Wei Xun asked softly, “I couldn’t find you anywhere last night. Why were you sleeping in Shisan Lang’s room?”
Hearing this question, Bao Zhu felt it was inexplicable: “Isn’t that natural? It’s all your fault!”
Wei Xun was stunned: “My fault?”
Seeing he didn’t understand, Bao Zhu complained with some embarrassment and shyness: “Because of the scholar tree!”
Because of the scholar tree.
The scholar tree.
Ah.
Having solved the greatest mystery at once, Wei Xun immediately relaxed body and mind, leaning back against the corridor pillar with his shoulders drooping.
Of course it was because of the scholar tree. Earlier when they had bathed separated by the wall, he had a reaction and felt guilty, so he used the excuse of a hanged ghost in the scholar tree to frighten her away. She was afraid of insects falling on her, so she definitely wouldn’t return to the original room to bathe—she would naturally change to a room with hot springs not beneath scholar trees.
Moreover, she had originally switched rooms with Yang Xingjian. Deciding on a whim to switch again with Shisan Lang was perfectly logical. Shisan Lang had spent the whole night doing religious exercises in the temple’s meditation hall yesterday and hadn’t returned to his room, so the room where she copied scriptures had remained empty all along.
The most incredible mystery had the simplest answer.
Bao Zhu continued: “I was so tired yesterday I could barely keep my eyes open. I told you I was going back to nap and rest for a while. Don’t you remember?”
Wei Xun thought distractedly: At that time he must have already been trapped by inner demons, so he hadn’t noticed. Because Bao Zhu feared coffins and corpses, she had never approached the mourning area, standing far away instead—thus avoiding the bewitching toxic mist from the incense burner and escaping disaster.
As for why she kept feeling drowsy, it was probably just because she had been awakened by the temple’s morning bell at the yin hour yesterday—a rare early rising.
At what stage had she actually left? Perhaps… perhaps she hadn’t participated in the late-night exploration at all? Recalling yesterday’s series of unspeakable hallucinations, Wei Xun felt deeply ashamed and didn’t dare inquire further in detail, only keeping it as a secret buried in his heart.
Bao Zhu cupped Wei Xun’s face and carefully caressed it all over, then turned over his palms to examine them. Discovering his right hand was burned terribly, she flew into a rage, tears bursting forth from anger, demanding: “Who exactly beat you?! Was it Guan Chuan? If that man is invulnerable to weapons, I’ll find another way to eliminate him!”
Before Wei Xun could answer, Yang Xingjian came running breathlessly into the courtyard. Ignoring the two holding hands, he reported to Bao Zhu with panic written all over his face: “Disaster! I heard the Hall of Impermanence caught fire in the middle of the night. Chanming Temple is all wooden construction—we need to escape quickly before we suffer the same fate as when the Huihe army burned down White Horse Temple!”
Bao Zhu stood up in shock. Having focused all her attention on Wei Xun just now, only now did she notice the air indeed carried a burnt smell—more choking than the temple’s thick incense smoke. Wei Xun muttered quietly: “I tore down the connecting corridor, so it probably won’t spread to the main temple.”
Bao Zhu and Yang Xingjian looked at him puzzledly. Wei Xun said concisely: “Didn’t you say to destroy that mural? I set fire to the hall and killed Guan Chuan and Tan Lin while I was at it.”
“You… you what?!”
Bao Zhu gaped, and Yang Xingjian’s eyes nearly popped out as he repeated in alarm: “Set fire? Killed people? Are you serious?”
Shisan Lang had gotten news of the fire from other monks and rushed over to wake Bao Zhu so she could flee. Catching sight of Wei Xun sitting wounded under the corridor, he was greatly shocked. Seeing his hands torn and bloody, he immediately understood and exclaimed: “Big Brother fought against that monk Guan Chuan? Why didn’t you use weapons?”
Because he had given them to Bao Zhu for protection against evil.
Wei Xun sighed again, thinking that throughout the night Bao Zhu had been protected by Weituo and the rhinoceros horn sword, avoiding entanglement and persecution by the three poisons of greed, anger, and delusion. Her luck was indeed excellent.
Facing his three companions, he briefly recounted last night’s events: how Tan Lin had deceived and persecuted Guancheng, instructed Guan Chuan to poison people, indirectly caused Gui’er’s death, and ultimately drove Guancheng to despair and suicide, leading to the Ghost Festival night massacre. He only omitted mention of his own hallucinations.
Yang Xingjian trembled all over with shock: “Never mind Guan Chuan—Abbot Tan Lin was a renowned figure in Luoyang, a retired third-rank official! You just casually beat him to death like that?”
Wei Xun asked arrogantly in return: “So what? If I find someone displeasing, whether it’s the Jade Emperor himself, I’ll make sure he doesn’t see tomorrow’s sun.”
