劍問蒼天 - 第181章 無字玉壁 - 翰墨軒

The long, slow tolling of the bell echoed once more across Mount Sumeru, proclaiming the start of a new day.

The newborn sun poked a small halo of light over the eastern horizon, spilling its first rays down upon the world. Already on the mountain paths of the early morning, many common folk were making their way along the stone steps toward that magnificent temple, most of them carrying incense and candles for offering, their faces full of devotion. Some families had even brought their children along to worship; the children, in their innocence, felt no weariness at all on these mountain paths, and many of the youngsters ran and leapt back and forth, a picture of delight.

The morning mist hung half-dissolved, lingering outside the Fan Yin Temple, and the air felt somewhat damp and heavy. The monks who had risen early had already finished the morning rites required of each day, and now they were sweeping the courtyards, gently brushing aside the leaves that had fallen the night before.

The whole of Fan Yin Temple seemed at this hour solemn and still, bathed in the faint mountain breeze, and with the wind came the fragrance of leaves, now there, now gone.

The bell's sound drifted outward, guiding the people below the mountain, and coiled through the temple as well, rousing those who slept.

From sleep, he slowly woke.

How long had it been since he had fallen asleep so peacefully and woken so calmly? Even in his dreams he had been utterly at ease, without a single dream at all—only deep slumber, quiet, deep slumber.

So this, then, was such a blissful feeling.

He listened in silence to the lingering bell, as though the place its sound drifted to were not the vast world beyond the walls but the inside of his own heart; he even had the sense that this bell had been rung for him alone.

Only when the bell had gradually died away did he slowly rise, pull open the door, and step outside. He lifted his head, expanded his chest, and drew a deep breath.

The damp breath of the mountains flowed into his heart, and a rare look of contentment slowly surfaced on his face. He truly wished to stand there forever—but just then a voice came from the courtyard gate:

"Benefactor Zhang, are you up?"

Ming Li turned to look. Fa Cheng stood not far from the doorway, smiling, watching him. He nodded and said, "Good morning."

Fa Cheng looked him over twice and smiled. "After these days of quiet rest, Benefactor, your wounds are largely healed. But they say that when a grave illness first leaves, it returns three parts; you must still take care with yourself. Mount Sumeru stands rather high, and morning and evening here are not like the mortal world below—the cold is severe. Take care, Benefactor."

Ming Li nodded. "Thank you for your concern; I will remember. Also, I wonder whether the Abbot, the Venerable Pu Cheng, has any leisure today. I should like to pay my respects to the Master and trouble him for a little while."

Fa Cheng smiled. "That is excellent, for I came on my master's orders precisely to invite Benefactor Zhang to come and see him after breakfast."

Ming Li was taken aback. "Oh? Does the Abbot have some matter to discuss with me?"

Fa Cheng said, "That, this humble monk does not know. But I imagine he wishes to ask how your wounds are healing."

Ming Li pondered a moment, then said, "If that is so, I shall go and pay my respects to the Abbot shortly."

Fa Cheng pressed his palms together. "There is no hurry, Benefactor. Just now the Abbot especially instructed that you were not to be rushed. My honored master is still in the meditation chamber of the Lesser Fan Yin Temple atop the mountain; if you have leisure later, Benefactor, simply go there yourself." He smiled faintly. "Within Fan Yin Temple, Benefactor, you may go wherever you wish, without any reservation."