“Is the matter truly as described?” Dharma Master Silabhadra was silent for a long while. “Prabhakaramitra.”
Prabhakaramitra contemplated briefly, then smiled: “What is truth? What is falsehood? All things arise and perish in truth and illusion — why cling to a single truth, why cling to a single falsehood? Master, the things your disciple has wished to do these years — surely you are not entirely without knowledge of them. Since you know, why must you press your disciple into stating them aloud?”
“Ah, yes!” Dharma Master Silabhadra murmured with a sigh. It was evident that his heart too was undergoing tremendous anguish. “Devaputa, how to handle this matter — let it be your decision.”
Xuanzang bowed with clasped hands: “Master, though all things in this world arise and perish in truth and illusion, there is one thing that remains eternally unchanged — that is the good will within the human heart. This disciple will absolutely not permit the lives of the innocent to be trampled in this manner, nor will this disciple permit anyone to use the name of our Buddha to perform such acts of deceiving sentient beings. Their purpose is nothing more than to display the cycle of rebirth before the eyes of the world. Yet rebirth is hidden and mysterious beyond measure — if all sentient beings could see it plainly, then it would no longer be rebirth. The human heart possesses its own sense of reverence and awe; it has no need of external things to overawe it. And so, this disciple will tell King Harsha the full and unaltered truth of this matter.”
Prabhakaramitra and Subahmati’s expressions both changed. The two of them seemed to wish to speak, yet held their tongues and only fixed an indifferent gaze on Dharma Master Silabhadra. Dharma Master Silabhadra let out a long sigh: “Devaputa, let me tell you something. After you have heard it, reconsider your decision.”
Xuanzang pressed his palms together and bowed to show he was listening.
“Last night you went to Gridhrakuta and must have come to know of the Secret Society’s existence. But do you know how vast its scale is? It is not merely the thirty-odd people you saw that night — those people are only the core. As for the full Secret Society: within Nalanda Monastery’s four thousand monks alone, there are more than a thousand members!” said Dharma Master Silabhadra.
Xuanzang’s eyes widened immediately: “How is that possible?”
Dharma Master Silabhadra was deeply bitter: “I know of the Secret Society’s organization — not because they oppose me. The Secret Society has existed since before I entered Nalanda Monastery. In fact, from the time of the Buddha himself, this current of thought has existed within Buddhism. Because the Dharma of the Buddha’s right teaching seeks liberation and Nirvana, yet in the process of monks spreading the Dharma, it cannot address the everyday sufferings of ordinary people. Whereas miscellaneous incantations, shamanic arts, astrology, and divination can relieve their everyday distress. And so, through all these hundreds and thousands of years, the Secret Society has continuously existed hidden within our community. In the flourishing years of Buddhism, the Secret Society could always be held in check, made to follow the right Dharma of the Tathagata. But once Buddhism declines, it can no longer be suppressed. Just as Prabhakaramitra advocates — he wishes to leave the academy and reclaim the faithful. He is a disciple dear to my heart. It was precisely to protect him that I sent him to the Great Tang seventeen years ago, hoping only that he would spread the Dharma in the eastern lands and establish a great legacy of scripture transmission. I never imagined his conviction ran so deep that he would come back!”
It was only now that Prabhakaramitra understood — his teacher had not banished him that year but had been protecting him. Something moved within him, yet he did not know what to say.
“I am not afraid of disciples opposing me — I am afraid of disciples sinking into the grip of obsession,” said Dharma Master Silabhadra, speaking slowly, as though weighing each word carefully. “I wish to build the academy; they wish for reform. Perhaps at this moment we cannot determine who is right and who is wrong — so let us keep our eyes open, look for ten years, twenty years, a hundred years, and the day will certainly come when right and wrong are clear. But Prabhakaramitra, Venerable One — I must tell you: in matters of morality, you are wrong. In any age, those who sacrifice the innocent to achieve their own ends will never be the ultimate victors — because they have forfeited justice.”
“Your disciple is willing to be consumed in burning fire, to endure ten thousand calamities, and will never waver,” said Prabhakaramitra.
Dharma Master Silabhadra shook his head with sadness. “Devaputa, this is the Secret Society. If you wish to tell King Harsha the Secret Society’s machinations, I will not oppose it. But the Secret Society and Buddhism are born of the same root — they cannot be separated. King Harsha is a man of outstanding talent and bold vision, and does not tolerate being deceived. Once he learns of this, he will inevitably develop hostility toward Buddhism. India’s landscape is already filled with crumbling pagodas and temples in ruins — whether Nalanda will become one among them, I cannot say.”
Xuanzang was silent for a long time, his eyes full of uncertainty, murmuring: “What should this disciple do?”
“Listen to the calling of your own heart,” said Dharma Master Silabhadra. “The decline of Buddhism across India is an inevitable reality that can no longer be reversed — whether Prabhakaramitra or I, we are both fighting a rearguard battle. The future of Buddhism rests on your shoulders.”
Xuanzang was greatly startled: “Master, this disciple is not worthy!”
Prabhakaramitra looked at him with warmth: “Dharma Brother, you are the scripture-seeker we identified seventeen years ago. If you are not worthy, who could be?”
“Scripture-seeker?” Xuanzang was bewildered.
