At the Temple of the World-Transcending Buddha, beside the base of the Golden Body, Fan Shijue was sleeping soundly.
Pu Shunan, carrying a bookcase on his back, dressed in a long robe, and hooking a fine brush around his index finger, slowly walked over.
He crouched beside the monk, who slept in a posture like the Buddha's, and listened closely to his dream.
It was a dream bright as glazed crystal—
A small hill, a ruined temple, windows that leaked wind, a door that would not shut, three bowls of clear water, a basin of steamed buns, and three bald heads sitting together and gnawing on buns.
One had a sallow, weathered face and a furrowed brow. Bit by bit, he tore off crumbs of bun, as though tossing branding irons into his mouth.
One had tranquil brows and eyes, taking small bites and swallowing them calmly.
One had clear eyes, eating with a beaming smile.
Even Pu Shunan, who had written all the tales of this mortal world, could not help but smile. He simply sat upon the Buddha's steps, leaned close to Fan Shijue's ear, and softly asked, "Good man... are you willing to become a Buddha?"
Fan Shijue's breathing was even, his face carrying a peaceful smile.
Three Treasures Mountain was very near. Spirit Mountain was very far.
The gate of emptiness was very broken, but that broken gate guarded his home.
He did not want to go anywhere.
This monk, so spiritual and innocent, cultivated in his dreams in the posture of a Sleeping Arhat. After fourteen years of this great dream, he might truly bring his Merit to perfection.
But there was no time to wait.
Pu Shunan considered for a moment. "The Sea of Bitterness is hard to cross, and demonic flames billow to