Xuanzang let Nashun and Lianhua Ye rest for several days at the Vardana Monastery. Lianhua Ye’s body slowly recovered.
Nashun came to bid farewell to Xuanzang: “Elder Brother, thanks to you, the bond of fate between Lianhua Ye and me has become clear, and Lianhua Ye is no longer in mortal danger. Lianhua Ye and I wish to go live our own lives, and so we take our leave of you now!”
Lianhua Ye also prostrated herself before Xuanzang in gratitude for his benevolence.
Xuanzang helped them both to their feet: “Nashun, whatever happened in your past lives, speak of it no more — live this life well.”
Nashun was overjoyed: “Elder Brother, with Lianhua Ye by my side, I am filled with nothing but gratitude for this life.”
The two bid their lingering farewells. Xuanzang stood at the city gate of Kanyakubja, watching as they and their horse slowly disappeared into the distance. He sighed in silence, then reached into the bundle on his horse’s back and drew out a wide cloak, wrapping himself from head to body entirely. He mounted his horse and followed them from a distance — not too close, not too far.
Xuanzang knew full well that the strange and sorrowful fate binding Nashun and Lianhua Ye was far from its end. She had vanished into white mist within the royal palace of Gandhara, and reappeared within white mist in the prime minister’s residence in Kanyakubja — this was clearly the work of a single hand, carefully laying out a grand scheme and using them as its pieces.
If they were pieces on a board, how could that hand ever allow them to retreat from the world and live peaceful, happy days?
Yet Xuanzang could not bear to disturb them again. He preferred to let them leave in blissful ignorance — even one more day of happiness was something precious. As for the hand behind the curtain, he would deal with that himself.
Xuanzang rode on horseback across the ancient and desolate land. He raised his eyes to the horizon, and there beyond it, he seemed to see Gandhara again — that city and the past-life present-life dramas unfolding within it, the infatuated men and the resentful women. For some reason, he recalled the anthill beneath the Bodhi tree when he had first met King Harsha. As he had watched those ants, had the ants themselves been wondering whose hands were toying with the fates of this world?
Nashun did not know that Xuanzang was protecting them in secret. He led his horse, his beloved sitting upon the animal’s back, and walked out of Kanyakubja beneath the farewell of the setting sun, stepping onto the vast and ancient earth, advancing toward boundless, unfettered happiness. The sunset blazed like fire, suffusing the canopy of the sky. The trees lining the road appeared as if drunk, their cheeks flushed crimson, swaying with an irresistible, rustling intoxication in the southerly wind.
Xuanzang’s task of following them was exceedingly difficult. Nashun appeared to harbor some concern, for he never took the main road but journeyed westward along small paths — perhaps intending to cross the Indus River and return to Samarkand. For this reason, there were no households along the way in which to lodge. Nashun would frequently purchase several days’ worth of provisions, even buying a tent, and then avoid all towns. Xuanzang went hungry several times before he grew familiar with Nashun’s habits.
One dusk, as evening drew near, Nashun stopped beside a gleaming lake. Bodhi trees grew along the shore, their canopies enormous. Nashun pitched his tent beneath a tree, spread out a brand-new ground rug, brought out the finest grape wine, melons, fruit, and various foods, then went to fish in the lake and roasted what he caught. Xuanzang halted about a li away and found a boulder half-hidden in tree shadow. With no way to light a fire and cook, he gnawed on a few pieces of dry, hard flatbread, drank some water, and sat cross-legged in meditation.
Both Nashun and Lianhua Ye had grown somewhat drunk, like the trees swaying in the wind.
“Lianhua Ye, do you find it pleasant here?” Nashun held his wine cup, entirely at ease.
“Very pleasant,” said Lianhua Ye. “It is quiet and peaceful — the breath of the living.”
“Shall we stay here for a while?” Nashun was radiant with delight. “If you grow tired of this place, I can take you to wander the entire world. All along the Silk Road, the footprints of us Sogdian people are everywhere. We can go to the Great Tang to see the court music and dance, go to the great desert to see the yellow sands and the sunrise, go to the Western Turks to see the warm sea at the foot of the ice mountains, go to see the herds of wild horses on the great steppe, go to Persia, go to Byzantium, go anywhere your heart desires.”