“Indeed!” Prabhakaramitra explained. “In these years you have traveled throughout India and seen for yourself — the Dharma in decline, the monasteries retreating and crumbling, a tide that is very difficult to turn. Conversely, Buddhism in the eastern lands is flourishing and growing ever more prosperous. So from fifty years ago, our teacher began planning to transmit the Three Baskets of Buddhist sutras, vinaya, and commentaries to the eastern lands. Seventeen years ago he sent me to the Great Tang — ostensibly to spread the Dharma, but in fact to select a scripture-seeker.”
“Elder Brother brought the Three Baskets to the Great Tang to translate them — that itself was already an act of transmitting the scriptures. Why was it necessary to select a scripture-seeker?” Xuanzang was puzzled.
“I am after all an outsider. No matter how greatly the Emperor of the Great Tang revered me, I could not penetrate the deep-rooted culture of the Great Tang,” said Prabhakaramitra with some bitterness. “Besides, take the example of Kumarajiva — translating scriptures under the patronage of an emperor, he managed to translate fewer than one hundred volumes in his entire lifetime. Yet given the current enormous scale of the Three Baskets at Nalanda Monastery, transmitting everything to the eastern lands and translating it fully — how many hundreds of years would that require? And so our teacher sent me to the Great Tang to select a scripture-seeker — someone who would endure every manner of hardship to come here to Nalanda Monastery in India, and then bring the Three Baskets of sutras, vinaya, and commentaries back to Chang’an with the entire Great Tang watching. In those days, besides you, I selected three other candidates. In the third year of Zhenguan, the four of you together submitted a petition to the emperor requesting to journey west. After the emperor refused, the other three retreated. In the end, only you set out on the westward road.”
Xuanzang was struck by a tremendous wave of realization. So from the very first day of his westward journey, he had been the designated scripture-seeker! The entire plan had persisted for seventeen years!
“Great Vehicle of Heaven,” Subahmati suddenly said, “when I met you in Chang’an, I recognized you immediately as the most suitable scripture-seeker. Because your ambition is as iron and you will never retreat — and moreover because of your extraordinary friendship with the Emperor of the Great Tang, when the scripture-gathering mission is completed, the results will be doubled with half the effort. As I was implementing the cycle of rebirth plan, you obstructed me at every turn. Yet I never once used force against you — precisely because you carry Buddhism’s ultimate hope. So you and I differ in our methods, but our ultimate purpose is the same.”
Xuanzang could not tell what he felt in his heart. He gazed with a complex expression at the three figures before him. He had always believed that his life had been decided by himself alone — from when he first slipped out of Sichuan as a young man and traveled the realm, to his later unauthorized crossing of the border and his westward journey through many kingdoms, he had followed the calling of his own heart and the ideals of this life. Yet in reality, he was like Nashun and Lianhua Ye — a person whose life had been controlled, destined to complete a grand scheme, a piece in a scheme that had consumed decades of effort to lay. The only difference was that he remained himself, while Lianhua Ye was no longer Lianhua Ye.
Xuanzang suddenly felt somewhat lost. Were the things he had attained now the ideals he had pursued in those early years? Was what others had arranged for him to carry away the true scriptures he had once set out to seek? Was the mission weighed on his shoulders the same one he had once aspired to embrace?
A vast and overwhelming sense of disillusionment came over him like the tides, swallowing him as though in a flood, making it difficult to breathe.
“This disciple… this disciple misses home,” Xuanzang murmured.
Dharma Master Silabhadra was just about to speak, but Xuanzang bowed deeply: “Master, perhaps for this disciple, India is only a waystation in life. My true place of belonging is the Great Tang. This mission — whether arranged by you or the ideal this disciple once pursued — is worthy of my lifelong devotion. This disciple will be this scripture-seeker, this scripture-transmitter. I ask Master to grant permission for this disciple to return home. As for the Secret Society’s affairs — they have no further bearing on this disciple.”
“Dharma Brother,” said Prabhakaramitra, with some reluctance.
Xuanzang smiled slightly: “Our roads diverge, and so our paths diverge. I will return to the Great Tang to transmit the great Dharma of the Tathagata. You will practice your miscellaneous incantations and divination arts in India. But, Elder Brother — if you wish me to step aside, there is one condition.”
“Please speak, Dharma Brother,” said Prabhakaramitra.
“I wish to take Nashun and Lianhua Ye with me — to return their lives to them!” Xuanzang’s expression was grave.
Prabhakaramitra and Subahmati looked at each other in silence. After a long while, Subahmati finally said: “Great Vehicle of Heaven, there is in fact one point where your deductions just now were mistaken. Nashun and Lianhua Ye were not controlled by me through incantations and illusory arts. Nor did I remake their memories or instill in them thirty-three lifetimes of experience.”
“Oh?” Xuanzang was startled. “Then what is the truth?”
“The truth—” Subahmati hesitated for a long while before saying: “They are performers I hired. From childhood, they have been enacting this play with their own lives! They understand the entire matter with perfect clarity — they willingly entered this ring of destiny, this prison of rebirth!”
Xuanzang was truly thunderstruck. This was beyond all conception, for in neither Nashun nor Lianhua Ye had there ever appeared the slightest trace of acting. Their infatuation, their suffering, their lives lived one lifetime after another, their madness and despair at trying to shatter the prison of rebirth — how could any of it be false?
