Chapter 4: The Enigmatic Monk of the Temple

Five monks sat beneath the Great Hero Hall, reciting sutras listlessly. This was the nightly service, but in the past, when Ten Directions Monastery flourished, dozens of monks would gather together, filling the Great Hero Hall to capacity. The collective chanting then truly made it a sacred Buddhist sanctuary. Now, not only had the crowds and incense dwindled, but even the handful of remaining monks could barely muster the energy to continue.

The abbot, Pure Faith, watched them with growing anxiety, yet he was helpless.

These were the glory days of the Li Tang dynasty. The Li family, claiming descent from the venerable Laozi, revered Daoism. All manner of immortals and sages appeared; Yuan Tiangang and Li Chunfeng were renowned throughout the land, and even after the current emperor ascended, the old Daoist Zhang Guo was said to wander drunkenly about Chang’an. Daoism flourished, while Buddhism waned. During the reign of Empress Wu Zetian, Buddhism had briefly revived to counter the Li clan’s power, but with their return to the throne, Daoism once again overshadowed the Buddhist order.

This was a grand trend beyond Pure Faith’s ability to resist. Locally, there was another factor: at the dawn of the current dynasty, the immortal Sun Simiao had come to these parts to gather herbs and treat the sick, leaving a disciple behind. That disciple built the Medicine King Temple. With the lingering virtue of a living immortal, the villagers from miles around flocked to burn incense and pray there, and so the incense offerings at Ten Directions Monastery dwindled by the day.

Even the once-imposing temple complex now retained only two barely intact main halls and a few monks’ quarters. The mountain gate had long since vanished; from the yawning entrance of the Great Hero Hall, one could see straight to the blue-faced statue of Skanda.

He glanced that way—and froze.

Two people had just entered from the front of Skanda Hall and were now standing before the Skanda statue at the back. One of them, strikingly ugly, turned to look at the image and said in a booming voice, “My master always said: When entering a temple, the first thing to do is look at the demon-subduing staff in Skanda Bodhisattva’s hand. If he carries it on his shoulder, the temple is grand; I can eat and stay for three days, no questions asked. If he holds it level in his hand, the temple is middling; I can stay one night. But if it’s planted on the ground, it’s a small temple and there’s no chance of eating and staying for free… Amitabha, this is a grand temple—I can have a good rest here for a few days!”

These two were, of course, Ye Chang and the rough-headed monk. On the road, Ye Chang had learned that this monk’s name was Shi Shanzhi. He had grown up an orphan at the foot of Mount Song, taken in by a monk named Dao Xuan. When Dao Xuan moved to the Great Fortune Monastery, Shanzhi, unable to endure the rules, left to roam the world. Despite his ugly appearance, he was kind-hearted.

Hearing Shanzhi tell the story of Skanda’s staff, Ye Chang looked at the statue and exclaimed, “Master Shanzhi, you look remarkably like Skanda!”

Shi Shanzhi ran his hands over his hair, glanced up at the statue, and grinned. “So I’m ugly for a reason—I have a Buddhist affinity!”

His voice was so loud that the monks in the Great Hero Hall hurriedly ended their service. A few dust-streaked monks peered over at them, while Abbot Pure Faith sighed. There wasn’t even a guest monk left to receive visitors, and now these two had barged in, disturbing the services—a real sin.

“Benefactors…” He could only go up himself.

“We’re not benefactors, we—ah, this humble monk seeks only to share in your merits,” Shi Shanzhi said, palms pressed together with a smile. “I ask for three days’ lodging, if the venerable abbot would allow…”

“Just look at us now—do we seem like a place that can host wandering monks?” Pure Faith sighed again. “In a few days, we’ll all have to go out begging for alms ourselves. We’ve no rice or flour to spare!”

“Ah?”

Shi Shanzhi patted his belly, stunned for a long moment. Though honest and straightforward, he was not dull, nor entirely naive. Seeing the state of the monastery, he understood the abbot’s words. He had thought he’d finally found a place to eat, but now… perhaps not.

He pleaded a few more times, but Pure Faith remained unmoved. Standing by, Ye Chang saw the exchange becoming heated and stepped between the monks to separate them.

