IN THE NORTHWEST CORNER of Liugong City, opposite Qiushan Manor, lay Zixia Monastery.
Zixia Monastery had been built during the previous dynasty. After the demise of the old abbot, the Daoists under him had scattered. Years passed, and less and less incense was burned within the monastery as the number of visitors dwindled. The younger folk in Liugong City had likely never even heard this monastery's name.
Yet this marked decline was abruptly reversed with the arrival of the new abbot.
On the third day of the third month, the birthday of the god Xuantian Shangdi,1 Zixia Monastery thronged with visitors. Almost half of Liugong City's population had congregated there. Within the monastery people offered incense, while outside shrewd peddlers had already set up stalls selling breakfast and fresh fruit to all those who had hurried there to pray.
As little as two months ago, no one imagined the near-deserted monastery would be rejuvenated like a withered tree sprouting new leaves in spring, worshippers and believers crowded into every corner. It was the same monastery as before, with little sign of renovation. At most, the leaky roof tiles had been replaced and the weeds in the monastic garden uprooted. But in the eyes of the local residents, Zixia Monastery, with its thick clouds of incense and pervasive fragrance of sandalwood, looked far more sacred these days.
As the saying went: A mountain needn't be high, so long as a famous immortal lived there. The waters needn't be deep, so long as dragons swam within. Presumably, the monastery's increased appeal was all due to the new abbot.
Lady Zhang clutched an incense stick she'd just lit at the lamp platform. She waded through the crowd toward the center of the yard, trying to reach the large incense burner so she could place her joss stick there as a prayer for the peace of her family. The place was overflowing with people, yet she never thought of admitting defeat. She only wondered if she'd come too late, and if the gods might be displeased. Perhaps she ought to request a fortune slip after offering the incense. Best if she could get that young priest over there to plead with the abbot on her behalf and ask him to personally read out her fortune.
After a full hour had passed, she finally managed to place her joss stick, finish her prayers, and present her offerings. The sun was already high in the sky. Lady Zhang's rouge had grown greasy and started to peel in the baking heat; the din around her swelled as people jostled and bumped shoulders. Many of the visitors were just like Lady Zhang—they had no intention of leaving, and instead felt they'd completed some sacred and monumental task in braving the crowds.
Lady Zhang's family resided in the eastern quarter of the city. Her husband owned two tailor shops, so they lived comfortably, and their marriage was a harmonious one. Yet when it came to children, they'd met setback after setback. After much difficulty, they'd finally welcomed a son in their middle age. They treated the child like a priceless treasure, but two months later, the infant fell gravely ill and almost passed away. The couple sought out numerous doctors and visited the Yufo Temple countless times to offer incense, but nothing worked. They had nearly given up hope when they heard a new abbot with outstanding medical knowledge had arrived at Zixia Monastery. Rumor was that even the temple incense now possessed miraculous healing powers. Lady Zhang was desperate to save her son and had no time to lose. She rushed to the monastery and pleaded for help, and one way or another, her son's illness was cured. From that day on, the incense money Lady Zhang had once offered to Yufo Temple every month was transferred in full to Zixia Monastery.
Liugong City was a small place. The story of the Zhang family's infant son and his recovery spread like wildfire, and as its renown grew, people poured into the monastery in droves. Almost overnight, Zixia Monastery became famous, rivaling Yufo Temple as Liugong City's largest place of worship.
Lady Zhang fished out a handkerchief and dabbed at her forehead. She'd finally managed to squeeze into the side hall but had been told the abbot wasn't reading fortunes today; instead, he was in the courtyard giving a lecture on Daoism. Lady Zhang was far from learned, but her blind faith in the abbot compelled her to go and listen anyway.
As she stepped into the courtyard, she was stunned to find it already packed with seated listeners. Quite a few had also gathered to stand outside the walls, creating a thronging crowd both within and without. Despite the size of the assembly, there was a hush over the courtyard, broken only by occasional mutterings and whispers.
Lady Zhang spotted the abbot over the heads of the crowd. The man was seated cross-legged on the steps beneath the eaves, his eyes slightly narrowed as he gazed into the courtyard. Lady Zhang's heart flipped as she recalled the godly statues within the main hall. Their eyes, too, had been half-lidded as they gazed benevolently down upon the joys and sorrows of the mortal world.
