Chapter Thirty-One: The Great Ci'en Monastery

Great Ci'en Monastery covered more than five hundred acres and was divided into thirteen courtyards, with nearly two thousand halls and chambers of every size. It was the foremost imperial temple in Chang'an, and before its main gate lay a broad open square paved with neat blue stone slabs, reserved especially for pilgrims to park their carriages and horses.

Li Zhao and the others had finally made their way to the gate after great effort, and were just about to enter when the clear ring of hoofbeats sounded at their ears.

A graceful silver carriage rolled up slowly. Windows opened on both sides, white curtains hung from the frame, and it was drawn by two snow-white horses, with more than a dozen fully armed guards following close behind.

"Miss, we have arrived at Great Ci'en Monastery. Let us get down from the carriage."

"Very well."

"This young lady will accompany Miss inside to offer incense. You all wait outside."

"Yes, Lady Xiaoman."

Once the carriage came to a stop, a little maid in a green dress climbed down first, a girl of fourteen or fifteen with a pretty face. In her left hand she carried a box of pastries; in her right, a bamboo basket holding several small tortoises crawling about.

Great Ci'en Monastery had a pond for releasing captive creatures, and pilgrims often brought tortoises, fish, and the like to set free there in hopes of accumulating merit.

Then stepped down a tall, slender young woman. She wore a seven-treasure veil hat, and a sheer gauze hung all the way to her shoulders. Her well-proportioned figure was clothed in a pure white flowing-sleeve dress, at the waist a silver sash of fine brocade, with a delicate sachet hanging beside it, embroidered with red plum blossoms. Against the long white gown, it formed just the right picture of plum blossoms defying the snow.

Though her face could not be seen, her bearing and form were enough to tell that she was a young woman of breathtaking beauty.

The instant she appeared, she drew the eyes of every pilgrim, especially the young men. Some stared without blinking, some stood gaping in dumb amazement, and some practically drooled in public, each more ridiculous than the last.

Li Zhao was no lecher, yet even he could not help glancing a few extra times. He was struck by her purity, elegance, and singular grace, and before he knew it, he thought of a fine poem by a great poet not yet born, and began to recite it under his breath:

Fearing sorrow, she was slow to bloom in her drowsy pride;
Afraid her ice-clear face would seem out of season,
She feigned the blush of peach and apricot,
Yet still her lonely, slender form kept the look of snow and frost.
Her heart of coldness would not stoop to spring's allure,
And for no reason wine's flush rose upon her jade-like skin.
The old poet knew not the plum's true spirit;
He still looked only to green leaves and branches.

The two stood very near one another, so the woman in white heard him at once. She stopped, glanced Li Zhao up and down, then, supported by the little maid in green, entered the gate. Only then did the pilgrims come to themselves and begin murmuring among themselves.

"Whose daughter is that? Her bearing is so aloof and otherworldly, like a goddess in white descending from heaven. I was so dazzled I nearly forgot to breathe."

"The carriage bears no mark, so her background is impossible to tell, but ordinary families could never raise a woman like that. I suspect she must be the daughter of a prince or a noble house."

"If I could marry such a woman, I would gladly live twenty years less."

"Dream on. Even if you lived forty years less, you still could not marry a woman like that. And even if you were lucky enough to, you couldn't afford to support her. Did you see the sachet at her waist? It is studded with South Sea pearls, each one large, round, and flawless. One pearl alone must be worth at least a thousand strings of cash, enough for an ordinary family to live on for a lifetime."

...

After a while, the male pilgrims mostly gave up. A woman of such lofty station was fit only for a few distant glances; one must never provoke her, for a toad can never eat swan flesh.

Only a few young gentlemen of good birth hurried after her, hoping to steal a few more looks at the beauty and, if fortune allowed, perhaps stumble into a romantic adventure.

After that small ripple, Li Zhao and the others also entered the gate and headed straight for the Hall of Bodhisattvas, one of the monastery's important buildings. Inside were thirty-three bodhisattvas, each with a different form and solemn divine countenance, and pilgrims could pray to whichever one suited their needs.

For example, if you wanted a marriage match, you worshipped the Bodhisattva of Compassion.

If you sought recovery from illness and relief from suffering, you worshipped the Medicine King Bodhisattva.

If you wished to pray for blessings for deceased relatives, then naturally you worshipped Ksitigarbha.

In Buddhist tales, Ksitigarbha holds court in hell, bearing the grave responsibility of ferrying beings of the six realms beyond suffering, freeing all sentient life from the sea of misery so they may soon ascend to the Western Pure Land.

