The little demoness had truly latched onto Xuanzang. After spending a night resting at the Magistrate’s Temple, Xuanzang returned to Xingtang Temple — and Lu Luo followed him step for step, even moving into the Bodhi Courtyard with him. Xuanzang was deeply vexed and summoned Kong Cheng to deal with the matter. Kong Cheng was equally at a loss, and gently tried to persuade Lu Luo, explaining that their temple had a meditation hall set aside for female guests. Lu Luo paid him no mind and simply asked whether that meditation hall had a hot spring. Without waiting for an answer, she went off on her own to choose a room, and finally set her eyes on the east meditation chamber where Boluoye was staying.

Xuanzang was not particular about living conditions, so Boluoye had already claimed the best room for himself — Kong Cheng’s former meditation chamber, which had a hot spring bath. Boluoye had been thrilled with his good fortune, but now, with this little demoness having arrived, he found himself unceremoniously ousted. Daring not to protest, he sulked off and found himself a side room.

Kong Cheng was equally helpless and privately sought Xuanzang to discuss the matter. “Master, this female benefactor is the only daughter of the honorable Cui Jue, and also the stepdaughter of County Magistrate Guo. This poor monk… this poor monk cannot simply drive her away by force!”

“But… Amitabha…” Xuanzang was beside himself with frustration. “This is a place of Buddhist purity. To have a female benefactor living in this poor monk’s courtyard — what kind of propriety is this?”

Kong Cheng, having exhausted all ideas, suggested, “Perhaps the Master could move to a different meditation courtyard?”

Before Xuanzang could answer, Lu Luo called out from a distance, “Let me tell you, wicked monk — move if you like, but wherever you go, this young lady will follow.”

The two esteemed monks looked at each other, then simultaneously began reciting sutras.

In the end, Kong Cheng muttered a few words of the Buddha’s name and made a hasty retreat, leaving Xuanzang behind to stew in his own troubles.

From that point on, Xuanzang had a shadow behind him. This beautiful little demoness and Boluoye together became fixtures in Xuanzang’s world — save for bathing and using the privy, she followed him virtually everywhere. Xuanzang felt profoundly ill at ease, as though ants were crawling up his spine — and not merely because a young girl had attached herself to him. He knew perfectly well that what had latched onto him was a dagger and a set of arrows, and that at any moment this little demoness might put an arrow through his heart.

The methods of this sixteen-year-old girl had thoroughly unsettled him. There was nothing to be done but to instruct Boluoye to keep a close watch on her and, if possible, prevent her from carrying any sharp weapons. Boluoye asked, “Master, may I… search her person?”

Xuanzang was rendered speechless.

Xuanzang’s room was in the west meditation chamber, separated from the east chamber by a Buddha hall. One evening, as Xuanzang studied the Vimalakirti Sutra by candlelight, he did not dare be lax — a great debate assembly organized by Kong Cheng was just a few days away. Though Buddhist affairs in the Hedong Circuit could not compare to the thriving scene in Suzhou and Yangzhou, the local monasteries had long histories and occasionally produced outstanding monks, and he had no wish to find himself embarrassed in debate.

Yet even as his eyes followed the sutra, his ears were filled with the cheerful humming from the demoness across the way, which left his meditative heart in turmoil. Just then, Lu Luo suddenly let out a sharp cry, as though in great pain.

Xuanzang was startled. He leaped from his bed, ran barefoot from the meditation chamber, crossed the Buddha hall, and stood outside Lu Luo’s door, calling softly, “Miss Lu Luo, what has happened?”

“Ah… wait a moment.” Lu Luo answered, and a rustling sound came from inside the room. After a moment, she opened the door. Her face was ashen, and she was wincing with pain. Inside the room, mist hung in the air, and garments were draped over a rack.

Xuanzang quickly averted his gaze. “What is the matter?”

“I was bathing… and it stung me.” Lu Luo’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“An insect?” Xuanzang asked.

“No…” Lu Luo said. “Last night I fell off the cliff and scraped myself all over. I wanted to bathe, but the moment I entered the hot spring, it stung dreadfully.” She rolled up her sleeve, revealing a tender white arm covered in wounds. “And there are more on my body…”

This girl had virtually no sense of propriety between men and women, and was actually beginning to lift her garment. Xuanzang quickly turned away. “Amitabha. Wait here — this poor monk will go to Boluoye’s room and fetch some wound-healing salve for you. Apply it and you will feel better.”

Lu Luo nodded, and Xuanzang returned to his room to put on his shoes before going to find Boluoye. His pack was in Boluoye’s room, along with his clothing and medicines. Boluoye was roused from sleep, and upon hearing that he was to fetch wound salve for Lu Luo, he was deeply disgruntled — but dared not refuse. He sourly produced a packet and handed it to Xuanzang.

