Outside Qingtian Village stood an old locust grove, and by its edge lived a young carpenter named Ashu. His parents had passed away early, leaving him only a coarse clay pot—his mother had given it to him on her deathbed, saying it held a "treasure that could save the whole village," but it must not be opened until a "gold-patterned auspicious beast came to seek it."
That year, a severe drought struck. Rivers dried up to the bed, crops withered into twisted straw, and even the locust leaves curled like rolled tobacco. Villagers carried offerings to the mountain temple to pray for rain, but after kneeling for three days and nights, not a single wisp of cloud appeared in the sky.
Watching the elderly and children in the village with cracked lips from thirst, Ashu felt his heart twist with worry. He ran home, held the clay pot in his hands and stroked it for a long while, then gritted his teeth and lifted the lid—inside was no treasure, but a pool of clear moonlight that shimmered at the bottom like broken silver.
Just then, soft hoofbeats sounded from the grove. Ashu looked up to see a great beast glowing with golden light emerging from the depths of the locust trees: it had deer antlers, a horse's body, fish scales, and a lion's tail, and wherever it stepped, green shoots sprouted from the ground—it was a Qilin!
"Young carpenter, why did you open the pot ahead of time?" The Qilin's voice was like wind chimes, gentle and clear.
"The village can't hold on any longer—I couldn't wait for my mother's instructions!" Ashu's eyes were red as he held out the pot. "If you are the auspicious beast, please save us!"
The Qilin looked down at the moonlight in the pot and sighed softly: "This is 'moon dew' I left in the mortal world a hundred years ago, meant to awaken the underground springs when the disaster was fully upon you. Taking it out early will reduce its power, but..." It paused, then stamped its hoof lightly on the ground. "Very well—I will mend it with my scales!"
With that, the Qilin shook off a golden-patterned scale and dropped it into the pot. The moment the moon dew touched the scale, it transformed into a stream of silver light that seeped into the cracked earth. Soon, the ground trembled slightly, and clear springs bubbled up from the fields, flowing through ditches into every household's water vat. The withered crops slowly straightened their stalks.
The villagers cheered and gathered around to thank the Qilin, but the divine beast stepped back gently: "I am the guardian of the eastern lands. A hundred years ago, I foresaw this drought and sealed the moon dew in the pot, entrusting it to your mother's care. The disaster is not yet fully over—I must go to help elsewhere."
Ashu hurried to ask: "When will you return? We want to build a temple for you!"
The Qilin shook its head, and the shoots beneath its hooves grew into a small patch of clover: "No temple or offerings are needed. Remember this—those with kind hearts will find good fortune wherever they go; villages that cherish water and soil will never be overcome by hardship."
As the words faded, the Qilin's form grew faint, then dissolved into a streak of golden light that merged into the newly clear blue sky. Ashu held the clay pot and found the golden scale still at the bottom. He ground it into powder, mixed it with clay, and fired a new pot, carving two characters on its side: "Cherish Blessings."
From then on, the people of Qingtian Village never wasted a drop of water or a grain of rice. And every full moon, the pot would hold clear moonlight—as the villagers said, it was the Qilin watching over them.