"What's your impression of my father?"
"Well, he spends all day locked up in his little cabin, studying those ancient texts, like he's found a feast. As a person, he's very easygoing, kind to everyone. Doesn't like spending money unnecessarily, a bit thrifty, always saving up for his son."
Mowen squinted, enraptured as the monk recounted stories of his father's past, as though he could see him vividly, filling his heart with joy.
Mowen thought to himself:"How long has Dad been gone? It's been over three years in a blink. I miss him so much! I always feel like Dad will reappear tomorrow. Where on earth could he be?"
"Do my father or the monks in your temple have enemies? I mean, mortal enemies?" Monwen planned to dig more information.
"Oh yes, quite a few! Let me think... the Man in Black, the Demon Clan, the Undead, the Wolf Tribe, the Blood Clan..."
"But how could my father get involved with these people?"
"You tell me how you win, and I'll tell you!" the monk chuckled slyly, teasingly.
Mowen paused for a moment, then pretended helplessness."Oh, I simply observe the master's hand position before he makes his move. If he intends to choose rock, muscles tense up, knuckles prominent. If scissors, index and middle fingers extend outward."
"What if he chooses paper?"
"The master's fingers and palm remain relaxed."
"Oh!" The monk Red Raven seemed to discover a new continent, excitedly."Go on!"
Red Raven carefully observed Mowen's hand, eager to uncover his secrets, but ended up losing even more miserably.
"What's this 'Black Cloaks' organization you mentioned?"
"Do you know about the Black Cloaks? Just mentioning them keeps you up at night," Monk Red Raven began explaining their antagonistic force."They've been our old rivals. They call themselves the Saint Syndicate, established over thirty years ago. Their influence now spans the globe, perhaps the largest covert organization."
"And they're ruthless," Monk Red Raven's tone grew somber."Cross them and you might end up severely injured or tortured to death. Imagine a group binding you, snapping each finger joint one by one. That'd terrify even someone like you, wouldn't it?"
"Do you know if these Black Cloaks are also searching for Buddhist relics or mystical artifacts?"
"They are! Their aim is to destroy all Buddhist relics, to undo the seal of the Demon King."
Mowen looked at Red Raven, his face flushed from drinking, cautiously asking,"Master, are you also part of some mysterious organization, fighting against them?"
Red Raven widened his eyes, vaguely replying,"You can figure that out too, your mind works fast!"
"Is everyone in your organization associated with Buddhism?"
Red Raven widened his eyes,"Not entirely. We have many practitioners—monks, priests, artisans, and scientists like your father..." Suddenly realizing he had said too much, he recalled his master's warning not to involve this ordinary young man with the organization's affairs.
Mowen chuckled inwardly; every boy sees his father as a superhero, and his own father was no different.
He thought to himself,"Maybe my father is a high-level spy, like those impossible characters who battle against dark forces, flying off cliffs on motorcycles and calmly opening parachutes to land."
"You tricked me! I saw you were going to choose rock, but you changed at the last moment!" Red Raven complained.
"What's wrong with that? You're a spy, right? Don't spies thrive on deception?"
That silenced Red Raven completely.
"Watching the master eat without fuss, eating quickly, shows your missions must be in tough, complex environments, under great pressure, right?"
Monk Red Raven hesitated, put down his chopsticks, and nodded again.
"The master just completed a mission, but your recent performance has left your boss dissatisfied, hasn't it?"
Monk Red Raven widened his eyes, staring at Mowen intensely, as if seeing a prodigy.
Mowen recalled the text message notification left on the table while the monk was in the restroom. Though it held no critical information, he deduced its tone and spoke accordingly.
No need to tell Monk Red Raven that; Mowen just quietly observed him.
Red Raven reluctantly admitted it again.
"Can you tell me about your recent missions?"
"No, that's classified. If you hear it, I'd have to silence you!" Red Raven blustered.
"Fine, if you won't say, let it be. Seems like even losers resort to cheating."
"If you tell me how you keep winning, I'll tell you the truth!" Red Raven's competitive spirit was fully ignited.
He had noticed that Mowen won far more often than he did, even though Red Raven frequently changed his hand at the last second. He might plan to play Paper but would suddenly switch to Rock. So why did he still lose more than he won?
"Alright," Mowen said, looking somewhat reluctant, "but this is my secret. I'll trade it for yours."
"From the moment you opened with Rock, I knew you weren't a seasoned player. Studies show that most people tend to play Rock first."
"Really? What else do the studies say?" Red Raven asked, half skeptical.
"Psychologically, most people have a tendency to play Paper. You're no different, so I usually win by playing Scissors."
"Oh? Anything else?"
"From a psychological standpoint, when you lose two or more times in a row, you're more likely to switch to the hand that beats the one you just lost to. For example, if I win with Rock against your Scissors, you're likely to play Paper next. So all I have to do is pick the hand that beats yours."
"Alright, alright, I surrender to your brainy tactics! Let me tell you my secret now!" Red Raven said, feeling overwhelmed by the explanation.