Xuanzang gave Lu Luo the medicine, then returned to his room to continue studying the scriptures. Before long, however, there came a knock at his door. Lu Luo poked her head in with a woeful expression. “I’ve put on the medicine. Now I can’t bathe.”

Xuanzang was momentarily at a loss for words.

Fortunately, Lu Luo caused no further disturbances that night. The following morning, after completing the morning prayers, Xuanzang went first to the Mahavira Hall to pay respects to the Buddha. He was kneeling before the image of Rulai, reciting sutras, when a young novice came rushing in. The boy dared not interrupt and waited until Xuanzang rose before stepping forward with his palms pressed together. “Master, the abbot is looking for you. He has been waiting in your meditation chamber for some time.”

Xuanzang nodded and immediately returned to the Bodhi Courtyard. Kong Cheng was pacing about the courtyard with two of his disciples, his face etched with anxiety. When he saw Xuanzang arrive, he waved his disciples to stand guard outside the gate and went with Xuanzang into the Buddha hall, where the two sat down on meditation cushions.

“What urgent matter brings Elder Brother to seek this poor monk?” Xuanzang asked.

Kong Cheng’s expression grew grave. He lowered his voice and said, “Something terrible happened last night.” He fixed his gaze on Xuanzang and spoke each word deliberately. “Something terrible has happened in Huoyi County!”

Xuanzang looked at him in surprise. “What has happened?”

“Last night, the great Zhou family estate caught fire. The entire compound of two hundred acres was burned to the ground.” Kong Cheng said. “The Zhou family — all one hundred and more souls — not one survived!”

The color drained from Xuanzang’s face. “Was it a natural disaster or the work of man?”

“It is hard to say.” Kong Cheng sighed. “This old monk dares not speak recklessly. To be truthful, Master, when you arrived, the county issued an official notice saying that you and Boluoye were connected to a case, and that if you left the monastery, it must be reported to the authorities. This very morning, yamen runners came and asked about your whereabouts last night and whether you had left the monastery at any point. This old monk knew you had not left a single step, so I vouched for you before those runners.”

At that moment, the door to the east meditation chamber creaked open, and Lu Luo came rushing over, her face unusually pale. “Master Kong Cheng, is what you said true? Has the Zhou family estate really been burned to ash?”

“Amitabha.” Kong Cheng had not expected anyone to be listening and looked somewhat embarrassed.

Lu Luo stood dazed for a moment, murmuring, “How could such a thing have happened?”

Kong Cheng, upon seeing her, seemed reluctant to say more. He chatted briefly with Xuanzang and then took his leave. Lu Luo immediately took his spot on the cushion, hugging her knees with a pensive expression. “Wicked monk, tell me — do you think this was deliberately set?”

“This poor monk dares not speak recklessly,” Xuanzang replied.

“You monk, I am not asking you to say something hurtful — just give a guess.” Lu Luo said. “I am very familiar with the Zhou family compound. Even though all the buildings are wood, the grounds are enormous. No matter how fierce the fire, it should have been impossible for not a single person to escape!”

“This poor monk dares not speak recklessly.”

“You wicked monk…” Lu Luo found him utterly maddening. She ranted for a while, but seeing that Xuanzang had absolutely no intention of responding, she stamped her foot, stood up, and stormed out of the hall.

Boluoye came along the corridor and sat down where Lu Luo had just been. “Master, this is, truly, a serious matter. A fire, that kills, everyone — is that possible?”

“This poor monk dares not speak recklessly,” Xuanzang said as before.

Boluoye could not bear it either, and stamped his foot, jumped up, and bolted away.

Watching the two figures retreat, Xuanzang’s eyes filled with deep unease. His lips moved silently, reciting the Diamond Sutra: “All living beings — whether born from eggs, from wombs, from moisture, or by transformation; whether with form or without form; whether with thought or without thought; whether neither with thought nor without thought — I shall lead them all to enter the remnant-free nirvana and be liberated. Yet though I thus liberate immeasurable, innumerable, and boundless living beings, in truth no living beings have been liberated. Why is this? Subhuti, if a bodhisattva clings to the notion of a self, the notion of a person, the notion of a living being, or the notion of a lifespan, then he is not a bodhisattva…”

Boluoye stepped out of the meditation chamber and found Lu Luo sitting beyond the pine grove to the east, where misty water from the hot spring flowed past her feet. She had taken off her shoes and stockings, soaking her soft white little feet in the spring. She seemed lost in thought, her large eyes filled with bewilderment.

Boluoye scratched his head and walked over, sitting on a rock on the opposite bank. “Miss Lu Luo, are you thinking, about the Zhou family fire?”