“Nashun is a Sogdian boy I chose seven years ago — he was only ten years old at the time. His family had been destroyed in a war, and he himself had been sold into slavery. I bought him and asked whether he was willing to spend his entire life performing as a certain person in exchange for his freedom and anything he desired. He agreed,” said Subahmati. “As for Lianhua Ye, she truly was a courtesan, and truly was trafficked here from the Eastern Women’s Kingdom. I asked whether her life had been wretched, and whether she was willing to completely forget herself and take on the role of another person. She agreed.”
Xuanzang still found it impossible to believe: “Then… did the two of them practice beforehand? The emotions seemed so genuine — did you ever let them become accustomed to each other, coordinate together?”
“They had never met before,” said Subahmati. “They only knew that within the role assigned to them, there would be a person waiting for them — that they would fall in love with that person, consumed to the bone. That person would accompany them through this life and through future lives. They knew their own lives were false, yet did not know the other’s life was also false. Great Vehicle of Heaven, what you said was not entirely wrong — they are using their entire lives to perform a play. They were willing to invest themselves completely in this role, willing to devote their whole lives and all their emotions and all their existence to this role. From the instant they entered the role, they lived solely for that role. So, Great Vehicle of Heaven — if you take them away, will they agree?”
Xuanzang was devastated. He raised his head in a daze, glanced at Subahmati, glanced at Prabhakaramitra, glanced at Dharma Master Silabhadra — then shuffled out of the private vihara.
King Harsha was still waiting. Seeing Xuanzang emerge, he asked urgently: “How is Dharma Master Silabhadra?”
Xuanzang appeared devastated, seeming not to have heard, and walked out in silence. King Harsha and Bani exchanged a glance, thinking he was worried about Silabhadra’s illness, and sighed, saying nothing more.
Nashun and Lianhua Ye were waiting in a guest room. With the monastery in a commotion, no one paid them any attention. Far from feeling lonely, the two leaned against each other, exchanging tender words. Xuanzang pushed the door open and entered, staring blankly at the two of them, his heart a swirling mixture of feelings.
“Elder Brother,” Nashun came over with concern. “You need not worry too much — Dharma Master Silabhadra will be under the protection of the Bodhisattva.”
“Are you still calling me Elder Brother?” Xuanzang sighed bitterly. “When a person uses their own life to perform a play — even knowing it was a deception, my feelings for you remain what they were.”
“Elder Brother, what are you saying?” Nashun was bewildered.
“When I first met you, I did not know whether you were truly Yuanguan reborn. Yet I was still willing to accompany you, to lift these layers of mystery, to let you see the truth of this life for yourself. Because you believed deeply in this love — and therefore it was the most beautiful feeling in the world, not to be profaned, not to be wounded. I was willing, in this world of birth, aging, illness, and death, to witness a beautiful ending.” Xuanzang looked at him with sorrow. “Yet in the end, it seems that all beautiful things in this world must be destroyed, and the truth is too ugly to behold.”
“Elder Brother… Elder Brother…” Nashun grew flustered. “What you say, I truly do not understand!”
“You still deceive me!” Xuanzang grew angry. “Are you truly Nashun?”
“Of course I am Nashun!” Nashun said, aggrieved.
“Are you truly Yuanguan reborn?” Xuanzang pressed.
“I—” Nashun argued. “I do recall the friendship you and I shared in our past lives!”
“Did you truly fall in love with Lianhua Ye from childhood?” Xuanzang asked.
“Of course!” Nashun grew urgent. “Elder Brother, on this point I have never deceived you!”
“Very well. Then let me ask you this,” Xuanzang drew a breath. “Do you still remember, when you were ten years old, your homeland was overrun by a foreign army? You were tied up with rope and herded away like livestock. You looked back and your homeland and city were burning, belching smoke and fire signals, rubble everywhere — your parents and brothers and sisters lay within the blazing flames. Did you weep as you desperately looked back? Did you struggle and resist? Were you filled with terror at the road ahead?”
Nashun froze. He stood looking at Xuanzang in silence, though his focus was not on his face. His gaze seemed to penetrate the changes of the human world, the mountains and the earth, fixed on the Sogdian village by the Kangju Sea seven years ago, where a beacon fire had just been lit.
“I saw it. Elder Brother,” Nashun murmured. “The hooves of the Turks trampled my mother — her face was covered in blood, her skull shattered. My father held a long blade and was pierced by countless spears. My elder brother was running to escape, an arrow buried in his back. Then my brother turned his head and called out: Denavupu, run!”
Tears streamed down Nashun’s face as he looked at Xuanzang. “Denavupu — that was my name.”
“Then why are you called Nashun?” Xuanzang asked.
“Yes — why am I called Nashun?” Nashun’s expression was one of confusion.
Xuanzang gazed at him, and his heart sank gradually. He could see clearly that Nashun was not pretending — he had genuinely forgotten his original identity! Whatever methods Subahmati had employed, this man truly was performing such a role with his very life — the role of a reborn soul who from childhood had loved a girl he had never met. He may never have truly traveled through a hundred countries to find her, but within his vivid, lifelike performance, his spirit had already traveled through countless nations, weathered countless changes, all for the sake of finding this girl.
Perhaps it had begun as nothing but performance. But now, this role had sunk deep into Nashun’s heart and marrow — he had forgotten himself.
“Dharma Master, please do not ask any more.” Lianhua Ye came forward with graceful steps. “We were indeed performing — both he and I were enacting a role assigned to us by someone else.”
“Have you not yet forgotten yourself?” Xuanzang asked.
