The dagger had been a gift from Guo Zai on her fifteenth birthday — cold-forged steel, lethally sharp. It plunged into Kong Cheng’s chest as if sinking into a block of tofu, and not even a drop of blood had time to seep out.

Kong Cheng’s eyes went wide, his face stricken with disbelief. He clutched his chest, and a moment later, streams of dark blood began to gush from between his fingers. He raised one hand, pointing at Lu Luo, and tried to say something, but what came out instead was mouthful after mouthful of bloody foam.

“Ha ha… this poor monk… to die like this… at your hands…” Kong Cheng gave a wretched smile and toppled backward, crashing to the ground. His head came to rest against the doorframe, his eyes staring up at the sky, vacant and unseeing.

Lu Luo’s whole body was shaking. She wanted to scream, but something had knotted in her throat and she could not produce a sound. Though this girl was fierce, she had never actually killed anyone until now — not for lack of wanting to, but because every previous attempt had failed to finish the job. Yet the terror of killing at such close range far surpassed anything she had imagined. It was nothing at all like what she had pictured — not like wringing the neck of a duck, or slaughtering a dog or pig.

A human life was something different entirely.

In the moment of Kong Cheng’s ghastly death, she finally felt the full weight of those words. She reeled backward, lost her footing, and tumbled off the steps. Then she scrambled upright, let out a piercing, heart-rending scream, and lurched away from the courtyard in a stumbling run.

Through the still monastery, the girl’s shriek was like a whistle tearing across the sky — harrowing to hear. Lu Luo careened about like a headless fly, and the monks who crossed her path stared in goggle-eyed astonishment at this raving beautiful girl. How long she ran, she could not say. In her confusion, a familiar figure appeared before her.

Xuanzang was standing quietly in her path.

Lu Luo came running headlong into his arms, murmuring, “I have killed someone…”

Her eyes rolled back, and she fainted.

Xuanzang was deeply alarmed and quickly caught her. Boluoye emerged from behind him. “Master, Miss Lu Luo, what has happened to her?”

“I don’t know. Let us get her back to the Bodhi Courtyard first.” Xuanzang shook his head.

“What did she say just now?” Boluoye asked.

Xuanzang was quiet for a moment, then said lightly, “We’ll know when she wakes up.”

Xuanzang and Boluoye had finished the debate assembly and dined with the other eminent monks, and had been on their way back to the meditation courtyard when they encountered this little demoness. The area near the Ancestral Master Hall was fairly quiet, and with most of the monks at supper and few people about, the two of them had no choice but to carry Lu Luo between them — half on their backs, half in their arms — back to the Bodhi Courtyard.

They lay her on the bed. Xuanzang noticed a few drops of fresh blood on her cheek and clothing. His heart sank, but he kept his expression perfectly composed as he lifted the blanket and covered her.

“Boluoye, go brew a pot of strong tea,” Xuanzang said.

Boluoye acknowledged the instruction and went out at a run. Xuanzang sat by the bedside, his thoughts churning, deep worry breaking through his otherwise calm face. Lu Luo had fainted from nothing more than severe emotional agitation and the exertion of running — a temporary loss of consciousness from insufficient vital energy. After lying flat for a while, she gradually came to.

“Are you feeling better?” Xuanzang said gently.

Lu Luo stared blankly for a moment, then suddenly threw herself against Xuanzang’s chest and began to sob. Xuanzang went rigid, his eyes going wide. Boluoye, arriving with the teapot at precisely that moment, caught one glimpse and slipped right back out.

Deeply embarrassed, Xuanzang steadied her by the shoulders and gently pushed her back. “Amitabha, Miss Lu Luo — what on earth has happened?”

Lu Luo looked at Xuanzang in wide-eyed terror, her gaze dull. “I… I killed someone…”

Xuanzang’s brow furrowed. “Who did you kill?”

“Kong… Kong Cheng!” Lu Luo said through gritted teeth.

Xuanzang was thunderstruck. Boluoye, eavesdropping outside, was equally thunderstruck — he burst back into the room and stared at her in astonishment, as though he had seen a ghost. Lu Luo’s body trembled. Seeing their expressions made her even more frantic. She cried out, “You… I knew you wouldn’t help me! I’ve killed someone — what do I do? What do I do!”

“Are you certain you killed Master Kong Cheng?” Xuanzang recovered himself, a flicker of doubt crossing his eyes.

Lu Luo sat up, hugged her knees, and nodded dully.

“Where?”

“At a meditation courtyard, at the back of the mountain.” Lu Luo buried her face in her hands and sobbed. “I drove the dagger into his chest.”

“When?”

“Just now…” Lu Luo raised her head and looked at the sky, murmuring, “Perhaps half an hour ago. Will… will you blame me?” She looked at Xuanzang with pitiful eyes. “I killed him because…”

Then she bit her lip and said nothing more.

Xuanzang shook his head, looking at her with compassion. “Lu Luo, Master Kong Cheng is alive and well.”

“What—” Lu Luo’s eyes went wide.

At precisely that moment, the sound of hurried footsteps came from outside the meditation chamber, accompanied by an aged voice. “Master — has Miss Lu Luo returned?”

The color drained instantly from Lu Luo’s face. She screamed, “He is here! He has come to claim his life—!” With a lunge, she tore up the blanket and burrowed under it. The small form beneath it shook uncontrollably.

That voice — it was Master Kong Cheng.

Kong Cheng came in with quick steps, two disciples in tow. Xuanzang and Boluoye stared at him with wide eyes — the old monk looked robust and flushed with health. There was nothing about him to suggest a man who had just been stabbed. The two of them exchanged a bewildered look.

