The 3rd year of the Zhenguan reign of the Great Tang, the third month of spring.

The main street of Huoyi County stretched ten li of prosperity — wine shops everywhere, merchants hurrying to and fro, the cries of peddlers and vendors rising and falling in succession. This was the mandatory route from Chang’an to Taiyuan Prefecture. Since the 7th year of the Wude reign, when the Great Tang had crushed the last independent stronghold of Fu Gongshi and unified the realm, ending the age of chaos, the Great Tang had suddenly burst forth with an almost unbelievable vitality. In the 9th year of Wude, after Li Shimin formed an alliance with the Turks at the pontoon bridge over the Wei River, the threat from the northern frontier also diminished, and merchants traveling between the Hedong Circuit and the northern frontier grew ever more numerous. Huoyi grew increasingly prosperous.

On this day, a monk approached from afar along the county office’s main street. This monk was about thirty years of age, with kind and gentle features, composed in bearing; though his skin had been darkened by the sun, he possessed a quality that made people feel an irresistible warmth. The gray-brown monastic robe he wore was old and worn, some parts rubbed down to mere threads, yet had been washed clean and neat. On his back he carried an enormous walnut-wood book chest that appeared quite heavy — the ropes dug deep into his shoulders — yet he kept his back straight and his step measured. No matter the time or place, a faint smile remained on his face, as though everything within his sight filled him with joy.

Behind this monk, however, trailed a man of the Western Regions — a man with a thick, full beard, a high nose, deep-set eyes, and dark skin, yet oddly wrapped in a white headcloth. This man of the Western Regions was tall and powerfully built, carrying a large bundle on his back, and kept gazing left and right as he walked, immediately drawing the curiosity of onlookers. At this time, many people from the Western Regions did come to the Great Tang, but most gathered in Chang’an and Luoyang, or in the southern coastal cities of Guangzhou, Jiaozhou, Chaozhou, and Quanzhou — in this county seat of the Hedong Circuit, they were quite a rare sight.

With a crowd of children jumping and clapping at their heels, this peculiar pair arrived at the outer angled walls of the county office gate.

The yamen runners on duty had also stared in astonishment for quite some time before one finally asked, when the monk stepped onto the steps: “Venerable master, what brings you to the county office?”

The monk returned a salute and said: “This poor monk is Xuanzang, come from Chang’an. I wish to pay my respects to the Honored Magistrate of this county.”

“Oh my,” the runner exclaimed in surprise, “a learned monk from Chang’an! But what bad timing — our County Magistrate went two days ago to inspect the spring flood conditions at the banks of the Fen River, and we don’t know when he’ll be back. Please wait — I’ll go right away and find a clerk to inquire.”

Xuanzang pressed his palms together in thanks.

The runner flew off like the wind, while the other runner eagerly helped Xuanzang remove the book chest from his back: “Venerable master, please rest a moment.” The chest dropped suddenly and the runner barely caught it. “Oh my, this chest is so heavy… and you’ve been carrying it this whole way?”

A pair of large hands reached over and gently received the chest. The man of the Western Regions set it down on the ground and smiled: “This is treasure. Xuanzang Master’s — dozens of scrolls — sutra texts — carried from Chang’an — to here.”

Xuanzang gave a light laugh and said nothing.

The runner looked at this man of the Western Regions and, noticing that although his Chinese was somewhat halting his pronunciation was quite accurate, found himself rather curious, and smiled: “Which country are you from? Turkic? Uyghur? Or Shatuo?” In these years of the Sui-Tang transition and constant warfare, even rural villagers could name several of the Western Regions nations.

“I…” The man from the Western Regions touched his own chest and said loudly: “Person of Tianzhu — Central Tianzhu — Boluoye.”

“Tianzhu…” The runner scratched his head, clearly having never heard of it.

Boluoye muttered a few words under his breath, evidently somewhat frustrated.

Xuanzang said: “The nations within the seas are as numerous as the sands of the Ganges — some far, some near, some familiar, some distant. How could everyone possibly know them all?”

Boluoye’s face showed an expression of respect, and he bowed in acknowledgment.

This Tianzhu man Boluoye was someone Xuanzang had “picked up” along the road out of Chang’an. He was originally an elephant trainer for King Harsha of Central Tianzhu, a Shudra of the four great castes — the lowest caste of the common people. In the winter of the 9th year of Wude, the eminent Central Tianzhu monk Prabhakaramitra came to the Tang by sea with the Tang envoy, Prince Gaoping Li Daoli, and resided at the Temple of Great Prosperity. Accompanying Prabhakaramitra came two great elephants sent by King Harsha as gifts to what was then the Emperor — now the retired Emperor Li Yuan; and with the elephants came, naturally, this Tianzhu elephant trainer.