Lu Luo nodded, then shook her head.

“Is it, or isn’t it?” Boluoye was baffled.

Lu Luo sighed. “How could so many people have died? Such a great family — how could they just be gone like that?”

“Isn’t this, actually good, for you, Miss?” Boluoye said. “The matter, of you ordering, Young Master Zhou to kill someone, no one, will investigate it now.”

“You think I did this?” Lu Luo flared up with fury, glaring at him fiercely.

“No, no.” Boluoye waved his hands repeatedly. “You, are willing, but not able. Something this large, you could not, have pulled off.”

Lu Luo was even more furious. Her little foot splashed up a spray of water that drenched Boluoye’s face. He yelped, frantically wiping his face clean, then cried angrily, “What are you, doing?”

“That is for your nonsense,” Lu Luo snapped. “Madam Zhou treated me with great care and affection — how could I do something so utterly heartless?”

Boluoye knew he had said the wrong thing and could not help looking sheepish. “Madam Zhou wanted, you to become, her daughter-in-law, didn’t she? Did you not consider, marrying into the family? I heard, the Zhou family is, very wealthy and influential — a proper scholar-gentry clan. In our land of Tianzhu, that would make them, the noble Kshatriya.”

Lu Luo shook her head. “Young Master Zhou was frivolous and lacking in any trace of a man’s character. How could he be a suitable match for me?”

“Then what kind, of young man, do you like?” Boluoye’s habitual curiosity surfaced once again, and he asked with interest.

“Well,” Lu Luo tilted her head and thought for a moment, “steady — that is an absolute must; mature — that is the top requirement; of outstanding talent — that is the very first criterion. Most importantly, he must cherish and dote on me, absolutely must be tender with me, pamper me.”

Boluoye nodded. “So you want to find, a young man, like Vatsyayana.”

“Vatsa… what kind of fool-mute is that?” Lu Luo asked in puzzlement.

“Not a… fool-mute…” Boluoye was exasperated. “He is our, Tianzhu country’s, sage from, several hundred years ago. He wrote, a text, the Kama Sutra, which is all about, exactly the kind of man, you describe, pursuing, a young woman.”

“Oh?” Lu Luo grew interested. “Your land of Tianzhu actually has a Buddhist scripture about how to court a woman?”

“No… no…” Boluoye stuttered, “it is not, a Buddhist scripture.”

“Tell me about it!” Lu Luo cupped her face in her hands and listened earnestly.

Boluoye had no choice but to begin. “The Kama Sutra teaches that if the person, you are passionately in love with, is very stubborn, then yield to her — let her have her way. In this manner, in the end, you will surely, be able to, win her over. Only, whatever she asks you, to do, you must do it, and do it well. Whatever she criticizes, you criticize too; whatever she loves, you follow along, and love as well. Speak what she, is willing to speak; deny what she insists, must be denied. When she laughs, you laugh, and accompany her laughter; when she is sorrowful, and her tears fall, you too, let your tears, flow gently down. In short, you must, according to, her emotions, design, your own, emotions…”

Boluoye’s command of the Han tongue was far too poor. Having to recall the original text of the Kama Sutra while simultaneously translating it, he spoke in halting fragments. Yet Lu Luo listened with extraordinary absorption, resting her cheek on her hand, as though entranced.

“Is there truly someone who would do all of that for me?” she murmured softly. “When I laugh, he would laugh with me; when I am sorrowful, he would be sorrowful with me; when my tears fall, he too would let them gently flow…”

Boluoye spoke for a long while, barely managing to get through one chapter’s worth of content, yet Lu Luo grew more and more enraptured with every word. Where among the men of Great Tang could one find such an uninhibited, unrestrained love? Where would a man humble himself and make every concession for a woman? Even in those legendary tales of love that endured until the seas ran dry and the rocks crumbled to dust, it was the women who expressed their devotion more fiercely — while the men, even in their heart-rending anguish, remained gentle and composed, preserving their dignity.

“Can such a person truly exist?” Lu Luo recited dreamily. “…When you go out, you must hold an umbrella to shield her from the sun; if she is caught in a crowd, you must carve a path through for her. When she is ready to go to bed, you must bring her a stool and help her up, with a keen eye helping her take off her shoes or put them on her delicate feet. And even if you yourself are frozen stiff, you must warm your lover’s cold hands against your chest. With your own hands, like a slave, hold up her mirror for her to gaze into…”

The young heart of this sixteen-year-old girl was utterly thrown into disarray by this stranger from the distant land of Tianzhu.

Yet in Boluoye’s eyes, a strange and knowing gleam flickered.

