Lingyin Temple had opened its gates thirty years earlier. Its followers had gradually increased, and its incense offerings had flourished, but this was the first time anyone had seen such a handsome young pilgrim.
The boy was about fourteen or fifteen, wearing a small black-lacquered fine-gauze cap and a moon-white, wide-sleeved robe of fine kudzu cloth. His clothes were loose, his sash broad, his sleeves fluttering; his figure resembled a fresh, glistening spring willow, his face the bright mid-autumn moon. His nose was high and straight, his lips vivid red, and his brows, as though painted in ink, had a soaring vitality. Unfortunately, his gaze was rather blank, seemingly not very bright, which took some of the luster from his whole appearance.
"Chou'er, come here. Kneel."
The gray-haired woman in the Hall of the Great Hero turned and beckoned lovingly. Behind her towered a sandalwood Buddha eighteen feet tall. Its left hand hung down in the "Wish-Granting Mudra," signifying its ability to fulfill the wishes of all living beings, while its right arm bent upward in the "Fearlessness Mudra," signifying its ability to dispel their suffering.
The boy went forward and knelt on the round rush cushion beside his mother. Following her example, he respectfully knocked his forehead to the ground three times before the Buddha.
The elderly woman was past fifty, with fair skin, kindly brows, and gentle eyes. Her face did not look particularly old, but her hair was more white than black, and she had a somewhat declining air, appearing less than robust.
"Chou'er, do you see that lotus lamp before the Buddha? That is the longevity lamp I pledged for you here at Lingyin Temple on this day ten years ago, to bless my son with freedom from illness and calamity, with peace and safety-I'm getting old, and I fear I won't be able to accompany you here to offer incense and fulfill my vow in the future. You must remember: every year on the eighth day of the fourth month, the Buddha's birthday, you must come to the temple to offer incense and alms. Will you remember?"
The handsome boy stared fixedly at the lotus-petal-shaped longevity lamp on the incense table and replied, "Mother, I'll remember." Then he murmured to himself, "There was such a violent storm last night. How come this lamp wasn't blown out?"
His mother rebuked him mildly. "This is a longevity lamp. How could it go out? Don't say such foolish things again!"
A monk approached carrying a small, tall oil jar and said with a smile, "Layman Chen, please add oil to your longevity lamp. Usually, this humble monk does it for you."
The boy took the tall oil jar, walked up to the incense table, and slowly filled the lotus lamp with clear oil. Its bean-sized flame slowly rose, the tiny fire shimmering with dazzling beauty. Looking closely, it seemed as though the flame was about to leave the wick and soar upward-
The boy stared, entranced, two points of flame reflected in his clear, jet-black eyes. For some reason, he suddenly thought of blowing out this longevity lamp. The urge was tremendously strong, impossible to restrain-
With a "puff," the boy blew out a forceful breath. Instead of going out, the longevity lamp flared brightly. A strand of brilliant light escaped from the flame and shot into the space between his brows. The boy cried "Ah!" and fell backward, the tall oil jar flying from his hand.
His mother turned pale with fright and threw herself beside him, crying, "Chou'er, Chou'er-"
The monk was rather timid. Instead of helping to save the boy first, he dashed off to fetch the temple's abbot, Elder Zhenru.
Elder Zhenru hurried over with several monks, took the unconscious boy's left hand, and briefly felt his pulse. "There is no need for alarm, benefactress. Your son's pulse is normal. He must have stood up suddenly after kneeling for too long, making him dizzy and causing him to fall." He ordered the monks to carry the boy to a small couch in a side hall, while he personally recited the Great Peacock King Dharani Sutra to dispel calamity and pray for blessings for him.
Chen Caozhi woke. Listening to Elder Zhenru recite the difficult, abstruse scripture, he did not want to open his eyes just yet. Yes, his surname was still Chen, but his given name was now Caozhi, and his courtesy name Zizhong. He remembered that Wang Xizhi had a son named Wang Caozhi. In ancient times, "cao" was a fine word, denoting integrity, knowing what to do and what not to do. But to a transmigrator from more than sixteen hundred years in the future, being named "Caozhi" always felt awkward. Still, Chen Caozhi's late father, Chen Su, had chosen this name. What could he do to change it? Caozhi it was, then. He would get used to it.
Oh, yes, he also had a childhood name, Liuchou-Sixth Ugly. According to Chen Caozhi's memories, which had merged with his own, this was because Chen Caozhi had been like carved jade dusted with powder as a child, so excessively adorable that his parents feared Heaven would grow jealous and he would not survive to adulthood. Thus they had given him the childhood name Liuchou, hoping to deceive Heaven.