But Boluoye was unlucky. After the elephants had been tossed about on the sea for several months and then set foot on Tang soil, they fell ill from the change in climate and one of them died. This was a grave offense. Upon arriving in Chang’an, he was detained by the mission’s leader, who planned to deliver him to King Harsha for punishment on their return to Central Tianzhu. Boluoye knew full well that given King Harsha’s taste for severe punishment, having caused him such a tremendous loss of face before the Tang, his fate would be either to be burned alive or to have his hands and feet severed. So he steeled himself and decided to simply flee — at the very least, this Great Tang was richer than his homeland, and he would not starve to death.

Boluoye was skilled in the art of yoga, and it had simply not occurred to the Tang guards to be wary of someone versed in this unusual discipline. So Boluoye folded his body like a strand of noodles and slipped out of the simple cell in the Court of Foreign Affairs, and began to wander the lands of the Great Tang.

This wandering lasted two years, until last winter when he encountered Xuanzang. Xuanzang partly pitied his plight, and partly needed to study Sanskrit and learn about the customs and geography of Tianzhu for his study of the Dharma, and so took him along. Boluoye figured that following a monk was better than wandering alone — at least food and lodging required no money. Moreover, this monk’s command of the Dharma was profound and his heart was kind and compassionate, so from that point Boluoye had been unwilling to leave, and followed him all the way to this place.

Boluoye was tall and powerfully built, and his Chinese was not particularly fluent, yet he was something of a chatterbox. He immediately fell into idle conversation with the runner, and the two chatted so enthusiastically that they were almost on the verge of swearing brotherhood. Just then, the first runner came rushing out from the yamen, followed by a clerk wearing a flat green headwrap.

The clerk bowed in greeting from afar: “Venerable master, my apologies, my apologies. I am the records official of the county office, surnamed Ma.”

“Ah, Magistrate Ma,” Xuanzang pressed his palms together and bowed respectfully. “When might the Honored Magistrate be expected to return?”

“Please, do not call me Magistrate.” Ma Dianli smiled broadly. “It is the season of spring floods — Magistrate Guo has gone to inspect the dikes along the Fen River, concerned about the embankments. He has been gone several days now, and at the earliest he might return around the shen or you hour today; at the latest, tomorrow morning. Does the venerable master have business with Magistrate Guo?”

“There are some old matters I wished to learn about from the Honored Magistrate,” Xuanzang said. “Is the Honored Magistrate here surnamed Guo?”

Ma Dianli was momentarily at a loss — so this monk didn’t even know the magistrate’s name: “That’s right — surnamed Guo, given name Zai, courtesy name Ziyu. In the 7th year of Wude he was promoted from his post as deputy magistrate in Dinghu County to Huoyi.”

“In that case, this poor monk will first find a monastery to lodge at, and come to pay my respects once the Honored Magistrate has returned,” Xuanzang said. “I have heard that there is a monastery near Huoyi called Xingtang Temple — said to be a great temple in the Hedong Circuit. Could you tell me the way?”

“Oh, Xingtang Temple is at the foot of Mount Huo, about twenty li east of the county seat,” Ma Dianli said with a smile, then asked: “And what is the venerable master’s dharma name?”

“This poor monk is Xuanzang — a traveling monk for the purpose of study, who received the full ordination at Konghui Monastery in Yizhou,” Xuanzang replied.

A traveling monk for the purpose of study was a wandering monk who traveled in all directions seeking learning and insight. Such monks generally had no fixed monastery and would lodge wherever they happened to be, needing only to present the ordination certificate issued by the authorities after receiving full ordination.

Xuanzang had answered so thoroughly because he thought this official was checking his qualifications. To his surprise, Ma Dianli was struck dumb the moment he heard the name: “You… you are Master Xuanzang? The Xuanzang who argued the assembled monks of Jianghan into speechless defeat? I have heard that the great dharma master Zhiyan of Suzhou was so distraught after losing the debate that he wept! Is that true or not?”

Xuanzang was also taken aback — he had not expected his reputation to have spread all the way to Sanjin. He had left Shu at twenty-one to travel, passing through Jing-Xiang, then Wu and Yang, then Hebei — sweeping through like a whirlwind. The doctrines of every Buddhist school, the insights of every great dharma master — all had been probed and penetrated to their depths by him in argument and study, until at last even his own master could not answer his questions, and he had departed with his doubts unresolved.

By comparison, the great debate that Dharma Master Zhiyan had organized — assembling the monks of Jianghan to face him — was to Xuanzang nothing more than a small ripple. But to outsiders, the sight of a young monk taking on more than a dozen long-established masters and leaving them bereft of argument was quite a legendary scene.

Xuanzang shook his head: “Dharma Master Zhiyan’s lament was not because he was unequal to this poor monk, but because the Way is not yet flourishing and the principles of the Dharma are difficult to resolve.”

Ma Dianli had little understanding of things like “principles of the Dharma,” but he knew clearly enough that the monk before him was greatly renowned and his mastery of the Dharma was profound — that was sufficient. He became even more enthusiastic: “Venerable master, please don’t rush off. Let me first take you somewhere to see.”

