"Wha-" Yanyin began.
"Shut up!" shouted the prison official as she kicked the man violently back into his cell. "Here! Take your precious necklace!" She thrust the jewelry into Yanyin's hand, seized her with an iron grip, and quickly stormed out of the area.
"Was what he said true?! Aunt Hua! Will they really kill Uncle Zhenhao?!" screamed Yanyin as she struggled desperately, trying to get the official to release her. But the official wouldn't answer anything. She remained completely silent and just kept rushing toward the exit with determined speed.
Once they finally emerged into the daylight, she practically threw Yanyin out into the open ground and slammed the gates shut behind her.
"Woah!" exclaimed the guard in confusion as he rushed to help Yanyin get back to her feet. "What happened in there? Why would she do that?"
Yanyin immediately started running toward the gate and began banging on the doors with all her might. She kept banging and crying hysterically as she told the guard through her sobs, "They said they'll kill Uncle Zhenhao! Is it true?! Please tell them to open the door!! Please!!"
The guard tried his best to calm her down and looked directly into her tear-filled eyes. "Yanyin, it's…" He desperately wanted to lie to her, to say everything would be fine, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not directly to her innocent face, not after the terrible truth had been revealed so cruelly.
Yanyin stared at the helpless, guilty face of the guard and suddenly understood everything. Everything made perfect sense now. Why her uncle would always keep dodging her direct questions about his release. Why she was only permitted to visit her uncle at specific intervals instead of whenever she wished. Because if this place truly was where people could get better and be reformed, they would allow her to meet him every single day!
She realized with crushing clarity that none of these people had ever been her genuine friends. She took a few stumbling steps backward. The enormous dragon carving, which she had been told represented a monastery, now looked exactly like the gates to hell itself. She felt as though the ones who stood between her and her uncle had only ever greeted her with false smiles and empty promises. She couldn't trust any of them anymore. She turned around abruptly and started running as fast as her small legs could carry her. Away from that imposing dragon and away from that gut-wrenching, soul-crushing place.
After a considerable while of running until her lungs burned, she finally reached the familiar boundaries of her village. From there, she took a moment to catch her breath and then slowly continued walking with heavy steps toward the Temple of Silent Heaven. She would go there faithfully every night to pray to the heavens. It was especially peaceful and serene during the nighttime hours. But this time, she couldn't help but seek the divine help of the heavens above right away, unable to wait until evening.
She didn't go inside the temple proper this time, though. She just walked up a few of the stone steps and sat down in a quiet corner away from view. She put her head down on her knees and started weeping bitterly.
Despite it being a bright and sunny morning, she felt utterly cold and completely alone in the world.
After a brief while spent in her private misery, a monk from the temple noticed her small, hunched figure and came to sit beside her on the steps.
Yanyin heard the soft rustling of the monk's robes and lifted her head slowly. "Hello," she said with a blank, emotionless face while wiping away her tears.
"Hello to you too, my young friend," said the monk kindly. "Tell me, what troubles ails the little champion today?"
She looked away toward the village streets below. "What's the use of telling you? I come here every single day and pray. Nobody listens anyway. Nothing ever changes."
"Oh, but that's where you're mistaken, little child," said the monk with a warm, genuine smile. "The heavens always listen to those who pray. And guess what? They listen extra closely, especially to pure-hearted children like you."
"Then why haven't my prayers been answered yet? I come here faithfully every day!" she challenged.
"Hmm. Do you know why temples are usually so empty?" he asked.
Yanyin thought carefully for a moment. "Because there's nothing to do inside them?"
The monk chuckled softly. "Yes, that's certainly one reason. But it's also because most people eventually get tired of asking for what they want."
Yanyin looked at the monk with curious eyes, hungry for answers.
