The seeds, now soaked through with blood, cannot be saved. Ma Budai asked Xiao Lian to help him sit under a w…
The seeds, now soaked through with blood, cannot be saved.
Ma Budai asked Xiao Lian to help him sit under a withered tree and pressed a single copper coin into his hand, a token of farewell.
He lay down, scattering the seeds across his eyes, and waited for the circling shadows to carry hope to him. At last, he was going home.