Abbot Cui's complexion was much paler than when she'd seen him last, though that might have been because he was illuminated by the bright noon sun. Lady Zhang came often to offer incense and had vaguely heard the novices mention it before—Abbot Cui was in poor health. As for what ailed him, no one could say. But Lady Zhang was a married woman; it would be inappropriate to inquire further.
Though she stood a fair distance from him, the crowd was so quiet that Abbot Cui's voice, when he spoke, reached almost everyone's ears. Its cadence was neither fast nor slow, but both gentle and melodious—like a cup of tea that fit perfectly in one's hands, neither too hot nor too cold, but steaming and fragrant as it seeped into one's heart. As if wherever this person went would become a place of utmost tranquility.
"Today, we shall speak on the topic of karma," Lady Zhang heard him say. In the crowd, someone gave a faint gasp of surprise, their expression revealing a trace of bewilderment.
Abbot Cui smiled. "Perhaps you believe that only Buddhism speaks of karma. But in truth, our Daoism also has much to impart on the subject. The Treatise on the Response of the Tao teaches that there is no road to fortune or calamity; rather, people invite both good and ill upon themselves. When it comes to blessings and disasters, neither are preordained, but tied inextricably to a person and their conduct. Is this not similar to Buddhists' teachings that good actions lead to good rewards? Despite our different origins, we arrive at the same conclusion."
Lady Zhang couldn't read, and she'd never so much as touched one of the classics. At most she'd go to the teahouse and listen to storytellers' tales of the jianghu. Nothing gave her a headache like endless preaching and sermons. But today—perhaps because so many were listening, or because Abbot Cui was expounding on these profound topics using such simple language—although Lady Zhang didn't understand completely, she wasn't frustrated. Instead, she felt an unexpected clarity suffuse her heart.
"Let us use the madam of the Zhang family as an example."
Lady Zhang started, caught completely unawares. For a moment, she thought there must be another in the crowd who shared her surname. But when she raised her head, Abbot Cui was looking right at her, and the attention of the crowd followed his gaze.
A wave of dizziness overcame her, and her ears turned bright red. For the first time in her life, she was exposed to the burning stares of a crowd. She shuffled nervously, unsure what to do with her hands and feet.
"Some time ago, Madam Zhang's son suffered a serious illness and nearly succumbed. I trust everyone here knows of this. If not for the Zhang family's frequent acts of kindness and the merits accumulated by their ancestors, how could such a calamity transform into good fortune?"
Lady Zhang had never expected Abbot Cui to praise her so. She was both moved and embarrassed, and her words came unsteadily as she hurried to say in a trembling voice, "This wife…and her husband only acted in accordance with our own hearts. These words from the abbot are really too much! Our son's recovery was all thanks to the abbot's unmatched skill. The entire Zhang family is grateful from the bottom of our hearts."
Abbot Cui's smile deepened. "It's easy to say you'll act in accordance with your heart. But how many in this world can do so successfully? If we go back further, was not my timely arrival at Zixia Monastery also thanks to the invisible guidance of countless forefathers?"
At this, everyone nodded their agreement. When they turned back to Lady Zhang, her confusion had also transformed into admiration.
Lady Zhang's cheeks flushed crimson, her overwhelmed heart beating hard in her chest. In all her life, this was the first time anyone had so openly praised her virtue, and it had come from the abbot of the city's most famous monastery. She could hardly wait to rush home and share this account of incredible fortune with her husband. Lady Zhang decided then and there that when she visited Zixia Monastery next month, she'd increase the incense money once again.
As her thoughts went thus bounding off, something pricked at the edge of her vision, like a glint of metal in the sun. Lady Zhang blinked, but accompanying the glint was the sound of something whistling through the air, as if a bird swooped right by her ear. Her eyes grew round as she saw a gray shadow leap toward Abbot Cui where he sat on the steps. A longsword flashed, slashing with incredible speed—it was about to run Abbot Cui through.
In the blink of an eye, the point of the sword was half an inch from the abbot's forehead. No matter how swiftly the priests near him moved, it was too late for them to jump in and save him. Everything had happened so quickly—no one could react in time.
Abbot Cui jerked back on instinct, but the motion was powerless to stop the assassin's sword. In another blink, it would pierce between his brows and cut his life short.
Lady Zhang could see no way out for Abbot Cui. Terror exploded in her heart as her shriek split the air.