Chapter 13

Guang'en Temple stood on the outskirts of the capital, bustling with worshippers, its bells tolling in the distance. Travelers passing through on their way to the capital would usually stop to pray for a smooth journey and good health for their whole family.

The bronze bell bestowed by the founding emperor hung high in the bell tower, accorded the highest honors in Great Wei. Whenever they had time, scholars and men of refinement would hurry to the temple at dawn just to hear Guang'en Temple's morning bell.

When the bell rang, the country prospered and the people lived in peace.

After making inquiries, Meng Zhou learned that the wealthy Liu family had indeed commissioned their funeral rites from Guang'en Temple.

Upon arriving, he headed straight for the Mahavira Hall and asked a young novice to introduce him to the abbot, saying he wanted to become a monk.

Guang'en Temple did not accept people lightly. As the most popular temple in Great Wei, it at least offered freedom from worries over food and drink, peaceful surroundings, and opportunities to see high officials and nobles every few days.

The young novice said the abbot was busy and unavailable.

Meng Zhou slipped him ten taels of silver with a smile, and the novice changed his tune, saying he could pass along a message.

While waiting, Meng Zhou knelt on a prayer cushion and gazed at the Buddha's solemn visage. He bowed and said, "I, Meng Zhou, have my reasons for doing this. May the Buddha forgive me."

The abbot was over sixty, with kindly features and a graying beard. He bowed to Meng Zhou and asked, "May I ask your secular name, benefactor, and why you wish to enter the monastic life?"

When Meng Zhou raised his head, he assumed the expression of someone who had seen through the mortal world. His eyes were empty and sorrowful as he said slowly, "This disciple's name is Meng Zhou..."

"Meng Zhou?" The abbot pondered for a while before continuing, "Eighteen years ago, a benefactor named Jiang gave birth to a son at Guang'en Temple. She honored this old monk by allowing me to name that child Zhou."

"That was this disciple." Meng Zhou had not expected the abbot to remember something so long ago and hastily seized the opportunity. "Since I formed a bond with the Buddha eighteen years ago, and Buddhism teaches cause and effect and reincarnation, I now implore you to take me in again, Abbot. This disciple would be like a fallen leaf returning to its roots, bringing things to a fitting conclusion."

"Amitabha. Benefactor Meng, your mind is clear, and you possess considerable spiritual aptitude. But your body, hair, and skin were given to you by your parents. Benefactor Jiang was charitable and generous. If this old monk guided you into the faith today, I would feel I had failed her."

"My mother passed away years ago. My father remarried and has both a son and a daughter. At home, this disciple is no more than a worthless weed and has long had no attachments. A few days ago, I suffered a sudden upheaval that I could not come to terms with. I cannot sleep at night, and my will to live is fading... If you refuse to take me in, Abbot, this disciple truly knows not where else in the world to go..."

Sorrow filled Meng Zhou's eyes, tears clinging to their corners. He looked every inch a pitiful orphan who had suffered at others' hands.

The abbot watched him for a while, seemingly moved by his words.

Meng Zhou remained patient and composed, his acting flawless throughout, without the slightest slip. He even took the initiative to untie his hair.

He was showing great sincerity.

"Amitabha. Benefactor Meng, your worldly ties have yet to end." The abbot looked toward the shade of the trees outside, slowly turning his prayer beads through three circuits before speaking.

Meng Zhou was dumbfounded. After all that, this is what you have to say?

"This disciple does not understand. Please enlighten me, Abbot." Meng Zhou asked sincerely. I'm neither married nor engaged. What worldly ties could I possibly have left?

"As the Buddha said, it cannot be spoken, it cannot be spoken." The abbot's compassionate gaze carried a faint suggestion that it was time for his guest to leave.

"In that case, this disciple has another question. Please answer truthfully, Abbot."

"Please speak, benefactor."

"Monastics do not lie. Yet 'zhou' means deception. What did you intend by giving me this name, Abbot?"

The abbot shook his head. "It cannot be spoken."

Could you try saying something else?

Meng Zhou refused to believe the abbot could outlast him. His body had been failing him lately, and kneeling so long had left him sore, so he simply sat cross-legged on the cushion, looking ready to settle in for a thorough discussion of Buddhism.

The young novice beside them held a tray with a razor on it, which meant that before meeting him, the abbot had intended to tonsure him.

Where exactly had things gone wrong?

Was it just because of Jiang Yao? But Jiang Yao was already dead.

Outside the Mahavira Hall.

Chu Huaiyin asked Ji Yang, "What do you think he meant by 'suffered a sudden upheaval that I could not come to terms with'?"

