On this day, just as Xuanzang was about to leave the monastery to make his begging rounds, suddenly the sound of a great horn came from the direction of the east gate. Looking down from his height, Xuanzang could see a procession of tremendous scale entering through the east gate onto the street inside. First came sixteen great elephants; on the back of each elephant sat two young women, each carrying a flower basket, scattering flowers along the street. After them came a single white elephant, on whose back was draped a giant palanquin inlaid with gold, jade, and bright pearls; upon it, sitting cross-legged, was an elderly monk. Behind the monk were sixteen fine horses, and the riders on their backs were all dressed as attendants. Though attendants, each one’s clothing was rich and magnificent, obviously of no ordinary background.
The entire procession walked along the main street as though countless stars were orbiting the moon, all escorting the elderly monk atop the white elephant. The people on the main street were all startled and gathered to watch, unable to make out the origin of this procession. There were many merchants among the crowd, and these merchants one by one were wide-eyed and dumbstruck with astonishment.
“Look at those rings on the elephant tusks — all of gold! Even those young women’s arms and ankles are bound with gold and fine jade!”
“Never mind that — look at the canopy covering the white elephant’s head: the finest wool felt, with cat’s-eye stones and emeralds set in it… why are those pearls so enormous?”
Amid the chatter, this procession paused not a moment but went straight westward. Everyone assumed they were heading to the royal palace to pay respects to the King of Gandhara — yet when they reached the foot of Kanishka King Monastery hill, the procession stopped. The sixteen young women descended from the great elephants, and sixteen attendants also dismounted from the horses; before the white elephant, each one bent and bowed low, and the rearmost knelt prostrate on the ground, building a human bridge. The elderly monk stepped barefoot onto this human bridge and walked down from it composedly, step by step ascending toward the Kanishka King Monastery.
Xuanzang held his begging bowl and stood before the ruined mountain gate of the monastery. The elderly monk walked at leisure, ascending the steps. The two of them gazed at each other and drew slowly closer. The elderly monk walked up before Xuanzang, pressed his palms together and paid his respects: “I bow to the Great Vehicle Heaven!”
Xuanzang returned the salutation but said nothing.
The elderly monk said nothing further either, walking at a leisurely pace among the ruined stupas, his expression full of feeling. When he arrived before the two Guanyin statues, he stopped, murmuring: “Guanyin sinks into the earth and the Buddhist lineage is severed — is that it? The yellow earth has already reached the waist now. Great Vehicle Heaven, when do you think the Guanyin statue will be completely buried?”
“If you and I widely open the way of bodhi, it can be to the future kalpa,” Xuanzang said. “If one clings to the minor arts of the lesser branches, I fear it may happen even tomorrow.”
The elderly monk laughed loudly, turned back: “Great Vehicle Heaven, do you know who I am?”
“I have heard something,” Xuanzang said.
“Tell me,” the elderly monk sat down on a rock across from him.
“This humble monk has heard that deep in the Great Snowy Mountains there is a nation called Boluojia. In that nation there is a monastery, without name. In that monastery there is a monk, named Suobaimi. This Suobaimi claims his lifespan is two hundred years, born in the time of Kumaragupta I, two hundred years ago. He has lived long in the mountains, not emerging into the world for decades at a time; once he does emerge, his mount is a white elephant, young women of beautiful age in front, Brahmin attendants behind.”
“And further?” the elderly monk smiled contentedly.
Xuanzang grew serious: “He excels at dharani spells, astrology, divination, homa fire-sacrifice, mandala altar rites, mudras, abhisheka consecration, talismans and incantations, and dual cultivation. He stands between monastic and layman; outsiders call him a sage.”
“Well said. I am Suobaimi,” Suobaimi said with deep feeling. “In truth, I am a product of Nalanda Monastery. At the age of a hundred, because my ideas were incompatible with those of Dharmapala Bodhisattva — Master Jiexian’s own teacher — I left Nalanda. But my monastic bond remains to this day, and each year’s supplies and provisions are delivered in full.”
Xuanzang was silent. This he truly had not known. Within Nalanda Monastery, there were deep taboos concerning this person.
“Seeing me — why does the Great Vehicle Heaven show signs of guardedness?” Suobaimi asked.
Xuanzang said mildly: “Our ways are different; our roads are different. What this humble monk cultivates is the right Dharma, and what you cultivate is the minor dharma.”
Suobaimi laughed loudly: “The same thing those people at Nalanda say — I have heard it many times. But Great Vehicle Heaven, whether right or minor — it is an internal dispute of our Buddhist family. Whatever one says, it is Buddhist teaching at the core.”