Lianhua Ye shook her head: “He and I are different. The role I was assigned required that I remember clearly the thirty-three cycles of rebirth — each life had to be remembered clearly and distinctly. Only then would that suffering penetrate to the bone, and only then could I perform with genuine, moving conviction. As for my true self — it is nothing more than another lifetime’s cycle of rebirth. Whether I wish to remember it or forget it, it is not so very difficult.”
“Why did you agree to do such a wretched thing for Subahmati?” Xuanzang asked.
“What would refusing have accomplished?” Lianhua Ye gave a desolate smile. “Was my original life a happy one? It was merely going from one purgatory into another. And in this purgatory, I could at least tell myself — this is only the role I must perform. It is all false. Since it is false, then it no longer hurts.”
Xuanzang’s heart was filled with great sorrow. He had endured every hardship and come close to death nine times over for the sake of bringing them happiness, of ensuring this genuine love would not be profaned by the corruption of the world. But could it be that even this kind of love was false?
“Between the two of you — is there still anything genuine?” Xuanzang asked.
“Why should there not be?” Lianhua Ye walked to Nashun’s side, gently took hold of his arm, and smiled. “Dharma Master — do you not think that after we devoted the emotions of a lifetime to the lives of Nashun and Lianhua Ye, their lives became our own lives? Drifting and fleeing through thirty-three cycles of rebirth, struggling in search through a chaotic age of decline, loving with devotion and loyalty amid schemes and control — even if it began as performance, after this play has consumed all the feelings of a lifetime, how could I not love him?”
“Lianhua Ye, what are the two of you talking about?” Nashun asked in puzzlement. “I cannot understand a word of it.”
“The Dharma Master is asking where you wish to take me,” Lianhua Ye said tenderly. “Nashun — wherever you go, I will follow.”
“Wonderful!” Nashun’s face lit with joy. “Lianhua Ye, in this life I have found you at last — we will never be separated again. Elder Brother, will you bless us?”
Xuanzang did not press any further questions. Tears flowed from his eyes, and he gazed at Nashun with a smile: “Of course I bless you. Nashun — if you have any wish in your heart, tell me, and I will help you fulfill it.”
Nashun thought for a moment: “Elder Brother, there is in fact one wish. I wish to become a king!”
Xuanzang was speechless. Even Lianhua Ye looked at him in disbelief.
Nashun explained: “Elder Brother, think about it — in the pattern of Lianhua Ye’s fate, after she encounters Devadatta, she becomes a queen consort. Now that Devadatta has appeared, I am certain he is Subahmati. And so the next step — Lianhua Ye will become a queen. And so, I wish to become a king! I wish to become her king — I wish for her to be my queen!”
Xuanzang was dumbfounded, and just as he was about to say something, Lianhua Ye smiled with gentle desolation: “Dharma Master — is it not a blessing to struggle one’s entire life for the one you love? If you were to make him know the truth — that all of this is false — would he be happy?”
“Very well,” Xuanzang wiped away his tears and smiled. “This humble monk will make you a king.”
“What? You wish Nashun to become a king?” Prabhakaramitra stood stunned.
In the private vihara, Dharma Master Silabhadra, Prabhakaramitra, and Subahmati all froze when they heard what Xuanzang was asking.
Xuanzang nodded: “In this lifetime this humble monk has never coerced anyone, nor traded anything with anyone. But today — I will exchange the truth of the cycle of rebirth scheme for one king. This humble monk’s condition is just that: let Nashun become a king, and I will keep silent on this matter and set out on my return journey.”
Prabhakaramitra and Subahmati looked at each other, both somewhat hesitant.
“Becoming a king is not so difficult a matter,” Dharma Master Silabhadra suddenly said. “Great and small Samantas can all be called kings — it is merely a matter of the size of the territory. Subahmati — you tied this knot; you must untie it. Let this matter be resolved by you.”
Subahmati forced a wry smile but did not refuse. He understood Xuanzang’s character well. For Nashun’s sake, this man had fought him in unceasing struggle, ultimately coming close to unraveling every one of his arts. Subahmati could be said to hold Xuanzang in the deepest apprehension. To use this kind of arrangement to purchase Xuanzang’s acquiescence — in former days he would never have dared to dream of such a thing. Had this monk ever shown acquiescence to anyone?
With no other choice, Subahmati agreed.
In private, Prabhakaramitra quietly asked Subahmati: “Venerable One, making an ordinary person a king — is that not too absurd? Why did you agree?”
Subahmati smiled: “Dharma Master — do you hold this Xuanzang in apprehension?”
Prabhakaramitra silently nodded. He had not had much contact with Xuanzang, but this monk filled him with deep unease.
“That is precisely it,” said Subahmati. “What Xuanzang deciphered before Dharma Master Silabhadra just now was only the first layer of our plan. If we allow him to remain in India for more years, I am afraid he will eventually see through the entire plan and shatter it completely. At that point, would our decades of planning not be ruined in an instant?”
Prabhakaramitra’s expression changed: “Can he truly see through the ultimate goal of this plan?”
“Though this man cannot be said to possess the divine eye, the ten thousand things of this world are laid bare before him with perfect clarity, nothing concealed. The reason he has not yet fully seen through our plan is not that he cannot — it is that this plan spans decades and countless nations, having long since grown into an enormously complex system. He has now uncovered the first layer; if given time, who can guarantee he will not strike straight to the heart of it?” sighed Subahmati.