Bao Zhu looked at him in surprise. Just now seeing Wei Xun weak and pitiful, feeling like he’d break at a touch and making her heart ache terribly, she had wanted to carry him into her room to lie down and rest. Who would have thought that hearing this wildly arrogant tone, it seemed like he could jump up and fight ten more.
Seeing Bao Zhu’s surprised expression, Wei Xun blinked, hunched his shoulders around his knees, and slowly curled back into a ball. Though he had proved his body and restored human form before dawn, the time was too short—some flaws seemed to remain.
Yang Xingjian urged everyone to leave again.
Bao Zhu didn’t want to go, saying regretfully: “Tan Lin actually died…” Her voice carried genuine disappointment.
The others didn’t understand, only hearing her say despondently: “Since the abbot was the culprit, his promise last night to give me Ghost Festival donations was completely false—just a trick to lure us in so he could move against Wei Xun.”
All three understood her meaning. Yang Xingjian consoled her: “The Princess has a Bodhisattva’s heart—Heaven will see. But those riches and grain truly aren’t enough for disaster relief. Our own safety matters most—let’s quickly leave Chanming Temple.”
Bao Zhu remained lost in thought, unwilling to move. Wei Xun supported himself against the pillar to stand, preparing to split up with Shisan Lang to pack belongings and lead the donkeys. She suddenly asked: “How did you dispose of Tan Lin? Did you take his head like with Bao Lang?”
Wei Xun shook his head: “I didn’t bring a dagger last night. Working barehanded was somewhat troublesome, so I just killed him with one palm strike.”
“Then threw him into the Hall of Impermanence and burned the body?”
Wei Xun found her detailed questioning strange and answered: “No. We were the last group to see him yesterday. To avoid temple monks’ suspicion, I buried him in the lime pit in the rear hall’s covered chamber. I was anxious to find you, so I buried him shallowly.”
Bao Zhu’s pupils immediately lit up: “Meaning the corpse’s appearance shows no obvious wounds?”
Recalling his tongue-pulling evil deed, Wei Xun coughed lightly and said quietly: “More or less, as long as he keeps that lying mouth shut…”
Bao Zhu’s mind raced as she muttered to herself: “Jiashiye… sacrificing oneself for righteousness… becoming Buddha in the flesh… becoming Buddha in the flesh…”
To confirm her plan’s feasibility, she questioned Wei Xun again: “Can a dead person still be arranged in special postures?”
The three found this increasingly strange. Wei Xun said: “Dead for over two hours—the body’s already stiff. You’d have to break joints and fix them with rope. What, are you not satisfied and want to hang him up for public display?”
Bao Zhu sorted out her thoughts, excitedly rubbing her hands together, and called to Shisan Lang: “Your senior brother is injured—let him rest. You come with me to the Hall of Impermanence. Let’s dig up the old monk’s corpse together!”
The three were stunned. Bao Zhu said: “Since Tan Lin traded grain for corpses during his lifetime, I’ll do the reverse—trade his corpse for grain!”
Then she directed Yang Xingjian: “You stay here and draft a suicide note according to my instructions.”
The sky hadn’t fully brightened yet. To the north, firelight was already visible, reddening the horizon like rosy dawn. Hearing she wanted to rush into the burning hall while leaving behind a suicide note, Yang Xingjian frantically protested: “Fire and water show no mercy—the Princess absolutely must not risk herself!”
Bao Zhu said: “Who said it was my suicide note? I’m having you write a suicide note for Tan Lin in his voice. Since we few were the last to see him last night, it’s perfectly reasonable for the old monk to have final words for you to convey. The monks won’t dare question a court official’s credibility.”
She then briefly described her intentions for Yang Xingjian to carry out.
After hearing clearly what she wanted to do to Tan Lin’s corpse, Yang Xingjian’s face went deathly pale as he desperately tried to dissuade her: “Princess, such heaven-deceiving, earth-deluding acts will bring karmic retribution!”
“This is called making the best use of waste, and the ultimate purpose is charitable—Buddha and Bodhisattvas will understand my good intentions. How could there be retribution?”
“This humble minister truly cannot…”
Yang Xingjian was the only subordinate here who could draft documents, yet he evaded responsibility due to superstitious mysticism. Seeing the fire growing larger and timing being crucial, Bao Zhu sternly scolded: “Shut up! I don’t care about the process, only results! Take out your brush and write now! Right this instant!”
Hearing that ear-splitting “don’t care about the process, only results,” Yang Xingjian shivered with a “hiss,” feeling a tingling chill run up the back of his neck. Visions floated before his eyes, as if the figures of all the superiors and masters he had served over twenty years overlapped and merged, reflected in the girl before him.
His heart felt sour as he realized that a princess was still a princess. Though she looked like a young maiden, her true identity was that of a superior.
Just as Empress Wu Zetian, to ascend the throne as a woman, claimed to be the reincarnation of Maitreya Buddha and had subordinates fabricate the “Great Cloud Sutra” to promulgate throughout the realm. Those who follow me are gods and Buddhas; those who oppose me are demons. To achieve their goals, such rulers never believed in karmic consequences.
