Chapter 231 — Bewilderment

At this moment Ming Li could hardly be called shaken to the core, yet his mind was certainly disturbed, and his cultivation reacted at once: almost instinctively he made to turn and evade Zhou Yixuan's palm. But then something uncanny happened. This Zhou Yixuan, ever the mountebank, ever so ordinary and unremarkable—that seemingly weightless, drifting palm—for all Ming Li's cultivation and attainment, he stood rooted where he was and failed to dodge it, and was thus lightly patted by Zhou Yixuan.

Ming Li's heart jolted, but before he could react, words far more startling issued from Zhou Yixuan's mouth: "And moreover—you are the only person in this world to have cultivated all four volumes of the Heavenly Book. How could you be the same as anyone else?"

At these words Ming Li's whole body shook. That he had cultivated the four volumes of the Heavenly Book was a matter he had always kept secret. Indeed, the third volume, obtained from the Heavenly Emperor's Treasury, and the fourth, obtained from the wordless jade wall of the Fanyin Temple—even Lu Xueling and the monks of Fanyin Temple did not know that those wondrous texts were all of one lineage, the Heavenly Book. Only he, having cultivated them from first to last, understood that these were the four volumes of the Heavenly Book.

And yet now Zhou Yixuan, to his face, had clearly and plainly exposed this secret. How could he not be shaken? For a time his face was full of disbelief as he stared at Zhou Yixuan.

Zhou Yixuan smiled faintly. "You are surprised, but there is no need for this."

Ming Li studied the old man before him carefully, up and down. After a long while he suddenly smiled, stepped back, straightened his robes, and made a respectful bow. "This junior has been rude, and has slighted you in times past, Senior. But there is a perplexity in my heart that I cannot resolve—will you resolve it for me?"

Zhou Yixuan's expression was composed. That this figure of world renown should show him such respect seemed to cause him not the slightest embarrassment. He only said, "The doubts and perplexities in your heart—if another could tell you the answers, then with your understanding and the profundity of the Heavenly Book, how could you fail to grasp them yourself?"

Ming Li fell silent, then said slowly, "Does Senior mean to say that the perplexity in my heart is, in truth, beyond resolving?"

Zhou Yixuan smiled and shook his head. "Wrong. The very thing that confounds you is meant to be resolved by you alone. The wondrous teachings of the Heavenly Book that you cultivate—surely among them there is something about drawing near to and awakening to one's own true nature."

Ming Li pondered for a moment, then nodded. "Yes. Awakening to one's own true nature—the Buddha dwells within the heart, not outside the body. That is where the Heavenly Book comes closest to the Buddhist way."

"Just so," said Zhou Yixuan. "What is a man born into this world for? That is precisely what you must awaken to yourself. I may offer you a hint or two, but I cannot put it into words for you."

With that, he smiled, clasped his hands behind his back, and walked off to one side.

Ming Li fell silent again. After a long while, the bewilderment on his face had not faded in the least. "Birth, death, parting, separation—these four words are all I have seen of human life. May I ask you, Senior, is human nature suffering from the very root?"

Zhou Yixuan laughed. "Wrong, wrong. Your life has been full of hardship, and so you take it that all men suffer. But that is not so. Let me ask you—do you think your own lot is bitter?"

Ming Li was taken aback. He opened his mouth, then stopped, and Zhou Yixuan had already laughed and said, "What, no easy answer? Take your master and mistress, who passed away not long ago—do you think they were suffering?"

Ming Li stammered, "Master and Mistress... they..."

Zhou Yixuan's expression turned grave. "Tian Buhui died where he belonged; he had no regrets in death, and departed with a smile. And your mistress Su Wan—she and your master were bound by the deepest love, and she would not live on alone. You think she took her own life in grief, but do you not know that where her soul has gone, she is reunited with her husband, and that this is the very thing that gladdened her most?"

Ming Li was stunned and for a moment could not speak.

Zhou Yixuan said mildly, "You grieve over the passing of Tian Buhui and his wife, never guessing that those two may be the clearest-sighted and most content of all. To measure others by your own heart—is that not absurd?"

Here Zhou Yixuan suddenly smiled, and looking at Ming Li, said, "Are you afraid to die?"

Ming Li hesitated, then gave a low sigh. "I am."

"Oh? Then I must ask you—what is it you fear? Is it the word 'death' itself?"

Ming Li shook his head silently. "Since I have no desire for immortality, I hardly care about dying. What I fear is that after I die, my dearest wish will go unfulfilled."

Zhou Yixuan smiled. "There it is. You may have seen through life and death, yet there remains in your heart something weightier than either. Rather than endlessly asking me about the confusion in your heart, why not think well on these weightier matters?"

Ming Li's brows knit, and his eyes lit up, as though he had grasped something—yet his face did not clear; instead he sank into still deeper reflection. Zhou Yixuan did not disturb him, but quietly withdrew to one side and looked up. The bright moon hung in the sky, and its light, like water, poured down over all.

Over the open wilderness the evening wind sighed; the stars wheeled, the Dipper turned, and the vault of heaven stretched boundless.

He gazed for a long while, then suddenly heaved a deep sigh.

Behind him came Ming Li's voice. "Senior, is there something in your heart as well that you cannot see through?"

"I?"

Zhou Yixuan did not turn. He still gazed at that bright moon at the far edge of the sky, and after a long while he said, lightly, "Since I am still wandering in this world, then I too have thoughts I cannot see through."

"Oh? What are they?"

Zhou Yixuan smiled faintly. "What I cannot see through is this wheel of reincarnation."

Canglan Mountain, Xiaozhu Peak.

From the very beginning, Xiaozhu Peak had been home only to female disciples, and so its atmosphere differed from that of the other lineages of Qingyun. It had always been quiet and peaceful; even by day it was often wholly still, with only birdsong and the fragrance of flowers echoing over this lovely peak.

But ever since yesterday, when Master Shuijing had returned with a company of disciples from the funeral at Dazhu Peak, the calm of Xiaozhu Peak had been tinged with a certain solemnity and oppression. Many of the younger female disciples had seen for the first time how Master Shuijing could not conceal her desolation and grief—she whose cultivation should long since have taught her to keep joy and sorrow from her face.

Wen Pei had always been the one who best understood Master Shuijing's heart, and she had early sent word to her sisters to mind their conduct, and above all not to laugh or talk loudly, lest they inadvertently provoke their master. Under such counsel, Xiaozhu Peak was naturally hushed and grave.

And since returning from Dazhu Peak, Master Shuijing had shut herself away in that bamboo-grove retreat and had not shown herself again. Wen Pei and the other disciples had ventured to inquire after her, but had not been admitted; this had left Wen Pei and the rest somewhat anxious.

This day, Wen Pei had gone a full day and night without seeing Master Shuijing come out of the bamboo retreat, and her heart grew fretful. She sought out Lu Xueling to come with her. Lu Xueling seemed to be in low spirits too and had not wished to come, but under Wen Pei's repeated urging she too began to feel some concern for Master Shuijing, and so came along.