Xuanzang was bewildered, but Ma Dianli would not hear of it and immediately ordered two runners to carry the large book chest, then led him up the main street. Ma Dianli was so enthusiastic that Xuanzang could not politely refuse, and could only follow along. They did not walk far — circling north around the county office and entering a side street, after five or six hundred paces they arrived before a residence. The gate was modest and bore no signboard, but the two drum-shaped gate stones at the entrance indicated that this household held official rank.

“Venerable master,” Ma Dianli explained, “this is the residence of the County Magistrate — the office is in front, the household behind. The Magistrate’s family all live here. The deputy magistrate’s residence is to the left, and the assistant magistrate’s to the right. Please wait a moment; I will go and speak with Madam.”

Xuanzang was rather puzzled. He had clearly said he wanted to lodge at Xingtang Temple — so why had Ma Dianli led him to the county magistrate’s home? Wealthy households hosting and supporting Buddhist monks was certainly commonplace, and if one had the means, one could invite a monk to stay for months or even years — but the magistrate was not home. Surely he couldn’t actually be expected to stay here?

Ma Dianli knocked the door ring. A young manservant opened the side gate, and seeing it was him, quickly let him in. Ma Dianli hurried inside, instructing the manservant to take good care of the venerable master. The manservant looked curiously at the group, and before he could say a word, Boluoye latched onto him: “Little brother, how old are you? What’s your name? How many people are in your family? What do your father and mother do…”

The barrage of questions left the manservant completely bewildered. Xuanzang was equally helpless — this fellow had spent two years wandering the Great Tang and instead of learning anything useful, had picked up a mixture of dialects from all over the country, which he delighted in throwing together at once.

Just then a plain-looking senior maidservant came out from inside the residence. She reached the side gate, poked her head out to look at Xuanzang, and said with a suspicious expression: “So you’re the monk from Chang’an? Do you know the arts of exorcism and warding off evil?”

At the first sentence, Xuanzang had just started to nod — but the second sentence left him instantly speechless, and he caught himself mid-nod and forced a rueful smile: “This poor monk cultivates the great path of the Tathagata. Exorcism and warding off evil are minor arts — this poor monk cultivates the Way, not technique.”

“Heavenly ancestors!” Contrary to his expectations, the senior maidservant’s eyes lit up, and on her unremarkable face there appeared a radiance and animation as she cried out, “Exorcism and warding off evil are only minor arts?! Oh, we’ve found a high monk at last! Master, please — quickly, please come in! Si Qiu’er, open the main gate!”

Xuanzang stared at her, unable to find words to explain himself.

Before he could open his mouth, the little manservant called “Si Qiu’er” came running back and threw open the main gate, while Ma Dianli also emerged with a broad smile: “Venerable master, Madam requests your presence — please come in quickly.”

Xuanzang had no choice but to follow Ma Dianli into the residence. Behind him, Boluoye had already befriended the little manservant, and grinned at him: “I say — you told me, even your grandparents’ names — but how come you never told me your own name? So you’re called Si Qiu’er.”

The little manservant flushed scarlet and said indignantly, “I’m not called Si Qiu’er.”

“Then what are you called?” Boluoye asked curiously.

“Qiu’er!” The little manservant glared.

The inner quarters of this residence was the third hall of the county office, connected to the front through a small door, so the magistrate could walk from his home directly to the second hall for official duties without going out to the main street. The inner quarters were also quite spacious — facing the entrance was a reception hall three rooms wide; to the left and right were side rooms for servants and staff; behind the reception hall was the inner courtyard, the living quarters of the magistrate’s family. At the side of the reception hall was a moon gate that led to the back garden.

Ma Dianli and the senior maidservant Mo Lan accompanied Xuanzang into the reception hall. The floor was spread with patterned wool sitting mats, and Mo Lan asked everyone to sit. Ma Dianli then had the two runners set down the large book chest, said he still had official business and could not stay long, apologized, and left with them. Xuanzang wanted to stop him, but Mo Lan seemed to be glad to see him go, waving repeatedly, and had Qiu’er carry over a low dining table and serve several kinds of tea and refreshments, saying: “Venerable master, please wait a moment — Madam will be here shortly.”

Xuanzang said in puzzlement: “Good lady, I wonder what business brought Master Ma to bring this poor monk here?”

Mo Lan hesitated a moment, then said: “Master Ma was acting on my request to find a high monk to expel an evil presence. He does not know the specific situation. As it concerns the inner household of the county magistrate, it would be inconvenient for him to know the details, and so… please do not blame him, venerable master.”

“Expelling an evil presence?” Xuanzang laughed in spite of himself. “This poor monk has already said — I cultivate the Buddhist Dharma, not magical arts. Buddhist sutras and incantations are for bringing clarity to the mind; religious ceremonies are for benefiting all sentient beings through enlightened understanding. Those things — driving away ghosts and spirits, dispelling evil presences, summoning wind and rain, charms and spells — these are not the true Dharma of Buddhism. You would do better to go to a monastery, or perhaps even seek out a Daoist priest.”

