The guest hall was originally provided as meditation chambers for Luoyang’s noble families to practice, fully equipped with brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones for copying scriptures. It was very convenient to use immediately. She was copying the Ullambana Sutra, which prays for blessings for relatives and salvation for departed souls.

Wei Xun admired both her heroic bearing when holding a bow to face enemies and her serene concentration when writing. After watching for a while, he saw her finish copying a page and set it aside to let the ink dry. He reached over to examine it, only to discover that the paper underneath wasn’t Buddhist scripture at all, but calculations: one dou equals ten jin, one shi equals ten dou. One shi and six dou equals one hundred sixty jin of rice, enough to feed one hundred sixty people.

Wei Xun guessed she was calculating the quantity of rice that Changling Temple had used to purchase corpses today. He said, “You know they’re doing this business not out of compassion, but just to obtain corpses for painting the Nine Aspects diagrams, right? They won’t distribute this grain.”

Bao Zhu’s expression remained impassive. She pulled the paper from his hands, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it behind her, saying, “I know. Don’t say that all the stored grain in Changling Temple isn’t enough to provide disaster relief for the hungry people – even if I held the position of Eastern Capital Commissioner or Henan Prefecture Governor, I couldn’t solve the fundamental problem of interrupted grain transport. Some people are destined to die, which is why I’m copying scriptures in the middle of the night, hoping they’ll ascend to heaven soon and be reborn into better circumstances next time.”

Wei Xun knew she had unresolved feelings about this. He reached over to take away her brush and showed her the pigments he had stolen, saying, “Since this is beyond human capability, don’t dwell on it. Put on your clothes and come with me to cause some mischief.”

Bao Zhu was too troubled to sleep and was somewhat swayed by his coaxing: “My hair isn’t dry yet.”

Wei Xun laughed, “It’ll blow dry if you go out with it loose for a walk. The monks have to get up for morning prayers at the fifth hour, so they’re all asleep by now. Besides, even if some bald slave sees you awake, he’ll only envy you for having so much hair.”

Bao Zhu hesitated no longer. She found a robe to put on, loosely gathered her black hair, and went out with him just like that.

The great Changling Temple was unusually quiet in the deep of night, with no one keeping watch or patrolling. Bao Zhu held an oil lamp whose weak flame was completely overwhelmed by the darkness, illuminating only a small circle. Wei Xun moved at the edge of this circle of light, sometimes disappearing into the darkness, sometimes returning to the lamplight.

The invisible night wind brushed past her hair tips, feeling chillingly cold. Having never gone out with her hair loose before, Bao Zhu felt very uncomfortable and said quietly, “I’ve abandoned the etiquette of names, thrown away the propriety of appearance and dress – if this continues, by the time I reach Youzhou, my brother might not recognize me. I wonder what other wild and unrestrained breaches of protocol I might commit? Eating while riding a donkey?”

Wei Xun laughed aloud: “In your imagination, the wildest improper behavior is eating while riding a donkey?”

Bao Zhu said seriously, “Eating in public on the street violates proper conduct. For officials to do so would result in impeachment by censors and demotion as punishment.” She asked in return, “What’s the wildest improper behavior you can imagine?”

Wei Xun’s expression changed, and he began stammering evasively, “Maybe… probably… eating while leading a donkey?”

Bao Zhu snorted disdainfully, “There you go lying again. You and Shisan Lang always do exactly that.”

Wei Xun fell silent, lowering his head and walking quickly into the darkness. Bao Zhu hurried to keep up.

Walking through the great Changling Temple in the deep night, as the candlelight moved, murals along the way gradually came into view. Buddhas, bodhisattvas, and guardian deities appeared in countless poses – some with solemn and precious countenances, others mighty and imposing. There were also monsters like asuras, ghosts, and yakshas – bizarre and fantastical, sinister yet magnificent.

The gods, demons, ghosts, and monsters that existed in Buddhist scripture fantasies made Bao Zhu anxious and uneasy. The slightest disturbance in the courtyard startled her. Though she carried bow and arrows, she felt that earthly weapons would be useless against these otherworldly supernatural beings.

She walked until she reached a magnificent mural of “Guanyin’s Enlightenment Day” and stopped to appreciate it seriously.

Before the Tang dynasty, Guanyin statues mostly depicted male forms, but after Empress Wu’s reign, female appearances gradually became mainstream.

The Guanyin in the center of the painting was a tall woman in her prime, with an absolutely beautiful face and full, rounded figure. She wore a lotus crown on her high chignon, was draped in transparent celestial robes, and her round, full jade arms were adorned with white jade armlets inlaid with gold and precious stones – magnificent and stately. Standing behind her was Weituo, the guardian deity closest to her, for wherever Guanyin appeared, Weituo was often nearby for protection.

Seeing the armlets and Guanyin’s crimson fingernails, Bao Zhu exclaimed in surprise, “My mother often dressed like this. Dyeing nails by mixing alum into balsam flower juice started with her and has been fashionable throughout the realm for twenty years. ‘Wax light hangs high illuminating silken space, flower chambers pound red balsam by night’ describes the palace maids preparing balsam flowers for her.”

Not only that, the armor worn by the twenty-eight heavenly beings who came to welcome Guanyin’s enlightenment ascension was in the style of the imperial palace guards. Though the subject matter was otherworldly gods and Buddhas, the details were closely connected to reality, familiar at every turn.

Wei Xun asked, “Does this Guanyin’s appearance also resemble your mother?”

