Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4 - 7 2018 | Page 282

Buddhist sacred texts. Yet, Zang wasn't the owner of this diary. It seemed that the owner of this diary
was a servant or a follower of Zang.
‘Hey guys, let’s just read this diary to kill time. It should be interesting. I hope to know more
about the monk,’ Jing suggested. Kong and Neng looked at each other and nodded.
‘It was a very hot day and …’
It was a very hot day and the sun shone brightly, burning like a freshly lit fire. I felt I was going
to melt. Sweat broke out all over my body and finally dropped to the ground.
It was 23 days since we started the journey and it was also the twenty-third time I wondered
why Zang never sweat in his heavy monk robes. Luckily, we had arrived at a little village before noon.
Looking at my sweating face, Zang decided to stay in this little village for a little while to avoid the
burning sun. Oh! How kind Zang was, and again, I was glad that I had met him in my life.
Walking on the street, we were trying to find an inn, and I saw a girl coming to us. She had a
slim body, as perfect as a master’s sculpture. Black hair framed a heart-shaped face with a gentle smile
and perfected placed dimples. Her skin was completely flawless. Everything part of her would have
portrayed perfect--if she didn’t stare at Zang in that way with her eyes, sparkling with love and
passion.
I quite understood her feelings. Zang was a monk, but not a ‘real’ monk. I knew he chose to
become a monk for some reasons, hiding a fact that would not be accepted by others. As a result, Zang
didn’t shave off all his hair. His worry was doomed to follow him his whole life. Not cutting his hair,
Zang had an attractive appearance, letting you feel relieved, calm and safe. For me, he was a distant star
that twinkled in the vast night sky, so far that he was sacred and out of reach. So I understood her
feelings well.
The girl stood in front of Zang, staring at him as if she wanted to capture all the details of