“Boluoye,” Lu Luo said, “from now on, you must recite this Kama Sutra to me every day.”

The great debate assembly that Kong Cheng had been organizing with such fanfare had already been announced to all the major Buddhist monasteries throughout the three Jin regions. Monks from the Great Buddha Temple of Jinyang, the Twin Forest Temple of Pingyao, the Hanging Temple of Hengshan, the Universal Rescue Temple of Puzhou, and the various temples of Wutai Mountain arrived one after another at Xingtang Temple. Even the powerful clans and high officials nearby in Jinzhou came to converse with the monks about Chan Buddhism. This dharma assembly had suddenly become one of the grandest gatherings Jinzhou had seen in a hundred years.

Xuanzang found himself suddenly very busy. Even before the formal debates began, the monks were engaged in Chan discussions, creating a lively atmosphere. On a particular day, Xuanzang had been discussing Chan with several eminent monks well into the night. Boluoye had long since gone back to rest, and even the ever-present little demoness had been unable to stay awake and had returned to the Bodhi Courtyard early. When Xuanzang finally left, it was already past the second night watch. Exhausted to the bone, he was escorted back to the Bodhi Courtyard by a novice monk carrying a lantern, who then bid him farewell.

The moon shone brightly overhead. Oil lanterns flickered in the stone niches within the courtyard, casting enough light that the path was not dark. As Xuanzang passed by the side rooms, he could hear Boluoye’s snoring rise and fall like rolling waves. He smiled helplessly — after living with this fellow for so long, he had long grown accustomed to it. He proceeded to the meditation hall and was on his way to his west meditation chamber when he suddenly heard a startled cry from within Lu Luo’s east chamber!

Xuanzang was deeply alarmed. He walked quickly to the door and called softly, “Miss Lu Luo! Miss Lu Luo?”

There was no reply from within. Xuanzang considered for a moment, and was just about to leave when the room suddenly gave forth another cry: “No — !”

He was thoroughly startled. He reached out and pushed at the door, and to his astonishment it swung open with a creak. In alarm, he rushed inside in a few strides, and then froze.

By the bright moonlight streaming through the window and the glow of the courtyard lanterns, there was no one else in the room — and Lu Luo was sleeping soundly in her bed, perfectly well!

This girl slept with an appalling sprawl, her blanket twisted into a bundle and pressed beneath her, one leg curled up, her arms wrapped around a boxwood pillow. Large patches of snow-white skin were exposed, casting a soft, luminous glow in the moonlight.

“Amitabha,” Xuanzang said, deeply embarrassed. The little demoness had been talking in her sleep.

He turned to leave at once, but Lu Luo cried out again. “Father, Father — I am frightened! He wants to kill me… kill me…”

Xuanzang’s body stiffened. A surge of deep compassion welled up within him. This little demoness — so willful and reckless in the daytime, killing without a bat of an eye — was still, after all, just a child.

He sighed, knowing it was inappropriate to linger in her room. He stepped out and gently pulled the door behind him, but then hesitated — Lu Luo had not slid the bolt, so there was no way to secure the door. This child, traveling alone and leaving her door unlatched — what if some scoundrel or malevolent spirit were to come?

“Amitabha.” Xuanzang breathed a sigh and sat cross-legged on the meditation cushion in the Buddha hall, eyes closed, eyebrows lowered, chanting the Great Compassion Mantra. He sat that way through the entire night, until dawn broke in the east and birds called from the trees, and only then did Xuanzang slowly open his eyes.

Suddenly, there was a blur before him. The door creaked, and Lu Luo came out with sleep still heavy in her eyes. She saw Xuanzang seated cross-legged in the Buddha hall and could not help but stop short. “You wicked monk, you are up remarkably early.”

Xuanzang gave a faint smile. “Did Miss sleep well last night?”

“Wonderfully!” Lu Luo rolled her eyes. “Of course I did.”

“Miss would do well to keep a calm and tranquil mind in ordinary times. If you find yourself troubled and anxious, you might walk more in the hills, or go to some open, secluded mountain place and shout out loud a few times — that will dispel some of the worry and tension in your heart.” Xuanzang said, watching her steadily.

“Hmm?” Lu Luo looked puzzled. “You wicked monk, what are you talking about so early in the morning? When have I ever been troubled and anxious?”

Xuanzang shook his head. “Grinding teeth at night indicates that a person’s inner heart is burdened with anxiety and excessive tension. Continued over time, this will cause considerable harm to one’s health.”

“You…” Lu Luo’s face flushed scarlet. She was just about to flare up in anger when she suddenly froze. “You sat here the entire night?”

Xuanzang said nothing.

Lu Luo opened her mouth as if to say something, but suddenly her eyes reddened, and she ran outside.

