Deng Haiju a plex mix of rivalry and admiration for Zhuang Zi'ang, akin to the famous historical figures Zhou Yu and Zhuge Liang,(Zhou Yu and Zhuge Liawo brilliant military strategists during the Three Kingdoms period in a a, known for their intense rivalry and mutual respect.) and now he was deeply saddened by the loss of su exceptional oppo.

  The two of them sat at the bus stop, watg the traffic flow, and reminisced for a long time. From their first csh in their freshmao their first colboration in a petition, memories resurfaced oer another, filling them with a bittersweet nostalgia.

  Youth, like this, slips away quietly amidst tears and sweat.

  A No. 19 bus turhe er, a poignant remihat Zhuang Zi'ang would never reach that age.

  He checked his pho was exactly 6:10 PM. Where could Little Butterfly be?

  "Haijun, do you know where the No. 19 bus goes?" Zhuang Zi'ang asked.

  "Xiaoyao Temple.(Xiaoyao Temple, literally "Free and Uered Temple") 't you read? It's written right there," Deng Haijun replied, pointing to the bus stop sign behind them.

  "If you're not busy, why don't you ride the bus with me for a while? My treat," Zhuang Zi'ang offered with a smile.

  "Two yuan for a bus ride? Wow, you're really spshing out," Deng Haijun quipped sarcastically.

  Zhuang Zi'ang frowhat's right. A bus ride only costs two yuan. But Little Butterfly always took four yuan when she went home, which meant she transferred to another bus. A sense ency washed over him. Figuring out where she lived was going to be much harder than he initially thought.

  They boarded the bus. There were s left, so they had to hold onto the overhead straps. The doors closed, the driver stepped on the gas, and the sery outside began to blur past them in reverse.

  Knowing that passengers shouldn't distract the driver, Zhuang Zi'ang spoke quickly and cisely, "Excuse me, sir. There's a girl who often takes this bus, she wears a white blouse and a blue skirt, and she has a peach blossom in her hair. Do you know where she gets off?"

  Little Butterfly is so pretty, she's bound to attract attention wherever she goes, he reasoned. Surely the driver must have noticed her.

  The driver shook his head. "I don't know. I 't disclose passenger information."

  His response left Zhuang Zi'ang speechless. He could only give the driver a mental thumbs-up for his dedication to professiohics.

  "So, yed me all the way out here to chase after some girl?" Deng Haijun said, a hint of annoyan his voice.

  "It's the girl you saw yesterday. I'm a little worried about her," Zhuang Zi'ang admitted.

  "Zhuang Zi'ang, let me give you some advice. A wise ma fall in love. Yoing down the wrong path," Deng Haijun said, his expression serious.

  "Are you seriously telling me you have zero i in girls?" Zhuang Zi'ang asked, incredulous.

  "Hmph, womehing but a distra," Deng Haijun replied, pushing up his gsses with his middle finger.

  In his view, Zhuang Zi'ang was clearly going astray. An outstanding student shouldn't be entangled in such trivial matters as love and romance. "Just look at all the great minds like on, Leibniz, Descartes, Tes, Pascal - did any of them waste time on marriage?"

  The bus swayed and rattled along its route. They had no idea where to get off, so they decided to ride it all the way to the end of the line: Xiaoyao Temple.

  It was the most famous Taoist temple in the area, attrag a stant stream of worshippers throughout the year. The name "Xiaoyao," meaning "free and uered," represented a much-desired state of spiritual liberation.

  Zhuang Zi'ang and Deng Haijuered the temple gates and began to explore. The rich st of inse filled the air, calming their minds.

  "In the Northern O, there is a fish, and its name is Kun. The Kun is so huge, I don't know how many thousands of miles it measures!" Deng Haijun couldn't help but recite a passage from the "Xiaoyao You" (Free and Easy Wandering).(A famous passage from the a philosophical text "Zhuangzi," attributed to the Taoist philosopher of the same name.)

  "Haijun, do you know what sound a Kun makes?" Zhuang Zi'ang asked with a grin.

  "Cluck, cluck, cluck?" Deng Haijun guessed tentatively, fpping his arms like wings.

  Zhuang Zi'ang burst out ughing. It turned out that this usually stoic, straight-ced top student had a humorous side after all.

  "Young men, please maintain silehiemple grounds," a voice said sternly.

  Zhuang Zi'ang quickly stifled his ughter and looked in the dire of the voice. It was a Taoist priest, dressed in traditional robes.

  "Sorry, Master."

