Many locals knew that Wang Cheng belonged to the temple, but most did not know that before his death the old monk had already transferred the temple to him. That made Wang Cheng its sole owner.
Zhang Yiheng and his assistant had learned about this from Secretary Wang in the village. The old monk had happened to run into Secretary Wang while handling the transfer paperwork, so Secretary Wang directed them to Papa Wang and Mama Wang. As long as they found his parents, they would know where to find Wang Cheng.
Wang Cheng’s shiny bald head was not exactly difficult to recognize.
Zhang Yiheng and Fang Tian had expected finding him to involve at least a little trouble, only to meet the man himself almost as soon as they walked through the door. Both lived in a major city and rarely encountered actual monks, so the sudden sight of a bald head made them pause. Zhang Yiheng, however, had seen enough of the world to recover quickly.
Zhang Yiheng took a contract from his briefcase and handed it to Wang Cheng. The village committee had told him that Fengxia Mountain belonged to the monk living at Wuyin Temple on the summit.
“Mr. Wang, you can look through the contract first. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me. I’ll do my best to answer them for you.”
Wang Cheng rubbed his bald head. It was no longer as smooth as it had been half a month ago. His hair had begun growing back, leaving a prickly layer of stubble under his palm. Papa Wang and Mama Wang were delighted by this. They had wanted him to return to secular life for years and practically wished his hair would grow back overnight.
He only flipped through a few pages. The clauses were much the same as those in the contract previously given to Papa Wang, except this one contained a few more details. Naturally, the price was different as well.
“You can have Fengxia Mountain, but I have one condition.”
Ever since hearing about the developer, he had known this moment could come at any time. In the letter the old monk left him, he had said that Wang Cheng no longer needed to keep watch over that broken-down temple. The old monk had only taken him as a disciple because he wanted someone to accompany him through the final stretch of his life. Now that his allotted years had run their course, there was naturally no reason to keep Wang Cheng there any longer.
“What condition?” Zhang Yiheng raised an eyebrow in surprise. The other man’s straightforwardness spared him a great deal of trouble. He had expected the negotiations to be much less smooth, after all, the person he was negotiating with was a monk, and monks were usually rather stubborn in his experience, especially older ones. He had started gathering information on Fengxia Mountain a month earlier, but no one had expected the old monk to die so suddenly, forcing them to scrap the plan they had originally prepared for dealing with him.
“Wuyin Temple cannot be demolished.” Wuyin was the name of the temple.
Zhang Yiheng froze. Their plan had never included preserving the temple. It was several hundred years old and had barely been repaired over the years, so one could imagine how dilapidated it had become. Yet that was precisely the condition Wang Cheng had chosen to raise.
Wang Cheng kept his eyes on Zhang Yiheng and noticed the faint crease between his brows. His request had clearly put the man in a difficult position, but Wang Cheng had no intention of backing down. This was the only thing he could still do for the old monk.
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Zhang Yiheng reported Wang Cheng’s demand to his boss. He was only the person in charge of the project, not the actual decision-maker, so he needed his boss’s approval before he could give Wang Cheng an answer. He did not think the chances were good. His boss had been fairly generous about buying the land, but at heart he was still a businessman who valued profit. The temple was so run-down that leaving it untouched would mar the scenic resort, while restoring it would undoubtedly cost a great deal of money.
“What did he say?”
The man’s calm expression gave no hint of what he was feeling. Ever since Zhang Yiheng had begun working for him, he had never managed to figure him out. Then again, if Zhang Yiheng were capable of seeing through a man like his boss, he probably would not be working for someone else.
“He said he’s already stated his condition, so what we do about it is up to us.” Zhang Yiheng had wanted to phrase it more politely, but the brat had worn such a shameless expression when he said it that the meaning could not have been clearer: he had them cornered, and whether they liked it or not, they would have to agree. Things had already progressed this far. They absolutely had to acquire Fengxia Mountain, or the losses would be enormous.
A monk raised deep in the mountains should, Zhang Yiheng had assumed, be dull and inflexible. The moment he met Wang Cheng, he knew he had guessed wrong.
His eyes were not especially large, but they were bright. The only comparison Zhang Yiheng could think of was black gemstones glowing in the night: clear, luminous, and unusually striking. Then there was his face. With clean-cut, refined features, he definitely qualified as handsome. Zhang Yiheng had seen bald monks on television before, but this was the first time he had encountered one whose face looked that good even with a completely shaved head.
“You seem to have a pretty good impression of him.” After observing the minute changes in Zhang Yiheng’s expression, the man drew his conclusion, and the flat statement hit Zhang Yiheng squarely in the heart.
Zhang Yiheng said awkwardly, “That monk called Wang Cheng is pretty good-looking.”
The man looked up at him, his expression unreadable.
Zhang Yiheng coughed lightly. He had the strange feeling his boss was accusing him of judging people by their looks. It had to be his imagination. To be fair, Zhang Yiheng himself was surprised by how favorable an impression Wang Cheng had left on him, but he was certain he absolutely wasn’t the type to care much about appearances, and the boss sitting in front of him was the same.
His boss possessed the natural presence of a leader, a deep and imposing gaze, and a calm, restrained air that seemed to have been tempered by years of experience. He was not actually old, yet his steadiness made him seem more like a man in his forties or fifties. If not for the occasional trace of easygoing nonchalance that surfaced from his bones, Zhang Yiheng would never have believed his boss was only thirty.