Seeing Xuanzang and Boluoye present but not seeing Lu Luo, Kong Cheng was puzzled. “Ah, Master, where is Miss Lu Luo? I was just told by a novice that she had fainted on the path — I hope she is not seriously ill? Where is she?”

Boluoye tilted his head toward the bed. “Over there.”

Kong Cheng saw that the blanket on the bed was piled up in a great mound like a small hill, still trembling, and could not help being taken aback. “What… what has happened to Miss Lu Luo?”

“She saw a ghost,” Boluoye said flatly.

Xuanzang sighed and said in a gentle voice, “Lu Luo — come out. Look, Master Kong Cheng is perfectly well. Before we met you, we were all having supper together. The Master never left for a moment. You must have mistaken someone else.”

“I would not have mistaken anyone!” The blanket heaved upward and Lu Luo’s tear-streaked face burst out as she shouted at him. Then she turned her head, saw Kong Cheng, and froze again. Kong Cheng looked at her in baffled confusion and smiled at her. To Lu Luo, that smile was more frightening than anything supernatural — she let out another shriek and dove back under the blanket.

It took the whole group much coaxing and persuading before Lu Luo could be made to believe that the old monk standing before her was not a ghost, and she grudgingly emerged from the blanket. She looked disheveled, her hair all in disarray and her face streaked with drying tears, her eyes filled with terror — a sight that left the others at once exasperated and amused. Kong Cheng could not hold back any longer. “What on earth is going on?”

“It is nothing, really,” Boluoye said with a grin. “Only, Miss Lu Luo, killed someone, that is all.”

“What—” Kong Cheng was dumbstruck. “She… killed someone? Who?”

Boluoye pointed a finger right at Kong Cheng’s nose. “You.”

Kong Cheng: “This old monk…”

“Boluoye, behave yourself,” Xuanzang said sharply, then pressed his palms together toward Kong Cheng. “Elder Brother, just now, on the way back to the meditation courtyard, this poor monk encountered Miss Lu Luo staggering toward us. She said she had killed someone. When I asked who, she said it was you. She had driven a dagger into your chest. This matter… this poor monk also does not know how to…”

Xuanzang was at a loss for words, and everyone looked at one another in silence.

“I did kill you!” Lu Luo cried hoarsely. “None of you believe me, but I did drive my dagger into his chest!”

Kong Cheng’s brow furrowed slightly. He exchanged a glance with Xuanzang, then said with a warm smile, “Miss Lu Luo, look at this old monk — am I a person or a ghost?”

“A… person,” Lu Luo said hesitantly.

“Then if you drove your dagger into this old monk’s chest, why did this old monk not die?” Kong Cheng asked.

Lu Luo stared at him for a long moment, and in the end shook her head in blank bewilderment. “But I truly did kill you — at a courtyard at the top of the mountain.”

“Which courtyard?” Kong Cheng asked.

“I cannot say the name. It was somewhere up on the mountainside.” Lu Luo had indeed not paid attention to the courtyard’s name.

“If you did not know the courtyard’s name, how did you come to be there?” Kong Cheng asked.

“I followed—” Lu Luo nearly blurted it out. She stopped herself with great effort, sweat breaking out on her forehead. She said haltingly, “I followed a woman there!”

Kong Cheng’s expression immediately grew cold and stern. “Female benefactor, please choose your words with care. This is a place of Buddhist purity. This old monk will not permit you to defile it with such words!”

“How dare I—” Lu Luo was furious. She flung back the blanket and jumped off the bed, hands on her hips. “Am I lying? I followed that woman into a Guanyin Hall. Inside the base of the Guanyin statue there was a hidden passage. I followed her in and came out the other end in a meditation courtyard…”

These words changed the color of every face in the room. That a woman was hidden within the monastery was already alarming enough — but that there was a secret passage beneath a Buddha statue was utterly extraordinary.

Kong Cheng’s expression turned ugly. “During these days of the dharma assembly, female benefactors have come to the temple, but they all rest in the front courtyard with their families. The inner precincts are absolutely prohibited to female guests. And within Xingtang Temple, there is certainly no hidden passage of any kind. You must have been in a state of mental distress, suffering some kind of hallucination.”

“You don’t believe me?” Lu Luo was furious. “I’ll take you there right now and prove it! Don’t come crying to me afterward!”

“Please, benefactor, lead the way,” Kong Cheng said without yielding. He lowered his voice to instruct the two disciples, “You two will accompany me. Do not breathe a word of this to anyone.”

The two disciples pressed their palms together and consented.

“Does that betray a guilty conscience?” Lu Luo sneered, then glanced at Xuanzang, feeling somewhat wary of his disapproval, and lowered her voice. “I am not lying.”

Xuanzang’s expression remained neutral. “Then let us go and see for ourselves.”

The six of them left the Bodhi Courtyard and followed Lu Luo in search of the Guanyin Hall. The monastery was full of halls and pavilions beyond counting. In the dark of night, fearing she might take the wrong path, Lu Luo retraced the route she had walked during the day — winding east and then west through the temple complex. The others behind her were silent. Each time they encountered a monk passing through, the monk would be startled to find a female benefactor in the inner precincts at this hour.

One of Kong Cheng’s disciples explained, “This female benefactor is searching for something of great importance. Please do not make an issue of it.”

The monks asked, “Was it lost this afternoon?”

Lu Luo nodded with a cold face and walked on without bothering to reply. The monks were reassured. In the dark night, the monastery was especially gloomy, and some diligent souls went to find lanterns. The two disciples each carried one, and another was pressed into Boluoye’s hands. With the light of three lanterns, Lu Luo had no fear of losing her way.

She had a good memory, and actually found the secluded Guanyin Hall.