After the kitchen staff sent breakfast, Kong Cheng dispatched a disciple to find Xuanzang, saying that tomorrow was the main day of the dharma assembly and that he wished to discuss specific arrangements with the Master. Xuanzang hurriedly finished his morning meal and went to Kong Cheng’s courtyard. A few monks from other monasteries had already gathered, and they all deliberated together and drew up the specific arrangements.

By noon, the entire monastery had grown lively. Vast numbers of people came from all directions — from Huoyi, from the various counties of Jinzhou, and even from Pu, Jiang, Fen, and Qin Prefectures. The most distant visitors had come all the way from Yunyang in the Capital Region. How they had heard news of the assembly in such a short time was a mystery.

The expansive Xingtang Temple quickly became crowded beyond its capacity. Kong Cheng had been caught off guard — in organizing this great dharma assembly, his original intent had only been to gather the monks from nearby monasteries. He had never imagined the news would spread so far, or that so many lay devotees would arrive. Even clearing out the monk’s quarters was not enough room. It was only when the Zhongzhen Temple to the northwest volunteered to take in some of the pilgrims that the situation was eased somewhat — and even then, the rest had no choice but to find lodging in Huoyi County.

The next morning at the hour of Chen, the assembly officially began.

In the courtyard before the Mahavira Hall, a large canopy had been erected. The high monks’ lion thrones stood before the hall, and below them were the monastery’s resident monks, with behind them a dense mass of lay devotees packed into the courtyard and stretching all the way to the mountain gate. Xuanzang took out the sandalwood-colored kasaya robe bestowed upon him when he received full ordination and draped it over himself, then put on a pair of new monk’s sandals. He was handsome and dignified in bearing, and years of wind and snow had carved into him a spirit unlike any other. In the kasaya’s reflection, his slightly dark face seemed to shimmer with a radiant Buddhist glow, awe-inspiring to behold.

The monks first performed a ceremony inside the Mahavira Hall, then ascended the lion thrones. Three hundred monks of Xingtang Temple chanted the sutras, and the lay devotees bowed in worship. This was followed by the examination of qualified novices for the receipt of full ordination. The Jinzhou administrator in charge of the monk registry and the monastery superintendent were present to conduct examinations and verifications, issuing robes, alms bowls, and ordination certificates, and recording everything in the official registers.

When all the ceremonies concluded and the midday meal was eaten, the afternoon was given over to eminent monks from various places delivering dharma talks. Xuanzang was to expound on the Vimalakirti Sutra. He had begun studying this sutra at the age of ten and had immersed himself in it for twenty years — his command of it was iron-solid. The moment he began, he struck the assembled monks with astonishment.

“The Chan school thrives in the regions of Su and Yang, and many of the Chan patriarchs of old attained enlightenment through conditioned arising rather than through doctrinal understanding alone. Some were awakened by a stone being thrown; some were awakened by the sight of a flower — all were enlightened through encountering conditions. There is a saying among eminent monks: ‘To awaken through conditioned arising is never to regress.’ The meaning is that awakening through causal conditions is the kind that will not fade. Achieving awakening through meditative absorption alone is not quite right. This is one view — yet this poor monk takes exception to it. Those who enter through conditioned arising may, on the contrary, regress more easily. If one is awakened suddenly in a flash, one’s body and mind may become empty all at once, entering emptiness. Even if one rests in that emptiness, if this mortal body, its karmic force, and its habitual tendencies have not been transformed, one will still regress. This is why, even after his enlightenment, the Venerable Fa Xian continued to travel everywhere to seek good teachers — because his mind had not yet been stabilized. The Mahayana teaching of conditioned arising in empty nature and empty nature in conditioned arising — if one has not achieved genuine practice and realization, then even if one speaks eloquently of conditioned arising in empty nature and the correct view of the Middle Way in theory, it is nothing but verbal dharma, and may even be a mistaken view. Therefore the sutra says that all bodhisattvas must ‘deeply penetrate conditioned arising and sever all mistaken views’…”

The monks and lay devotees were all stunned by this bold discourse. In a courtyard of more than a thousand people, not a sound was to be heard — only Xuanzang’s voice resounding through the ancient monastery grove. This monk nearing thirty sat upright on his lion throne, his face bathed in sunlight, his dignity too radiant to look upon directly.

The monks listened with intense focus, but Lu Luo was utterly bored. She had no understanding of Buddhist teaching — at most she had heard a few stories from the scriptures. She had gotten up early today, the monks had not taken their afternoon rest, and she had come running over to listen to Chan talks, which had ruined her nap. But having sworn to hound this monk until things were settled, she would not yield even the slightest ground, no matter what the wicked monk was doing!

