Scenery of Touring the Temple

Those who enter temples come for nothing more than wealth or romantic fate. Among those clad in brocade, there is no shortage of those seeking official promotions and prosperity. Yet, those who ultimately receive divine blessings or successfully interpret their divination slips are exceedingly few. It is precisely this tiny fraction of people, however, that entices the remaining greedy masses to flock like ducks, ultimately using their thin, flimsy garments to lay bricks and tiles for the temple and weave new kasayas for the monks—a sort of masked accumulation of virtue and good deeds.

Of course, these were merely Zhang Ling's superficial impressions upon observing the scene. Who was to say that the monks within were not truly enlightened masters? Therefore, when traveling abroad, one must remember to observe much and speak little. Monks practice detachment from worldly desires and do not argue with mortal affairs; should an easily offended, devout pilgrim overhear one's criticisms, a round of lectures would be a minor concern, but private retaliation in the dark would truly constitute an unprovoked disaster.

In the south, the predominant object of worship is Amitabha Buddha, also known as the Buddha of Infinite Light and the Buddha of Infinite Life, an immensely important figure in Buddhism. In Sanskrit, "Amitabha" means "boundless," representing boundless light, boundless life, boundless wisdom, and boundless compassion. He is the sovereign of the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss and the core object of devotion in the Pure Land school. While practicing along the causal path, Amitabha made forty-eight great vows, one of which was to establish a world free of suffering and filled solely with joy, guiding all sentient beings toward liberation. Through prolonged spiritual practice, Amitabha finally attained perfect enlightenment, fulfilled his vows, and established the Western Pure Land. In the Pure Land, there are no sufferings of birth, old age, disease, and death; sentient beings enjoy endless life and boundless joy, ultimately achieving awakening and liberation under Amitabha's guidance.

In the north, however, the enshrined Buddhist deities are diverse and complex, such as Sakyamuni Buddha, the ancestor of all buddhas, as well as the Medicine Buddha who governs healing and longevity. One kneels devoutly to whichever Buddha corresponds to one's specific plea. In contrast, down south, apart from devout believers who remember the distinct deities, everyone else enters a temple regardless of what they are praying for, relying entirely on the monks to guide their kowtows. Ultimately, these are people hoping for a pie to drop from the sky. To a materialist like Zhang Ling, both approaches are cut from the same cloth; wouldn't it be far more sensible to take the money used for worship and buy a couple of extra sesame flatbreads to eat?

Walking inward from the temple gates, one encounters a series of refined and elegant landscapes, marred only by the overwhelming crowds that disrupt the tranquility. Uninterested in worshipping any buddhas, Zhang Ling handed Yang Jun a few pieces of shattered silver, telling him to wander and be as devout as he pleased, provided they rendezvoused in front of the main Buddha hall two hours later.

Zhang Ling strolled at a leisurely pace, pausing intermittently. Disliking the bustling crowds, he gravitated toward secluded paths. Others worshipped buddhas while he observed the scenery, thus finding peace of mind all the same.

Peach and pear trees were planted within the temple grounds, but the season was still early, so only buds were just beginning to sprout. Instead, unruly weeds and wild blossoms bloomed in disarray. Whenever he spotted one, he would stoop down to examine it. To others, the act of studying roadside wildflowers would seem incomprehensible; only a heart as pure as a child's could perceive its intrinsic delight. In his idle moments, Zhang Ling often viewed matters through the lens of a child's innocence. Beyond gaining a unique and distinctive amusement, it occasionally sparked subtle epiphanies that allowed Zhang Ling's slow-paced martial arts training to advance just a fraction further. Though negligible, why not indulge in the pleasure?

At that moment, Zhang Ling was squatting on the ground, admiring a crabapple blossom blooming out of season. Chronologically, peaches and pears blossomed around March, and crabapples even later, yet there were always those that quietly bloomed alone in disparate environments. This particular crabapple blossom was inverted-bell-shaped and possessed a rare, smoky purple hue. That wash of hazy violet appeared entirely discordant with its surroundings, yet exuded a faint, orchid-like fragrance that compelled Zhang Ling to linger a while longer.

Suddenly, a passing young novice monk approached, squatted down beside Zhang Ling, and asked softly, "Does the young benefactor also fancy this crabapple blossom?"