“This is the life I have dreamed of.” Lianhua Ye’s eyes were hazy with longing. “If I could only escape this cycle of rebirth and the bounds of heaven and earth, I would wander free and witness the great changes of the ages.”
“We will.” Nashun was certain. “Did we not say — we would have time by our side and breathe in unison?”
Lianhua Ye was silent for a long while. She raised her head and looked at him: “Nashun, I am willing to see all there is in this world — but you will not be with me on my road.”
Nashun froze. His wine cup slipped and clattered to the ground. “Why?”
“Because,” said Lianhua Ye with sorrow, “so long as you are here, I remain within the cycle of rebirth. Nashun, you do not know — from twelve hundred years ago, I have been reborn thirty-three times, and in every one of my lives, a young man will come to find me, bearing five hundred gold pieces. I have always known clearly that he is the one I am destined to wait for, my devoted and truest love. Through countless lifetimes, I have refused him, evaded him, yielded to him, eloped with him, shattered his heart entirely, driven him to despair and suicide, pretended to be strangers — I have tried every conceivable method, yet not once has any of it changed fate. Nashun, no matter what you and I do, we cannot alter the fixed trajectory of destiny. In the end, I will still become a queen; in the end, I will still have my skull shattered by a man of great virtue, and die beneath a palace wall.”
“No, no, no!” Nashun gripped her hands urgently. “Trust me — we can change it.”
Lianhua Ye withdrew her hands, and smiled a desolate smile: “Nashun, do you know how much I loathe my fate? It is a ring of destiny, a prison of rebirth. Through countless lifetimes, the same fate has accumulated in my memory, and I have come to fear it to the utmost. To destroy this cycle of rebirth, I am willing to pay any price.”
“What do you intend to do?” Nashun asked in alarm.
“I wish to go to the great steppe.” Lianhua Ye smiled brightly. “I wonder whether the steppe has a lake, and whether blue lotus flowers bloom there. I shall sit upon a blue lotus, take a blade and slit my own throat, slit open my own wrists, and let my blood flow into the lake. I hope that when this blue lotus blooms again, it will bloom in a different colour.”
“You want to take your own life?” Nashun was horrified.
“There is no other way to break this prison of rebirth!” Lianhua Ye stared at the unseen deity in the deep darkness of the night and laughed coldly: “It ordained that I die beneath a palace wall — I shall die instead in the green grass, beneath the blue sky. It ordained that someone shatter my skull — I shall cut my own throat. I cannot control others, but I can control myself!”
“No!” Nashun scrambled and tumbled forward, clutching her tightly. “I will not let you die! We will live together, face this cycle of rebirth together — we… we will find another way to break it.”
“It cannot be broken.” Lianhua Ye slowly shed tears. “I have been trying to break this cycle for dozens of lifetimes. If I am the prisoner in this prison, then I have already escaped dozens of times, and not once have I succeeded. Sometimes one has a long and beautiful dream, only to wake and find oneself still inside the prison. Nashun, the moment I die, this prison will dissolve into smoke. If there is a next life, I hope to wash away all my memories — when I meet you again, I will accompany you for one life and one lifetime.”
“No! I do not want a next life — I want only this one!” Nashun held her and wept bitterly. “In the next life I fear I will not be able to find you…”
Lianhua Ye drew out a small knife used for cutting meat and severed a lock of her hair, tying it to Nashun’s braid. She stroked Nashun’s face and said tenderly: “Severing the hair is like severing feeling, severing the bond, severing life and death. We cannot be bound together in this life — in the next, come find me with this lock.”
Lianhua Ye stood, turned, and walked away. Nashun was in such anguish that he was nearly mad, and roared frantically: “No — I will not let you go!”
Nashun lunged and grabbed hold of Lianhua Ye. The two embraced and fell to the ground. Nashun’s eyes were bloodshot, his face ferocious. He bellowed: “You are mine!”
He pinned himself over Lianhua Ye and frantically tore at her garments. Lianhua Ye was stunned. After a long moment she came to her senses and struggled with all her might. But Nashun gave her no chance to struggle, binding both her hands with her own clothing. In moments, Lianhua Ye’s outer robe and undergarment had been torn away, leaving her almost entirely bare.
“Nashun!” Lianhua Ye pleaded. “Do not do this — you will hurt me!”