Xuanzang seemed somewhat uncertain. After a long while he slowly nodded — yet he heaved a long, quiet sigh.
“Just so!” Suobaimi clapped his hands. “In that case, this old monk has not made a wasted trip.”
Xuanzang pondered: “Who invited you here? Nalanda Monastery or Harsha?”
Suobaimi laughed heartily: “Great Vehicle Heaven — your heavenly eye and penetrating insight reach such a degree that even I am startled. Yet why would you put up with the indignities of that crowd of heterodox followers? To be honest with you — it was Harsha himself who came personally to the Great Snowy Mountains to invite me, asking me to lend you a hand. Because Harsha knows very clearly: the right Dharma of the Tathagata that you cultivate can bring the world to complete awakening, achieving the Unsurpassed Bodhi. Yet it cannot summon wind and rain, call forth spirits and drive away demons, command all the living creatures of ten thousand things, and inspire in living beings awe, submission, and worship. This is the difference between Dharma and techniques. And what this old monk is skilled in is precisely this kind of technique. In this disordered and violent royal capital of Gandhara, it is precisely this kind of technique that is needed.”
Xuanzang exhaled gently: “Do you know why this humble monk, having come to the royal capital these past days, though struggling at every step, has never once gone to find the King of Gandhara?”
Suobaimi shook his head: “This old monk has been observing you from outside the city these past few days — in truth, he cannot understand. With the Master’s ability to make lotus flowers bloom with every word, and with the King of Gandhara’s ancestors having believed in Buddhism, it would likely take only three days and two nights to persuade him to convert. Yet why would you rather endure the humiliations of those ignorant common people than go and first transform this King of Gandhara?”
Xuanzang gazed at the half-buried Guanyin statue and said mildly: “When the imperial power protects the Dharma, our Buddhist teachings flourish; when the imperial power suppresses the Dharma, our Buddhist teachings wane. For a thousand years, our Buddhist teachings have never escaped this cycle — and why? Because from beginning to end, the propagation of the Buddhist teaching has relied on imperial power and authority, flourishing or declining at the whim of the ruler’s pleasure. Yet if it is planted in the hearts of all living beings — rooted in their souls — even if the royal power grinds down upon it like a millstone, it cannot be obliterated. And so this humble monk wishes to plant this Buddhist teaching in the hearts of the people of Gandhara.”
Suobaimi couldn’t help feeling some admiration, yet shook his head and said nothing.
“If you use your techniques and arts to inspire awe, even if you succeed for a time, once the common people witness an even more astonishing divine miracle, they will again go over to someone else. As for the unsurpassed power of the Buddha — how many times have you seen it used? That is precisely the principle.” Xuanzang said. “The scene two days ago at the crossroads, when that old man used his trickery to save the dying woman — it has left this humble monk with deep feelings, and has made me even more firmly convinced of this conviction.”
Suobaimi smiled and said: “Great Vehicle Heaven, speaking of this matter — I was outside the city that day and paid close attention to it as well. As for the woman’s symptoms — what do you think caused them?”
“The round, swollen belly was because she had eaten something that causes bloating, which had accumulated in her abdomen,” Xuanzang said.
“Precisely.” Suobaimi considered. “To make a belly swell, I have sixteen methods; nine of them use certain unusual insects — not particularly rare.”
“As for the twisted body — that is even simpler. The woman was poisoned by theriac — theriac is also called poppy; an extract of its juice can be made into a paste-like substance, capable of treating a hundred ailments, but also capable of making people addicted. Once the intake is cut off, withdrawal symptoms arise and the body twists into various strange contorted shapes,” Xuanzang explained. “The black soft paste that old man gave her afterward was theriac paste.”
Suobaimi nodded: “At the time I had my attendants describe what they saw, and I made roughly the same judgment. What about the ulcerated skin all over her body? At the time this old monk was not on the scene and could not see it personally.”
“This is somewhat less common — it is copper sickness. The copper in brass is mild in nature, but some people have special constitutions; when they come into contact with brass, the skin on their body breaks out in blotches and sores, which clear up after a few days — but with sustained contact, within less than half a day the sores ulcerate, followed by difficult breathing and death by suffocation. This humble monk has seen such cases before.”
Suobaimi grew serious: “This type of condition — this old monk has heard of it, but has never seen it. A hundred years ago I sent people to search everywhere for it, but a person with this special constitution is found in perhaps only one in a hundred thousand — I never managed to find one. Great Vehicle Heaven — since you could see through every aspect of that old man’s methods, why did you not expose him at the time? Instead you suffered that humiliation.”