Zhang Ling glanced at him sideways and retorted, "For a monk, you use the word 'fancy' so casually. Aren't you afraid of arousing worldly desires?"

The novice monk corrected him, "Buddhism holds no such taboo. What is required is for Buddhist disciples to sever greed, anger, ignorance, and other licentious and evil thoughts, rather than becoming truly heartless and devoid of emotion. It seems the benefactor harbors certain misconceptions about our Buddha to utter such words."

Zhang Ling parsed his words and needled, "Little monk, I merely uttered a single sentence, yet you rushed headlong into an explanation. Where are the detachment and patience your old abbot taught you?"

The novice monk was taken aback. He stood up, pressed his palms together, and chanted softly, "Amitabha."

Zhang Ling rose as well, pretending he meant to flick the novice's clean-shaven pate. Subconsciously, the novice monk did not even dodge. Zhang Ling withdrew his hand and scolded, "Are your scripture-reciting studies rotting your brains? Someone is about to strike you, and you don't even know enough to duck."

The novice monk explained, "It was indeed the junior monk whose words were overly hasty; it is only right that the benefactor vents his frustration."

Zhang Ling shook his head and asked, "What is your name?"

The novice monk replied, "The junior monk's dharma name is Chan Xuan."

Zhang Ling asked again, "Are there any sights worth seeing within the temple?"

Chan Xuan pointed in a certain direction and said, "There is a pond over there stocked with koi fish, alongside fish feed. The benefactor may feed and watch them for pleasure."

Zhang Ling smiled and asked, "Can they be eaten?"

Chan Xuan froze on the spot. Zhang Ling stepped forward, laughing as he said, "I was merely jesting with you. Lead the way."

Chan Xuan trotted ahead of Zhang Ling, navigating through a few corridors before opening up to a crystal-clear koi pond. Individual fish swam leisurely in the translucent waters, swarming eagerly wherever feed was tossed. The spectacle of the collective fish swimming in unison delighted the feeding pilgrims, yet the moment the feed stopped, the schools scattered instantly—evidently a bunch of creatures unwilling to stir without the promise of profit.

Tossing the feed into the water, Zhang Ling remarked, "The pond is filled entirely with koi. What is this? Does your Buddhist sect pander to human preferences as well? Didn't you say all sentient beings are equal? Why the differential treatment when it comes to fish? Can ordinary grass carp not find a place here?"

Chan Xuan suddenly felt that this young benefactor was deliberately picking a fight. Just as before, when he had no such intentions, this benefactor insisted on making things difficult for him. Even when teasing, he refused to do so straightforwardly, constantly fabricating topics to vex him. Chan Xuan had no choice but to answer bluntly, "These were all gifted by passing pilgrims; they were not deliberately selected by the temple."

Zhang Ling said with feigned interest, "Oh! If I were to catch a common grass carp and toss it in here, and the other pilgrims disliked the sight of it and demanded it be removed, would you grant their request?"

Chan Xuan answered without hesitation, "Naturally not. However, matters within the temple are not entirely up to the junior monk to decide. Should my master or senior uncles wish to do so, the junior monk would be powerless to stop them."

Zhang Ling praised, "Then your spiritual state must be higher than that of your masters and uncles!"

Chan Xuan wanted to offer a modest disclaimer, yet feared this benefactor would accuse him of hypocrisy, leaving him momentarily at a loss for how to respond.

Zhang Ling rose from the leaning railing and caught sight of a young woman on the opposite side, likewise feeding the koi in the pond. Her appearance was thoroughly average, but her figure was graceful, set off to advantage by fine silk garments that made her stand out. Absorbed in the swimming fish, she remained entirely oblivious to anyone approaching. The money pouch hanging from her sleeve vanished without a trace. However, the man who had stolen her pouch had barely taken two steps when a sudden sharp pain struck his hand, causing the money pouch to drop onto the pebble-paved path. At the same time, as if she had been pricked by a needle, the young woman instantly lost all interest in fish-watching. Clutching her backside, she spun around and, upon seeing the situation, promptly delivered a resounding slap across the thief's face, her previous veneer of ladery elegance vanishing in an instant.