In the Reincarnation Palace, a monk appeared out of thin air, his robe plain yet untainted by dust. In his right hand, he held a wooden fish, and in his left, a string of beads.
The woman who was serving soup looked up, their eyes met, and the monk placed his palms together politely, "I'm sorry to intrude, but could you spare a bowl of soup for this humble monk?"
The woman frowned slightly, her voice indifferent, "Since you chose your path, why change suddenly?"
Years ago, this person appeared in the Reincarnation Palace, yet refused the soup.
Today, however, he was asking for this bowl of soup.
How many years has it been?
The woman could no longer remember.
It was too long ago.
The monk smiled kindly, "This humble monk has been waiting for the appropriate opportunity. Back then was not the best time for reincarnation; even if I had reincarnated, it might not have been the tenth life."
The woman frowned, her hands not pausing as she continued to serve soup to those in line.