Prabhakaramitra’s expression grew grave, and he nodded: “Since that is the case — no matter what price must be paid, he must be made to return to his homeland. The condition he has put forward, while difficult, is not beyond accomplishment. With your strength and mine together, we can surely persuade King Harsha to enfeoff him as a Samanta.”
“If it is only a Samanta, then the matter is easily handled!” Subahmati clapped his hands with delight. “A Samanta counts as a king! Nashun and Lianhua Ye are King Harsha’s elixir of immortality — hmph, for immortality, what does the enfeoffment of a Samanta matter? I will go to see King Harsha at once!”
Subahmati, eager to send Xuanzang on his way, immediately sought an audience with King Harsha. With eloquent persuasion, he requested that Nashun be granted a royal title and made a small Samanta. King Harsha was initially astonished. Upon hearing the full story, he burst out laughing. King Harsha ruled all under heaven — for the sake of immortality, what did a small reward matter? He agreed at once, and told Subahmati: “Outside Kanyakubja there is a settlement called Brahmaditta, with several hundred households. I shall grant this settlement to Nashun and make him its king.”
When the news arrived, Nashun was overwhelmed with joy. The Samantas throughout India ranged from great ones ruling several thousand li of territory to small ones ruling only a few cities. His own territory was small, but it was a legitimate royal title nonetheless — these several hundred households were his personal domain, with all rents and taxes his own to keep.
Fearing that King Harsha might change his mind, Nashun immediately asked him to issue a formal decree, took the enfeoffment documents in hand, and hastened to Kanyakubja to take possession of the settlement. Xuanzang watched Nashun’s excited, eager expression, his heart aching, and saw him off at the gates of Nalanda Monastery.
“Elder Brother, why do you look so sorrowful?” Nashun said. “From this day forward I am a king! My first act will be to take Lianhua Ye as my queen. Look — though everything has unfolded along the lines of fate, this time the king is me, and Lianhua Ye is my queen! I will protect her forever and never allow anyone to shatter her skull beneath a palace wall!”
Lianhua Ye looked at him tenderly: “Nashun, you are truly courageous. How many people in this world can become a king — yet you have managed it. Nashun, I will be a good queen for you. I will bear your children, and in this one lifetime, we will never be parted.”
“You are mistaken,” Nashun said gravely. “Life after life, lifetime after lifetime — we will never be parted. Lianhua Ye, I searched for you through such suffering. Now that I have found you in this life, I will never let you go.”
Xuanzang’s heart was heavy. He was somewhat at a loss — if Nashun spent this entire life living within this role, perhaps he would be very happy?
In the morning sun, Xuanzang bid the two of them farewell. Watching their carriage disappear amid the rolling mountains, it felt as though something clean and vital had been peeled away from the filth of this sullied world.
Xuanzang was still standing before the mountain gate of Nalanda Monastery when suddenly a great number of Kshatriya imperial guards on horseback charged out of the monastery, the royal carriage of King Harsha in the middle, the entire party looking urgent and hurried. Xuanzang hastily stepped aside and pressed his palms together in greeting.
King Harsha leaned out from the carriage: “Dharma Master, I must hasten back to Kanyakubja — I shall not make formal farewells to the Dharma Master.”
“Your Majesty, what has happened?” Xuanzang asked.
Bani answered from beside him: “The Persians are forcing a crossing of the Indus River — Yazdegerd III has started the war!”
Xuanzang was deeply shaken. As he stood there, the Kshatriya imperial guards swirled around the royal carriage like a violent storm and sped away into the distance.
This war, two full years in the brewing, had come at last — sudden and relentless.
The affair had its origins in the scheme to annihilate a kingdom, plotted by Wang Xuance half a year before. On that day in Kanyakubja, Wang Xuance had advised Yazdegerd III to move northward to Tokharistan and join the Great Tang in a pincer attack on Yukuque. Yazdegerd III had not followed the plan and relocated his entire people northward — he had only dispatched scouts to chart the passes and topography, while monitoring the progress of the war between Yukuque and Fubu. Nor had Wang Xuance placed the entire success of the plan in Yazdegerd III’s hands. After returning to Chang’an, he immediately spread word through merchants along the Silk Road that the Great Tang and Persia had reached an agreement supporting Yazdegerd III’s northward move to Tokharistan to annihilate Yukuque.
Yukuque quickly heard the news and was greatly alarmed. At that time he was locked in a stalemate with Fubu on the great steppe, and if the Persians were to strike from the rear, he would certainly collapse entirely.
Yukuque did not act recklessly. He was a man of formidable cunning, who wasted not a moment on indecision. He first performed various acts to lull Fubu, then quietly divided his forces, and personally led a great army on a flanking route of two thousand li to launch a surprise attack on Tokharistan. King Ashina Wushibo of Tokharistan had never anticipated that Yukuque would be so audacious as to strike at him directly. Though he held the formidable natural barrier of the Iron Gate Pass, his guard was completely down, and moreover the bulk of his elite forces had been dispatched to aid Fubu. Completely unprepared, he was overrun by Yukuque, who broke through Avaz City and captured the king himself.
After occupying Avaz City, Yukuque looted the city for three days, then seized all the passes southeast of the city to guard against a northward Persian advance. Merchants and nobles throughout Avaz City fled in droves — most of them to the kingdom of Nagarahara to await developments.