“Because —” Xuanzang paused, “— the woman’s lips had only just freshly ulcerated. In order to deal with this humble monk, they not only made this woman come into contact with brass, had her eat bloating substances, and triggered her theriac withdrawal — they also freshly ulcerated her lips. Had this humble monk exposed that old man, I fear the woman would have suffered even greater torment.”
“You —” Suobaimi said in exasperation. “Pedantic!”
Xuanzang was quite calm: “In the eyes of most people — indeed so. But this is the Buddha in this humble monk’s heart.”
Suobaimi looked at him and shook his head over and over: “Great Vehicle Heaven — whatever your approach, this old monk does not care. Now that I have come today, you and I must make this entire Gandhara convert. From a worldly standpoint — to win the lands west of the river for Harsha; from the standpoint of our teaching — to open the channel for the Buddhist teaching to spread northward. And it must be completed quickly. And so, before coming to see you, this old monk already sent two attendants to see the King of Gandhara and have him summon the heterodox schools of the nation to challenge you and me in three rounds of wagers. If we lose — we both forfeit our heads; if we win — the heterodox schools either convert to our Buddhist faith or leave Gandhara.”
“A three-round wager?” Xuanzang was taken aback. “What is the wager?”
Suobaimi gave a faint smile: “Let them propose. Did you not say that I represent the minor dharma? Then let you and I stand one right and one minor, one inward and one outward, one Dharma and one technique — and see who under heaven can break us!”
Xuanzang thought for a moment: “Why would the King of Gandhara listen to you and stir up this kind of trouble?”
“Because —” Suobaimi said, “among the attendants who follow me, two of them are former kings.”
Xuanzang had absolutely nothing to say to this old monk, and murmured: “You set up a wager and have this humble monk stake his head along with you…”
The King of Gandhara was at this moment caught in the same kind of vexation as Xuanzang. Two former kings had come calling, conveying Suobaimi’s wager. The King of Gandhara immediately had a bit of a headache — yet Gandhara maintained diplomatic relations with both of those nations, and it was not easy to refuse. And so he summoned the heterodox schools of the royal capital to come and deliberate.
The King of Gandhara told the assembled people that the choice of whether to accept the wager or not was theirs. The moment these heterodox followers heard this, they immediately clamored that they were determined to have a contest with this monk. In truth they had no choice but to accept — in a contest between schools, a challenge simply could not be declined; if the other party issued a challenge and you did not respond, you would instantly lose your followers. Moreover, these people had gradually learned of Xuanzang’s reputation as the Great Vehicle Heaven; if they could take off the Great Vehicle Heaven’s head, their influence would surely spread far to various nations. The King of Gandhara also had no wish to dissuade them, and immediately fixed the following day for a ritual contest to be held before the royal palace gate.
Without further ado, everyone dispersed to make their preparations.
In a moment’s time, word of the wager electrified the entire city, and everyone grew excited. Simultaneously, several fast horses galloped out of the royal capital, racing to various places to relay the news. One of them galloped to the south of Gandhara, toward a fortress a hundred li from the royal capital.
This fortress was built against the mountain, easy to defend and difficult to attack, yet it had been abandoned for more than a hundred years. However, from last autumn onward, countless Persians had come over mountains and through valleys to repair this fortress, making it solid as solid gold again. On the surrounding mountains, more arrow towers, watchtowers, trebuchets, and defensive structures had been built. Around the fortress, military barracks had been built, and one after another units of the Persian army moved into these barracks, guarding this fortress. The troops numbered in the tens of thousands — several times more than the entire Gandhara army. Along the surrounding roads, carts supplying the daily needs of the great army came and went without end.
For Yazdegerd III had taken up residence within the fortress. The entire Sasanian Persian court-in-exile was here.
The rider reached the gate; the drawbridge was let down from above, and the rider urged his horse inside. The small fortress was packed with far too many Persian exiles — royal family, priests, nobles, and subjects — packed to bursting.
The rider’s report was passed up, and immediately someone led him to the audience hall — a palace at the highest point of the fortress.
Yazdegerd III was deliberating with the Grand Dastur, General Firuz, and his adopted son Aluohan. Yazdegerd III had ascended the throne at twenty-one years old; this year he was only thirty-one. His bearing was handsome and noble — yet since the empire’s collapse, the exhaustion of heart and mind, and the ten-thousand-li flight, he had aged before his time. His brown hair already showed streaks of white; his body was thin, his expression weary.
“Your Majesty, please rest assured — the hearts of the Khorasan people are oriented toward the empire; there is absolutely no possibility of them being easily conquered by the Arabs,” General Firuz was reporting. “Within two years, the Arabs will find it difficult to control all of Khorasan and will not launch a large-scale attack on Gandhara. We therefore still have time to plan carefully and attack the Land of Five Rivers.”