“Master, Ten Directions Monastery used to be a grand temple, didn’t it?” he asked.

“Benefactor, that was decades ago. Back then I was only a novice monk and witnessed the glory days.”

“A great temple must have had considerable lands and property—mountains, fields… How did it come to this?”

“We do have fields and forests, but with incense offerings dwindling and the monks dispersed, only five or six of us remain—some old, some young—unable to farm or hire villagers for much grain. We live by our own labor, and scarcely have the strength to support traveling monks…”

“I see. At root, it’s an issue of incense and offerings,” Ye Chang thought to himself. He glanced at Shi Shanzhi, then back at the Skanda statue.

“I have a way to revive the incense offerings at Ten Directions Monastery… but it means letting Master Shanzhi stay here for a few days,” he said with a smile.

“Youngsters do like to brag. I know you, boy—you’re Eleventh Son of the Ye family down the mountain. Everyone in the village knows your tricks—what could you possibly do?” interjected another monk before Pure Faith could reply.

Of all the monks, this one alone was still relatively young and somewhat well-kept. Pure Faith looked back at him, then at Ye Chang. “Daoning, you know this young patron?”

“I do. My family is from Little Liu Village. His elder sister married a distant nephew of mine. He’s always been lazy and greedy, only interested in gathering herbs and making elixirs, and he’s close friends with Luo Shouyi at the Medicine King Temple…”

Ye Chang scratched his head. Clearly, he had offended Daoning before, and now the monk was airing his faults for all to hear.

As expected, the hopeful look in Pure Faith’s eyes faded to disappointment. He pressed his palms together and said, “The gates are soon to close. You two had best seek shelter elsewhere.”

“Master Pure Faith, look at the state of the monastery—when the patient is dying, any cure is worth a try,” Ye Chang replied. “There’s only one chance. Or perhaps Master Daoning has a better way to revive Ten Directions Monastery?”

Daoning shrank back as the abbot turned to him. He had no solution, nor would he offer one even if he did. He hoped the monks would all leave, so he alone could inherit the temple and its lands, return to lay life, and enjoy his days in comfort.

“Well then, young patron, what is your plan to bring back the worshippers?”

“Merely to invite the Bodhisattva to grant a divine sign,” Ye Chang smiled.

Any temple with a true deity draws crowds; without one, the incense always fades. Hearing this, Daoning craned his neck to scoff, “Such big talk! As if you’re a Bodhisattva yourself—do you think they come at your beck and call?”

Ye Chang kept his mysterious smile and fixed his gaze on Pure Faith. The abbot hesitated. Despite Daoning’s claim that the youth had no skills, there was no harm in hearing him out.

“Please, young patron, come to the abbot’s quarters. Daoning, stay outside and keep watch.”

Daoning looked embarrassed. The abbot’s words clearly told him not to quarrel with Ye Chang.

Inside the so-called abbot’s chamber, Ye Chang saw Daoning peeking in and smiled at Shi Shanzhi, “Rough monk, watch the door—if anyone else overhears, my method won’t work.”

Shi Shanzhi agreed and took up his post. Daoning, seeing this, could only stop and curse Ye Chang’s cunning.

He wondered what trick Ye Chang could possibly have. To summon a sign from the Bodhisattva would require vast powers—neither the abbot nor that Ye boy could possibly manage it.

“That kid is a liar—he’ll be thrown out any minute!”

Imagining Ye Chang’s embarrassment later, Daoning snickered. Shi Shanzhi, seeing his expression, spat, “Hey monk, did you steal meat? You look sly as a fox!”

“You’re the one who broke the rules, you unruly monk!” Daoning snapped.

“I’m a warrior monk, granted royal permission by Emperor Taizong himself—warrior monks are allowed meat!” Shi Shanzhi rumbled.

Daoning didn’t know that Emperor Taizong had allowed Shaolin’s warrior monks to eat meat in gratitude for their help. Hearing this confession, Daoning leaped up, “You brute! You really eat meat? Amitabha, a grave sin!”