Mo Lan clearly disbelieved him — and no wonder, given how effusively Ma Dianli had praised Xuanzang. A high monk from Chang’an! A monk who had spent ten years traveling the realm and never lost a single debate — how could such a person not know the magical arts?

“Venerable master, I have served Madam for so many years and have seen much of the world — most Daoist priests are frauds,” Mo Lan said with a slightly embarrassed expression. “Huoyi’s Xingtang Temple, though efficacious, is right nearby, and there are things that would be inconvenient to let those there know… The venerable master has come from Chang’an, wandering the realm…”

Her words trailed off, but Xuanzang could naturally read the implication: since he was a monk from out of town, even if he happened to learn of the private affairs of the ladies of the household, once his business was done he would leave, and there would be no awkward daily encounters.

He gave a rueful smile: “Very well, tell me first.”

Mo Lan looked around the hall — besides Boluoye, that rough-looking foreigner from overseas, there was no one else present. She immediately lowered her voice and said: “It started roughly at the beginning of spring last year. Every time Madam woke from sleep, she would find some red marks on her body. Madam was also puzzled, and they would fade within a few days. But then a few days later, they would appear again. Madam thought it might be a rash and tried medication prescribed by a doctor, but with no effect — because the red marks came without any warning, sometimes more than a month would pass with none, and then sometimes several days in a row they would grow worse. Madam and I and the young lady are all very puzzled, and we are increasingly feeling that this county office is filled with ghostly emanations…”

As Mo Lan spoke, she seemed to frighten herself, and glanced furtively around, as if something ghostly were lurking nearby: “The county office has a heavy yin atmosphere — could it be that some demon or evil spirit really is at work?”

Xuanzang frowned: “What exactly do these red marks look like?”

“All sorts of shapes,” Mo Lan said. “Some are long and narrow, some are patches of redness, and some are even purplish-blue. They look…” A glint of fear appeared in her eyes. “They look as if a ghost had pinched the skin viciously with its fingernails.”

“Do the red patches have small raised bumps on them, like grains of millet?” Xuanzang considered for a moment and asked.

Mo Lan hesitated and shook her head: “No, nothing like that.”

“Then it is not a rash,” Xuanzang murmured to himself. He felt helpless — here he was, a monk devoted to studying the Dharma, being dragged into exorcism matters. “In that case, where on the body do these marks appear?”

“Oh, they appear on…” Mo Lan was about to answer when footsteps came from behind the decorative screen, accompanied by the tinkling of jade ornaments and a waft of soft, rich fragrance.

“Ah — Madam has come,” said Mo Lan.

A splendidly dressed young married woman glided gracefully into the room. This woman wore a swaying jade hairpin in her high-coiled hair; her wide-sleeved garment and skirt were in pale purple; and at her fair, smooth bosom hung a gold hair-ornament inlaid with mother-of-pearl and flower patterns — altogether an image of opulent elegance. She was herself strikingly lovely — bright eyes and gleaming teeth, her beauty absolute — and her figure in particular was perfectly proportioned, as if every curve of her body were alive with movement. Even to Xuanzang the monk, she conveyed a sense of the beauty of life in motion, no different from the flowers and trees bursting with vitality in the mountains.

Boluoye, being an elephant trainer, had none of the instinct to avert his eyes, and with his large, round eyes — typical of his Indian heritage — fixed squarely on the lady of the house, staring openly. He did indeed notice several red marks on her fair white neck, and a long red streak near her bosom beside the gold ornament.

“Is this the high monk who has come from Chang’an?” Lady Li had not noticed the Tianzhu man. At her first sight of Xuanzang, she could not help but be startled, and a look of surprise flashed across her face.

“Amitabha Buddha,” said Xuanzang, standing and bowing with his palms pressed together.

Lady Li gazed at Xuanzang in a daze, her bright eyes filled with an inexplicable astonishment, and for a moment forgot to return his greeting. Only after quite a long time did she collect herself, and sat down in a kneeling posture on the nearby mat with an expression of barely concealed alarm — on her fair white forehead, a faint cold sweat had already appeared.

Xuanzang was bewildered and could only sit cross-legged in silence.

“Venerable master, what has brought you here?” Lady Li composed herself and forced a faint smile onto her face as she asked.

“This…” Xuanzang felt even more helpless. It was your own clerk who brought me here, and your maidservant who pulled me in — why are you asking me? But there was no way not to answer. “This poor monk came from Chang’an, and was originally here to seek an audience with Magistrate Guo and inquire about some old matters. But as the Honored Magistrate had gone to inspect the Fen River, Ma Dianli and Miss Mo Lan brought this poor monk here to inquire about some matter of an evil spirit.”

“An evil spirit?” Lady Li was taken aback, and turned to look at Mo Lan. “What evil spirit?”