“No — I must enter the Land of Five Rivers as quickly as possible!” Yazdegerd III grew agitated. “Regarding the Arabs — never judge them by your own thinking. Because throughout these years of flight, not one of my ministers has ever predicted correctly. I have a premonition that the Arabs are coming soon. I must hasten to cross the river and must seize the Punjab, to give the Persians a piece of land on which to multiply and grow.”
“Your Majesty, the current situation in Gandhara is far too delicate! We absolutely must not be the first to break this balance!” the Grand Dastur urged as well.
Yazdegerd III gave a bleak, bitter laugh: “Grand Dastur — in my youth and ignorance, the Arabs sent an emissary to see me and asked me to grant them a piece of land. I mocked them and had a great sack of earth given to them. Looking back on it now — was this not Mazda’s punishment upon me? I handed my own land over with my own hands, and destroyed Persia’s national fortune, until I fell to this state. And so I swore that in this life I would cross the Indus River and send the Persians a piece of land!”
The palace was momentarily silent. Just then the rider walked in and reported the royal capital’s wager to Yazdegerd III. Everyone was startled.
Yazdegerd III was uncertain: “Grand Dastur, can this kind of wager actually count for anything?”
The Grand Dastur nodded: “If it were in our Persia — naturally we would not change the entire nation’s faith on account of a mere contest. But in these Eastern lands of small scattered states — indeed things are done this way.”
Yazdegerd III’s eyes lit up: “If that is the case — once we win, can we not unify all of Gandhara? Grand Dastur — accept the challenge. We must win!”
The Grand Dastur frowned and questioned the rider about Xuanzang and Suobaimi. The rider only knew that Xuanzang had debated three hundred heterodox followers and defeated them all one by one, but knew nothing at all about Suobaimi.
Yazdegerd III drew a sharp breath: “This Xuanzang is so formidable — then who in Gandhara can possibly be his match?”
The Grand Dastur smiled and said: “Your Majesty, please have no concerns. A few days ago I already received information about Xuanzang. This person is indeed formidable, but he should be the kind of person who has mastered Buddhist teachings deeply, learned and erudite — like what our Persian Empire would call a man of great learning. As for certain heterodox techniques, he does not understand them — otherwise he would not have been in such a sorry plight at the crossroads. Tomorrow I will personally go to the royal capital and will certainly break this monk and win the wager.”
Yazdegerd III was greatly pleased: “I am obliged to the Grand Dastur — I await the news of your victory!”
The Grand Dastur also needed to make preparations and was about to leave. Yazdegerd III suddenly thought of something and urgently called him back: “Grand Dastur — since this Xuanzang is a monk of the Great Tang Empire, and is on close terms with the Tang Emperor, his life must on no account be taken!”
The Grand Dastur was taken aback: “The loser must die — this is the wager’s condition. The challenge to Xuanzang is not from me alone — how then can one make an exception?”
Yazdegerd III implored: “Grand Dastur — if we cannot enter Tianzhu, the only remaining hope for our Persian people is the Great Tang Empire!”
The Grand Dastur was in a difficult position for a long while, and finally nodded in silence.
The Royal Capital of Gandhara, the Royal Palace Square.
A high platform had been erected in the square. In the center was the king’s throne, upon which the King of Gandhara sat. On the left were two camp chairs — the seats for Xuanzang and Suobaimi. On the right were six camp chairs, seating the Grand Dastur and five other heterodox leaders. Below the platform was a sea of people — virtually the entire royal capital had rushed there to watch, and even from within a hundred li of the surrounding area, countless people had poured into the royal capital to witness this rarely-seen contest between religious schools.
The King of Gandhara personally presided: “A few days ago, Master Xuanzang came to the royal capital wishing to restore the Buddhist lineage, but was met with opposition. It is not this king’s place to interfere in matters of popular faith, but this matter has stirred up such a great wave that this king has no choice but to mediate. Yesterday, Master Xuanzang and Master Suobaimi made a proposal to this king: they wish to challenge the various heterodox schools through a contest of wagers. If they lose — they forfeit their heads as forfeit; if they win — the other heterodox schools must either convert to our Buddhist faith or leave Gandhara. This king personally summoned the Great Masters of the various schools for deliberation, and all agreed to the wager. The rules of the contest are: each side demonstrates their divine miracles or doctrinal theses three times, for the other party to break. The side that breaks the most wins.”