“Abbot, you must discipline this monk. If he receives guests when the offerings return, such ignorance will only invite ridicule!” Daoning was about to argue further when Ye Chang emerged, with Pure Faith following respectfully, excitement shining in his eyes.

“Master, this monk eats meat!” Daoning was shocked, unsure what Ye Chang had said to the abbot. He decided to report it anyway: “He breaks our precepts and should be expelled!”

“Master, you see? He’s making a fool of himself. Buddhism forbids meat-eating only because of Emperor Wu of Liang’s self-deception. When did it become a hard rule?” Ye Chang retorted.

“Yes, yes, patron, you are right… Daoning, if you have nothing else to do, go copy the Heart Sutra ten times. Now!” Pure Faith’s eyes flashed; at last, a hint of the abbot’s authority.

Daoning was stunned. He had always been Pure Faith’s most trusted disciple, assumed to be the next abbot. The abbot had always given him face—never before had he been scolded like this!

“Master, what trick has this boy played on you?”

Ye Chang merely smiled and shook his head.

“Nonsense! Petty words and anger—go copy the sutra!” Pure Faith was a little embarrassed. He had always thought Daoning respectful, but today the monk lacked all sense.

Whether Daoning liked it or not, he could only swallow his anger and withdraw. Ye Chang drew Shi Shanzhi aside and whispered a few words. Shanzhi nodded, grinning, and then stood next to the abbot. Clearly, Pure Faith had decided to let him stay. Watching from afar, Daoning felt both furious and confused; the abbot had never been generous with wandering monks, yet this meat-eating ruffian was allowed to remain!

It must be the Ye boy’s silver tongue… Never mind. I’ll wait until his trick fails, and then see what happens.

With that thought, Daoning kept silent, watching as Pure Faith escorted Ye Chang to the gates and down the mountain path. If Ye Chang hadn’t insisted, Pure Faith would probably have accompanied him all the way to the foot of the mountain.

Ye Chang descended the mountain, strolling leisurely toward Wu Ze Pond, a quiet joy rising within him. The monastery’s predicament was, for him, an opportunity—by helping Ten Directions Monastery, he was in fact helping himself.

If it all went smoothly, he would have established a foothold in this era. Even if something went wrong, he could explain it away.

Upon arriving home, he heard voices inside before he reached the door—one sounded like a woman scolding Xiang’er. He frowned. Could it be Aunt Liu come to make trouble again?

With him gone, Xiang’er, bound by age and status, could not handle her.

He pushed open the door, and the voices inside abruptly ceased. He was just pondering how to deal with Aunt Liu, when he saw the young woman who turned to look at him—she was just over twenty, clearly not Aunt Liu.

In fact, there were two women, both in their early twenties. One was scolding Xiang’er, but the girl, though listening with her head bowed, did not seem angry or afraid—rather, she looked quite docile.

“Eleventh Brother, you’re back!”

The woman who had been scolding Xiang’er quickly smiled and approached. Her smile was genuine, not the forced kind of someone caught in the act. Ye Chang paused, swallowing the reprimand he’d intended. He glanced at Xiang’er.

Xiang’er, clever as ever, remembered that Ye Chang had forgotten much of the past and prompted him, “This is Eldest Sister from the Second Branch.”

“Eldest Sister…” Ye Chang was still surprised.

The woman’s eyes immediately reddened; biting her lip, she began to weep. “My poor brother… Xiang’er just told me you’d lost your memory, and I thought she was too young to know. Now you don’t even recognize your sister… Father, Mother, it’s my fault—I failed to care for my brother…”

“Don’t cry, don’t cry!” Ye Chang was puzzled. The eldest daughter of the second branch—his cousin—yet she treated him as tenderly as a real sister?

“Eldest Cousin, don’t cry, it’s all our fault…” the other girl said softly, face flushed with shame.

“Yes, it’s your fault! If you and your brother hadn’t come up with such a foolish plan, how would Third Brother have ended up like this… If I’d known how heartless you’d be, I’d rather have died than married out. I should have stayed with my little brother, helped him make something of himself—better that than leaving him a lonely orphan!”

Hearing this, Ye Chang finally understood!