She was in the middle of a yawn when her eyes happened to catch something, and she froze.

She was standing on the steps, with a clear view over the crowd. On the far edge of the gathered people, a woman in a veiled bamboo hat and a lake-blue jacket and skirt was walking rapidly past the wall and entering the courtyard to the west.

Lu Luo’s eyes went wide. The woman’s bamboo hat was hung all around with a white veil, obscuring her face, but Lu Luo knew that silhouette far too well — vaguely, unmistakably, it looked like her own mother.

“Could she know I am here at Xingtang Temple and has come to find me?” Lu Luo could not help but be suspicious.

“That makes sense — I left home without telling Mother, but Xingtang Temple has a very deep connection with her. She probably had Kong Cheng send word to her.” Lu Luo felt a pang of guilt. She had been away from home so long without a word, leaving her mother to worry for days.

“Perhaps… I ought to say something to her.” Lu Luo shook her head in resignation, quietly slipped away from Boluoye, and went after the woman.

To the west of the Mahavira Hall was a secluded meditation courtyard, shaded by pine and cypress. It was no easy task for Lu Luo to squeeze through the crowd and finally reach the courtyard, where she caught a glimpse of a distant figure disappearing around a corner. She pursued at a quick pace, thinking of how she would explain herself to her mother. “Hmm, saying I want to kill this wicked monk is absolutely out of the question. So… what if I say I’ve come to study Buddhist teachings? Mother would never believe that! Oh, I know — I’ll say I came to burn incense and pray for Father. She’ll certainly be pleased.”

Having thought up her excuse, Lu Luo’s large eyes curved into two pleased crescents, and a sly smile spread across her face. Yet no matter how she tried, she could not catch up with her mother’s figure. At times, if she let her attention drift for even a moment, she would nearly lose sight of her. The woman seemed to have a very clear destination in mind, her head slightly lowered, walking without pause or hesitation directly toward the deeper recesses of the monastery.

“How can this be?” Lu Luo was baffled. “How could Mother be so familiar with Xingtang Temple?”

The woman was indeed thoroughly familiar with the monastery. She wound east and then west, moving ever higher, until she had reached the monks’ residential area at the mid-slope of the mountain, and from there continued up toward the cluster of meditation courtyards used by the monastery’s senior monks. Lu Luo grew suspicious. If this woman truly were her mother, she absolutely could not be this familiar with the monastery — for after her father’s death, her mother had never come here. And even during the period when her father was overseeing the construction of the monastery and she occasionally came along, her mother had only gone to the hall to burn incense, and would never have known the layout of any other part so thoroughly.

“Could it not be Mother at all? Just someone with a similar figure?” Lu Luo wondered. It was strange by any measure — a woman slipping deep into the monastery while the monks were giving dharma talks. Her curiosity fully aroused, she crept along behind the woman to see where she was headed.

Past the monks’ quarters, the woman suddenly turned east. Not long after, she arrived beside a secluded hall. The quiet courtyard was completely empty — today’s great assembly had drawn virtually all the monks to the courtyard before the Mahavira Hall, and even the hall itself had no monk on duty. Lu Luo watched the woman enter the hall, then crept quietly to the corridor outside, peeked through the hall doors, and heard the faint patter of footsteps inside, light but clear.

Daring not to follow too closely, she waited until the footsteps had ceased before cautiously entering the hall. Inside was enshrined the Bodhisattva Guanyin — it was a Guanyin Hall. The vast hall was bare and empty, offering nowhere to hide. She hurried to look behind the Guanyin statue — and froze. Beyond was a small courtyard, and within it a meditation chamber. The courtyard had no gate, but the chamber door was locked!

In other words, the woman had entered the Guanyin Hall and vanished into thin air.

In an instant, Lu Luo felt the hairs stand up all over her body, and a cold sweat broke over her. Had she seen a ghost?

She immediately dismissed the idea as absurd. Though ghosts might exist, what ghost would dare enter a Buddhist monastery? What ghost would dare make mischief before a Guanyin statue?

If not a ghost, then it had to be a living person.

Lu Luo was brazen to her core — taking lives was to her no more than crushing an insect. She feared ghosts, but had no fear of people whatsoever. If it was a person, then there was a way to explain it — a person could not simply vanish inside the Guanyin Hall, and if they had disappeared, there was only one explanation: there was a hidden passage in this hall.

In times of chaos, great households often built concealed passages in their homes as means of escape — especially in times of war, when almost every family had one. In case enemy soldiers besieged the city or bandits ransacked the area, the whole household would slip into the passage either to flee or to wait in hiding until the situation calmed. Cui Jue was a member of the Cui clan, one of the most distinguished families in Hedong, and though he was a branch member, Lu Luo had grown up in a prominent household and was no stranger to such things.