Bao Zhu looked somewhat bewildered, first shaking her head, then nodding: “Like the erotic corpse mural in the Hall of Returning to Impermanence, the details and outline are similar, but I wouldn’t call the features truly lifelike. Perhaps the artist never saw her in person and only painted from others’ descriptions.”

Wei Xun said, “No wonder you immediately asked me to paint over it when you came out that time. Should this one be painted over too?” He was ready to roll up his sleeves and get to work as soon as she spoke.

Bao Zhu thought for a while, then declined the suggestion: “Forget it. That one showing a corpse exposed in the wilderness was unbearable to me, but since this depicts a divine Buddha form, it counts as noble and auspicious. The highest praise for a woman’s beauty in the palace is to say she resembles a bodhisattva.”

She gazed at the figures in the painting with nostalgic feelings for a while, then said to Wei Xun, “Do you know that before becoming a nun, Guanyin was also a princess, called Princess Miaoshan?”

Bao Zhu then pointed to the lotus crown on the bodhisattva’s towering chignon and said wistfully, “I have a similar lotus crown that my mother left me. I had planned to wear it when I became a nun and entered the Dao, but unfortunately I died suddenly, and I don’t know if they buried it with me. Now I have no hair ornaments left, just… hair.”

She stood in the gentle candlelight, with the golden radiance from the bodhisattva’s body behind her. The bright moonlight wrapped around her long hair like gossamer celestial robes. Her clear face bore a trace of melancholy, dignified and compassionate, as if she were a noble young Guanyin statue.

A princess who resembles a bodhisattva.

Wei Xun stood in the shadows beyond the candlelight’s reach, silently watching her for a moment. A peaceful, warm current slowly flowed through his heart, soothing his restless evil thoughts.

“If I had known you earlier, I would have helped you search for it in the underground palace. Besides, isn’t your hair more beautiful than any jewelry?”

Hearing this praise, though Bao Zhu felt shy, she couldn’t suppress the upward curve of her lips, smiling proudly.

The two set off again. When there were disturbances in the courtyard, Bao Zhu still showed signs of fear. Wei Xun thought for a long time, feeling his mind was now calm and he had just bathed – he was uncommonly clean. He switched the paint jar to his other hand, freeing the hand facing Bao Zhu, and moved his fingers almost imperceptibly.

He thought: If she doesn’t see, then so be it; if she sees but pretends not to, or doesn’t understand the meaning…

Before Wei Xun could enumerate all the possibilities, Bao Zhu had already quickly stepped forward. A warm, soft palm gripped his hand firmly. She breathed a sigh of contentment, then with slight resentment wondered why he had only now extended his hand.

The faint fragrance of osmanthus wine drifted in the air. The two walked side by side for a while, both too shy to speak. In such silence, their heartbeats echoed like drums in their ears.

Bao Zhu felt very moved, but also very secure. Holding his hand, she felt it seemed to carry a trace of warmth, not as cold as last time – apparently hot water was effective whether taken internally or applied externally.

To ease this strange atmosphere, she joked, “I… I’ll grant you the hot springs of Huaqing Palace. Like Cuiwei Palace, it’s abandoned now, visited only by birds and foxes. Adding one more wildcat wouldn’t matter.”

Wei Xun lowered his head and murmured agreement, his mind blank and white, not knowing how to respond. He had drunk thousands of cups without ever getting drunk before, but today, having not touched a drop, his steps felt unsteady. If he weren’t holding her hand, he felt he might have floated away.

It took crossing half of Changling Temple to get from the guest hall to the Hall of Returning to Impermanence, but the two felt they had barely walked a few steps before arriving. When they let go of hands, both felt a bit lost. Standing before the corridor leading to the great hall, Bao Zhu suddenly hesitated.

“Having finally washed clean and fresh, I don’t want to smell that odor again. You go quickly and return quickly – I’ll wait for you here.”

Wei Xun observed the distance from the great hall to this spot. Though there were sparse trees in between, they didn’t obstruct the view, and he could see her at a glance. But suspecting the temple was strange, he didn’t want to leave.

Bao Zhu saw a mighty and fierce statue of Weituo under the nearby eaves and stood beneath his vajra staff, saying, “This guardian bodhisattva also bears the surname Wei. Standing here under his protection, evildoers shouldn’t dare harm me in his presence.”

Wei Xun had never believed in gods and Buddhas, but hearing her say this, he said half-jokingly, half-seriously to the statue, “Then please, fellow clansman, watch over her for me for a while.”

He looked at her a few more times, then leaped onto the corridor and ran across the rooftops toward his destination.

After several bounds to reach the highest point of the great hall, Wei Xun carefully removed several tiles, secured his rope, put a fire stick in his mouth, held the paint jar in one hand and gripped the rope with the other, then slipped through the opening in the roof.

The Hall of Returning to Impermanence was pitch black, its four walls bare and empty, vast and desolate. Sliding down the rope felt like entering an ancient tomb. Accompanied by that faint smell of corpse stench, it felt even more like tomb robbing. A familiar feeling of disgust surged up, and Wei Xun was glad he hadn’t insisted on bringing Bao Zhu inside.

Just as he was about to go destroy the painting based on his memory of its location from his daytime visit, he heard a weak, hoarse breathing sound from deep in the hall.

Wei Xun walked to the “Fresh Death View” mural and found an emaciated human figure sitting cross-legged with his back to the wall painting, motionless as if in deep meditation. It was Tan Lin, the abbot of the great Changling Temple.

This old man wasn’t sleeping at midnight but meditating instead. Should he knock him unconscious before getting to work?

Wei Xun hesitated briefly, but the old monk in closed-eye meditation spoke:

“Is Chen Shigu still alive?”