In the evening, the few pilgrims dispersed and the countryside was shrouded in twilight.
A young monk walked out from behind the open door of the ancient temple, looked at the wilderness, and was about to close the temple door when he saw a group of riders appear on the road leading to the north of the city. They seemed to be coming here, and he didn't know where they came from, so he waited outside the door for a while.
Soon, the group of people and horses galloped over. The leading man was dignified and had an extraordinary demeanor, and the woman was dressed in gorgeous clothes and wore a hat with a hanging gauze veil on her head, with her delicate face looming behind the hat. They looked like a young couple from a high-class family in Chang'an who had just got married. Accompanied by their servants, they walked through the countryside in the spring evening and came to this place.
The young monk thought that the young couple were here to see the paintings like most people, so he stepped forward and clasped his hands in greeting. He was just about to say that the temple was closed today and asked them to come back tomorrow, but then he heard the man say, "My last name is Pei. Your temple sent me a letter during the day. I came here as promised."
When the young monk heard this, he nodded hurriedly: "It turns out that Pei Langjun has arrived. The head monk has instructed me on this matter. Please come in!"
The man dismounted swiftly and stretched out his arms toward the beauty on horseback.
She seemed impatient, and after holding his outstretched hand, she jumped down from the towering horse's back, her skirt fluttering as she walked into the door.
The young monk led the way. The man asked when the messenger came, and he said, "He has been here not long, only three or four days. It is said that he is an old friend of Master from decades ago. He passed by Chang'an during his travels and came here to stay again."
"Look, you two. There he is."
As he spoke, the young monk had already led the two of them to the mural wall, pointed in the distance ahead and spoke softly.
Xuyu stopped suddenly and looked forward.
An old monk stood quietly by, watching another person painting.
It was an old man with gray hair, grey coarse linen clothes and cloth shoes. With his back to the rain, he was holding a paintbrush and concentrating on painting something on the mural in the last twilight of the evening.
The young monk followed her and stopped, looking at it for a moment, and could not help but whispered, "This old donor said that the mural has been in disrepair for a long time and has been eroded by wind and rain. After he came, he would take a pen to repair the peeling parts when the pilgrims left every evening and there was no one here. He would stop when it got dark. It was strange that the master usually regarded the mural as precious as the Buddha, but he did not stop him this time. However, it was also strange that the places he repaired did not show any traces of new colors added later. It looked as if they were originally like this. If I hadn't passed by and seen it every day, I really wouldn't know where he repaired it!"
From a distance, Xuyu's eyes began to turn red.
Pei Xiaoyuan glanced at her secretly and winked at the little monk.
The young monk understood and was about to go up to remind him, but he saw the old man in gray paused in the air with his brush in his hand. Then, he slowly turned around, put the brush on the work table beside him, relaxed his brows, and waved at Xuyu.
"Girl, you are here too? Grandpa has come to Chang'an to see you." He said with a smile.
"Grandpa!"
Xuyu cried with joy, lifted the veil covering her face, ran forward, and threw herself into Ye Zhongli's arms.
Ye Zhongli smiled, patted her back gently, and whispered to comfort her, telling her not to cry.