At the sight of the familiar hall, Lu Luo felt a surge of triumph, tilting her chin smugly. “Old monk, in a moment you will be left with nothing to say!” She marched inside with great confidence.

Kong Cheng and Xuanzang exchanged a glance, both shaking their heads, and followed her in. Inside the hall, a monk on duty hurried to receive them. “Disciple Huixing, paying respects to the abbot.”

“Rise,” Kong Cheng said. “Have every lamp and candle in the hall lit.”

Huixing quickly lit every candle and oil lamp in the hall. Apart from the central Guanyin statue, the hall was completely empty, and now blazed with light.

Lu Luo nodded. “This is the place.”

Familiar with the layout, she went around behind the Guanyin statue and crouched down. “Come here, come here — everyone come. Let this young lady show you something.”

The others crowded around with curiosity. Lu Luo smiled and looked at the vivid lotus petal carvings on the base, then reached out and gave one a twist — only to stop short. The carved lotus petal did not move at all.

“Um…” Lu Luo gave a dry laugh. “Perhaps I have the wrong one?”

She tried several other petals, but no matter how she turned them, they would not budge. Xuanzang crouched down and looked carefully, then frowned. “Lu Luo, these lotus petals are carved as one with the base — this is a single block of stone.”

“No!” Lu Luo cried. “I clearly opened it this afternoon!”

Boluoye also went up and tried, and nodded. “It is, indeed, all one piece.”

Lu Luo was stupefied.

Kong Cheng looked at Huixing. “Huixing, have you been in this hall all afternoon?”

Huixing pressed his palms together. “The abbot instructed that each hall must have one person on duty. This disciple did not dare absent himself for even a moment.”

“And did you see this female benefactor?” Kong Cheng asked.

Huixing looked at Lu Luo and shook his head blankly.

Xuanzang sighed. “Lu Luo, let us go.”

“You—” Lu Luo’s eyes went red with fury. “You don’t believe me either?”

“It is not that this poor monk does not believe you. It is simply that…” Xuanzang looked at the base and shook his head.

“Hmph!” Lu Luo was incensed. “This is a mechanism. Naturally it can be locked closed — and of course it will not turn when it is locked. What is so strange about that? Boluoye, go and find me a hammer and smash this base open!”

Boluoye and Kong Cheng both flinched. Xuanzang frowned. “Lu Luo, before the Bodhisattva — show some respect!”

Whether it was Xuanzang or the Bodhisattva she was heeding, Lu Luo stomped her foot and abandoned the idea of smashing the base. She cried instead, “There is still that courtyard! I will definitely find it — old monk, your corpse is still there!”

Kong Cheng could only smile bitterly.

There was nothing for it but to follow her on another search. Lu Luo recalled the spot where she had encountered Xuanzang, returned there, and traced back the way she had run. In the quiet wilderness, with moonlight broad and tree-shadows swaying, the group moved in silence, following this young girl of barely sixteen as she wandered about for well over an hour.

“This is it!” Lu Luo suddenly cried out and rushed forward.

Earlier, Lu Luo had searched at length but could not identify the courtyard, having failed to note its name. Passing by a building called the Saha Courtyard, she suddenly spotted the blue stone steps outside — the second step had a chip missing. Her spirits leaped at once. “This is it! I remember — when I came out, I caught my foot on this broken step and nearly fell. This is the one!”

Lu Luo let out a long breath of relief and looked at Kong Cheng with a challenging expression. “Go inside — in the center of the courtyard is a sculpture of Bodhidharma facing the wall. The meditation chamber has three rooms. On the left wall of the courtyard is a stone carving of the character for ‘Buddha.’ Behind that carving is the entrance to the underground passage. The carving can sink into the ground below. Only I do not know whether the old monk’s corpse is still there.”

Kong Cheng was left speechless, and could only say, “Amitabha.” He then ordered his disciples to open the gate.

The gate was locked. While a disciple unlocked it and entered first with a lantern, Kong Cheng said to Xuanzang, “This Saha Courtyard is normally unoccupied. It is a place where monks who have violated their vows come to undertake a period of seclusion. Some monks who find the regular meditation courtyards too noisy for contemplation also come here for closed retreat.”

The group entered, and sure enough, in the center of the courtyard was a sculpture of Bodhidharma facing the wall. Lu Luo let out a triumphant shout, but then immediately remembered there should be a body sprawled on the steps, and her courage faltered. She nudged her chin toward Xuanzang, signaling for him to go look first. Xuanzang smiled calmly and walked over to the foot of the steps. The steps were completely empty.

“Lu Luo — where is the body?” Xuanzang asked.

Lu Luo poked her head from behind the sculpture. “No body?” She crept closer, and indeed the polished stone steps showed not so much as a drop of blood, let alone a body. Lu Luo’s eyes went wide. “That is impossible! Even if it had been moved, the scene could not have been cleaned up this thoroughly!”

“It has not been cleaned,” Xuanzang said evenly. “There is a thick layer of dust on the ground.”

Lu Luo moved her foot — and sure enough, in the lantern’s light, her shoe had left a clear distinct footprint in the dust on the paving stone. She snatched the lantern from Boluoye and went into the bamboo grove, where on the white wall was a stone carving of the character for “Buddha.” “Here — there is a carving here!”

She knocked on it with her small fist. It sounded dull and solid.

“Is this the hidden passage you mentioned, benefactor — behind this carving?” Kong Cheng said with a smile.

“That is correct,” Lu Luo said with complete certainty.

“Master, please look here.” Kong Cheng drew Xuanzang over and pointed at the wall. “This wall is less than one chi thick. How could it possibly be hollowed out to contain a passage? Benefactor — do you wish to have this wall broken open before you will be satisfied?”