Because the heterodox schools were the challenged party, the King of Gandhara commanded them to make the first move, asking whether they would show doctrinal theses or divine miracles. All six of them feared Xuanzang and none knew anything about Suobaimi, so they all stated they would demonstrate divine miracles. The King of Gandhara knew Suobaimi’s full measure, and smiled ruefully — but said nothing further to interfere.
An elderly Western Turk stepped forward first. He was powerfully built, holding a banner in his hand, and stood arrogantly in the center of the platform.
“I am Mohemode! Let these two know — contesting with me carries a risk to your life,” Mohemode declared. Below, some common people cheered his name with fanatical fervor.
Suobaimi chuckled: “No matter — after all, if we lose, we hand you our heads.”
“Very good. Using the Great Vehicle Heaven’s head to craft a wine vessel — I imagine the wine will taste even more intoxicating.”
Mohemode laughed loudly. Suddenly, under the blazing midday sun, he swung the long banner and chanted incantations, spinning around the platform. As he spun, wisps and columns of smoke and dust gradually gathered in the air above the platform. The smoke and dust grew denser and denser, finally forming into a mass of pitch-black storm cloud that enveloped the platform. Inside the platform, those seated all changed expression — they felt the temperature plunge suddenly, with smoke and clouds surrounding them on all sides, unable to see a single person a step away. All around their bodies it seemed as though a whirlwind was blowing, and within the wind, ghosts and spirits circled and sang, giving out wave after wave of piercing shrieks that penetrated straight to the eardrums!
And from the perspective of those outside watching, the situation was even more startling. Inside, dark clouds and shadowy forms; outside, the clear sun shone in blue sky — that dark mass was like a lump of black cotton enveloping the platform. Within the black mist, rolling human-shaped ghost forms could be seen, emitting sinister laughter and piercing wails. Everyone’s face turned pale; they trembled from head to foot. Some of the more timid, on the spot, fell to their knees and kowtowed in prayer.
In the thick mist, Mohemode laughed loudly, swung the long banner, and roared: “Wandering souls and fierce ghosts — hear my command! Drag the spirits of Xuanzang and Suobaimi into hell, never to be reincarnated!”
At this point, those on the platform could see with the naked eye: within the thick mist, what appeared to be countless ghosts screeching and rushing toward Xuanzang and Suobaimi across from them. Xuanzang watched calmly, his expression composed. Suobaimi glanced at him with a smile: “Great Vehicle Heaven — do you feel no alarm?”
“The Diamond Sutra states: if a bodhisattva has the mark of self, the mark of others, the mark of sentient beings, or the mark of longevity, he is not a bodhisattva,” Xuanzang said mildly. “This humble monk is not a bodhisattva, and these ghosts and demons are not the four marks of self and others. What is there to be alarmed about? From emptiness they come, to emptiness they go — all phenomena are illusory.”
Suobaimi laughed out loud, paying no attention whatsoever to the ghosts that were about to rush upon him, and continued talking with Xuanzang: “In two hundred years this old monk has never seen anyone as steady as the Great Vehicle Heaven — mountain-solid, dried-well-calm, their chan-mind unmoved. Since it cannot frighten you, this mere illusion technique — let it dissipate!”
As his words concluded, from within the thick mist something rang out like a thunderclap, reverberating with a tremendous boom that scattered those ghost-spirits in all directions; even the thick mist began to disperse. A cruel smile appeared on Suobaimi’s face: “Are you just going to leave like this? Go —”
He flicked his finger in the air, and those countless ghost-spirits suddenly rushed at Mohemode, then vanished into his body. Mohemode’s body suddenly seized up. He violently threw down the long banner, both hands clutching his own throat, seeming to want to scream yet unable to make a sound. His tall body crashed to the ground; he rolled continuously, hands throttling his own throat, until he had strangled his own laryngeal cartilage. Immediately afterward, a rustling sound arose inside his body; in a matter of moments, the muscles on his body rapidly disappeared, as though consumed by something — leaving only white bones and blood-dripping internal organs!
At this point, the black mist had completely dissipated, and heaven and earth returned to clarity. The ghastly remains of Mohemode lay at the edge of the platform, and the entire square fell silent. In the silence, the remains stirred once — the crowd let out a cry of alarm — then the remains tumbled off the platform and crashed onto the square below.
The first day’s contest left everyone deeply shaken; no one had any heart to continue. The King of Gandhara announced it would continue the following day. After the remains of Mohemode were gathered and put away, the crowd dispersed.
Xuanzang returned to the Kanishka King Monastery; Suobaimi also followed him over.
Xuanzang was not pleased: “You live in ostentatious luxury in your daily life — why not go and stay in the royal palace? Why come here?”
