The Secret Medical Institute

"Gyatso, you really want to study the scriptures?"

Doje followed Qu Zan the whole way, his face full of bafflement. Nothing in his life gave him more of a headache than chanting scriptures. During morning and evening services, his lips moved without his heart in it, his thoughts flying everywhere. He got through the hours purely by going through the motions.

"The temple offers such a good opportunity. Why wouldn't I study?" Qu Zan asked mildly without stopping.

It was Doje's first time being a senior brother, and having such a big junior brother somehow gave him a sense of superiority. Having a tall, composed, handsome junior brother like Qu Zan at his side lent him quite a bit of dignity.

Doje curled his lip with the air of an old hand:

"Studying scriptures is agony, and even if we learn them, what good will it do? Our foundations are far worse than those nobles'. Don't tell me you want to become a Scholar Monk?"

"Besides, even if we started at the same starting line, we still have to work, so we don't get as much time to study. We'd be better off slipping out and wandering around. The scripture teachers won't care if we wander off!" Doje said.

"Junior brother, let your senior brother show you somewhere fun."

Qu Zan did not answer and walked straight into the scripture hall.

The scriptures of Mìdì were made of palm-leaf paper and laid flat on slabs of bluestone.

With their twisting curves and intersecting horizontal and vertical strokes, the characters of Mìdì looked at first glance like the random scrawls of ghosts, obscure and incomprehensible, impossible for an ordinary person to decipher.

His foremost goal now was to overcome the hurdle of literacy. He was still an illiterate who could not even look up a word in a dictionary.

Qu Zan approached the scripture teacher stationed at the entrance, pressed his palms together, and bowed. "May you have good fortune, Lama. This humble monk has only just joined and cannot read a single word. I beg to begin with basic literacy."

The scripture teacher pointed to a narrow doorway beside him, indicating that he should study there.

He went through the narrow doorway and discovered quite a few people already inside.

There were monks as well as youths in secular clothing, all considerably younger than him.

Some students wore brocade and satin patterned with floral medallions; others had gemstone belts around their waists and coral pendants hanging from their bodies...

Clearly, these were all children of nobles and wealthy merchants.

They had come to the temple to study not to become low-ranking Scholar Monks or menial workers, but to receive special training as attendants to high-ranking Lamas or officials who governed the secular world.

Doje put on the airs of a senior brother before Qu Zan, but the instant he saw those finely dressed students with their distinguished bearing, all his confidence vanished, and his back instinctively hunched.

The hall full of privileged children threw the shabbiness of his coarse monk's robes into stark relief. Doje did not know what to do with his hands or feet, awkward and ill at ease. He felt utterly out of place and wished he could turn around and leave, yet worried that people would laugh at him.

Qu Zan remained at ease. He walked up to the teaching platform, pressed his palms together in greeting, and said, "May you have good fortune, Lama. This humble monk, Gyatso, cannot read and has come here to learn."

Doje followed behind Qu Zan. Hearing how loud Qu Zan's voice was, he wanted to remind him to keep it down.

The scripture teacher glanced over the cowering Doje and asked, "And you? What are you here for?"

Doje replied bashfully, "The same."

The scripture teacher seated the two of them in a corner at the back.

The Mìdì script consisted of thirty-three gama. Each individual character looked much like a picture, and grouped together, they had even more of the bewildering appearance of a heavenly script.

Most Attendant Monks merely repeated the sounds after others. Their entire lives, they could only parrot what they heard, spending a lifetime as mouthpieces repeating the same words.

Beginners were not given paper and brushes at first, but a wooden stick with which to trace characters in a tray of sand.

Although Qu Zan could not read these characters, he was not illiterate. He had learned two languages in his previous life, so he adapted readily to learning a script. Possessing the [Extensive Learning] ability, he drew a deep breath and instantly entered a state of study.

All the noise around him vanished. He focused only on the teacher's articulation and pronunciation, and the Mìdì characters on the thin board on the wall.