Lu Luo was at a loss. The wall and the carving looked exactly as she had seen them — and yes, the wall could not be more than one chi thick. But… I came out from inside this wall.

She looked around the courtyard in bewilderment. Yes — everything was identical, down to the very last detail, even the single flowering tree in the bamboo grove. But where was the passage entrance? She walked back to the steps. Kong Cheng motioned for his disciples to open the meditation chamber door. Lu Luo pushed the door open. In the lantern’s light, the chamber’s furnishings were very sparse: a central image of Amitabha Buddha, with cushions stacked on both sides, and no bed, no clothing rack…

She went back to the window. There was no knife slit in the window paper either. The entire paper frame was not newly pasted — it was old, and covered in dust…

Everyone looked at her with gentle pity, not saying a word. Only the faint night wind stirred the bamboo grove with a hushing sound, and only the moonlight cast dappled shadows shifting restlessly at their feet.

“I… I…” Lu Luo suddenly felt a rush of rage and grief. Her body went limp, and she collapsed on the spot.

The meditation hall, the shadows of trees, the blue glow of lamplight before the Buddha.

The girl was drenched in heat, struggling restlessly in her fever dream. Xuanzang sat by the bed, pressing a damp cloth to her forehead. A basin of water had long gone cold, and Boluoye carried it out and emptied it with a splash into the courtyard, where the full moon rippled and swayed on the wet ground.

“Wicked monk… you terrible man, why won’t you believe me… I am not lying to you…”

Lu Luo’s eyes were tightly shut. Even in her dream she wore a fiercely stubborn expression, yet her voice was suffused with an ineffably soft tenderness. Xuanzang paused, his brow furrowing deeply, and breathed a quiet sigh.

“Xuanzang… Elder Brother Xuanzang… don’t leave — there are ghosts, ghosts… biting me…” Lu Luo recoiled in terror, her whole body going rigid, as though enduring tremendous anguish.

Xuanzang was still. He gazed quietly at the girl’s flushed face. In the deepest recesses of his heart, still as an ancient well, something seemed to stir ever so slightly. He closed his eyes — and immediately it dissolved away. All four elements dispersed; the emptiness was empty. Even the Buddha, having passed through countless eons, could not escape the fate of fading into ash. When the Buddha reached the highest realm, everything became nothing.

He slowly extended one hand and pressed his palm against Lu Luo’s forehead, holding his other hand in a single-palm salute, and began softly chanting the Great Compassion Mantra. His voice — deep, resonant, and penetrating — vibrated through the meditation chamber, through the girl’s ears, her heart, the very center of her being.

Reaching from heaven to earth, a single recitation of the Great Compassion Mantra — the gods above must bow their heads to listen; all the spirits must clasp their hands together and kneel in attentive reverence. In the realm of hell there stands the Mirror of Deeds, in which all the wrongs done in life are reflected. But recite the Great Compassion Mantra, and when that mirror shines upon you, all your wrongs are erased, all the karma gone. Then in the halls of the underworld a placard is hung for you that reads: “The girl known as Lu Luo — all you spirits and gods must show her reverence, must honor her, for she is one who upholds the Great Compassion Mantra.”

Lu Luo grew gradually calm. Her lips murmured something, and she sank slowly back into sleep.

Boluoye breathed a long sigh. “Today’s, events, are rather, strange.”

“What is strange about them?” Xuanzang said quietly. “The Daoist school cultivates emptiness, light as a drifting vessel; the Buddhist teaching speaks of emptiness, entering through contemplation. The ten thousand appearances of worldly affairs — all of them are surface forms alone.”

“Those words, of yours, Master, are rather, profound.” Boluoye scratched his head. “I, don’t understand them. Master, do you think, all of this, was Lu Luo’s, hallucination?”

“No,” Xuanzang said.

“Oh?” Boluoye perked up. “Why not?”

“She had blood on her.”

“Then, the monastery, really, has a hidden passage? Kong Cheng, was really, killed by her? Then who, is the one, alive, calling himself Kong Cheng? And who, is the dead, one? Why was there, nothing, in that, meditation chamber?” Boluoye fired off his questions in rapid succession.

Xuanzang did not answer. A deep look of worry settled over his face.

“Master, I have, a bold, theory,” Boluoye said. “Could it be, that your elder brother, Chang Jie, never left, Huoyi at all? He might, still be, in this monastery?”

Xuanzang gave a long sigh. “This poor monk has not yet grown a pair of eyes capable of seeing through the swirling confusion of this mortal world.”

Yet Boluoye noted that Xuanzang had shown no surprise upon hearing this bold speculation — clearly the possibility had already occurred to him as well, and Boluoye felt a surge of excitement. “Master, shall we, investigate? Go to, the Guanyin Hall, the Saha Courtyard?”

“There is no need to investigate,” Xuanzang said, shaking his head.

“Why not?” Boluoye was anxious. “You came here, to find Chang Jie, didn’t you? If you just sit here, in the meditation chamber, praying and reciting sutras, will Chang Jie, appear, on his own?”

Xuanzang glanced at him and said, “A single ladle of water contains three thousand living beings in it; a single grain of sand holds an infinite world. This Xingtang Temple is like a great parched earth crisscrossed with cracks — fissures running everywhere, ravines all across it. As long as I stand here, the wind from those fissures and the shadows from those ravines will find their way to my feet. The mind in Chan practice is like a mirror’s surface — originally without a crack. Now that cracks have formed, they will only grow wider, and in time will draw my feet in. Why exhaust myself searching?”

“I still, don’t understand,” Boluoye shook his head. “Can’t you, just once, not speak in riddles?”

Xuanzang smiled. “Those who contemplate the Buddha for a long time will understand in a flash of insight. If you do not contemplate, naturally you cannot understand.”

