The grand hall in the distance had slightly upturned eaves, and the gilded roof shimmered with golden light. The gallery halfway up the hill was covered with butter fingerprints, yet the devout followers of the past were no longer present.
Inside this Buddhist hall, the threshold was stained dark brown by incense smoke. The bluestone steps glistened with dew, marked with varying depths of wear, showing the erosion of time.
In the past, Dakong Temple would be ringing its morning bell at this moment, opening its gates wide. Little monks would bow their heads and welcome esteemed guests into the temple, where amidst swirling incense smoke and pervasive zen scent, they would sincerely worship Buddha.
Chen Yi observed the surrounding scenery and calmly said, "The sacred sound is gone, the Buddha Light is gone, Dakong Temple is nothing but a slightly extravagant temple now, devoid of its former grandeur and prosperity."
