As noon approached, the number of pilgrims in the Ten Kings Temple gradually dwindled.
Zhao Sheng passed through a gate into the backyard and saw a little Taoist sweeping the courtyard, so he walked over casually.
"Little monk, I would like to see Qin Temple Priest. Do you know if he is here?"
The little Taoist looked up at the polite Zhao Sheng, feeling a sudden increase in affection, quickly hugged the broom, and said softly, "Our temple priest is entertaining guests in the Quiet Hall. If the Young Master is not in a hurry, perhaps you could come another day."
Zhao Sheng's eyes gleamed, and he smiled, "No matter, my heart is sincere, please take me to the Quiet Hall. I will wait outside."
With that, he took out a piece of broken silver from his sleeve and stuffed it into the little Taoist's hand.
The little Taoist blushed with embarrassment, holding the broken silver tightly in his right hand, looking somewhat panicked and at a loss.