Boluoye finally could not take it anymore, clutching his head in wild frustration, and stormed off.

That night, the back courtyard of the Huoyi County office was lit with lanterns. Guo Zai and Li Youniang sat facing each other on the sitting mat, the air between them heavy with silence.

“My Lady, please go and rest early,” Guo Zai said, looking at Li Youniang with tenderness. “The investigation of the fire and the examination of the bodies will take time. Even if the results come in tonight, there is no telling how late it will be.”

“How could I possibly sleep?” Li Youniang let out a grieving sigh. “This matter is too strange. More than a hundred lives — gone without a trace. Such a great family, wiped from existence in a single night. My heart…”

Guo Zai shook his head. “My Lady, it does no good to dwell on that. Come now, drink some tea to lift your spirits.” He rose, poured a cup, and brought it to her. Watching her slowly drink it down, he felt slightly relieved. “You have been too anxious these past few days. Do not worry. Though the Jinzhou prefect, the honorable Zhao Yuankai, has issued an order for a strict investigation, no one can yet say whether it was a natural disaster or foul play. There is no particular pressure on me. Everything will be handled.”

Li Youniang managed a faint smile and took his hand. Her eyes were full of a deep and tender warmth. Guo Zai was immediately lost in it — for all of this, for this woman and this daughter, for the intoxicating gift of that one smile, what hardship would not be worth enduring?

“Master,” came the sound of hurried footsteps from outside the hall at that very moment. Ma Dianli entered with two yamen runners, carrying a large stack of documents. He set his lantern down at the door and came into the hall.

Guo Zai rose abruptly to his feet. “Is the examination complete?”

“Yes, Master.” Ma Dianli set a stack of documents over a foot high on the floor, knelt on the mat, wiped his sweat, and said, “The two county lieutenants and the coroners are still at work. One hundred and twenty-three bodies — each one has had its examination form filled out, with a detailed examination record. In addition, a case summary compiling the results of the examination has been prepared for your review.”

Guo Zai stared at the thick pile of examination forms and case records, and something in his chest gave a lurch. Every single sheet of paper represented a life.

He sank back down and waved his hand. “Never mind, I will not read through them. Just tell me. You two have worked hard as well.” He gestured to the two runners. “I have refreshments over on the side table — help yourselves. It is already past the third watch — I cannot send you home at this hour and have your wives get up to make you supper.”

The two runners smiled. “We thank the Master.”

“Master.” Ma Dianli could not spare the moment to eat. He picked up the case summary and began going through it. “Upon examination: aside from thirty-five bodies burned beyond recognition and reduced to charcoal, fifty-nine bodies showed smoke and ash deep within the nostrils and mouth and into the airways. Their hands and feet were curled in, indicating they were burned or choked to death while alive and had not been killed prior to the fire being set. The majority of the bodies showed no injuries other than burning — no sharp-weapon wounds. The remaining bodies suffered fatal injuries from the collapse of structures, including crushed skulls and broken ribs and limbs.”

The night was dark and eerie, the county office silent. The examination of over a hundred bodies — even to speak of it was chilling enough to make the spine run cold. Yet Guo Zai did not flinch, and said with furrowed brows, “So all these deaths were caused by the fire itself? No evidence of human intervention?”

“That is hard to say,” Ma Dianli replied. “Some of the bodies are very strange — specifically, the bodies of those burned to death are unusual. Common sense dictates that when a person is caught in a fire, with flames covering their body, the extreme pain should cause them to roll and thrash about, which would result in burns distributed across the body fairly evenly. Once death occurs and the body is still, the fire burns most severely on whichever side is left facing up.”

“That is correct — that is the natural expectation,” Guo Zai said thoughtfully. “Were these bodies different?”

“They were. In many of those burned to death, the chest and abdomen were severely burned — nearly reduced to charcoal — but the skin on their backs showed not a single mark of fire.” Ma Dianli said. “This was found on forty-seven bodies.”

“What would explain that?” Guo Zai’s expression changed dramatically. He glanced at his wife. Li Youniang’s eyes were equally filled with shock. “Are you saying these people lay on their backs and were burned alive without moving even once?”

Ma Dianli’s expression grew grave. “That is precisely what the evidence suggests. They lay there without stirring, and were burned to death without ever turning over.”

“Even in sleep it would be impossible!” Guo Zai murmured. “Could it be that all of these people were in a state of unconsciousness when the fire broke out?”

“County Lieutenants Zhu and Liu have discussed the matter,” Ma Dianli said, not daring to draw his own conclusions, and instead citing the senior officials, “and put forward two possible explanations. Either these people had been overcome by thick smoke and were burned to death in a stupor, or they had been rendered unconscious by a narcotic agent and were burned to death in deep sleep. The first explanation is not uncommon. As for the second — the two lieutenants and the coroners are still debating it, because to this day, no known narcotic agent can keep a person unconscious while they are being burned alive in a raging fire.”

“None?” Guo Zai murmured, and he exchanged a glance with Li Youniang. Both of them saw the fear in each other’s eyes.

“Is there more?” Guo Zai forced himself to continue.

Ma Dianli leafed through the case summary without looking up. “One more thing. During the scene examination, the large water storage vats set out for fire suppression within the Zhou estate were all found to still be full. In other words, after the fire broke out, not a single person in the Zhou household attempted to draw water and fight the fire. All buckets, basins, and pots were found in their original places — none had been touched. The neighbors also reported hearing no warning calls, cries of alarm, or screams from within the Zhou estate. You, Master, had already looked into this previously — but the two county lieutenants consider this the most suspicious point of all. Could these people have truly sat there in silence and allowed themselves to be burned alive without uttering a word?”