Yang Xingjian resignedly took out his brush and ink pouch. Bao Zhu was very satisfied and headed toward the burning Hall of Impermanence with Shisan Lang.
Wei Xun naturally couldn’t let Bao Zhu rush into the fire scene alone. He put on his boots and staggered after the two of them.
Years ago, the court had allowed Huihe cavalry to plunder Luoyang—the White Horse Temple fire had killed tens of thousands. On the way to the Hall of Impermanence, they encountered many monks fearful of the spreading fire, all fleeing with bundles of valuables on their backs.
Watching Bao Zhu’s hurried figure moving against the stream of refugees, Wei Xun suddenly recalled a passage from the Lotus Sutra that Tan Lin had mentioned. Though the speaker had ulterior motives, that Buddhist scripture was perfectly apt for this moment.
The human world was like a burning house filled with flames, full of suffering, terrifying to behold. Of those dwelling in this house, some wailed and fled, some remained indifferent, some took advantage of the chaos to loot.
Yet there were extremely few—just one or two—fearless brave ones who, knowing the path ahead held hardships and dangers, still went against the flow, trying every means to save people from the burning house. Though naive and idealistic, though isolated and weak, they were especially moving.
Due to lingering effects from the lion’s roar, Wei Xun’s tinnitus still hadn’t stopped, making many sounds around him unclear. Yet in his dazed state, he seemed to hear a strange sound like an eggshell cracking resonate between heaven and earth.
Was the phoenix egg about to hatch?
The great Chanming Temple had just experienced yesterday’s Ghost Festival massacre when a floating water ghost in the liberation pond caused a stamping accident. Today brought news of an even more shocking event that amazed the Luoyang region.
The far-famed virtuous monk Abbot Tan Lin, guided by an ascended celestial maiden, made a vow to sacrifice himself for righteousness in order to console the people who died on Ghost Festival night and provide disaster relief for displaced refugees, using his physical body to ferry wandering souls to salvation.
After dictating final words to a former subordinate, that very night the Hall of Impermanence where he conducted daily practice suddenly caught fire. The Buddhist hall was vast in scale—the fire couldn’t be extinguished and continued for a full day until gradually dying out after nightfall.
From the center of the scorching ruins, monks discovered Abbot Tan Lin’s dried remains after entering nirvana. His countenance was peaceful and dignified, his body intact and undamaged, hands pressed together as he sat upright in lotus position—he had transformed into a Buddha in the flesh.
He left behind a compassionate Buddhist verse: “May this merit adorn Buddha’s pure land; above, repaying four kinds of kindness, below, relieving suffering in three realms; if any see or hear this, may all awaken bodhi mind; exhausting this one lifetime’s karma, together born in the Pure Land.”
Not only had he become Buddha in the flesh, the karmic fire had not damaged him in the slightest. This miracle shocked everyone. News spread rapidly—believers throughout Luoyang and even the Capital Region were moved, from imperial relatives and nobles to common people. Countless individuals flocked to great Chanming Temple to pay respects to this eminent monk’s dignified countenance after nirvana.
The meaning of Tan Lin’s Buddhist verse was quite straightforward: As long as one develops a charitable heart to relieve disaster and suffering, one could ascend directly to the Pure Land Buddha realm like him, escaping the suffering of reincarnation.
The influence of preaching dharma was ultimately ethereal, but the miracle of an incorruptible flesh Buddha was immediate and tangible. The powerful and wealthy of the Eastern Capital were greatly shaken. Led by Henan Prefecture Governor Dou Jing, high officials, nobles, wealthy merchants, and great traders competed to open private granaries and donate generously. Wealth and grain flowed in like the surging Luo River—thousands of times more than Ghost Festival donations.
According to Abbot Tan Lin’s final wishes, Chanming Temple kept not a penny, using everything for disaster relief.
He appointed his most compassionate disciple—kitchen manager Monk Guan Chao—to inherit his mantle as the new abbot of great Chanming Temple, facilitating the administration and distribution of wealth. All posthumous arrangements were perfectly organized.
Author’s Note:
No-prize guessing game: At what stage did the real Bao Zhu actually withdraw that night?
Background timeline: Five years ago Tan Lin visited Yuan Xu’s brother and sister-in-law, believing the seal would be destroyed and the asura would soon return to the human world. His psychological trauma exploded, so he deceived a great master Qiu Jiancheng into taking vows to protect him. He didn’t expect that Chen Shigu was already seriously ill then, and his successor asura cub Wei Xun had already graduated.
After becoming a monk, Qiu Jiancheng no longer concerned himself with martial world affairs, so he never heard of the blue-robed guest who rose to fame after graduating, much less knew he was famous for “never letting grievances last overnight”—thus truly fulfilling “grievances not lasting overnight.” If only they had inquired about Wei Da and the martial world’s rising star “donkey-riding lady,” it wouldn’t have come to this.