It is said this bodhisattva's power is boundless, and that he could have long since become a Buddha, yet he made the great vow: "I will not attain Buddhahood until hell is empty; I will not realize enlightenment until all beings are delivered."

Alas, the world is treacherous, full of strife and slaughter. Those who descend into hell come one after another without end, so Ksitigarbha's path to Buddhahood has become infinitely distant.

...

Today was the Feast of the Remaining Melons, and there were especially many people coming to offer incense and pray for blessings. The long human queue stretched beyond sight in both directions. Li Zhao and the others waited for well over an hour before finally reaching Ksitigarbha.

There stood the bodhisattva wearing the Vairocana crown and a bright red monastic robe, holding a monk's staff in one hand and a lotus in the other. Beside him sat a strange beast mount, with a tiger's head, a single horn, dog ears, a dragon's body, a lion's tail, and qilin feet: the creature known as Listen Carefully.

Offer incense.

Present tribute.

Prostrate.

Pray.

Done.

After walking for more than half an hour and then standing in line for another hour or so, Aunt Qing, being a woman, was feeling a little worn out. The others were also panting from fatigue, only Li Zhao still brimming with energy.

With no other choice, they came to a long corridor and sat down to rest.

Since it was rare to visit Great Ci'en Monastery, Li Zhao did not want to waste the opportunity. So he asked White Bun, White Rat, and Wang Changshou to stay with Aunt Qing, while he wandered off alone to look around.

The architectural splendor of the Tang dynasty was indeed astonishing: the towering Bell and Drum Towers, the Hall of the Heavenly Kings enshrining the Four Heavenly Kings, and the Three Treasures Court, covered with relief carvings and murals, where the relic of Master Xuanzang's skull and a bronze seated statue were enshrined—the very monk who journeyed to the Western Heaven to fetch the scriptures.

What a pity. If a monkey, a fat pig, and a White Dragon Horse were also tied up before the gate of the Three Treasures Court, it would be even more amusing.

Beneath the towering Giant Wild Goose Pagoda were set stone tablets. The western niche held the stele of the Sacred Preface to the Tripitaka of the Great Tang, written by Emperor Taizong himself and calligraphed by the great master Chu Suiliang. The eastern niche held the stele of the Record to the Sacred Preface to the Tripitaka of the Great Tang, written by Emperor Gaozong and also calligraphed by Chu Suiliang. Together they were called the "Stele of the Two Saints and Three Perfections."

These two steles were worth a fortune.

In short, Li Zhao wandered for the better part of half an hour, looking around with great interest, but he also began to feel somewhat warm, so he found a secluded pavilion and sat on a stone bench to cool himself.

Yet just as he sat down, he suddenly noticed a black-lacquered box in a corner of the pavilion, with a sweet fragrance drifting from it. What was inside?

Driven by curiosity, Li Zhao opened the box and saw sesame cakes, cheese, fried pastries, glutinous rice cakes, and all manner of sweets. There was also a white embroidered handkerchief, exquisitely made, with a red plum blossom stitched on it. In one corner were the small words "Hidden Shadow," probably the owner's name.

It looked as though someone had rested there earlier and accidentally left behind the pastry box. A pleasant scent of rouge and powder still lingered on it, so its owner must have been a young woman.

Gulp. Gulp.

After wandering through the temple for more than half an hour, he was already starving. Now that he saw the fragrant pastries, Li Zhao could not stop himself from swallowing hard.

What should he do? There was no one around. Why not sneak a couple of bites?

This is someone else's things. It would not be proper to steal a taste, would it?

Eat them. No one will know anyway.

No. A person must have shame.

...

Two little figures in Li Zhao's heart launched into a fierce debate, one named Hypocrite and the other True Rogue.

The two little fellows quarreled to the point of a brawl. In the end, True Rogue landed a heavy punch that knocked Hypocrite flat, then grabbed a pastry and stuffed it into his mouth.

After climbing back up, Hypocrite did not move to stop him, but quietly picked up another pastry, covered his face with his sleeve, and ate with great big bites, even faster than True Rogue.

He had only meant to steal one piece, just enough to tide himself over.

But the pastries were far too delicious. Li Zhao could not help taking a second, then a third... before long, more than half the box was gone. He then used the handkerchief to wipe his mouth and casually stuffed it into his own robe.

Who made these? Their skill was truly excellent. If he could marry such a wife one day, that would be wonderful indeed—able to preside in the main hall and cook in the kitchen alike.

And besides, the box holding these pastries somehow looked vaguely familiar.