Nashun did not respond, driven nearly to madness. In the moonlight, the perfect contours of Lianhua Ye’s body gleamed with an ivory radiance, neither too slender nor too full, flawless without blemish. The helpless struggling and writhing only drove Nashun further into frenzy. He let out a fierce cry, lost all reason entirely, and pressed himself down upon Lianhua Ye.
“Nashun!” Lianhua Ye cried out in desperation. “We will fall into the cycle of rebirth forever!”
Nashun raised his head — frenzied yet somewhat dazed, as though he had not quite understood. Lianhua Ye suddenly saw the tears on his face. She let out a long, quiet sigh, ceased her struggle, lay back, and gazed at the sky as tears rolled down her face.
Xuanzang was startled awake in the middle of the night. He dared not ride his horse and ran over on foot, watching this pair of desperate, infatuated souls. He did not intervene — he only pressed his palms together in silence and sighed. In his view, no matter what passed between the two of them, it was not something he need interfere with as long as the hand behind the curtain did not obstruct them. If that was the case, he need not appear to disrupt their lives.
Wind rose from the lake, and rain began to fall. The ancient land was enveloped in the sound of wind and rain. Xuanzang stood trembling in the rain, silent and still. When the lamp inside the lakeside tent burned out and darkness fell, there suddenly rose the sound of Nashun weeping as though his heart had been torn out. He charged out of the tent bare-bodied, frantically pounding his own head, like a wild beast in despair.
Inside the tent, Lianhua Ye struggled upright, gathered her scattered garments and draped them over herself, stood there stunned for a moment, then came out and held Nashun in her arms. Nashun held her and sobbed: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I did not want to have you this way! But I truly could not bear to lose you…”
“I know.” Lianhua Ye shook her head with bitter resignation. “I do not bear any resentment. This scene was already carved into the cycle of rebirth — there was no escaping it. If it pleases you, then let it be so.”
Nashun buried his face in her chest: “Lianhua Ye, let us face it together — shatter it, escape from it! We can do it, I know we can!”
Lianhua Ye held him quietly, this young man who was seven years her junior. In this moment, he suddenly gave her a feeling of warmth and something to lean upon. For twelve hundred years, she had struggled alone within this destined arrangement, solitary and utterly isolated — like an ant manipulated by a hand in the sky, without a shred of security or reliance even nestled deep within a great human multitude, even among a billion people. Yet now she had a shoulder to fight alongside her, one she could lean upon for a moment.
“It will be no use. After you forced yourself upon me, the one who will ultimately kill me — Devadatta — is about to come.” Lianhua Ye finally sighed, gazing at him tenderly. “In the next act of this play, I wonder whose queen I will become.”
“The next act shall be arranged by this old monk!”
Without warning, a faint voice drifted over from the surface of the lake.
Both of them startled. They looked up — and there, floating on the clear lake surface, was a small boat that had appeared they knew not when. Two pure servants held the oars, and Subahmati stood smiling at the prow. The wind and rain had ceased; the moon had risen, bathing the earth in its radiance, and the interweaving of moonlight and lake reflections seemed to wrap around him like a moonlight Bodhisattva.
The small boat glided quietly over the water and stopped at the shore. Subahmati stepped off the boat and gently pressed his palms together: “Both of you — it has been a long time.”
“How did you know we were here?” Nashun asked, his expression stern.
“This old monk possesses the divine eye — he knows all and sees all,” said Subahmati.
“What have you come for?” Nashun asked.
“To take you to the depths of your fate,” said Subahmati.
“We are not going,” Nashun said flatly.
Subahmati shook his head and sighed: “This is the mission of your lives — you have no choice in the matter.”
Nashun gave a cold laugh and pulled a long blade from the horse’s back beneath the tree: “Venerable One, I fear you cannot hold me back from going wherever I choose.”
“Subdue him,” said Subahmati, his tone unhurried.
The two pure servants drew the curved blades at their sides without a word and lunged forward. Nashun moved Lianhua Ye behind him and charged with his blade, engaging the servants in combat. Though young, Nashun had traveled through a hundred countries in this lifetime, fought his way through countless skirmishes, and was ferociously capable. His blade flashed brilliantly and recklessly, each move trading blade for blade, life for life. The two pure servants dared not take his life, and in the urgency of the moment, he drove them back repeatedly, leaving them in sorry disarray.
Subahmati shook his head: “Stand down.”