This event was recorded in the Old Book of Tang: “Duolu (Yukuque’s title, Irbis Duolu Qaghan) again led troops to attack Tokharistan and defeated it. Relying on his strength, he took sole dominion of the Western Regions.”
Yukuque’s occupation of Tokharistan sent shockwaves through the surrounding world. The first to feel the impact was Yazdegerd III.
In theory, Wang Xuance’s proposal was a truly extraordinary stratagem. Though difficult to execute, it could have allowed the Persians to break free of their cage and henceforth enjoy open skies and seas. In fact, three years later, the desperate Yazdegerd III would ultimately take this path, allying with the King of Tokharistan, using Tokharistan as a base to resist the Arab forces, and scraping along for twenty years under the Tang’s support.
But at that moment, Yazdegerd III’s irresolute, speculative mentality had already allowed this road to be cut off by Yukuque, and the Persian situation grew even more perilous. To the west, the Arabs were watching like tigers. To the east, King Harsha had long had troops massed along the Indus River. To the north, Yukuque could descend southward at any time. And to the south? Following the Indus River south for several hundred li would be the vast open ocean…
Yazdegerd III and King Harsha’s negotiations had broken down. He had barely returned to his castle in Gandhara when this devastating news reached him. He stood there utterly dumbfounded, consumed with such burning regret that he tore off his crown, beat his head to the ground, and wept: “Why does every decision I make turn out to be wrong? At first I gave up my kingdom to preserve the sacred fire. Now I have spared my people’s lives by not moving north to Tokharistan, yet I have caused all of their lives to teeter on the edge of ruin. Am I truly unfit to bear this role of king? Yet why would heaven place this responsibility upon my shoulders?”
At that moment, the high priest and Firuzan slipped quietly inside. The high priest consoled him: “Your Majesty, you are kind-hearted — that is why everyone is willing to follow you. The great situation among nations shifts in an instant — what use is it to blame yourself?”
Yazdegerd III rose, then stumbled and fell back to the ground, leaning against the altar with a blank stare, saying nothing.
“Your Majesty, the northward road has been cut off. The only path remaining to us now is to cross the Indus River to the east,” the high priest sighed.
“Ha ha… ha ha!” Yazdegerd III laughed, yet his face was etched with despair. His teeth clenched in fury: “This heaven indeed has not been unkind to me — no matter how faint a hope I hold to, it always snuffs it out alive!” He leapt furiously to his feet, ran to the center of the temple, and roared in rage: “Am I truly one forsaken by heaven?”
Firuzan and the high priest were also somewhat in despair, standing in silence within the temple.
“Firuzan, command the warriors to prepare for sacrifice!” After a long while, Yazdegerd III said in a low voice.
Firuzan was taken aback: “Your Majesty?”
“There is no hope left — we have no choice but to force a crossing of the Indus River,” Yazdegerd III murmured. “I shall start the war.”
“Your Majesty, please reconsider — King Harsha has been on guard for some time. This is not a favorable moment to launch hostilities!” Firuzan urged.
“A favorable moment?” Yazdegerd III gave a bleak laugh. “Heaven gave me a favorable moment — yet I watched helplessly as I let it slip away. At this point, whether the Arabs, the Turks, or the people of India — all these kings are surely laughing at me, laughing at my weakness and indecision, my irresolute character. And I shall make them see — whether we Persians still possess blood and courage! My will is decided: we force the crossing of the Indus River!”
Yazdegerd III issued the edict, and the Persians dispersed throughout Gandhara heard the summons and began to mobilize. The entire kingdom of Gandhara fell into a deathly silence — everyone knew a bloody battle was about to erupt, and no one dared to obstruct it. The king of Gandhara ordered the city gates sealed and maintained watch day and night. Fortunately, the Persians did not harass them; they simply gathered east of Pushkalavati City, constructing a vast military encampment that held fifty or sixty thousand Persian troops, securing all the mountain passes.
In the time of the Sasanian Persian Empire, the military had been organized primarily into chariot forces, infantry, and cavalry, plus a naval fleet. The chariot forces were enormously expensive — even at the empire’s greatest power they numbered no more than two hundred vehicles, and now it was impossible to maintain them. As for the fleet, it had been provided mainly by Phoenicia and other coastal nations along the Mediterranean. After the empire fell, the fleet was utterly destroyed. What remained were only infantry and cavalry.
Yet to force a crossing of the Indus River, a fleet was essential. Commander Firuzan had long since requisitioned a large number of fishing boats and converted them into warships. In any case, the Harsha Empire’s fleet was nothing exceptional either — the Persians were fighting a landing battle, and in the final reckoning both sides would depend on infantry and cavalry.
The fishing boats Firuzan requisitioned numbered approximately three hundred. Loaded with weapons and warhorses, a single crossing could transport roughly eight thousand men. The primary mission of these first eight thousand men to cross was to seize a beachhead and hold off King Harsha’s offensive while awaiting the main force’s crossing.
Yazdegerd III stood on the command platform erected at the crossing point, watching the three hundred warships sail with billowing canvas toward the far shore. His face was ashen, and he gripped his golden scepter with white-knuckled fingers — even his five fingers had gone pale. There was reason for his tension: on the opposite shore, the Indian legions had reportedly begun mobilizing long since. On the Indus River, masts and sails stood dense as a forest, with countless warships cruising the river’s surface. The opposite bank’s harbor was also at full readiness with warships, iron cavalry galloping about, converted into a vast naval encampment. Countless craftsmen were building fortress walls and bivouacs; auxiliary troops and servants transported cartload after cartload of supplies — a teeming, chaotic mass.
