Chapter 176 — A Mundane Buddhist Hall

Though Mount Sumeru could not compare with the heaven-piercing heights of the Canglan Sect's Skytouching Peak, it was by no means low. The Fanyin Temple they had just left was already halfway up the mountain, yet they climbed for a full half hour before they saw the plaque of the Little Fanyin Temple.

Seen from outside, the Little Fanyin Temple truly deserved the word "little"—a compound of no more than three courtyards, a far cry from the magnificent Fanyin Temple halfway down the mountain. But this place was remote from the secular world; all around were ancient pines and tall bamboo, dense in groves, and when the mountain wind blew, the pines swayed and the bamboo rustled with an indescribable serenity and elegance—a flavor altogether different from the bustle below.

Ming Li, only just recovered from his grave wounds, had walked so much that a faint sweat had appeared on his brow. He stopped to rest a moment and looked back. Far off, halfway down the mountain, the Fanyin Temple's incense was thick and prospering, drifting upward in threads and wisps—even from this distance it could be seen clearly, and amid it all came the faint murmur of voices, bearing an indescribable air of devotion and solemnity.

Ming Li gazed into the distance for a long while, lost in a daze, and no one could tell what he was thinking. At last he turned back; Facheng nodded and led him into the Little Fanyin Temple.

It was much simpler here than below the mountain. The two passed through the central Buddha hall, turned right twice, and entered the rear hall, where there were three quiet meditation rooms. Facheng stepped forward to the door of the middle room and said clearly, "Master, Benefactor Zhang Qingyue has arrived."

From within the meditation room came an aged yet kindly voice: "Please come in."

Facheng turned and gestured for Ming Li to enter. Ming Li hesitated a moment, then walked into the room—though he noticed that Facheng had stopped outside and seemed to have no intention of coming in with him.

Entering the meditation room, Ming Li looked around. The room was plain and unadorned; indeed, its furnishings were almost identical to the meditation room at the foot of the mountain where he had been recovering. And there, sitting cross-legged on the meditation bed, was the Venerable Pucheng, abbot of the Fanyin Temple and a towering pillar of the righteous path in the world today, holding a string of prayer beads and gazing at him with a smile.

"You have come," the Venerable Pucheng said in a calm voice, smiling faintly.

Somehow, in the presence of this holy monk, the turmoil in Ming Li's heart quickly subsided. Drawing a deep breath, he nodded and said, "Yes."

The Venerable Pucheng studied him carefully, from head to toe, a strange compassion and light flickering in his eyes. The prayer beads turned gently in his hand. After a long moment he said, "You must have questions you wish to ask me, no?"

Ming Li nodded at once. "Indeed," he said. "I am puzzled—why would the Fanyin Temple risk falling out with the Canglan Sect to save me? And also, why did you..."

He asked in urgent haste, the words tumbling out quickly, but halfway through a question he stopped involuntarily: the Venerable Pucheng had raised his right hand and held it in midair, halting him from going on.

Not understanding, Ming Li looked at the Venerable Pucheng in some confusion. The Venerable Pucheng lowered his head and softly invoked the Buddha's name, then rose from the meditation bed and stood, saying to Ming Li, "Before you ask me, let me take you to see someone first."

Ming Li was startled. "See someone? Who?" he asked.

Pucheng did not answer, only walked outward, saying slowly, "This person has wanted to see you for a long time. And I know that you, too, must very much wish to see him."

Ming Li was astonished, yet he found himself following instinctively. Somehow his palms had grown damp with sweat, and his heart suddenly raced, as though somewhere ahead there was something that filled him with dread.

Facheng had been standing quietly outside the meditation room all along. Seeing the Venerable Pucheng emerge so soon with Ming Li, his expression did not change; he merely stepped back and stood to one side. The Venerable Pucheng glanced at him and nodded, then without a word led Ming Li in another direction—toward the last small courtyard of the three-courtyard compound, tucked against a mountain wall.

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Note 1: The auspicious beasts carved on the upturned eaves of halls are an architectural regulation unique to ancient China, with extremely detailed rules. The number of such beasts was strictly prescribed from the emperor down to officials and ordinary households, and could not be exceeded; to do so was disrespect, punishable by death, even the extermination of one's clan. Since ancient times, throughout all of China there has been only one building with ten auspicious beasts on its roof—the Hall of Supreme Harmony in the Forbidden City, the only one in the world. The temple here is fictional; readers are kindly asked to smile at it.

Note 2: Burning incense and worshipping the Buddha on the first and fifteenth days of the lunar month is prevalent in China, where Buddhism has spread widely. It is sometimes called a dharma service, sometimes a Buddhist gathering—from the Yonghe Temple in Beijing to small temples in the countryside of Fujian in the south, most are like this. I grew up watching my grandmother burn incense, and she still does so today. As I write this, thinking of it, I cannot help but sigh.