Chapter 177 — The Sea of Suffering Is Hard to Cross

He pressed his palms together and bowed once to Pu Zhao's remains, then walked straight out. At the very threshold he said mildly: "Young benefactor, I think you wish to be alone with my junior brother Pu Zhao for a while. I will be in the meditation hall ahead; if you have need of me, come find me there."

Ming Li did not answer, as though he had not heard. At this moment his eyes held only the monk Pu Zhao in the faint light.

Master Pu Cheng sighed, opened the door, lifted the curtain, and went out. The room was utterly still.

Slowly, slowly, Ming Li moved his feet, drawing step by step toward Pu Zhao. He seemed afraid of something, at a loss; he who had once hated so bitterly—why was it that now boundless sorrow welled up in his heart?

The man sat there quietly, without a spark of life, and yet as though he had been waiting all along for something; on his pain-shadowed face there seemed even a kind of yearning and expectation.

Ming Li came slowly to stand before him, staring at Pu Zhao, his hands slowly clenching until his nails dug deep into his flesh—but in the end he let them fall open. As though he had lost all support, strength draining from him, he sank silently to the ground and sat before Pu Zhao, not saying a word.

The faint light flickered, shining on Pu Zhao and on him—the shadows of two men.

Time halted in that room, now flowing backward, now leaping ahead, but what never changed was this: what kind of hearts were these two?

Though one still beat, and one was already still.

********

"Dong... dong... dong... dong..."

The morning bell rang out once more, echoing into every corner of Mount Sumeru, slow and far-reaching, waking men from dreams, and yet with something in it that could carry a man away from the dusty world altogether.

At the summit of Mount Sumeru, at Little Sanskrit Sound Temple, outside the silent meditation hall, came a knock at the door.

Master Pu Cheng raised his brows, then shook his head slightly and sighed. "Is that Fa Cheng? Come in."

Fa Cheng entered at the word, came forward, and bowed to Master Pu Cheng. On his face there seemed a trace of worry. "Master, a full day and night have passed, and Benefactor Zhang still has not come out."

Master Pu Cheng shook his head. "A karmic bond from former lives, a lifetime's love and hate—how could such things be so easily seen through and set down?"

Fa Cheng pressed his palms together and said in a low voice, then frowned and said to Master Pu Cheng: "Master, my worry is that the 'Jade Ice Plate' in that little room, though it preserves the dharma body of Uncle Pu Zhao from decay, gives off a cold beyond cold that is greatly harmful to ordinary men. And Benefactor Zhang has barely recovered from grave injury, his mind in turmoil and pain—if he should be left with some... lingering illness, how could we answer to Uncle Pu Zhao's dying charge?"

Master Pu Cheng said mildly: "No matter. Yesterday I used the Great Brahma Prajna to shield his heart meridian, and with his own cultivation besides, the cold, poisonous though it is, should no longer do him harm."

Hearing this, Fa Cheng breathed a sigh of relief and pressed his palms together. "So that is how it is. This disciple is reassured."

Master Pu Cheng nodded, and glanced at Fa Cheng. "I see you are most solicitous for this Benefactor Zhang. There was your Uncle Pu Zhao's dying charge, to be sure—but for yourself as well, it seems you regard him with particular favor."

Fa Cheng smiled. "Master's discerning eye sees it truly." Then, as though recalling the past, he sighed. "To speak frankly with Master: from the day I first met Benefactor Zhang to this day, ten years have passed in a flash. In ten years this disciple's Buddhist learning and practice may have advanced a little, but in the matter of a human life, I am like an infant on the road, scarcely changed at all. Only this Benefactor Zhang—looking at his life, the towering waves, the surging crests and troughs, the great sorrow and great suffering, the love and hate, the gratitude and grievance—the many pains the Buddha spoke of, he seems to have tasted every one of them."

Master Pu Cheng's expression stirred faintly; he pressed his palms together and softly chanted the Buddha's name.

Fa Cheng went on: "There have been nights when this disciple lay sleepless and thought of Benefactor Zhang, and tried to put myself in his place, to imagine all those sufferings falling upon me. Alas, this disciple's Buddhist learning is shallow after all, and I was seized with dread. The Buddha speaks of the **skin and flesh**—in the end they are but dust; only the way of the heart matters, and it lies in realization. Whenever I think on this and recall Benefactor Zhang's lifelong hardship, and how even now he can still bear up under it, this disciple's admiration is sincere."

At this point Fa Cheng's expression suddenly changed, and he knelt before Master Pu Cheng. Master Pu Cheng was taken aback. "What is this?"

Fa Cheng said in a low voice: "Master above me, this disciple's practice is young and his understanding of the dharma shallow, yet for a man like Benefactor Zhang, suffering under his heart-demon, I cannot bear it. I beg my honored master to employ great divine power, to use the boundless dharma of our Buddha to deliver and enlighten him—to use the compassion of the Buddhist gate to dissolve his fierce spirit, that he may escape the bitter sea of the heart-demon. This too would be a work of great merit, answering above to Heaven's merciful heart, and below bringing comfort to the departed Uncle Pu Zhao. Master, have compassion!"

So saying, he bowed his head to the ground and knocked his head three times.

Master Pu Cheng shook his head and sighed, a long sigh. "Foolish child! Foolish child! Do you know that in speaking so, you have rather broken the precept against anger? Besides, it is not that I am unwilling to deliver this man—it is that he has passed through so much hardship, a lifetime so full of storms, that by now his will is firm as rock; no ordinary man can shake his resolve. As it is said, the Buddha is in the human heart, and all beings have a Buddha-bond. Whether he sinks into the bitter sea hereafter, or turns back to the Pure Land, all lies in a single thought within his heart. We can bring no power to bear on him now."

Fa Cheng rose slowly, bowed his head, and pressed his palms together. Disappointment showed on his face, but still he said in a low voice: "Yes, this disciple understands."

Master Pu Cheng was silent a moment. "You had best go to the little room in back and look in on him. The cold in there should do no harm, but in his present condition, a day and night without food or water is not good either."

Fa Cheng assented, steadied himself, and walked toward the door. As he pulled it open to go out, he saw suddenly that someone was standing outside; sunlight poured in from behind the figure, whose face lay all in shadow, so that for a moment he could not make out who it was.

Fa Cheng started and stepped back a pace; only then did he see that it was Ming Li, who had come no one knew when to the doorway and stood there without a sound. After a day and night unseen, Ming Li showed little sign of weariness, but his face had gone very pale, his eyes shot with blood—he had likely not closed them all night.

Seeing it was Fa Cheng, Ming Li's lips moved; slowly he nodded to Fa Cheng, who was taken aback a moment and returned the greeting with palms pressed together. Ming Li then walked slowly in and stood facing Master Pu Cheng.

Master Pu Cheng sat cross-legged on the meditation bed as he had the day before, a string of prayer beads in his hand, turning them ceaselessly. Seeing Ming Li hesitate, wanting to speak and not speaking, he was not surprised; mildly he said to Fa Cheng: "Bring the young benefactor a chair, and you sit down as well."

Fa Cheng assented, dragged a chair over for Ming Li to sit on, and seated himself to one side.