The servants retreated. Nashun pointed his long blade at Subahmati and laughed coldly: “Were it not for the fact that you are a venerable monk, today I would cut you down.”
“Is that so?” Subahmati fixed him with a deep gaze and murmured an ancient incantation. As Nashun heard it, it was as though thunder cracked and mountains crumbled — his head shook violently, and his eyes glazed over.
“Drop the blade,” said Subahmati.
Nashun blankly released the blade.
“Come forward,” said Subahmati.
Nashun walked before him with a blank expression.
“Kneel,” said Subahmati, his tone mild.
Nashun knelt on both knees. Lianhua Ye, seeing Nashun puppet-like, completely under Subahmati’s control, trembled all over and rushed forward to hold him: “Nashun, Nashun — what is wrong with you? Subahmati, what have you done to him?”
Subahmati said nothing. He extended his index finger and lightly tapped Nashun on the forehead: “Sleep — wake only when I call for you.”
Nashun’s eyes closed. His body went limp, and right there in Lianhua Ye’s arms, he fell into deep, resonant slumber!
Lianhua Ye screamed: “What have you done?”
Subahmati fixed her with an eerie gaze and lightly tapped her forehead as well: “You too shall sleep. When you wake, you will have arrived at the depths of fate, and shall behold the cycle of rebirth.”
“No—” Sleep descended, and Lianhua Ye fought it with all her strength, clutching Nashun and refusing to let go. “I cannot sleep… I cannot leave him… if he cannot find me… he will be heartbroken…”
But in the end, she could not resist the all-consuming drowsiness. Lianhua Ye slowly closed her eyes and fell to the ground, still clutching Nashun’s hand tightly in hers. As the light in her mind crashed away and she sank into boundless darkness, she seemed to hear a voice: “This furnace-crafted elixir of mortal life — I have nurtured and refined it for decades. Now that the time of harvest has come, how could I allow you to simply walk away?”
Xuanzang stood silent behind the trees, several times almost stepping out, yet he held himself back from acting rashly. He had long suspected that Subahmati was the hand behind the curtain that controlled these fates — yet as for his purpose, he had not the slightest inkling, and the man’s methods were still far from being entirely deciphered.
Xuanzang went back to retrieve his horse. By that time, Subahmati had already brought Lianhua Ye and Nashun onto the small boat, and the two pure servants were rowing it deep into the lake. Xuanzang first untied Nashun’s horse and released it into the wilds, then tracked along the lakeshore.
By the time dawn broke, Xuanzang had found the small boat Subahmati had abandoned on the far side of the lake. Beside it were wheel ruts — it seemed he had loaded the two of them into a large cart. It had rained the night before, and the ruts ran deep, heading east. Xuanzang tracked on horseback for half the day, and by noon, he could make out the cart in the distance. Subahmati appeared to be sitting inside it, surrounded by four pure servants riding as escort. They traveled east, passed through several cities, and then — returned to Kanyakubja.
Xuanzang followed them into the city. But Subahmati only stayed in the city for a day, then continued east. This time he traveled directly for seven or eight days, and at last arrived in Rajagriha!
Rajagriha was the royal capital of Magadha, once a sacred site of Buddhism, where the Buddha had resided for long periods to expound the Dharma. The Venuvana Vihara, where the Buddha had long dwelt, lay one li north of the city. Five li to the northwest was the Saptaparna Cave, the sacred site of the First Buddhist Council. And fifteen li to the northeast was the world-renowned Gridhrakuta — the Vulture Peak, known to later ages as the Sacred Mountain.
Thirty li north of Rajagriha was Nalanda Monastery, where Xuanzang had lived for ten years!
Rajagriha actually comprised two cities — an old city and a new one. In the time of the Buddha twelve hundred years prior, the old city of Rajagriha had been consumed by fire. King Ajatashatru of Magadha had then built a new city eight li north of the old. By now, both cities looked desolate, with sparse residents and crumbling walls.
Subahmati’s destination this time was Vaibhara Hill, northwest of the old city of Rajagriha. This mountain had been a sacred site for cultivation since the Buddha’s time. It housed five hundred hot springs. According to legend, these springs originated in the snowy mountains to the north, divided into five hundred tributaries, and flowed through five hundred red-hot iron hells — the fires of the hells heated the spring water. The Buddha had frequently bathed here in his time. Nowadays only a few dozen hot springs remained, yet people from across India still held firm faith that the waters could cure all ailments, and traveled hundreds or thousands of li to bathe in them.