“A monk naturally lives in a monastery,” Suobaimi smiled. “Ruined as this monastery is, this old monk can make it radiate splendor and glory.” He then instructed his attendant young women to begin cleaning a stone chamber.
This cleaning was by no means a simple sweep — those beautiful young women first washed a stone chamber through with clean water, then wiped it down with cow dung, spread a thick wool carpet throughout, hung splendid tapestries on all four walls — tapestries studded with bright pearls and fine jade — then spread woolen felt outside and laid out food and drink.
Suobaimi invited Xuanzang to dine; Xuanzang did not decline, but sat to one side and ate quietly — various foods whose names he could not identify — and drank sugarcane juice.
“Great Vehicle Heaven — are you reproaching me?” Suobaimi asked.
Xuanzang sighed: “Since you were already able to break him, why was it necessary to take his life?”
Suobaimi pondered for a moment: “Great Vehicle Heaven, do you know why the Buddhist teaching has fallen into decline? Setting aside Gandhara, where the king suppressed and destroyed the teaching — even in Tianzhu, Buddhism has been gradually declining. In some kingdoms, Buddhism and the heterodox schools coexist; in some kingdoms, Buddhism has already been destroyed and disappeared. Why is this?”
“This humble monk has been thinking about this question for a long time, and has yet to reach an answer,” Xuanzang said.
“It is because what our Buddhist teaching pursues is the Unsurpassed Bodhi — illuminating the mind and perceiving one’s nature, achieving nirvana. Take you, Great Vehicle Heaven — the Buddhist teaching is profound: the all-knowing, all-enlightened, the wisdom you have realized is correct and complete, with full knowledge of all dharmas, encompassing everything,” Suobaimi said. “Great Vehicle Heaven — you can lead people to Buddhahood, but can you resolve their misfortunes? For ordinary common people, becoming a Buddha or attaining enlightenment or realizing bodhi is far too distant. On the contrary, in the secular world they encounter all manner of misfortune and hardship — birth, aging, sickness, death, the eight sufferings and six desires. When they are sick and have need of you, can you help them? When they yearn for dead relatives and have need of you, can you help them? When they are possessed by malevolent spirits and have need of you, can you help them? When they have boils on their heads and itching on their feet, a crooked mouth and slanted eyes, a body full of foul odors, and have need of you — can you help them? You cannot! You cannot — but other heterodox schools can! Great Vehicle Heaven, tell me — whom would the common people choose?”
“This is a heterodox view,” Xuanzang said coldly. “The Buddha’s Four Noble Truths — suffering, arising, cessation, and the path — are precisely the eternal teaching that tells living beings how to escape from the eight sufferings. These techniques for alleviating immediate misfortune are the minor dharma.”
“Dharmapala Bodhisattva, Master Jiexian’s teacher, shares your view,” Suobaimi said without taking offense. “But this monk of mine can resolve the immediate misfortunes of living beings, causing them to honor and believe in our Buddhist teaching. I can make them hold awe in their hearts and bow in worship before our Buddhist teaching. I can allow the common people of the five regions of Tianzhu to witness one divine miracle after another and follow our Buddhist teaching in fervent devotion. When other heterodox schools use this method to recruit living beings, and you still cling rigidly to the canonical teachings without yielding — in the end you can only fall to what faces us now —” he pointed to the Guanyin statue, “— the bleak scene of Guanyin sinking into the earth.”
Xuanzang shook his head and said: “The Buddha’s Four Noble Truths and Twelve Links of Dependent Origination — the right Dharma of this world is unshakeable. But this minor technique of yours — the moment a clear-sighted person sees through it, the whole thing collapses.”
“Minor technique?” Suobaimi was irritated. “How is what this old monk does a minor technique? Say it and let me hear.”
“It is nothing more than an illusion technique,” Xuanzang said. “Those ghost-spirits in the dark mist that Mohemode produced were nothing but a swarm of tiny flying insects; the vibration of their wings produced a sound vaguely resembling ghostly voices. He released that dark mist only to conceal this swarm of flying insects. He intended to use the flying insects to kill you —”
“To kill you and me both!” the old monk corrected.
“Ah…” Xuanzang said. “To kill you and me. But then you flicked out a certain medicinal substance — something you have spent many years refining; this humble monk cannot describe it clearly — which you flicked onto his body, causing the flying insects to turn and devour him. They burrowed into his body, consumed his flesh and blood. This humble monk is not well-versed in the raising of venom insects, yet I can judge nonetheless — after these insects consumed all his flesh and blood, they burrowed into his internal organs, lying dormant to lay their eggs. That is why you afterward had the King of Gandhara burn that corpse. And there is also — that thunderclap within your speech. Need this humble monk explain that to you?”