Ji Yang cautiously studied his master's expression. His face was grim, a storm brewing. He should never have meddled and accompanied his master to pay respects to the late first empress today!

He evaded the question. "Perhaps something happened that you don't know about, Master?"

"If so, why hasn't Ying Jiu reported it?"

An oversight.

Ji Yang comforted him. "At any rate, it certainly isn't because of you, Master. Lord Meng isn't some untouched maiden, he has no sweetheart, and he showed no adverse reaction afterward. Surely he wouldn't need a few days to process it before deciding his purity had been defiled, developing suicidal thoughts, making a fuss about dying, and wanting to become a monk..."

With every sentence Ji Yang spoke, Chu Huaiyin's expression darkened further.

The blue brick beneath his foot could not withstand the pressure, and a faint crack appeared.

Seeing his master on the verge of exploding, Ji Yang even felt that the brick beneath his own feet was coming loose. He shut his mouth in time and asked, "Then what do we do now?"

A vein throbbed on Chu Huaiyin's forehead. The first time he had met Meng Zhou, Meng Zhou had pulled a switch, taking the bride's place to perform the wedding rites with Wang Junyang. He had remained perfectly composed even when an outsider appeared in the bridal chamber, and had even torn his own clothes and pretended to be a moaning woman to evade a search... He absolutely refused to believe that a Meng Zhou like that would become a monk over a single accident.

But was there any other explanation for the scene before him?

Chu Huaiyin felt as though Meng Zhou had slapped him hard across the face, leaving him utterly humiliated. How laughable that he had indulged in such wishful affection, giving away the snow-spotted fish he had raised in his garden for six years because Meng Zhou liked eating fish.

And the result? The man had turned vegetarian!

Vegetarian?

Chu Huaiyin sneered and instructed Ji Yang, "Go get two grilled fish."

Ji Yang reminded him quietly, "This is a temple."

"Wait at the entrance."

Inside the hall.

Meng Zhou had talked himself hoarse, but the abbot remained unmoved. He even ordered the novice to serve tea, treating his guest with impeccable courtesy.

Meng Zhou gulped down the tea and decided to try a different approach. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice.

"Abbot, do you know that Liu De died of illness three days ago, and that the Liu family has invited eminent monks from your temple to conduct rites in two days?"

"This old monk has heard something of it."

"The living invite eminent monks to deliver the dead, allowing them to be reborn in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss, spared the torment of hell, and born into a good family in their next life." Meng Zhou continued, "But do you know, Abbot, that Liu De and his family committed every conceivable evil? Anyone in the capital who opposed them, young or old, was forcibly dragged into the Liu family's training grounds under the pretext of recruiting soldiers for the court, then abused to death. Thousands of wronged souls haunt those grounds. No sooner was the red paint applied than fresh blood was added, making it more vivid by the day."

Meng Zhou kept his voice low, afraid of disturbing the bodhisattvas, but every word struck straight to the heart.

"A mere training ground, yet it was like Avici Hell. And now, for a man who ought to go to hell, you chant prayers to grant him rebirth. Buddhism places the greatest emphasis on good, evil, cause, and effect. Liu De sowed evil causes yet reaped no evil consequences. What is to be done about that? Among those anguished worshippers kneeling before the statues of vajra guardians and rakshasas, how many are relatives of those wronged souls? And who will bear the consequences of their causes?"

"Amitabha." The abbot turned his sandalwood prayer beads. "The Buddha's teachings are merciful and deliver all living beings. All that happened in life belongs to yesterday. This old monk will guide him to do good in his next life and repay his karmic debts."

Meng Zhou immediately said, "If you deliver all living beings, why won't you deliver me?"

The abbot fell silent.

"If you will not deliver me, then I, Meng Zhou, remain a worldly man. In the mortal world, we believe in retribution in this life."

The abbot gave Meng Zhou a long look, seemingly understanding his intent. Meng Zhou met his gaze openly.

After a long while, a deep sigh sounded.

The abbot picked up the razor from the tray and asked, "Benefactor, are you certain you will not regret this?"

Meng Zhou stroked his long hair. It was not as though he had never shaved his head for a role before; the second time would be easier. Even if he really became a monk, he would be Great Wei's most handsome little monk, the kind who could attract fox spirits if he went out at night.

Whether there were any fox spirits was unknown, but Prince Huai outside was certainly about to explode. He had not caught what Meng Zhou and the abbot had just said in low voices, and in the blink of an eye, they were actually going through with it!