When Subahmati reached the mouth of Vaibhara Hill and drove the cart in, Xuanzang attempted to slip in quietly after him, only to discover that the entire hot spring area had already been sealed off by military forces. The army numbered several thousand, sealing the entire spring zone with impenetrable thoroughness — every soldier was clad in heavy armor, carrying long bows, long spears, and curved scimitars at their waists. It was the most elite Kshatriya imperial guard of India!
When Xuanzang made inquiries, he learned that King Harsha had arrived from Kanyakubja and was now in the mountains near Rajagriha!
A chill settled over Xuanzang’s heart. Subahmati had seized Nashun and Lianhua Ye along the way to meet with King Harsha — but to what end?
He was drawing ever closer to the truth, yet the truth frightened him all the more. Even with Xuanzang having cultivated in meditation for decades, his mind as steadfast as bedrock and as still as a dry well, he could not suppress the trembling of his spirit now.
Fearing he might alert Subahmati, he dared not reveal his identity to request an audience with King Harsha. He quickly left Vaibhara Hill and made for Nalanda Monastery to seek information about what was happening behind the scenes.
“I fear nothing and no one!”
In the hot spring imperial residence deep in Vaibhara Hill, night enveloped the bedchamber, all the world fallen silent. King Harsha suddenly let out a great roar and leapt from his bed. He drew the curved blade hanging at the head of his bed and began to slash wildly through the bedchamber, adorned with hanging pearls and fine jade. The attendants came running, and were instantly terrified out of their wits — for King Harsha was charging and slashing through the bedchamber with his eyes tightly closed.
The attendants summoned the imperial guards, who were also dumbfounded — the emperor was coming at them with a blade, yet they dared not resist. The commander of the guards devised a plan: they formed a circle using rattanshields, surrounding King Harsha to prevent him from blundering about and harming himself, and more importantly, to prevent the emperor from cutting them down — that would truly have been a wretched fate.
So over a hundred imperial guards formed a circle, holding shields and allowing King Harsha to slash freely. In the midst of the chaos, Bani arrived and ordered them to disarm King Harsha of his curved blade. Not daring to bind him with rope, they finally rolled him up in several animal hides. Only then did King Harsha cease struggling and sink into deep sleep.
Bani kept watch at the bedside until the sky brightened considerably, when King Harsha finally woke with exhaustion. Seeing Bani, King Harsha immediately blanched. Bani recounted the events of his sleepwalking and violent slashing through the night. King Harsha’s expression shifted between light and dark.
After a long silence, King Harsha sighed heavily: “I dreamed of Rajyavardhana again.”
Bani nodded sadly: “I know, Your Majesty. The day we joined hands with King Shashanka to eliminate Rajyavardhana — that was done by this old servant himself. You need not feel excessive guilt; you may place the blame entirely on me.”
King Harsha gave a bitter smile and said nothing, staring at the daylight beyond the window with a blank, distant gaze.
“It is all because of this Xuanzang!” Bani said with great bitterness. “Let this old servant order him eliminated — then this matter will never be known by another soul!”
“Do you wish for the Great Vehicle of the Buddhist order to die at my hand?” King Harsha asked.
“Of course not — this servant can find an appropriate time and place, and guarantee his death looks perfectly natural, with none the wiser,” said Bani fiercely.
“Xuanzang the Dharma Master once said — remove the thorn from one’s heart, and will it no longer hurt?” King Harsha murmured. “Will the wound have never existed? When I pass on in a hundred years and come face to face with Rajyavardhana, will I then be able to look him calmly in the eye?”
“Your Majesty, why concern yourself with affairs after death?” Bani urged. “You are still in your prime — why torment yourself so?”
“I am already fifty-one years old, far past my prime.” King Harsha looked himself over with a trace of sadness. “These years, my body has deteriorated with each passing season. At times I can even smell a faint odor of rot rising from this bag of flesh. I imagine the day I face Rajyavardhana cannot be far off.”
“Your Majesty, please do not be so despondent!” Bani wept openly.
“Has Subahmati returned?” King Harsha drew a deep breath and asked.
“He returned late last night,” said Bani. “He arrived too late, and this servant did not wish to disturb your rest.”