“I am aware of this — it was laid out in detail in the case file sent up to the prefecture.” Guo Zai looked utterly spent, his large frame slumping. He stifled a yawn. “It is very late. I am sorry to have kept you all to this hour. Please go and rest early. These examination forms — take them back with you. Leave the case summary. I’ll bring it to the yamen tomorrow.”

Ma Dianli and the others quickly rose, exchanged a few polite words, and left with the thick stack of examination forms.

The hall fell into complete silence. Husband and wife sat facing each other without speaking. Li Youniang hung her head, a strand of dark hair spilling across her forehead, her face marked with exhaustion. Guo Zai ached to see it. He reached over and tucked the strand of hair back, murmuring, “My Lady… it will be all right. I will handle everything.”

Li Youniang smiled a bleak smile. She took his hand. “Husband, you need not keep things from me. You have already formed your own suspicions, haven’t you?”

Guo Zai was startled for a moment, and a trace of grief flitted across his face. “What are you talking about? Do not let your imagination run away with you.”

“Others might not know. But you cannot claim not to know. There is a narcotic in this world that truly can render a person unable to struggle even while fire and flood rage over them.” Li Youniang fixed her gaze on him. “When Master Xuanzang was drugged, he almost drowned, and Boluoye described the effect plainly enough — you were there yourself!”

The muscles in Guo Zai’s face twitched for a moment. He sighed. “First, there is still no proof that the Zhou household was drugged before the fire. Second, even if that were true, there is no evidence that the substance used to knock out over a hundred members of the Zhou family was the same one that was used on Master Xuanzang.”

“But can you truly wash your hands of it?” Li Youniang was on the verge of breaking down entirely. She cried out in a raw voice, “You have served as a county lieutenant for over a decade — no one understands investigation better than you! Do you truly not know in your own heart whether or not this touches on Lu Luo?”

“Youniang!” Guo Zai’s expression hardened, his voice rising sharply. He saw his wife’s body tremble at the sound, and remorse immediately flooded through him. It had been so many years — never once had he spoken to her in such a harsh tone. He quickly apologized. “My Lady, I was wrong to speak to you that way. But how can you connect this matter to Lu Luo? If outsiders were to hear it, we would never be able to clear ourselves of the association!”

“Do you think outsiders can already clear her of the association?” Li Youniang said with a sorrowful air. “First, Young Master Zhou tried to assassinate Xuanzang and drowned by accident. Then the Zhou family estate burned to the ground and the entire family was wiped out. What grudge did Young Master Zhou have against Xuanzang? Why would he attempt to kill a monk he had never met before? To any outside eye, this is suspicious at every turn. Connect it to the fact that Madam Zhou and her son always favored Lu Luo, and our family — can we truly distance ourselves? Just a few days ago, Master Zhou came to our home making demands and insisting on seeing Lu Luo, and she went and hid in Xingtang Temple without even showing her face — that alone is something that invites suspicion. And then… the entire Zhou family died out. How can we wash away the blame that will be poured on her head?”

Guo Zai listened in silence. When she finished, he said, “I had considered all of this. That is precisely why, on the day the incident occurred, I sent runners to Xingtang Temple and obtained a signed statement from Master Kong Cheng confirming that neither Lu Luo nor Xuanzang had left the monastery for a single step. I can guarantee that this matter will not touch Lu Luo. My Lady,” Guo Zai said in a gentle tone, “I swear on my honor as a father — Lu Luo will come to no harm.”

Li Youniang stared at him blankly, then suddenly buried herself against him and burst into weeping.

Guo Zai’s heart clenched with pain. He patted his wife’s back with his large hand, murmuring, “Do not be afraid, my Lady. I will handle everything.”

He looked toward the double-bladed long saber on the rack by the wall. The broad blade flickered with a cold blue gleam. This fifty-catty saber had not been used in many years. In days past, he had wielded it across the battlefield — sweeping through men and horses alike, soaring to a height of two zhang, like a war god risen on the field of battle. Even faced with the most ferocious Turkic cavalry, one stroke of his blade would send rider and horse alike to pieces. In those days he had slaughtered men like cutting grain, had walked nine times through the shadow of death, and had never known fear. Yet now, Guo Zai felt a deep dread rising in his heart. This home, this virtuous wife, this beloved daughter — the most precious things the heavens had given him — could he truly protect them?

“Let me die if I must. I have nothing left in this world but them…” Guo Zai murmured. He did not know when the tears had begun streaming down his face.

Husband and wife lay curled together like that, as though frozen in place.

Dawn did not take long to come. Mo Lan and Qiu’er prepared breakfast. After the couple ate, Guo Zai told Youniang to go back and rest awhile, and set out for the yamen to start his duties. He was just about to leave when there came a loud knocking at the gate — thunderously clear in the still of early morning.

Qiu’er ran to open it. On the doorstep was a stout monk, who pressed his palms together. “Oh, Amitabha — why, it is Benefactor Qiu’er! Is the Master at home?”

“Yes, yes.” Qiu’er recognized him. He was Huijue, the guest reception monk from Xingtang Temple.

Huijue entered the courtyard. Guo Zai was in the corridor preparing to go to the yamen, and at the sight of him immediately stopped. “Master Huijue — is something the matter?”

“Amitabha… oh my…” Huijue said. “Master, the abbot has sent this humble monk to inform you that Miss Lu Luo has taken ill.”

“What?” Guo Zai was alarmed. “What kind of illness? Has a physician been called? Is it serious?”

“Oh my, Amitabha…” Huijue shook his head. “The abbot did not give this humble monk a detailed account — only asked that the Master come quickly and take the young lady home for proper medical attention.”

“Amitabha…” The borrowed exclamation of Guo Zai was enough to make Huijue flinch. Guo Zai broke into a cold sweat and waved his hand feebly. “You… go back to the monastery first. This official will come at once.”