Xuanzang and Boluoye exchanged glances, both somewhat dumbstruck.

“Oh, Madam,” Mo Lan said hastily. “Is it not the red marks on your body? You have often said you see frightening figures in your dreams, and have been worried that the county office might be unclean — weren’t we thinking of going to Xingtang Temple to hold a ceremony? But then you had all those concerns, so I thought… and invited the venerable master to come here instead…”

At these words, Lady Li’s expression changed instantly. She glared hard at Mo Lan, fury unmistakable in her eyes.

Xuanzang also understood now — so all of this had been this senior maidservant acting on her own initiative.

“Mo Lan…” Lady Li was furious, but could not rebuke her in front of Xuanzang, so she slapped the serving table hard. “Get out of my sight!”

Mo Lan was baffled as to why Madam was so angry, but dared not disobey, and went puckering her lips into the inner quarters.

Lady Li’s face turned a flushed pink, which only made her beauty more stunning and flawless; she looked at Xuanzang with an embarrassed expression: “I have made the venerable master the subject of laughter. This maidservant has been with me since childhood and has grown lax in propriety — what was merely a private jest has caused her to trouble an outsider with it.”

“Amitabha Buddha,” said Xuanzang, also somewhat embarrassed. “It is this poor monk who has been presumptuous.”

Lady Li heaved a sigh, and fixed her eyes on him — she seemed to fall into a brief reverie. Xuanzang had been a monk since childhood and had long cultivated his heart to be as empty as the dust of the great universe, void and open. The beautiful woman before him was to his eyes no different from a flesh-and-bone skeleton adorned with powder and rouge — he naturally felt no stirring of the heart. And yet a slight puzzlement arose: why does this lady keep staring at this poor monk?

“Venerable master, where are you from?” Lady Li asked.

“This poor monk is from Goushi County in Luozhou,” Xuanzang replied with pressed palms.

The two seemed to be making somewhat strained conversation.

Madam asked: “Is there anyone still in your family?”

“My parents passed away early. I have three elder brothers and an elder sister.”

“You have brothers?” Lady Li’s expression became thoughtful. “What do your three brothers do these days?”

“This poor monk left the household at age ten to enter the monastery, and has never returned since. Before leaving the household, my eldest brother was a teacher at the county school — that was under the former Sui. Under the current Great Tang’s regulations, counties near prefecture cities have prefecture schools, and no longer have county schools. Goushi is close to Luozhou, so the county school was likely abolished long ago. Where my eldest brother is now, this poor monk no longer knows.” Speaking of family, Xuanzang could not help but show a trace of sorrow, the rims of his eyes growing slightly moist. “My third brother farms — he has a hundred qing of land; my eldest sister married into the Zhang family of Yingzhou. It has been seventeen years in the blink of an eye — from Sui to Tang, from chaos to order — Luoyang has been ravaged by war so many times, and I do not know how my family has fared.”

Lady Li, thinking of that terrifying age of chaos that had lasted more than ten years, also felt a pang of sympathy and sighed deeply: “And your second brother?”

“My second brother, Chen Su, is ten years older than me, and became a monk very early at Jingtu Monastery in Luoyang, with the dharma name Changjie,” Xuanzang said.

“Changjie…” Lady Li murmured the name quietly.

“My mother died when I was five, my father when I was ten. It was my second brother who brought me to Jingtu Monastery — I started as a novice attendant, and was tonsured at thirteen to become a young novice monk.” Xuanzang’s expression took on a nostalgic quality; it was clear he felt a deep bond with his second elder brother. “When the retired Emperor abolished the Sui and established the Tang, Luoyang’s Wang Shichong stood against the imperial forces — with the war about to begin, my second brother took me to flee to Chang’an, and afterward we made our way through the Ziwu Valley to Yizhou, where we settled for some time.”

Lady Li’s eyes flickered, and she asked urgently: “And where is your second brother now? Where is he?”

Xuanzang was taken aback and showed a trace of hesitation, saying: “In the 4th year of Wude, this poor monk wished to leave Shu to travel and study, wandering the realm; my brother would not allow it. So I left a letter behind and departed from Yizhou, and have not seen him since.”

“I see…” Lady Li said with a sigh. “Even a high monk is a person to be pitied.”

Xuanzang said nothing.

“Master,” Lady Li said, biting her lip, clearly wrestling with a matter of some difficulty, until after a long pause she spoke: “There is something I would like to say to you in counsel.”

“Amitabha Buddha — please speak, Madam.”

A gravity settled in Lady Li’s lovely eyes, and she said, word by word: “Would the master be willing to leave Huoyi immediately — and leave the Hedong Circuit altogether?”

Xuanzang was taken aback: “What does Madam mean by this?”