“No need!” Suobaimi said in anger. His face remained expressionless, but inside he felt a chill through his whole body. This monk’s gaze was too sharp and his knowledge too vast — all things and events under heaven held no secrets before his eyes. Though this person could not harm a fly, he gave Suobaimi a feeling of utter unassailability.
The two were still arguing when suddenly one of the attendants walked over: “I respectfully greet the two Masters. There is a person at the foot of the hill who requests an audience with the Great Vehicle Heaven.”
Xuanzang had the attendant bring the person over — it turned out to be an unfamiliar old man. Clearly this old man had witnessed the events of the day, and was rather in awe of Suobaimi, not daring to look at him at all. He kowtowed before Xuanzang.
“Master, I have come to relay a message on someone’s behalf. There is someone who is an old acquaintance of yours, and asks you to come to the riverbank ten li east of the city for a meeting.”
“An old acquaintance of this humble monk?” Xuanzang was surprised. “Did he give his name?”
“He did not,” the old man said.
Xuanzang thought for a moment: “Very well — this humble monk will go and see.” He immediately rose and set off for the outskirts of the city.
Ten li outside the city, there was a major thoroughfare, busy with merchants coming and going. Beside it was a thin stream of a river, its banks lined with dense groves of poplar trees. Xuanzang stood beneath a poplar tree and waited. By now it was close to dusk; travelers on the road were hurrying along, herders returning with their livestock humming ancient folk songs. The evening glow in the western sky was brilliant, casting its light over the royal capital of Gandhara.
At this moment, the sound of camel bells rang out. From the opposite bank of the small river, a young lad of sixteen or seventeen years rode a camel and crossed through the water toward him. The young lad appeared to be a Sogdian merchant, dressed in a long robe of wild-silk, wearing a belt, his feet in long boots, riding atop the camel’s back and playing a transverse flute.
Xuanzang glanced at him once and paid him no further attention. The young lad rode his camel past, then suddenly gave a long sigh and said:
“The ancient soul upon the three-life stone — moongazing and verse-making, say no more. Ashamed that one who loved has come so far to visit; though this body is different, the spirit always the same.”
It was a seven-syllable poem — in Chinese!
Xuanzang was startled, his eyes shining as he looked at the young lad: “You… the meaning within this poem — can it be that you and I are old acquaintances?”
The young lad took some melon and fruit from the camel’s back and cradled them in his hands, walking toward Xuanzang. His eyes seemed to brim with tears, yet he smiled: “Before and behind, this life’s affairs are hazy and vague; I would speak of the ties of fate but fear it will break my heart. Through Heluo’s mountains and rivers I have roamed throughout, and have returned by boat to the banks of the Baling River.” The young lad looked at Xuanzang with a dazed expression and said in a low voice: “Elder brother — many years without meeting.”
Xuanzang’s chan-mind — steady as a mountain boulder, dry as an old well — shattered in that instant. His whole body trembled; he gazed at the young lad, carefully trying to find the familiar face from former times within those eyebrows and eyes. He walked toward him with unsteady steps, wanting to reach out and touch the young lad’s face; yet before he could even touch it, tears were already streaming down.
“Yuanguan!” Xuanzang murmured. “Is it you?”
“Elder brother — I said that as long as I can still remember our friendship in this life, after sixteen years, we would meet again in an age when the Dharma is in its final decline.” The young lad held Xuanzang close, weeping and laughing at once. “Who would have imagined — fate should be so stirring!”
Xuanzang touched that unfamiliar face, tears flowing down his own, yet smiling: “Yuanguan — you must be sixteen years old now?”
“By the Sogdian way of counting years, already seventeen,” the young lad wept. “Elder brother — I am no longer called Yuanguan in this life. My name is Aluonashan. Elder brother may simply call me Nashan.”
“In the third year of Zhenguan, before I left the Great Tang to journey west, I went to Chongxian Ward to find you. But you had already moved away,” Xuanzang said, wiping the tears from his face. “All these years — have you been well?”
Nashan said: “In the first year of Zhenguan we moved away. The Sogdian people come and go along the Silk Road; they have no fixed abode. All children of Sogdian families, from the age of six, follow the merchant caravans to do business. These ten years I have muddled along, earning money to make a living, traveling constantly. The matters of my past life have mostly faded from memory — I only remember the friendship and the promise from when I first met elder brother. Elder brother’s name now resounds throughout the five regions of Tianzhu, and you bear the honorific title of Great Vehicle Heaven. When I heard it, I was glad for you.”
The two of them sat beneath the poplars by the river. Nashan spread out a felt mat and set out melon and fruit; the two sat facing each other. They spoke of past lives, spoke of this life — when joyful, their spirit soared; when sorrowful, they wept together.