Huijue nodded and turned to leave.

Guo Zai hesitated for a moment — he had wanted to quietly go and bring Lu Luo home, but in the end could not bring himself to keep it from his wife, and went back to the inner courtyard to tell her. Li Youniang heard and grew anxious at once. “Go quickly… I — I’ll come too.”

“No need, my Lady. You have not slept all night. You should rest. I’ll ride fast — it will be quicker on horseback. There are plenty of palanquin-bearers at the monastery during the dharma assembly. If you took a palanquin there and back, who knows how long that would take.” Guo Zai said.

Li Youniang thought about it and agreed — she must not delay her daughter’s care. She consented.

But just as he was about to head out, another runner arrived from the yamen. “Master, an imperial envoy has arrived at the county office.”

“An imperial envoy?” Guo Zai was taken aback. There was no time to ask further questions, and he hurried to the yamen.

Sure enough, in the second hall, the county registrar and the assistant magistrate were chatting with Jinzhou’s monk superintendent Yuanchi and a middle-aged man wearing a green round-collared robe and a soft-winged official’s hat.

Master Yuanchi was already an acquaintance — as the monk superintendent of Jinzhou, he was responsible for overseeing the monasteries and the ordination of monks in the region, and had been at Xingtang Temple these past few days. What was he doing sitting together with this imperial envoy so early in the morning? Guo Zai was puzzled.

The registrar, seeing the county magistrate arrive, quickly came to welcome him and made introductions. “Master, this gentleman is an imperial envoy from the capital — Xu Wentan, the chief administrator of the Chongyuan Bureau of the Court of State Ceremonial.”

The Court of State Ceremonial and its Chongyuan Bureau? The Court of State Ceremonial handled affairs of foreign envoys and missions. What was it doing sending someone to Huoyi County? Guo Zai was confused, but dared not be remiss in courtesy. He stepped forward to greet him. “Administrator Xu, shall I have an incense altar set up for a formal kneeling reception?”

Administrator Xu was taken aback, then smiled. “There is no need, Magistrate Guo. What I carry is an appointment document from the Chongyuan Bureau — and it is not for you. I am merely passing through Huoyi and paying a courtesy call on the local authority. Nothing more.”

“Master,” Monk Superintendent Yuanchi said with a smile, “the imperial decree is from the Emperor — and it is addressed to Master Xuanzang. That is why this old monk has come to the county to receive the imperial envoy. Master may not be aware that the Chongyuan Bureau is specifically responsible for managing Buddhist affairs. Decrees from the Emperor to monks are generally transmitted through the Chongyuan Bureau.”

“Ah, I see.” Guo Zai finally understood.

Since the Northern Wei dynasty, successive dynasties had established officials and institutions to manage Buddhist affairs. Buddhist matters were generally overseen by the Court of State Ceremonial, which handled the reception of guests and tributary missions. Later, from the Northern Qi dynasty onward, a system of monk officials had been established, with monks of high prestige appointed to manage Buddhist affairs. The Tang dynasty followed the Sui precedent — all monks and nuns fell under the jurisdiction of the Court of State Ceremonial, which appointed monk-officials such as the Great Superintendent of the Brilliant Canon. In the prefectures, monk superintendents were appointed to oversee the local monasteries and their clergy.

For a man like Guo Zai, who had come to civil office from a military career, he only had a rough sense of all this, and found himself curious. “Administrator Xu, what kind of decree does the Emperor have for Master Xuanzang?”

“Now that I simply cannot say.” Administrator Xu laughed. “How would I dare peek at His Majesty’s decree on my own?”

Guo Zai laughed heartily. Though Xu the Administrator was an official from the capital, his rank was far below Guo Zai’s — merely an eighth-rank chief administrator of the Court of State Ceremonial. Before a county magistrate, he could not afford too much arrogance. The two exchanged pleasantries for a while. Guo Zai was also in a hurry to go and collect his daughter, and so the whole party set off together in a great procession heading for Xingtang Temple.

By the time they arrived at the monastery it was already noon. The temple was packed from end to end with people, and the dharma assembly was still underway. Guo Zai had the runners push open a path through the crowds. Kong Cheng, having already heard that an imperial envoy had come from the capital, hastily led Xuanzang and others out to receive them.

Administrator Xu saw that the surroundings were too crowded and frowned, asking Kong Cheng to find a quieter hall. Kong Cheng quickly cleared out the Mahavira Hall for the envoy to deliver the decree. Administrator Xu was himself a Buddhist, and upon entering the Mahavira Hall first prostrated himself before Rulai’s image and burned incense. When the ceremony was done, he unrolled the imperial decree.

Imperial decrees were a rare sight — even Guo Zai had never seen one, and now his eyes went wide. The decree was a double-layered silk scroll, five feet in length, exquisitely crafted — the silk woven in the imperial workshops could not be replicated by any civilian loom.

Everyone knelt to hear the decree. Administrator Xu read aloud in a strong voice: “Our mandate has heard that Master Xuanzang, a master of the dharma and guide to the good — from youth possessed of true spiritual sensitivity, he early awakened to the mind of the three types of emptiness; in maturity his spirit met the divine, first encompassing the conduct of the four types of endurance. The pine wind and the water moon cannot match his purity and radiance; the immortal dew and the luminous pearl cannot compare to his brilliance and luster. Thus his wisdom flows unobstructed, his spirit perceives the unformed, transcending the six dusts and rising far above… Now, the abbot of Zhuangyan Monastery, the Venerable Huiyin, has entered nirvana. On the memorial of the Right Counselor-in-Chief and Duke of Wei, Pei Ji, We hereby issue this decree appointing Xuanzang as the abbot of Zhuangyan Monastery, with the hope that he will explore the profound gate and fully master its mysteries…”

The first half of the text was in an archaic and abstruse literary style that left most of those present bewildered. But the critical final statement was perfectly clear to everyone: the Emperor had personally appointed Xuanzang as the abbot of Zhuangyan Monastery in the capital! A wave of admiration and awe swept through the assembly. Zhuangyan Monastery was one of the great temples of the land, and it was situated in the imperial capital itself. For the Emperor to personally issue a decree of appointment — this was an honor without precedent in living memory!