Lady Li did not answer. Her eyes seemed to cloud over with a layer of mist, and she gazed absently at a painting of court ladies hanging on the wall opposite. The painting was executed in fine lines and was wonderfully lifelike — the young woman in the painting smiled sweetly, her skirts billowing as though she were about to step out of the picture. Looking at her brows and eyes, she was the spitting image of Lady Li before him.

Lady Li gazed until she was lost in it, seemingly forgetting Xuanzang’s presence, and murmured the poem inscribed at the edge of the painting of the court lady:

Do not say that her finery severs a traveler’s heart; Her powdered bosom and gentle hands white as lotus fragrance. Smoke parts above her into three layers of green; A sword-slash of light cut across the inch of her gaze. Her dance surpasses the willow branch, her waist yet more supple; Her song begrudges the strung pearls, the melody too long. Though she may not be the daughter of a royal household, She knows how to love the verse-selling youth of Linju.

Rich fragrance fills Jinli, yet little orchid she wears; To possess such grace entirely — a difficult thing to match. Her heart, lost in morning dreams, the window still dark; Powder fallen, skin fragrant, sweat not yet dry. Two cheeks like budding peach blossoms blooming from the mirror; One glance of spring waters, cold as it illuminates a man. I sigh that this place is not my own native soil — Unable to watch her, flower-like, year upon year.

Xuanzang listened in silence. Though his heart was given wholly to Chan, he was by no means unfamiliar with Confucian scholarship or poetry and prose. Listening carefully, he found that though this poem was sensual and ornate, its diction was truly extraordinary — like phoenix feathers and dragon tails, extravagantly beautiful. The single line “Smoke parts above her into three layers of green; / A sword-slash of light cut across the inch of her gaze” alone — the strangeness of its imagery and the beauty of its language — was enough to leave one breathless. Placed in any era, measured against any poet, it would be counted a masterpiece.

Since it was a poem written to accompany a painting, it was clearly a gift composed for this Lady Li. Given her beauty, she was indeed worthy of such a poem. Who had composed it? This person’s talent was truly exceptional. So Xuanzang thought to himself, and though the thought was tinged with sensuous imagery, he was entirely unaware of it — just as one might stand before a mountain flower and praise the beauty of life, with not the slightest impure notion.

“Unable to watch her, flower-like, year upon year…” Lady Li gave a melancholy smile, and only then seemed to wake from her reverie. An abashed flush rose to her cheeks. “I have been lost in the past and have neglected the venerable master — please do not take offense.”

Xuanzang gave a generous smile: “All the fruits of this world arise from their causes. This poor monk himself is still adrift in the red dust of the six realms — how could I blame Madam?”

Lady Li nodded wistfully, then roused herself: “The hour is late. I ought to host the venerable master for a vegetarian meal, but with my husband away, it would not be fitting for me to keep company myself. I have already asked Ma Dianli to arrange a room and a meal for the venerable master at the post inn — please let Ma Dianli accompany you.”

Xuanzang rose quickly: “I would not dare trouble the official post. This poor monk will simply lodge at Xingtang Temple outside the city.”

Lady Li nodded, her eyes wavering, and she added with one more earnest word: “Venerable master, please remember — leave Huoyi at once. The world is wide, and with the venerable master’s great gifts, sooner or later your name will resound throughout the Great Tang and you will be held in the highest esteem. But as for Huoyi…”

She bit her silver teeth, and said no more.

Xuanzang pressed his palms together without a word, and took his leave. Lady Li leaned against the doorframe and watched, her eyes fixed on the retreating figure of Xuanzang until it disappeared behind the spirit wall, and only then did she fall back against the door frame with a tired air, closed her eyes, and murmured: “He really looks just like…”

The two left the rear hall and walked out into the evening onto the main street.

Boluoye had been thoroughly stifled this whole time. Some of the conversation between Xuanzang and Lady Li he had not understood, and even what he had understood he had not dared to interrupt — and this had driven the chatterbox nearly to distraction. Fortunately, the refreshments on the serving table had suited his taste very well. Following a monk like Xuanzang, he had never eaten anything so good. He was accustomed to eating with his hands, and had simply been stuffing food into his mouth; now it was past mealtime and he still did not feel hungry, and the urge to talk came flooding back.

“Venerable master, Venerable master,” Boluoye came chasing after him with great excitement, one hand holding the large bundle, the other clutching Xuanzang’s book chest. “I know — that honored and noble lady — what illness she has gotten.”

“Hmm?” Xuanzang was deep in thought and did not understand at first.

“That…” Boluoye grew anxious, shifted the book chest to his shoulder, and stretched out one hand to make gestures. “That — the female slave — didn’t she say — Madam’s body — red marks — suspected to be a ghost pinching her?”

Only then did Xuanzang think of his original purpose for being there — to perform an exorcism for Lady Li. But things had ended awkwardly because the senior maidservant had acted entirely on her own initiative, and Madam herself had wanted none of it. He smiled ruefully: “Oh. And what do you know about it?”