"You see," the monk continued patiently, "let's say you plant a small tree. Then you pray every single day for that plant to grow strong and bear delicious fruit for you. Whether or not you pray every day, or precisely how hard you pray, the plant will eventually grow into a mature tree at exactly the time it's naturally supposed to. But here's the important thing to understand, we know approximately how long it will take for a plant to grow into a tree. Could be a few months to a few years, depending entirely upon the specific type of plant.
But when we pray earnestly for something that we ourselves don't know the answers to, it becomes almost impossible to say with certainty when those prayers will be answered. When the natural course of events will align perfectly to give us exactly what we asked for. And that duration, too, could be anywhere from a few months to a few years! Poetic, isn't it?"
"Mhm," Yanyin nodded slowly, processing this. "But you just said the tree will grow whether or not we pray for it to grow. Then why should I bother to pray every day at all?"
The monk studied her thoughtfully for a long moment before answering. He did not rush his response.
"You're absolutely right," he said gently. "The tree doesn't grow because we pray for it. It grows because growing is simply its inherent nature."
Yanyin frowned, feeling confused. "Then praying is completely useless."
"Not useless at all," he replied with conviction. "Just… widely misunderstood by most people."
He knelt down beside her so they were at eye level with each other. "When you pray for the tree to grow, do you think the prayer is truly for the benefit of the tree, or is it actually for you?"
She hesitated, unsure how to answer.
"Every single day you come here to this temple," the monk continued, "you actively remember what you're hoping and longing for. You remind yourself that you're still waiting patiently, still caring deeply enough to wait without giving up. Prayer keeps you facing forward with hope so you don't turn back in despair before the miracle has sufficient time to walk toward you on its own schedule."
He picked up a small, smooth pebble from the steps and placed it gently in her palm.
"Imagine you suddenly stop praying for the tree. Days pass by. Then weeks. Then months. Without even meaning to, you gradually begin to forget about it entirely. Or even worse, you convince yourself that it won't ever grow at all, that your hopes were foolish. So when it finally does sprout and bloom, you might not even be there to witness and appreciate it."
Yanyin curled her small fingers tightly around the stone, her eyes lowering to the ground.
"Prayer isn't about making things happen according to our will," the monk said softly. "It's about patiently teaching your heart how to stay open long enough to receive what's already on its way to you."
She sniffed. "So… praying doesn't actually change the heavens or their plans?"
A gentle, knowing smile touched his lips. "No. It changes the one who's doing the asking."
For a long, contemplative moment, the peaceful village sounds filled the air around them. The wind rustling through leaves, the distant footfalls of villagers, and their cheerful chatter.
"…I don't want to forget about Uncle," Yanyin whispered.
The monk rose gracefully to his feet. "Then keep coming here," he said with encouragement. "Not because the heavens need reminding of your request, but because you deserve to remember to hope. And I can already see that you haven't lost that hope yet."
"How?" she asked.
"Because even in your worst moment, you chose to come here."
She watched silently as he walked away, the pebble still feeling warm in her small hand. She then stood up with renewed determination burning in her chest and went inside the temple proper. She walked forward slowly, rehearsing carefully what to ask for, and knelt humbly before the magnificent statue of the Almighty before closing her eyes.
"Dear Almighty," she began with reverence, "I come here today, just as I do every day, to humbly ask for your merciful help. My Uncle Zhenhao is a very good person with a noble heart. I know that he has killed people in his past, but he has only ever killed the bad guys who threatened innocent lives. He has a genuinely good heart and always helps people in need without asking for anything in return. But now," her young voice cracked with emotion, "now… they tell me that they're going to kill him. Without Uncle Zhenhao, I will be completely alone in this world. Please, Almighty, I beg you, please save my uncle from this fate. I wish with all my heart for him to be a free man once again."
She then opened her eyes slowly, adjusting to the dim temple light, only to notice the shadow of a tall man cast upon the statue directly in front of her.
She turned around slowly to see Longwei standing tall and proud with a confident smirk playing on his face. "God's busy, kiddo. The Devil's here instead," he said with a playful wink.