Before dawn, mist blanketed the mountain. Xiao Mu walked alone by the temple pond. The lotus flowers were still budding, everything calm as usual—except for one: a pale blue lotus, its petals faintly glowing, drawing his attention.
Approaching, he found a bamboo basket beside the pond. Inside was the lotus and a note:
"When the morning bell rings, offer this to the Silent One.
But speak no words. Give no explanation."
He frowned, unsure who had left it, but guided by an instinct beyond reason, he picked up the basket and entered the temple.
The Silent Monk sat unmoving before the Buddha statue, face serene. As the bell rang, Xiao Mu gently placed the lotus on the offering table. The monk opened his eyes—not looking at Xiao Mu, but at the lotus. After a moment, he whispered:
"You saw it… and it saw you."
Xiao Mu froze, saying nothing. As he turned to leave, a chill brushed his shoulder, as if something had passed behind him. That night, he dreamed again of the bell—but this time, a massive blue lotus bloomed atop the tower, whispering:
"The willing are not the chosen.
The giver is yet unaware.
You are merely one chosen by the path."
He awoke to find the basket gone, the blue lotus vanished, and the feather-shaped shard now cracked. In his palm, a new mark had appeared—a faint lotus-shaped imprint.