“Go and invite him here!” King Harsha’s spirit brightened. “He promised to obtain the mortal elixir for me — now that he has returned, the elixir of this human world must surely have been found.”
Bani sighed inwardly and went to summon Subahmati.
King Harsha had the bedchamber tidied and received Subahmati on a pavilion terrace beside a hot spring. The terrace was built of palm fronds, and the morning breeze that drifted through it was pleasantly cool. King Harsha had seating mats laid out. Subahmati had traveled hundreds of li in recent days and showed some weariness in his expression, yet his spirit was vigorous. After a smiling exchange of greetings, the three of them sat cross-legged on the ground.
“When last we spoke, Venerable One, you promised to seek out the elixir of this mortal world on my behalf,” King Harsha said, coming straight to the point. “Where is this elixir now?”
“Right here in Your Majesty’s imperial residence,” said Subahmati.
“Oh?” King Harsha was surprised and delighted. “Can this elixir cure the deep-rooted ailment in my heart?”
“What ailment does Your Majesty carry in his heart?” Subahmati asked.
King Harsha deliberated at length, then sighed: “Since I ascended the throne, I have killed many, and committed numerous deeds that violate the moral law of heaven. Now that I am advanced in years, every day and night when I look back upon the past, I cannot find peace of mind. I suppose this is the evil karma I have accrued. Then — can this elixir of the mortal world dissolve this evil karma?”
Subahmati thought for a moment and said: “Every person carries their own karmic obstructions — even Bodhisattvas attain their state by dissolving their own karmic obstructions. Since karma originates within oneself, no one else can dissolve it on your behalf. Should Your Majesty seek such a thing in medicine, I fear no such medicine exists in this world.”
King Harsha was somewhat disappointed and fell silent.
“If it cannot be dissolved, then how can one find release?” Bani asked.
“If it cannot be dissolved, then do not dissolve it,” said Subahmati.
King Harsha was quite displeased and said: “You once promised me that when you found the elixir of the mortal world, you could help me find release — yet now you give me this kind of answer!”
“Your Majesty, inability to dissolve does not mean inability to find release,” said Subahmati with a smile. “What Your Majesty fears and dreads is nothing more than this: when the day comes to pass from this world, how to face the spirits of those who died by your hand, and how to withstand the judgment of the Ni Li Hell. That matter is actually quite simple to address.”
“Oh?” King Harsha was truly agitated now — this was what he feared most. He said urgently: “Please instruct me, Venerable One!”
“The mortal elixir this old monk has gone to obtain cannot dissolve karmic obstructions — but it can grant you immortal life, freedom from death!” Subahmati gazed at him with a smiling expression, a bewitching light in his eyes. “This is an elixir of immortality!”
King Harsha and Bani were simultaneously struck speechless, entirely transfixed. Had this monk lost his mind?
“How… how can that be?” King Harsha asked skeptically.
“Your Majesty, look at this old monk — I am two hundred years old now, and I have no idea how much longer I can live,” said Subahmati. “If I can attain immortality, why should Your Majesty not be able to?”
“Where is this mortal elixir?” King Harsha slapped the table and rose to his feet. “If I need not die, what should I fear?”
Subahmati smiled and clapped his hands. Pure servants had been waiting outside the door, and at that signal, they brought Nashun and Lianhua Ye inside. The two had been unconscious throughout the journey and had only woken in Rajagriha, sleeping in a confused state overnight before being brought before King Harsha.
King Harsha saw who it was and could not help but stare with wide eyes: “This… are these not Nashun and Lianhua Ye? Where is the elixir?”
“These two are the mortal elixir that grants immortal life.”
As the dawn suffused the sky with rosy color, Xuanzang hurried back to Nalanda Monastery, thirty li away.
Nalanda Monastery, as a sacred site of Indian Buddhism, was not a single temple but a magnificent and vast complex of temple buildings. In the earliest time of the Buddha, five hundred merchants had purchased a garden here and offered it to the Buddha, and the Buddha had expounded the Dharma in this place for three months. After the Buddha’s Nirvana, Emperor Shakraditya built Nalanda Monastery on the site of the garden. His son, King Buddhagupta, built another temple to the south; King Tathagata built one to the east; King Baladitya built one to the northeast; King Vajra built one to the west; and a subsequent king of Central India built one to the north. After the temples were joined into a continuous complex, a city wall was erected to enclose all six temples, forming a square city, with walls reaching three to four zhang in height. The six temples shared a single mountain gate and were collectively called Nalanda Monastery.