"Please proceed, Abbot." The first step of his plan was complete, and after their conversation just now, the abbot would presumably offer him some assistance when necessary.

That would make things much easier.

Meng Zhou lowered his head slightly and closed his eyes. Suddenly, two fingers pressed against his chin, forcing his head up.

Who?!

Meng Zhou glared over in displeasure, only to look straight into Chu Huaiyin's unfathomable black eyes.

"I forbid it."

Meng Zhou's gaze shifted, taking in a handsome, livid face, and his heart inexplicably quivered.

Chu Huaiyin roughly pulled Meng Zhou behind him. Meng Zhou stumbled, fortunately catching Chu Huaiyin around the waist with quick reflexes. Once steady, he tried to withdraw his hand. Once, twice-it would not budge. In the end, it was locked firmly in place.

"Prince Huai." The abbot pressed his palms together in greeting.

"Abbot." Chu Huaiyin softened his expression. "Forgive the presumptuous question, Master, but how much incense money does an ordinary monk at Guang'en Temple receive each year?"

"Fewer than ten strings of cash."

Chu Huaiyin sneered, looking down sidelong at Meng Zhou, his long, narrow eyes slightly narrowed and his bearing oppressive. "Lord Meng still owes me seven thousand taels of fine silver. Have you come running here to become a monk because you intend to go back on your word?"

The demand for repayment caught Meng Zhou completely off guard. Inwardly, he shouted, I'm fucking doing this for you! But he had a habit of keeping his mouth firmly shut about anything he had not yet accomplished. He could only mutter defiantly, "What if I manage to become abbot?"

"Say that again?"

Meng Zhou felt his hand was about to be squeezed black and blue and did not dare talk back. The actual abbot was still right there. Even with two more layers of skin pasted onto his face, he would not dare spout such nonsense in this sacred Buddhist sanctuary.

Tsk. What a colossal misunderstanding.

Meng Zhou felt a headache coming on.

Chu Huaiyin exchanged a few pleasantries with the abbot, then said, "I'll be taking him back. Sorry for the trouble, Abbot."

"Safe travels, Prince Huai."

Huh?

I talked myself hoarse, and you think you can ruin everything with a few words?

Dragged away in long strides, Meng Zhou struggled unwillingly. "Abbot, we had an agreement..."

"Amitabha. There is a Daoist temple thirty li from here. This old monk has long been friends with its priest. Benefactor Meng could..." The abbot spoke quickly, as though passing off a hot potato.

"A Daoist temple? Do they perform rites?" Meng Zhou wanted to ask more, but Chu Huaiyin simply hoisted him up with one hand and covered his mouth along the way.

"Mmph, mmph..." Meng Zhou tried hard to pry his hand away, but Prince Huai's grip was too strong.

Carried out of Guang'en Temple, Meng Zhou nearly puffed up into a pufferfish with anger. He looked at Chu Huaiyin as though he were a foolish wife who knew nothing of her husband's hard work outside and only ruined things!

Chu Huaiyin poked his bun-puffed cheek twice. It was fair, tender, soft, and springy, so delightful he could not stop touching it. Unable to resist squeezing harder, he pinched the air out of Meng Zhou with an audible pop.

Unwilling to argue with his creditor, Meng Zhou could only cover his face and use cold indifference to repel the enemy.

Chu Huaiyin withdrew his hand as though nothing had happened and gave him an even colder look in return.

They stared at each other.

"Tell me. Why?" After turning it over in his mind, Chu Huaiyin finally asked. Please don't let it be the answer I'm thinking of.

Meng Zhou hemmed and hawed. "Nothing. Ha, just a passing whim."

He sniffed. What smelled so good? It stood out amid the scent of incense and candles, winding enticingly around him and making the greedy worms in his belly howl.

Sweating profusely, Ji Yang carried two plates of grilled fish, forcing himself to advance step by step toward Guang'en Temple under the worshippers' contemptuous and astonished gazes.

"Master." Ji Yang did not dare approach too closely. Seeing Chu Huaiyin and Meng Zhou standing at the mountain gate from afar, he stopped and called out.

Without any prompting from Chu Huaiyin, Meng Zhou followed the smell down the mountain of his own accord, heading unerringly toward Ji Yang.

He strongly suspected the abbot's tea aided digestion. Otherwise, why would he miss the taste of grilled fish so much after drinking four or five cups?

Meng Zhou stopped in front of Ji Yang, held back his drool, and said with an indifferent expression, "Case solved. You've got the grilled fish."

Hurry up and present the stolen goods for this official's inspection!

Author's note: Meng Zhou: o(=•ェ•=)m