“That lady — it’s not illness. It is…” Boluoye suddenly did not know how to express himself. His Chinese vocabulary was limited, and he struggled for a long moment before saying: “It is — the edge of a saw-blade.”

“The edge of a saw-blade?” This phrase was rather novel. Xuanzang laughed. “What does that mean?”

“The saw-blade edge — a saw…” Boluoye extended the claw of his right hand and made two slashing motions through the air, and said urgently: “Sanskrit — Chinese — the meaning — should be something like this. Saw — blade’s edge.”

Xuanzang nodded: “A saw and a blade’s edge I naturally understand, but what does your phrase mean?”

“It means…” Boluoye thought for a moment, then broke into a wide grin. “It means — man and woman in passion — at the height of desire — in ecstasy — when a spasm strikes — in the forgetting of oneself — using hands and mouth — to leave marks upon the other’s body. Slash—!” He clawed with all five fingers, then made a sound with his mouth — puckered his lips and let out a pop. “You see — the skin — red marks — like a blade’s edge — slashing across — a saw’s teeth cutting through.”

Xuanzang was instantly dumbstruck.

It was not really Xuanzang’s fault. He had entered the monastery as a small child; aside from the Buddhist Dharma and Chan teaching, he paid no attention to worldly affairs. His Chan mind was as firm as a boulder — not even the most beautiful woman could stir it by a fraction. As for the culprit, the senior maidservant Mo Lan — she had not been married either, and had been greatly alarmed at seeing those red marks on Madam’s body. Lady Li was probably too embarrassed to explain, and had used “evil spirits” as a cover story — and who would have thought Mo Lan would take it so seriously?

“And what else do you know?” Xuanzang no longer dared underestimate this fellow, after all — this was an entire aspect of life he had never had any contact with.

“Also know—” Boluoye scratched his head. “That county office household — one Madam — one young lady — and also — the county magistrate — is afraid of his wife.”

Xuanzang could no longer help himself and laughed out loud. This rough, ungainly fellow was really too much — in such a short time, he had already figured all of that out.

“Venerable master,” Boluoye hesitated. “That Madam told you — to leave Huoyi quickly. Judging from her tone — there seems to be some great danger — you had better…”

Xuanzang was quiet for a moment, then shook his head: “This trip to Huoyi, this poor monk has a matter of the heart that must be resolved. The path of Buddhist practice is itself strewn with thorns at every step. If there truly is danger, it is simply a karmic debt this poor monk must face. Can avoiding it ever truly avoid it?”

“But I’m afraid — it may endanger — your life,” Boluoye said anxiously.

Xuanzang said nothing. His temperament was gentle, yet he was also firm and tenacious — once he had set his mind on something, he would not waver. Boluoye sighed repeatedly but could do nothing.

The two walked up the main street, and had gone only a few dozen steps into the dusk-lit market when someone called from behind: “Master! Master! Master Xuanzang—!”

They turned to look, and saw Ma Dianli calling out loudly, chasing after them from behind with a flushed and excited expression. Behind him trailed a towering, powerfully built giant of a man, well over six feet tall. His imposing stature was extraordinary enough, but stranger still, he was wearing a dark green round-collared official robe with a gauze-wrapped headwrap, and his belt bore the nine-stud silver-clasped emblem — the unmistakable attire of a sixth-rank official.

Sure enough, Ma Dianli ran up to Xuanzang and bowed repeatedly, still catching his breath: “Venerable — venerable master, thank heaven I’ve found you. My County Magistrate has just returned to the county office, and when he heard you had come, he ran out to find you without even changing his clothes…”

Xuanzang was astonished — so the magistrate of this county was this towering, awe-inspiring giant of a man. If he put on armor, he would be a formidable warrior on any battlefield.

By this time, County Magistrate Guo Zai had already reached them. Upon seeing Xuanzang’s face, he was immediately filled with delight, and made a full bow: “Venerable master, Zai has long heard of the master’s great reputation — I never expected that today you would actually grace our humble county with your presence. Huoyi is honored beyond measure. I have been worn out by official duties and nearly missed the venerable master.”

Even bowing, this man was still a full head and a half taller than Xuanzang. Xuanzang had no choice but to lift his arm to help him up: “Your Lordship is too gracious. This poor monk is merely a traveling student monk — I hardly deserve such a great bow from Your Lordship.”

“You deserve it, you deserve it,” Guo Zai beamed. Though his frame was large and rough, his appearance was not coarse, and his manner of speaking carried a certain bookish flavor. “The hour is late — if this high monk does not find this beneath him, might you come to my humble home? I would also very much appreciate your teachings on the Dharma.”

Xuanzang had just come from his home and, remembering Lady Li’s attitude, had not planned to go again — but he could not hold out against Guo Zai’s persistent entreaties. His nature was soft-hearted, and his temperament was easy-going, so he could only turn around and walk back toward the county office rear quarters. Boluoye had the large bundle in one hand and the book chest in the other; Guo Zai, regardless of his own dignity, reached out with one hand and seized the chest from Boluoye’s back, catching it as easily as one might pick up a small chicken — light as if it weighed nothing at all.