Xuanzang walked through Nalanda Monastery. Though he had lived here for ten years and was familiar with every person and object, every blade of grass and tree, he was still awestruck. Nalanda Monastery rose to three stories and four zhang in height, with towers above its platforms and pagodas above its towers, stacked in successive layers, grand and magnificent beyond measure.
The buildings and tall pagodas were all built of brick. The roofing, eaves, and floor materials were somewhat unusual — crushed brick mixed with clay, lime, and hemp fiber — and were polished with a smooth stone before drying, then coated with lacquer, so that the entire monastery was smooth as a mirror, gleaming brilliantly in the morning sun.
Nalanda Monastery was permanently home to more than ten thousand monks of various schools. Xuanzang’s return to the monastery was a major event, and a monk immediately reported it to Dharma Master Silabhadra. Silabhadra at once summoned Xuanzang to his meditation courtyard. Seeing Xuanzang’s travel-worn appearance, the master was much gratified: “Devaputa, I heard that you planned to remain in Kanyakubja for a while longer — why have you returned now?”
Xuanzang held his teacher in sincere reverence from the depths of his heart, and recounted the events of how he had followed Subahmati to Rajagriha in order to save Nashun and Lianhua Ye.
“Master, this Subahmati comes from Nalanda Monastery — what is his background? Why would he do such things?” Xuanzang asked.
Dharma Master Silabhadra was silent for a long while, then let out a long sigh: “Devaputa, you had better not go searching for Subahmati’s secrets. Let this matter pass.”
“Master,” Xuanzang shook his head, “if it were merely out of curiosity, I would naturally follow your instructions. But since Subahmati’s actions have set a trap specifically for me, I have no choice but to investigate to the very end.”
“Oh?” Dharma Master Silabhadra paused briefly. “Why do you say that?”
Xuanzang drew a deep breath: “Because I have fallen into his scheme. The day Lianhua Ye disappeared into white mist within the royal palace of Gandhara — though I have yet to ascertain by what method — I am already certain it was Subahmati’s doing. This scheme was not aimed at anyone else; it was aimed at me.”
“He set a scheme against you?” Dharma Master Silabhadra was puzzled. “Why would he scheme against you?”
“Because he knew I would certainly investigate Lianhua Ye’s whereabouts, and in doing so could not avoid investigating the mystery of her past and present lives. Tracing it back to its source, no matter what I did, the ultimate revelation would always be King Harsha’s crime of fratricide!” Xuanzang recounted the reasoning by which he had deduced King Harsha’s fratricide, leaving Dharma Master Silabhadra deeply shaken.
“And so, Master, this is Subahmati’s purpose. He wished to use my hand to expose the crime of King Harsha’s fratricide!” said Xuanzang. “Fortunately, I did not provoke King Harsha’s murderous intent, and by good fortune survived to this day.”
Dharma Master Silabhadra naturally understood what it meant to possess King Harsha’s secret. After a long pause he said: “Why would he wish to expose this?”
“I have not yet been able to investigate that.” Xuanzang shook his head. “But he went to such great lengths to lay this scheme, and must certainly have an even deeper purpose. That is why I tracked Nashun and Lianhua Ye — to uncover his true intent. Now that Lianhua Ye and King Harsha have both appeared in Rajagriha, I fear that Subahmati has also reached the moment when the scheme is revealed. Therefore I ask, Master, please enlighten me — what secrets does Subahmati carry?”
Dharma Master Silabhadra was silent for quite some time. Xuanzang waited quietly, able to see the anxiety and inner struggle on his teacher’s face, yet he did not press. After the time it takes to burn a full stick of incense, Dharma Master Silabhadra rose with halting steps and walked toward his inner chamber.
“Master—” Xuanzang called out.
“Come to Amra Grove at midnight. You will naturally come to see the truth.”
Amra Grove lay outside the mountain gate of Nalanda Monastery. Within the grove was a pond, which was said to house a dragon by the name of “Nalanda” — one of the origins of the monastery’s name.
As soon as night fell, Xuanzang went to Amra Grove and waited in the depths of the dark forest. The moon rose to the center of the sky. The grove was utterly silent, with only the distant sound of bells from the pagodas of Nalanda Monastery drifting through the night wind. Xuanzang sat cross-legged beneath an amra tree, quietly waiting. All his years of traveling alone had given him no shortage of patience.