Kong Cheng in particular was overcome with emotion, his face flushing with joy. The Buddhist world was about to gain another great master of virtue and learning.

“Amitabha — this poor monk gratefully receives the imperial grace.” Xuanzang prostrated himself.

Administrator Xu smiled brightly. “Congratulations, Master. Please accept the decree.”

Xuanzang rose to his feet and hesitated for a moment — then shook his head. “Administrator, this poor monk cannot accept the decree.”

Administrator Xu was immediately rendered speechless.

The crowd erupted in a great commotion. Kong Cheng, Guo Zai, and the others changed color in alarm — the monk had clearly lost his mind. Setting aside the staggering foolishness of refusing such a wonderful opportunity, the act of defying an imperial decree alone could cost him his life. The Emperor had graciously decreed him the abbotship of Zhuangyan Monastery, and this monk had the audacity to refuse, showing no regard for the Emperor’s kindness.

“Master—” Guo Zai, covered in cold sweat, prodded Xuanzang in the side urgently.

Xuanzang gave a faint smile. “Amitabha. Administrator, please return to the capital and report to the Emperor. This poor monk will submit a memorial setting out the full particulars.”

“A memorial?” Administrator Xu’s expression soured sharply, and his voice turned cold. “What reason could the Master possibly have to defy imperial decree? Let us hear it!”

“This poor monk’s aspiration does not lie within a single monastery or a single place, but in the Three Thousand Great World. Since the age of twenty-one, this poor monk has traveled throughout the realm seeking knowledge and investigating profound principles — for ten years now. Yet the Buddhist schools of our Eastern Land are many, each with its own lineage of transmission, and their teachings diverge so greatly that one does not know what to follow. This poor monk aspires to trace the teachings to their source, restore the proper lineage, and does not dare to contentedly settle into a monastery and let his learning go to waste in his old age.”

“A fine… fine aspiration — but Master, do you not know the consequences of defying His Majesty’s decree?” Administrator Xu had spent his career working with monks and nuns, and now confronted with one so thoroughly inflexible, he was seething with frustration. He could already picture the censure that awaited him upon returning to the capital empty-handed, and his tone grew even harder.

Xuanzang was quiet for a moment. He looked at all the worried faces around him and sighed. “This poor monk’s life and ideals cannot be constrained by this mortal shell. If I am found guilty for defying a decree, that too is unavoidable — let me not be a further cause of concern to everyone. This poor monk will go now and compose the memorial. I beg the Administrator to carry it back.”

With that, he pressed his palms together, turned, and left.

The Mahavira Hall fell into complete silence. Administrator Xu stomped his foot and said loudly, “All the eminent monks here have witnessed how deeply His Majesty has cherished the Buddhist order. Yet this monk refuses to show gratitude. Should the Emperor be moved to furious wrath in days to come, let no one say he was not forewarned.” With that, he strode out in a huff.

Kong Cheng and the others rushed after him to offer soothing words. In truth, without Xuanzang’s memorial in hand, the Administrator dared not venture far, and under everyone’s coaxing, he agreed to wait in a meditation courtyard.

Guo Zai hurried after Xuanzang, doing his best to dissuade him all the way back. “Master, you cannot do this! If you offend the Emperor, and something truly happens to you — all these decades of religious cultivation will be destroyed in an instant!”

Xuanzang also sighed deeply, but his heart in Chan practice was firm as bedrock, and his will was tenacious beyond measure. Once he had established his aspiration to journey west, not even thunder and lightning, blades and fire, could shake him. The two of them walked back to the Bodhi Courtyard together. Guo Zai hurried to check on his daughter. Boluoye had been keeping watch beside her, and at that moment Lu Luo was still drowsy, running a high fever.

Guo Zai was stunned. “How did it come to this?”

For a man of such massive frame, the heartache nearly brought tears to his eyes.

Because Lu Luo’s accusations involved the reputation of the Buddhist order, Xuanzang did not feel it was his place to speak openly of them — he would leave it to Lu Luo herself. When she was clear-headed, if she was willing to speak, she could say everything plainly. For now he glossed over the matter and left it aside.

Guo Zai could wait no longer. “No, no — this official must take my daughter to the county for medical treatment. Master, this official will not pry further into your affairs — only I hope you will reconsider and not throw your life away.”

“This poor monk understands,” Xuanzang said.

Guo Zai said no more and leaned close to Lu Luo’s ear. “Lu Luo, we are going home.”

In her unconscious state Lu Luo was still murmuring, “Father… Father…”

Guo Zai’s body gave a sharp tremor, and tears poured down his face. He wrapped Lu Luo in the blanket, took her in his arms, and to his own surprise managed to cradle both girl and blanket as one. Lu Luo had always been small, and against this man of over six feet, she was nearly as small as a puppy in his arms. Afraid the wind would reach her, he pulled the blanket over even her head, apologized to those present, and strode out with great steps.

Xuanzang stood silently on the steps, his palms pressed together. “Miss Lu Luo, safe travels. May you never again set foot in this place of troubles.”

“Ha — trouble and no trouble are not the Bodhi of the Buddhist tradition,” a voice suddenly chimed in.