Every point of knowledge was like high-definition footage, each frame crystal clear, branded into his mind without the slightest error.

Only when the teacher announced the end of class did Qu Zan stir as though waking from a dream.

Such absolute concentration on absorbing vast quantities of information drained his mental energy immensely. When it ended, his temples felt swollen and sore.

Meanwhile, in a corner of his vision, a line of small text quietly refreshed:

[Extensive Learning lv1] Progress increased +3%

He had not expected that devoted study alone could advance his talent's progress.

I wonder what will happen when it reaches 100%! Qu Zan's heart stirred, full of delight and anticipation.

Qu Zan looked at Doje beside him. At some point, the boy had fallen asleep against the wall, drool hanging from the corner of his mouth like a waterfall.

The next day, three quarters into the hour of the tiger, a ritual conch sounded long through the courtyard, accompanied by rolling drums.

All the Attendant Monks rose from bed.

After rising, they first made three full prostrations before the Buddhist shrine, recited "Lama Khyen" several times, and then washed...

They gathered in the subsidiary institute's small hall, sitting upright throughout as they chanted the scriptures along with the others.

The illiterate Attendant Monks followed the other monks' pronunciation.

Qu Zan glanced at Doje beside him. The little fatty was still half asleep, drool running from the corner of his mouth.

After morning chanting ended and everyone had finished breakfast, they each went to their assigned duties and began the day's labor.

Sweeping the scripture halls and courtyards, wiping down Buddhist statues, offering tables, and lamps, as well as carrying water, collecting cow dung, and chopping firewood... all were tedious, strenuous chores.

"Junior brother, come with me!" Doje grabbed Qu Zan and said smugly, "Your senior brother found us a good job. We're going to wipe down the Buddhist statues at the Secret Medical Institute."

"Wipe down Buddhist statues?"

In the tone of a seasoned hand, Doje said complacently, "Chopping firewood and hauling water are dirty and exhausting. Wiping down Buddhist statues is the very best assignment. It calls for meticulous work, but really, how dirty can those statues get? You can spend a whole day wiping them! Isn't your senior brother taking especially good care of you?"

"Is that so? Thank you, senior brother." If he could take it easy, Qu Zan was naturally happy to do so.

Carrying wiping cloths and buckets of clean water, they entered the solemn, quiet Secret Medical Institute together.

The Secret Medical Institute was an important subsidiary institute of the Corpse Camel Temple. It housed all sorts of medicines and served as a place of practice for various medicine monks.

They came to an empty side hall, where a huge thangka hung.

The thangka was exquisitely embroidered, its intricate patterns sumptuous and ornate. Golden sunlight fell on the embroidery, making its gilding shimmer and lending it still greater splendor and extravagance.

The enormous thangka had clearly defined layers, arranged in many rows, its successive tiers of images progressing through a sequence of evolving changes.

The first few rows showed circles, which then kept evolving until they depicted fish. Next came turtles, then pigs.

Doje leaned closer and asked, "Junior brother, let your senior brother test you. What does this thangka depict?"

Qu Zan still knew few Mìdì characters and could only vaguely make out that this was a process of transformation. He shook his head lightly.

Doje said proudly, "A medicine monk Lama told me that this is a treasure of our Tantric Physicians. It depicts the entire process of a baby's development in the womb."

"Look, at the beginning, from five to nine weeks of development, the fetus takes a rudimentary shape like a fish; from ten to seventeen weeks, it grows hands, feet, and the five viscera, with all nine orifices present, resembling a turtle; from eighteen to thirty-five weeks, its bones and fat are fully developed, and its body gradually grows larger, like a little pig. This is the pig form...

"Every image corresponds precisely to the fetus's developing shape, without the slightest discrepancy.

"This picture alone shows what a treasure our Tantric Physicians are."

At these words, a sudden chill gripped Qu Zan's heart, and an inexplicable, hair-raising unease arose within him.