Life or death. He had struggled and hesitated for so long — yet in the end, he had no choice but to make this decision.
It was on this evening, on the eve of battle, that Xuanzang departed Nalanda Monastery and set out on the long road home. From the time he began his westward journey in the third year of Zhenguan to the present — twelve years had passed. He had wandered India for ten years, which seemed now to have been no more than the snap of a finger.
The scripture-seeker plan that Dharma Master Silabhadra had conceived seventeen years ago had been for precisely this day. Silabhadra issued the order to open the library and select five hundred and twenty-six bundles containing a total of six hundred and fifty-seven volumes of Buddhist scriptures, along with one hundred and fifty Buddhist relics, to be carried back to the Great Tang by Xuanzang. The volumes of scripture were piled like mountains and packed into five or six large carts in full. Nalanda Monastery dispatched pure servants as escort, assembling a vast caravan to accompany Xuanzang as he set out on the road home.
Some of Nalanda Monastery’s monks expressed dissatisfaction at such generous treatment of Xuanzang, arguing that the scriptures were all treasures of the monastery and should not be taken to the Great Tang. Dharma Master Silabhadra immediately ascended the Lion’s Throne and announced that Xuanzang was the reincarnation of the Sandalwood Buddha image, and that it was now exactly twelve hundred years since the Buddha’s passing — fulfilling the Buddha’s own prophecy that the image should go to the Zhendan, the eastern lands, to broadly benefit all heavenly and human beings.
For a time, the entire community at Nalanda Monastery was stunned. The origin of this Sandalwood Buddha image was truly extraordinary beyond measure.
According to the Ekottarika Agama, during the Buddha’s lifetime, the Buddha once ascended to Trayastrimsa Heaven to expound the Dharma for his mother, Lady Maya, remaining there for three months without returning to the human realm. King Udayana, longing for the Buddha, sent craftsmen to carve an image of the Buddha from sandalwood. When the Buddha descended from Trayastrimsa Heaven, King Udayana, the Buddha’s ten great disciples, and many others went to greet him — and this sandalwood image also rose up into the air to greet the Buddha. When the Buddha met the sandalwood image, he touched the crown of its head and prophesied: “One thousand years after my passing, you shall go to Zhendan, the eastern land, to broadly benefit all heavenly and human beings.”
Zhendan was the eastern Central Plains of China. This sandalwood image had at first been enshrined in India. Three hundred years earlier it had traveled from India to Kucha; two hundred years earlier, the eminent monk Kumarajiva had brought it to Liangzhou in Gansu, after which it passed into Chang’an. The mission the Buddha had appointed for it was this. From the Buddha’s Nirvana to the present — exactly twelve hundred years had passed.
By saying these words, Dharma Master Silabhadra was declaring that Xuanzang was the reincarnation of this Sandalwood Buddha image, who had received the Buddha’s commission in this present life to go to the Central Plains of the Great Tang and fulfill the Buddha’s final wish.
“My disciple Devaputa — his Chinese name Xuanzang — has cultivated through ten lives; in this present life he shall attain Buddhahood. His title: the Sandalwood Merit Buddha.” So Dharma Master Silabhadra announced.
Xuanzang understood that this was a form of creating momentum — its purpose was to allow him to return to the Great Tang bearing enormous renown and thereby accomplish the great work of scripture transmission. Such renown carried incalculable power: once it was established that his past life had been the Sandalwood Buddha image, the entire Buddhist world of the five regions of India would revere him as its highest authority. Returning to the Great Tang, the entire Buddhist world of the Great Tang would also revere him as its highest authority — for as long as he lived, Buddhism could flourish.
Yet as far as he himself was concerned — he knew he was an ordinary man, possessed of no special origin. The Buddha had said that all living beings possess the Buddha-nature. He relied on this Buddha-nature, distributed equally among all beings, to pursue the great Dharma of this life. Along that path, he would face endless temptations. He reminded himself to hold firm to one thing: light a lamp within the heart. With the illumination and guidance of that lamp, he would not go astray. In his life, what he cultivated was his own perfection. If, for the sake of Buddhism’s rise or fall, or the rise or fall of dynasties, he extinguished the lamp within his heart — then whatever he cultivated in the end would only lead him into the Ni Li Hell, transformed into a night-demon and fierce ghost who had abandoned the Buddha-nature.
In the light of the setting sun, Xuanzang turned, pressed his palms together, and bowed in farewell to Dharma Master Silabhadra, to Nalanda Monastery, and set out on the road home.
The road home must pass through Kanyakubja, and so Nashun and Lianhua Ye traveled alongside Xuanzang. The entire party set out with great fanfare, and after half a month’s travel, arrived at Kanyakubja. Under the shadow of the gathering war, Kanyakubja was also a scene of frantic activity — troops recruited by King Harsha had been arriving in a steady stream, and the advance forces had set out several days prior.
King Harsha was personally leading the central army and was preparing to depart. Hearing that Xuanzang was returning to his homeland, he still found time amid the rush to see him. His steadfast ally, King Kumaradeva, had also arrived with his forces and joined in the farewell banquet for Xuanzang. King Harsha wished to send Xuanzang a great elephant, three thousand gold coins, ten thousand silver coins, and all necessary provisions for the journey. Xuanzang declined, taking only a coarse woolen shawl for rain protection.
