't completed in a month. Since then, my colleagues have intentionally caused me trouble."
"Last month, my project was successful, bringing profit to the company. Boss even said he would promote me to assistant manager. I was full of confidence, looking forward to the future, until at the annual meeting, I found out that the assistant manager turned out to be a young man who had just joined the company two days ago, the son of a VIP client.
Can you imagine how I felt? I could only smile bitterly and clap in the audience."
"I'm young with a lot ahead of me, but I feel suffocated, like I can't catch my breath. Waiting silently for 10, 20 years for seniority feels daunting, and I'm unsure if it's worth it."
"Today, an old colleague said something meaningful about the company being deep waters, which made me disgusted deep down."
Lincoln viciously stubbed out his cigarette and crushed it underfoot, as if he were trampling his boss.
Looking at Mowen, he noticed he talked too much today, "Did you get another negative review?"
"I slipped on the road, arrived five minutes late with the documents, and that Miss Stomp insisted on giving me a negative review."
"Sigh, so you've been working in vain these past few days."
"Life has tortured me thousands of times, but I still treat it like my first love."
"Drop it. Remember when that reckless kid ran into your car while jaywalking? What did his parents do? They not only failed to apologize but also damaged your electric bike, didn't they?!"
Mowen felt upset remembering the bike repair costs. He sighed and changed the topic.
"Oh, by the way, happy birthday!" Mowen took out a delicate little cake from the cold storage bag.
"Ah, you're the only one who remembers my birthday now. Thanks." Lincoln's nose felt a bit sour.
"Let's go, buddy!"
Mowen left like the wind, disappearing into the staircase in a flash, the sound of answering the phone faintly heard from afar, "Okay, okay, rest assured, I'll be right there. When I arrive, please give me a good review."
Lincoln's nose started to itch again. He began to doubt his choices, longing for the warmth and affection of his hometown. He had once thought of giving up his dreams and returning to his hometown, but he couldn't bear to give up like this.
Mowen had experienced Lincoln's life, but Lincoln had not experienced his. Late at night, when Mowen returned to his damp and dim basement, he liked to turn on the dim lamp and write letters to his father, as if chatting with him:
"Dad, I've been busy all these days, earning more than working in the company, and even managed to send out more than ten resumes today. The job market is not good right now, not many interview opportunities. But as an outstanding person like me, I won't starve."
"This year has been alright. I have a job to make ends meet. Please don't worry about me, and stop sending money!"
Suddenly, Mowen burst into uncontrollable laughter.
His dad had been gone for three years, and now he had no one to send him money anymore or even asking him whether he had enough money to spend like his dad always did.
He sat quietly at the table, tears streaming down his face.
In the temple, time's scars marked the abbot deeply, leaving him as the oldest monk protecting this peaceful land by himself.
Seated quietly in the scriptures hall, the abbot's gaze pierced through the transparent pine windows, casting shadows on the temple's grey bricks. He softly tapped the wooden fish on the floor, his quiet yet commanding recitation of Buddhist scriptures evoking the years long past.
Before long, a disciple was summoned before him.
"Master, I don't care if he is a Buddhist disciple or not; why should I, a skilled Kungfu practitioner, have to act as a bodyguard for a powerless ordinary person?"
"There's been some unusual activity from demons recently; you just need to keep an eye on him from the shadows and see if he's in any danger. If he is, protect him and bring him back to the temple."
"Won't he be a huge burden?"
"Disciple, it seems your training isn't sufficient yet. Go and handwrite the Diamond Sutra 500 times again."
"No, no, I'll do my best to protect him and befriend him. How's that?"
The disciple couldn't help but notice that his master's conversations were often marked by a deep concern that clouded the abbot's expression. But upon hearing he could depart from the temple, he scratched his head in excitement, resembling a curious monkey on the brink of discovering a new realm.
"Master, can I have a drink while I'm out?" The disciple's voice held a hint of eagerness.
The abbot, feeling a headache creeping in, massaged his temples before replying. "What do you think?"
"Can I eat meat, Master?"
The abbot paused, considering the question. "What do you believe?"
The disciple pondered for a moment. "Well, if I eat meat without onions, ginger, or garlic, wouldn't that be in line with the Buddha's teachings against indulging in flavorful dishes?"
The abbot raised an eyebrow. "Do you think meat can be satisfying without those flavors?"
The disciple hesitated, troubled by the thought. "It might not taste as good," he admitted.
"You've been sneaking meat, haven't you? You know it's against the rules of our temple, don't you?"
The abbot's headache intensified as he awaited the disciple's response.
The disciple glanced around, as if they were discussing something different, and swiftly changed the topic.
"Master, can I pick a secret mission from the organisation to generate some income?"
After some thought, the master assigned the simplest task, not wanting to deviate from the main purpose. Because this trip was about protecting someone, not taking unnecessary risks like before.
The disciple nodded eagerly, just glad to be going out.
The abbot took a deep breath, reiterating the importance of this task: "The task I'm entrusting you with is extraordinary and requires caution. You'll face many known and unknown adversaries, all targeting you. So, your journey won't be easy. Remember, your success or failure affects the future of humanity."
Concerned about the disciple's future risk, the abbot retrieved a handkerchief from beneath his meditation cushion, revealing a credit card.
"This represents my modest savings; use it judiciously."
The disciple, taken aback, stared at his usually frugal master who was content with a simple bowl of rice porridge. The sudden change filled him with an unexpected apprehension.
"Master, you… you shouldn't do this. I'm somewhat scared. Perhaps… someone else should undertake this task?"
"Cease your thoughts," the abbot firmly placed the card in his hand, "reserve this for emergencies and try to rely on others for sustenance as much as possible."
"Alright, now you sound like my master," the disciple finally felt a bit reassured.
The abbot's profound gaze wandered into the distance, a hint of affection reflected in the disciple's face as he scanned the entire temple, as if seeing the turmoil far beyond.
"The fate of humanity, just..."
"Master, I think I heard the dinner bell."
"Go, go, go, hurry and leave!"