Sharp and quick, the little demoness immediately set about searching the Guanyin Hall with great care.

The hall was not complicated — its four walls were bare, and the floor was laid with grey bricks. She first knocked with her small fist along the four walls, but the masonry sounded solid and did not suggest any hidden door. Then she stomped her way across the floor, until her feet ached, without detecting any hollow echo. She then turned her attention to the great Guanyin statue in the center of the hall. By visual estimate, the statue appeared to be fired ceramic, likely hollow inside — but she would never dare to knock on the Bodhisattva’s form; even she, brazen as she was, would not commit such sacrilege.

“I wouldn’t dare — but would whoever built the hidden passage?” Lu Luo’s eyes curved slyly into two satisfied crescents. Clasping her hands behind her back, she paced a full circle around the Guanyin statue, her gaze sweeping intently over the base.

The base was carved from a single block of rock, with lotus flowers layered in nine tiers, sculpted with exquisite skill, lifelike and breathtaking. She crouched down and ran her hands along it, examining the lotus base carefully.

When she reached the back of the Guanyin statue, her gaze came to a halt. Though the lotus carvings showed no signs of anything unusual, one petal bore a small trace of vivid crimson. Lu Luo stared at it fixedly, then carefully scraped up the tiniest bit with her fingernail and raised it to her nose. Her expression changed at once. “Phoenix-Magpie Eye!”

A chill settled slowly in Lu Luo’s heart. By this point, she could confirm with absolute certainty that the woman she had been following was her own mother, Li Youniang.

The crimson left on this lotus petal was something she knew all too well — it was the nail-dyeing dew she and her mother had made together.

Mother and daughter had a shared passion for dyeing their nails, and had researched the art themselves, grinding indigo-leaf of the knotweed plant into blue paste, then mixing it with mercury and crushing all together. When this preparation was applied to the nails, the result was astonishingly a red base shot through with blue and silver glittering points of light, like starlight. Mother and daughter had been overjoyed when they discovered it, and gave it the name “Phoenix-Magpie Eye.”

This nail-dyeing dye was absolutely unique to the two of them — it could not exist anywhere else in the world. Yet now here was a trace of “Phoenix-Magpie Eye” left on the lotus petal.

Lu Luo was suddenly seized by a deep terror. She steadied herself and slowly felt along the petals. Suddenly she noticed that a neighboring lotus flower was unusually smooth. She gripped it and turned it left and right, and indeed it began to rotate like a screw. Perspiration broke out on her forehead. She turned it left and turned it right, and from inside the base came a faint trembling sound. She startled and leaped back, landing hard on the floor — and then sat there, eyes wide with astonishment. The entire back face of the base silently sank into the ground, and before her there appeared a deep, fathomless dark tunnel.

Lu Luo sat there for a long while. Then, steeling herself, she pulled a dagger from inside her boot — she carried it with her at all times for the purpose of assassinating Xuanzang. She looked around the hall once more, crouched down, and crawled inside. The moment she entered, a trembling sound came from behind her. That slab of stone, two inches thick, slowly rose back into place, and all around her was plunged into darkness.

Her heart pounded wildly. The tunnel was utterly silent — she could hear her own heartbeat. Beneath her feet were steps. She descended carefully, one step at a time, turned a bend, and gradually a faint light appeared ahead. On the wall of the tunnel, the silhouette of a human figure appeared!

“Ah—” Lu Luo let out a shriek, nearly dropping her dagger.

But the figure did not move at all. She gathered her courage and crept closer, only to discover that it was a stone niche carved into the wall, within which stood a fearsome sculpture of a night-demon spirit, its hands holding up an oil lamp.

“That scared me half to death,” Lu Luo said, pressing her hands repeatedly to her chest. The steps continued downward. By her estimate, they had descended about two full zhang below the ground. The tunnel walls were covered in a layer of moisture, and every ten zhang, another stone-carved night-demon would appear — each one vivid and lifelike, dark and fierce, yet every one in a different pose. At the lowest point, the passage turned and began to ascend again. She walked for what seemed a long time, and finally reached the end — only to stand there, dumbfounded.

The end of the passage had no exit. Instead, there was another night-demon sculpture.

Lu Luo was utterly bewildered. How was this possible? She had not missed any fork in the path. A thought flashed in her mind. She reached out and felt along the demon’s body, and indeed found a strangely shaped flower on the demon’s chest — the surface showed some fresh marks. Following the same method as before, she gripped it and turned it left and right. It began to rotate. Left three turns, right four — a trembling sound came from beneath her feet. The night-demon slowly sank away. The darkness split open with a rush of fresh air, rich with the scent of leaves and branches.