The night grew late. Sure enough, at midnight, a figure appeared near the dragon pond some distance away. The figure was enveloped entirely in a wide black robe and cloak, covering head and face together. Walking through the midnight forest, it appeared like a specter.
Xuanzang made no sound and watched in silence. The figure came to the edge of the dragon pond and stood still. Not long after, two more figures came from outside the forest — similarly robed from head to face, moving silently. They stood beside the first figure without speaking, as though waiting for someone.
Xuanzang frowned. As time passed, three or four dozen people arrived one after another at the dragon pond, every one dressed in the same black robes covering their heads and faces, silent and wordless. When it seemed everyone had arrived, not a person spoke. They formed a long line and set out in a southeasterly direction.
Xuanzang was inwardly astonished. What manner of people were these, who none would show their true face, yet gathered in this forest at midnight? What were they here to do? He rose and quietly followed.
These people walked without stopping, proceeding southeast and directly into the mountains. The mountain path was rugged, yet all of them seemed thoroughly familiar with the route. Without speaking, silently following one another, they walked through the vast darkness of the mountains. After more than ten li, Xuanzang grew more and more apprehensive — these people were actually climbing Gridhrakuta!
Gridhrakuta — also known as Gijjhakuta, or the Sacred Mountain by some — lay more than ten li southeast of Nalanda Monastery. Its summit rose in a solitary peak, shaped like a vulture, hence the name Gridhrakuta. In Sanskrit, Gijjha means “vulture.” The mountain was lush with green vegetation, contrasts of light and dark sharply defined. The Buddha had long expounded the Dharma on this mountain. King Bimbisara had dispatched many craftsmen to construct stone steps spanning valleys and cresting cliffs from the mountain’s base to its summit — the steps were more than ten steps wide and five or six li long — and on the western face of the summit’s cliff, a vihara had been built for the Buddha’s residence. Xuanzang had visited many times in pilgrimage, paying his respects at the sacred sites, and knew the mountain well. Yet Gridhrakuta had long since fallen into ruin — what reason could these people have to come here at midnight?
The mysterious figures silently ascended the stone steps and climbed to the summit. The moonlight was out tonight, and these steps carved twelve hundred years ago, though somewhat worn, were still navigable. Xuanzang quietly followed at the rear, ascending all the way to the platform at the summit.
The platform at the summit was long and narrow east to west, and somewhat narrow north to south. On the western side, overlooking a cliff, stood a brick-and-stone building with its doorway facing east — tall and imposing, of unusual design. This was the vihara built for the Buddha twelve hundred years ago by King Bimbisara; the Buddha had long resided here. Around the vihara were several stone chambers, and nearby was a well. At that time, the Buddha’s disciples Ananda and Sariputra had both followed the Buddha and lived in these stone chambers for extended periods. But after twelve hundred years, not only had Buddhism declined — this very vihara of the Buddha had fallen into ruin, the well run dry, bathed in the ancient moonlight of Gridhrakuta.
To the east of the vihara stood a great boulder, over fourteen or fifteen chi in height, spanning thirty-odd steps in circumference. Some said it was here that Devadatta had once stood and hurled a boulder in an attempt to assassinate the Buddha. Of course, more accounts placed the incident on the facing peak, using a catapult. Xuanzang concealed himself behind the great boulder to the east of the vihara and watched carefully.
The black-robed figures filed inside, entering the vihara. Within it stood a life-sized image of the Tathagata expounding the Dharma. The mysterious figures stood before the Buddha image in silence, pressed their palms together, and bowed. Chanting in Sanskrit rang out through Gridhrakuta.
Xuanzang was immediately overcome with a chill of dread. Could these people all be monks from Nalanda Monastery? Surely that must be so — otherwise, how could Dharma Master Silabhadra know so precisely of their movements. Yet if so, why had these people come here to pay reverence to the Buddha image, and why with such secrecy?
At that moment, one of the black-robed figures stepped out of the group, took position before the Buddha image, and slowly removed his cloak. An aged yet spirited face was revealed, and Xuanzang nearly cried out in shock. This person he knew intimately — it was Dharma Master Silabhadra’s disciple, Prabhakaramitra!