Nashan sighed: “I wonder if the burial mound on Bailu Plain still exists.”
“It should still be there,” Xuanzang said. “You said — perhaps decades from now, I too will be buried on that Bailu Plain, and you would come to receive me with melon, fruit, and the sound of the zither.”
“But our roads are already different,” Nashan said. “Elder brother is destined in this life to cultivate to Maitreya’s Pure Land — while I still spin within this cycle of reincarnation. The mystery of this reincarnation — even knowing one is trapped within it, it is difficult to leave behind. Elder brother, our paths have already diverged. By rights we should not have continued the affinity from our past life — yet in this life I have been entangled in a matter of karmic fate, caught up in it with grief and distress. I ask elder brother to help me!”
Xuanzang nodded: “Tell me about it.”
“After I came to my senses, the memories of my past life gradually grew hazy. Perhaps over time they will be completely erased, and only this life will remain,” Nashan related. “Yet for some reason, from the age of three, the image of a woman’s face suddenly appeared before my eyes. I do not know who she is; I do not know why she entered my memories and this life of mine. As I grew older, I felt an ever-deepening love for this woman — yet I did not know where she was. And so I walked the Silk Road, traveling through more than a hundred nations; I passed through the Great Tang, through the Western Regions, through Persia, through Tianzhu, going even as far as the various Byzantine nations, madly searching for this woman. Only in the thirteenth year of my searching — this very year — did I finally find her.”
“There is truly such a person?” Xuanzang was astonished.
“There is,” Nashan said. “Exactly as she was in my memory.”
By now night had fallen; the moon rose over the Indus River. The name Tianzhu — India — Xuanzang had once researched deeply: in the Tang language it means “moon.” The meaning is that living beings cycle through birth and death forever without end, as though a long night stretches on without end, without dawn; at this moment only India descends like a bright moon, guiding all living beings on their path.
Yet here, in the long night of the Indus River, beneath the bright moon’s illumination, Xuanzang felt a chill throughout his entire body and a sense of dread in his heart. This fate and this reincarnation were so extraordinarily uncanny!
“This spring I came to the royal capital of Gandhara, and by chance, amidst countless living beings, looked back — and happened to see her. In that one glance, it was as though the karmic fires of a past life swept over me; Brahma’s thunder exploded in my heart. Elder brother — in just that one glance, I fell irresistibly in love with that person! And what is more —” Nashan’s eyes gleamed with tenderness. “Elder brother — these ten and more years of searching, I said I was looking for a woman, but in truth I was exploring my own destiny and truth. Yet in that single moment, I fell in love with her, and fell in love with my destiny. Then in the crowd I followed after her — I wanted to know who she was, and why, from the time I could remember, she existed in my life. Elder brother — I followed her to a brothel. She is a prostitute.”
Xuanzang was dumbfounded, not knowing how to counsel him.
“I asked around and only then learned: her name is Lianhua Ye — and she is the most beautiful prostitute in all of Gandhara, even in all of Tianzhu and all the Western Regions. Her price for one night is five hundred gold coins,” Nashan said with a look of bitter anguish, patting the camel. “This camel is worth twelve gold coins. For one visit with her, you need forty-two camels. The money of my entire merchant caravan is not enough. But elder brother — I have truly fallen in love with her. Every time I see her, my muscles, my soul, even every single hair on my body cheers and praises and is infatuated. I swore I would have her — yet did not know how. And so I rushed about in all directions, and in the space of two months sold off all the goods in the merchant caravan, then went to Samarkand to borrow from the family. Finally I managed to scrape together five hundred gold coins.”
Nashan opened one of the bags on the camel’s back for Xuanzang to see — within it was a golden gleam, a great sack brimful. Nashan sighed: “I returned to the royal capital, wishing to spend one night in her company — yet did not know what to say. Just by chance I saw elder brother in the royal capital. Elder brother — please help me.”
Xuanzang said despondently: “How am I to help you?”
“I want to know why I love her,” Nashan said. “I want to know what karmic ties she and I share across past and present lives. I want to know — what destiny you and I are to experience in this life and this world!”
Moonlight fell across the river, the poplars, and the mountain ranges. Nashan had lit a bonfire at his side; the firelight illuminated his face. On that young face lay grief, bewilderment, and infatuation. Xuanzang was suddenly somewhat dazed. In this moonlight and firelight, in this present life and past life, Xuanzang gazed at the unfamiliar face before him — this moment, this event, as though he were in the midst of some boundless great dream.
“Very well,” Xuanzang said. “I promise you.”