Lu Luo ducked her head and crawled out. All around her came the swishing sound of bamboo leaves, and behind her the night-demon figure silently rose back into place. On this side was a wall, with a massive engraving of the character for “Buddha” carved upon it. Beyond the engraving was a bamboo grove, its leaves rustling and swaying in the evening light, with only the soft sigh of the breeze passing through.

It was already growing late.

“Where have I ended up?” Lu Luo was somewhat dazed. She looked about and realized she was in a meditation courtyard. It was not large — just three main rooms — and the courtyard’s layout was very simple. At the center stood a single sculpture of Bodhidharma facing the wall, and there were not even any tall trees.

This courtyard appeared to be high up on Huoshan Mountain. Looking south, one could see the distant rooftops of the great halls below, tier upon tier. Lu Luo was drenched in cold sweat from head to toe, and a gust of evening wind set her trembling. She turned to look at the meditation chambers. Firelight flickered within them, and shadowy figures moved within.

“Could Mother have gone into the meditation chamber?” A strange feeling stirred in Lu Luo’s heart. She crept forward on tiptoe, reaching the corridor outside — and immediately heard a sound of a woman’s muffled groaning coming from within. Lu Luo froze. The sound was extraordinarily strange — it seemed pleasurable and yet also as if the person were enduring some kind of pain. Lu Luo had no idea what to make of it, but as she listened on, her heart grew inexplicably restless.

The sound was too peculiar, accompanied by violent panting, all of it disordered. She could not tell from it alone whether it was her mother’s voice. She began to fret. No — she had to find out what was happening. If her mother were being seized and tormented by some villain, she must rescue her.

The sound was coming from the room on the left. Lu Luo thought for a moment, then quietly used her dagger to cut a small hole in the window paper — just large enough for a fingertip — and pressed her eye to the gap to peer inside. She was immediately struck dumb.

Nearest to the window was a clothing rack, with a few garments thrown carelessly over it. Beside it was a bed with high-hung bed curtains. Two bare bodies were entwined upon it — clearly one man and one woman. The woman’s jet-black hair spilled like a waterfall; the man’s head was shaven clean. Both were moving violently, their bare bodies glistening with sweat, and from time to time they gave out low, stifled groans.

Lu Luo stood there as though turned to wood, her dagger lowering slowly as she sank to the ground. Though she was young and inexperienced, it did not mean she understood nothing. Affairs between men and women were the stuff of street gossip and alleyway talk, and some theatrical performances had even staged such scenes.

Was that woman truly her own mother? Lu Luo dared not even think it — that her poised and virtuous mother could have such an abandoned moment, and furthermore… furthermore, with a monk from a monastery…

She did not know how much time passed. Just as Lu Luo’s mind had gone entirely blank, the performance inside the room came to its end, and the sound of hushed whispering began. Now Lu Luo heard with perfect clarity. Even pressed as low as a whisper, she knew that voice — it was her own mother’s, Li Youniang.

Endless shame set her shaking from head to toe. She did not know how to face this. She simply sat on the ground hugging her knees, staring blankly up at the sky filling with dusk, as enormous teardrops welled up in her eyes, one after another, without her knowing when they had begun to fall…

“There is important business this evening. I must go and change my clothing — you go on ahead.” From inside came the indistinct voice of the man.

“Mm.” Li Youniang gave a meek reply, and then came the sound of footsteps.

Lu Luo was startled. She slipped into the bamboo grove and hid behind a flowering shrub, not daring to make a sound. The door opened. Li Youniang, wearing her veiled hat, quietly slipped out and looked to both sides — but rather than returning to the bamboo grove and back through the passage, she walked directly toward the courtyard’s main gate.

Lu Luo breathed a long sigh of relief and sat there in a daze for a while. Then she heard footsteps moving again inside the meditation chamber — the monk was about to come out. Fury seized her at once. She clenched her silver teeth on her lower lip until blood seeped through. “Wicked monk — whether my mother went willingly or was coerced, I will not let this stand. You have brought unimaginable shame upon me and upon my simpleminded stepfather. I will not allow you to remain alive in this world!”

She watched as the monk was about to emerge. She slid along the wall to the doorway, fire blazing from her eyes. The door creaked open and the monk stepped out at a measured pace. Quick as lightning, Lu Luo threw herself forward, and the dagger in her hand plunged into the monk’s chest with a thud!

“Ah—” The monk let out a sharp, brief cry, then stared blankly, his eyes wide — staring stupidly at the small girl before him.

Lu Luo raised her head to glare at him, and immediately froze where she stood.

The monk who had committed the secret tryst with her mother was none other than the abbot of Xingtang Temple — Kong Cheng.