劍問蒼天 - 第176章 俗世佛堂 - 翰墨軒

It was far simpler here than below. The two passed through the central shrine, turned twice to the right, and came into the rear hall, where there were three quiet meditation rooms. Fa Cheng stepped up to the door of the middle one and called out clearly, "Master, benefactor Zhang Qingyue has arrived."

At once an old, kindly voice answered from within, "Let him come in."

Fa Cheng turned back and gestured for Ming Li to enter. Ming Li hesitated a moment, then stepped into the room—but he saw that Fa Cheng had halted outside, making no move to follow.

Entering the meditation room, Ming Li glanced around. The room was plain and unadorned, and its furnishings were almost exactly the same as those of the meditation room where he had lain convalescing below the mountain. And there, seated cross-legged on the meditation bed, holding a string of prayer beads, was the head of the world's orthodox sects, the abbot of Fanyin Temple, Abbot Pu Cheng, gazing at him with a smile.

"You have come," Abbot Pu Cheng said, his voice calm, smiling faintly.

Somehow, face to face with this holy monk, the turmoil in Ming Li's heart quickly settled. He drew a deep breath and nodded. "Yes."

Abbot Pu Cheng studied him carefully, from head to foot, his eyes glinting with an uncommon compassion and light, the beads turning gently in his hand. At length he said, "You must have questions to ask me."

Ming Li nodded at once. "Yes. I am greatly puzzled—why did Fanyin Temple risk a falling-out with Canglan Gate to save me? And why did you...?"

He spoke in his eagerness, the words tumbling out quickly, but halfway through he stopped himself; Abbot Pu Cheng had raised his right hand and held it in the air, halting him.

Ming Li did not understand, and looked at the abbot in some bewilderment. Abbot Pu Cheng bowed his head and murmured a line of the Buddha's name, then rose from the meditation bed and stood facing Ming Li. "Before you ask me," he said, "let me take you to see someone first."

Ming Li started. "See someone? Who?"

Pu Cheng did not answer, only walked toward the door, saying slowly as he went, "This person has wished to see you for a long time. And I know that you must wish to see him as well."

Ming Li was astonished, yet he followed instinctively. Somehow his palms had gone damp, and his heart had suddenly begun to race, as though ahead of him there waited something he feared.

Fa Cheng had been standing quietly outside the meditation room all the while. Seeing Abbot Pu Cheng bring Ming Li out so soon, his expression did not change; he simply stepped back and stood to one side. Abbot Pu Cheng glanced at him and nodded, and without a word led Ming Li off in another direction—toward the last of the three courtyards, the one that leaned against a sheer cliff.

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Note One: The carving of auspicious beasts on the flying eaves of halls was a building regulation unique to ancient China, with exceedingly detailed rules. From the emperor down to officials and common households, the number was strictly prescribed and could not be exceeded; to do so was disrespect, punishable by death, even to the extinction of one's clan. A roof bearing ten auspicious beasts existed in only one place in all of China since ancient times—the Hall of Supreme Harmony in the Forbidden City, sole in the world. This passage is fiction; let the reader but smile and read on.

Note Two: Burning incense and worshipping on the first and fifteenth of the lunar month was widespread in China, where Buddhism spread widely—sometimes called dharma services, sometimes Buddha assemblies, from Beijing's Yonghe Temple to the little shrines of Fujian's villages in the south, and mostly so. I grew up watching my grandmother burn incense, and she does so still; as I set down these words, thinking of it, I cannot help but sigh.