King Harsha could do nothing but let him have his way. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, he led King Kumaradeva, Bani, and others at the head of thirty thousand central army troops, departing in succession. The following troops came in endless streams, stretching for tens of li.
King Harsha had not forgotten the matter of enfeoffing Nashun as a Samanta, and personally gave instructions for the settlement of Brahmaditta outside Kanyakubja to be transferred to Nashun. Nashun was delighted beyond measure, taking Lianhua Ye and Xuanzang to inspect the place. The settlement contained roughly four or five hundred households; under the Indian Samanta system, these were Nashun’s personal domain. These several hundred households would henceforth be Nashun’s subjects, paying tribute and taxes.
Including the farmland, the settlement spanned thirty li in all directions, backed by the Ganges River, with fertile soil. On a hillock by the Ganges stood a small palace, which was said to have been briefly occupied by King Harsha in years past. Although modest in scale, it was built in an imperial style. Nashun was very pleased and discussed it with Lianhua Ye: “Shall we refurbish this palace a little and live here from now on?”
Lianhua Ye looked at him tenderly and said: “From now on you are a king — you need not discuss everything with me.”
Nashun laughed heartily: “The only great matter in this kingdom of ours is whether you are happy.”
Nashun stood before the magnificent gates of the palace, surveying the several hundred households below the hill, and said with contentment and pride: “Dharma Master — from this day forward, I am a king!”
“Does this kingdom have a name?” Xuanzang asked with a smile.
Nashun scratched his head: “Ah yes, there must be a name. Hmm — let us call it the Kingdom of Denavupu!”
“The Kingdom of Denavupu?” Xuanzang was startled, suddenly recalling his true name. Could he have recalled his true identity? “Why this name?”
Nashun thought for a moment and shook his head: “I don’t know… I don’t know why, but this name suddenly leapt to my heart. I don’t know what connection it has with me, but I wish very much for this name to live on in the world.”
Xuanzang and Lianhua Ye exchanged a glance. Lianhua Ye gave a slight shake of her head, her expression one of gentle pleading. Xuanzang fell silent.
Nashun was overflowing with joyful energy, pointing in all directions: “I shall have people build walls of three bow-lengths high all around this palace, encircling the entire hillock. At the four corners of the walls, watchtowers shall be erected—”
Xuanzang stood there dumbfounded. Three bow-lengths — by Indian measurement, one bow was equal to six Tang-dynasty chi. These walls would reach a height of eighteen chi, or more than five meters — taller even than the walls of Kanyakubja!
“Why build such high walls?” Xuanzang asked.
Nashun was quiet for a moment, then said slowly: “I can never forget — in every lifetime of the cycle of rebirth, Lianhua Ye always dies beneath a palace wall. Now that I have become a king, I shall build walls too high to ever be scaled — no bird can pass over them, no demon can climb them. I will stand guard at the palace gate every day, and I will not let anyone harm Lianhua Ye!”
Lianhua Ye, moved or sorrowful — perhaps both — slowly pressed her face against his chest: “If we can be together for a lifetime, even if I never take a single step outside these walls, it is enough.”
Watching Nashun’s face full of happiness, Xuanzang felt nothing but deep sorrow in his own heart. This cycle of rebirth had been nothing but a play — yet it had bound two people to each other in a devotion that transcended life and death. Though one remained immersed in the role and the other had long since awakened, what of it? As long as they held their own love to be real — what in this world could be called illusion for them?
Nashun was a man of his word. The very next day, he recruited the labor of the entire village and began constructing these walls.
Xuanzang could not bear to watch any longer, and after staying only one night, bid them farewell. Nashun accompanied him out with lingering reluctance: “Elder Brother, once I have conquered fate, I shall come to see you in Chang’an. You once buried my remains on White Deer Plain, and I said that perhaps one day you too will be buried there — and then we will be reunited.”
He said this with earnest sincerity, not knowing that it was only a line taught to him by someone else. He still cherished the friendship he and Xuanzang had shared in the previous life, and could perhaps still remember their long-ago encounter in the mountain valley of the Yellow and Luo Rivers, where he had played the ancient zither and stirred the ages and their changes.
Tears slowly flowed from Xuanzang’s eyes, yet a smile remained on his face. He raised a sleeve in farewell and turned to leave.
The main road from Kanyakubja to the Indus River was crowded with an unbroken stream of great armies heading toward Taxila. This small city on the banks of the Indus had now become King Harsha’s main military base, and troops, weaponry, and provisions summoned from across India were all converging there. The roads of India were rugged and difficult to travel — even in the flatlands, they had never been properly packed and leveled. Combined with the humid and rainy climate, whenever large carts rolled over them, they left deep ruts behind. Now the main roads were all taken up by the military forces, with merchants and ordinary travelers pushed to the roadsides, allowed to proceed only after the troops had passed. Fortunately, Xuanzang’s return to his homeland was a major event for India, and whether military forces or merchants, at the sight of Xuanzang’s caravan passing by, all treated him with the deepest reverence. All along the way, Xuanzang traveled and lodged practically alongside the expeditionary army.
A few days later, the army nearby suddenly quickened its pace, cast off their baggage, and marched at full speed. Xuanzang had someone inquire, and learned: the war had started!