Dongxu Zi looked at the devout mortals before him, then turned to stare at the plaque above the city walls and said, "It is said that the Buddha has eighty excellent marks: in movement and stillness, he resembles an elephant king; in walking, a king of geese; in bearing, a lion king. The white elephant's six tusks represent the Six Perfections, free of affliction and defilement, for its color is white."
Buddhist classics flowed readily from Dongxu Zi's lips. Listening, Ouyang eyed him suspiciously and asked, "Old man, you can spout Buddhist classics at the drop of a hat. You old bastard, have you been harboring divided loyalties all along? Are you a spy from Buddhism?"
Dongxu Zi's expression stiffened. Then he looked at Ouyang and snapped, "I tell you to read more, but all you ever do is sleep. There are so many books in the Scripture Repository. Can't you go read a few more? If you don't study the strengths of a hundred schools, how will you know their weaknesses?"
Always eager to play the teacher, Dongxu Zi was about to seize this chance to give Ouyang a proper lecture, but Ouyang spread his hands, looking utterly resigned to doing nothing, as if to say he would fall asleep if Dongxu Zi kept running his mouth.
So angry was Dongxu Zi that he cursed Ouyang as mud that could never be plastered onto a wall.
Ouyang paid it no mind. Instead, he stared blankly at the passing pedestrians. Ever since arriving here, he had felt that something was strange.
Every mortal coming and going before them held their palms together, looking like a devout believer, Buddhist sutras pouring endlessly from their mouths and still greater compassion filling their eyes.
It was clearly a scene of peace and tranquility,