Elder Zhenru devoutly recited the Great Peacock King Dharani Sutra. The quiet hall at the foot of Wulin Mountain was suffused with the compassion and vastness of Buddhist teachings, yet Chen Caozhi was still a little afraid to open his eyes-
He had originally been a seasoned backpacker, making his living painting landscapes and writing travel essays. In the five years after graduating from university, he had traveled across more than half of China. He had never expected to encounter a mudslide in the Yimeng Mountains, then inexplicably find his soul lodged in an ever-burning lamp. He had spent three whole months inside that tiny flame. At first, terror, anxiety, anger, bewilderment... had tormented him. But in this ancient temple deep in the mountains, listening to monks chant scriptures every day and watching pilgrims come and go, he had gradually cultivated a measure of calm. Since things had already come to this, he might as well stay put. After all, his soul was still there; he could see without eyes and hear without ears-
Only, whenever wind and rain came at night, with gales howling and rain pouring in torrents, he truly feared that the lamp would go out. The longevity lamp housed his soul; if it went out, he might very well be finished for good. Besides fearing wind and rain, he also feared that the monk on duty would sleep late and forget to refill the lamp. These days were truly hard to endure, spent trembling with apprehension. Thus he urgently needed to truly transmigrate into someone's body. Helpless, like the demon sealed inside a brass bottle in One Thousand and One Nights, he silently cried out to the pilgrims passing to and fro, "Let me transmigrate into your body! I'll make you emperor! I'll show you every treasure in the world, one by one! I'll let you marry the most beautiful wife in the world-"
He had none of the demon's powers, of course; these were merely reckless promises. No one heard his cries, and even if they had, no one would have believed them, so he remained inside the flame. Still, it had not been entirely fruitless. From scraps of conversation among the monks and pilgrims, he learned that this was the second year of the Eastern Jin's Shengping era. The emperor was Sima Dan, a very young emperor, only sixteen this year. Huan Wen, the Grand General Who Conquers the West, had already launched two northern expeditions and fought his way to the former capital, Luoyang. The Eastern Jin's strength had risen greatly, the lands south of the Yangtze were fairly peaceful, and the common people lived and worked in contentment-
Thus Wang Xizhi could still gather his friends to roam the mountains and waters and elegantly write his "Preface to the Orchid Pavilion Collection"; Xie An was still living in seclusion at Kuaiji Dongshan, taking courtesans on leisurely outings through the woods each day, awaiting his chance to rise again from the eastern mountain. The celebrated scholars of Jiangdong, who prized bearing and appearance, wore loose robes with broad sleeves, took five-mineral powder, waved deer-tail whisks as they engaged in pure conversation, and traveled about in ox carts. They discussed music and calligraphy, devoted themselves to the zither, chess, writing, and painting, and invested their feelings in mountains and waters. Their words and deeds were carefree and unrestrained in every fashion, unbound by ritual: profound hearts and penetrating insights, exquisite appreciation and deep feeling, life transformed into art. Compared with the chaotic Western Jin and the blood-soaked northern dynasties of the Five Hu peoples, the Eastern Jin truly was a noble, splendid age to yearn for-
His mother's mournful weeping interrupted Chen Caozhi's reverie. How tender were the hearts of parents everywhere. Thinking how grief-stricken his parents from his former life would be upon hearing the terrible news that he had perished in a mudslide, he felt tears seep from the corners of his eyes. Open your eyes. Face this world calmly and live well. Honor this elderly woman, who cherishes her son more than her own life, as your own mother. My surname was Chen to begin with, anyway.
"Mother-"
Chen Caozhi opened his eyes and immediately sat up. Because their souls' memories had merged, his cry of "Mother" was sincere and heartfelt.
Overjoyed, his mother grasped his hand and asked repeatedly, "Chou'er, how do you feel? Where do you feel unwell?"
"Mother, I'm all right," Chen Caozhi said. "I suddenly felt dizzy just now, but I'm better now."
His mother looked him over from every side, and only after confirming that he was unharmed did she solemnly thank Elder Zhenru.
Elder Zhenru also breathed a sigh of relief. Smiling, he said, "Ten years ago, Master Li said that Layman Chen possessed an extraordinary constitution and enjoyed the protection of the gods and Buddhas of all the heavens, allowing him to turn danger into good fortune and find blessings amid adversity. Set your heart at ease, benefactress. Layman Chen will surely live in peace and safety, with many blessings and a long life."
Master Li was Huili, the founding patriarch of Lingyin Temple. He had traveled countless miles from western India to spread the Dharma in Qiantang County. Upon seeing an extraordinary peak on Wulin Mountain, he said it had flown here from Vulture Peak in India, hence its name, Feilai Peak. He then founded Lingyin and Lingjiu Temples. Chen Caozhi's mother could be counted among the first believers. Back then, Master Huili had stroked five-year-old Chen Caozhi's little head and said, "This child is no ordinary person. Blessings surely await him." Yet as Chen Caozhi grew older, apart from his extraordinary beauty, he proved quite ordinary at reading and learning characters. Nevertheless, he was deeply filial toward his mother and very loving toward the son and daughter his deceased elder brother had left behind. His pure filial devotion and familial affection were as widely praised as his appearance.
Hearing Elder Zhenru's words, his mother felt delighted, and her gaze grew especially loving as she looked at her son. But neither she nor Elder Zhenru noticed that the light in Chen Caozhi's eyes was different from before. Once slightly dull, his gaze was now lively and profound, lending his already handsome face the spirit of a painted dragon brought to life by the finishing touch to its eyes.
One month after the conclusion of The Royal Entertainment Guide, Xiaodao has arrived as promised, brimming with excitement and bringing a book. Have you all been well, dear readers? Please leave comments and cast your votes, and let us celebrate this joyful reunion together.
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