“What strength!” Boluoye exclaimed admiringly.

“Ha ha,” Ma Dianli said with pride. “Our Magistrate has been fighting the Turks up in Shuozhou for more than ten years. During the six years he served as county captain of Dinghu County, the Turks and Liang Shidu never dared set foot in Dinghu even one step.”

Xuanzang nodded: “Truly a brave warrior of the battlefield. Your Lordship is equally accomplished in both civil and military matters — a true paragon.”

“Not at all, not at all,” Guo Zai’s face reddened with embarrassment. “I am a rough man — I only know how to serve the country. Whatever the court tells me to do, I do it, whether civil or military.”

Xuanzang smiled: “Judging by the name and courtesy name Your Lordship has taken, they carry the air of the great Confucian scholars of old. It seems Your Lordship’s aspirations are lofty, reaching toward the halls of the court.”

Xuanzang had heard from Ma Dianli that the magistrate’s name was Guo Zai, courtesy name Ziyu. One of Confucius’s disciples was named Zai Yu, courtesy name Ziwo — renowned for his eloquence, he even outranked Zigong and was one of the “Ten Sages of the Confucian school.” This was the basis for Xuanzang’s remark.

Guo Zai’s already swarthy face turned a deep red. He said haltingly: “The venerable master is making sport of me. I only have a rough grasp of letters — nothing of the Confucian spirit. My ancestral home is on the frontier. When I was young, my parents and clan were killed by the Turks, and in my heart I hated the Turks, so I gave myself the name Zai — meaning to slaughter the Turks.”

Xuanzang could not help but smile, and Ma Dianli also chuckled.

“I had no idea, until after I became an official and my colleagues all said my name was fitting. I consulted a learned gentleman and only then learned of this other story attached to it,” Guo Zai said with an abashed expression. “Afterward the gentleman helped me choose a courtesy name — Ziyu. He said: since you’ve become an official, let’s take the edge of bloodshed out of your name. I thought to myself — the gentleman’s chosen name was naturally excellent. But later, when I understood what Ziyu meant, I was puzzled: how had I gone from slaughtering Turks to slaughtering myself?”

Everyone burst out laughing; Xuanzang too could not help but laugh heartily. He felt this County Magistrate was truly childlike and innocent at heart, and was inwardly filled with deep respect. After decades of navigating the official world and the battlefield, and still preserving this pure, guileless heart — this man had profound Buddhist potential.

Talking and laughing along the way, they returned again to Guo Zai’s home.

Lady Li had not expected Xuanzang to come back. Knowing it was Guo Zai who had invited him, she could do nothing about it.

“Youniang, where is Lv Luo?” Guo Zai asked. “Have Lv Luo come out to pay her respects to the venerable master.”

Lady Li’s given name was Youniang. Responding to her husband’s question, she said: “Lv Luo went to Lady Zhou’s home at the shen hour to study music, and has not yet returned.”

Since his daughter was not home, Guo Zai had no choice but to order Mo Lan to prepare a vegetarian meal so they could eat first. In the early Tang, neither officials nor common people were very wealthy, and the meal was quite simple — two kinds of flatbread: hu-style flatbread and steamed flatbread; four types of cakes and pastries: miscellaneous fruit sweets, Seven-Revolutions Cake, Crystal Dragon-Phoenix Cake, and Rain-Dew Rounds; and several plain vegetable dishes. These were set on a low dining table and carried into the reception hall, where everyone sat cross-legged on the floor. Guo Zai enjoyed wine, but dared not drink in front of Xuanzang, and only symbolically brought out a jar of fruit wine. The fruit wine was mild and light-bodied, but still contained some alcohol — Xuanzang naturally did not drink, yet did not object to others drinking. The three men then passed the cup around one bowl at a time.

Lady Li knelt beside her husband and served the wine; her manner was composed but her expression was rather melancholy. She did not stay long — after symbolically refilling the guests’ cups a few times, she returned to the inner quarters.

When the vegetarian meal was finished and the evening had grown late, Ma Dianli took his leave, and Xuanzang also rose to take his leave, intending to find a lodging-house to rest for the night. But Guo Zai would not hear of it: “Venerable master, how can you leave? I had hoped to ask you to stay a few days and perform a religious ceremony for us.”

“What kind of ceremony?” Xuanzang asked.

“To drive out an evil presence,” Guo Zai said with a sigh. “The county office has a heavy yin atmosphere, and the inner household has been unsettled this past year. Madam has difficulty sleeping through the night, and every time she wakes in the early morning hours, she finds some red marks have appeared on her body. I suspect the residence may be unclean. Since the venerable master has come, would you not be willing to perform a rite of purification for us?”

Xuanzang was instantly struck dumb. He and Boluoye looked at each other, both with an odd light in their eyes.