  In front of the priest was a table with a bamboo tube filled with divination sticks. Behind him, the wall was covered with corresponding divination slips. Clearly, he was there to interpret fortunes for visitors.

  "Haijun, why don't you get your fortuold? Maybe about your love life?" Zhuang Zi'ang teased.

  "No need. I make my owiny," Deng Haijun scoffed. He didn't believe in such things.

  Zhuang Zi'ang didn't really believe in it either. After all, they were both good students who had been taught dialectical materialism. Seeking divination was just a way to find some psychological fort.

  The priest's gaze fell on the red string tied around Zhuang Zi'ang's wrist. "That's from our temple."

  Zhuang Zi'ang raised his wrist, and a faint st of peach blossoms wafted up.

  "Really? A girl gave it to me."

  "It will protect you," the priest said.

  Zhuang Zi'a a surge of excitement. So Little Butterfly has been here before! Maybe she lives nearby.

  "Then I'd like to draw a divination stick."(In traditional ese fortuelling, divination sticks are used to obtain guidance or predis from the deities.) Zhuang Zi'ang said respectfully.

  "What a waste of time," Deng Haijun muttered under his breath.

  Zhuang Zi'ang approached the altar and shook the bamboo tube for about twenty seds before a siick fell out.

  He picked it up and looked at it, and his pupils suddenly tracted.

  It was the worst possible omen - a "highly inauspicious" fortune.(Divination sticks are typically categorized into levels of auspiciousness, with "inferior" or "highly inauspicious" indig bad luisfortune.)

  Zhuang Zi'ang hahe stick to the priest, who quickly found the corresponding slip. It was a short poem:

  "A song of pure words, a cup of wihe Peach Blossom Spring, a shadow hard to find. Zhuang Zhou dreams again of the butterfly, Uo be free, trapped in this empty world." (This poem alludes to cssical ese imagery and themes of searg for an ideal, unattainable paradise, often symbolized by the "Peach Blossom Spring," a utopian realm described in a literature.)

  It was indeed a terrible fortuhe words "hard," "dream," ay" were hardly auspicious.

  "Young man, what do you wish to ask about?" the priest asked, his expression grave.

  Zhuang Zi'ang was suddenly at a loss. He didn't even know what to ask. After all, he didn't have much of a life left to live; everything was ultimately meaningless.

  After a long pause, he finally replied, "I'm looking for someone. you tell me where she went?"

  The priest frowned deeply. "Do not seek her. She will return on her own. But..."

  "But what?" Zhuang Zi'ang pressed eagerly.

  "Though desires and worldly pursuits may be sought relentlessly, stillness often yields greater rewards. Remain steadfast, and yoal will be within reach," the priest said cryptically, speaking in riddles.

  He then unched into a long, rambling discourse filled with cssical allusions and obscure pronous. It sounded like he was saying a lot, but at the same time, he wasn't saying anything at all.

  Zhuang Zi'ang was pletely bewildered. In the end, he dutifully paid the ten yuan fee for the fortuelling.

  The priest accepted the money with a smile and poiowards the temple gate. "There's an elderly woman selling snacks outside, all alone and in need. If you're hungry, sider buying from her."

  "You just got ripped off for ten yuan, didn't you?" Deng Haijun said mogly after they had walked a distance away.

  Zhuang Zi'ang just smiled. "It's fihink of it as a donation to the temple."

  Although a cloud of doubt lingered in his heart, Little Butterfly had said she would only be gone for a few days and would be baext week.

  Everything should be fine.

  The two of them exited the temple gates and, sure enough, spotted an old woman selling snacks. Her hair was streaked with gray, and her face was etched with the hardships of life.

  She had a carrying pole in front of her, and she was selling tofu pudding.

  "Haijun, you've apanied me all this way. Let me treat you to some tofu pudding," Zhuang Zi'ang said, feeling a surge of passion.

  "Well, at least you have some sce," Deng Haijun replied, readily accepting the offer.

  They approached the stall, and Zhuang Zi'ang said, "Granny, two bowls of tofu pudding, please."

  The old woman slowly stood up and looked at Zhuang Zi'ang. Her eyes were cloudy with age.

  Zhuang Zi'ang was a kind soul. Seeing su elderly woman living in poverty tugged at his heartstrings. He felt a strange sense of familiarity in her features.

  "Young man, do you want it salty or sweet?" the old woman asked, her voice raspy.

  "I'll take sweet, with extra sugar," Deng Haijun said immediately.

  "You're such a weirdo. Who eats sweet tofu pudding? I'll take salty," Zhuang Zi'ang said, giving him a look of disdain.

  The debate between salty and sweet tofu.