Chapter 226: East, West, South, North

For a thousand years, the fierce debates between Buddhism and Taoism have been like a vast mire. Throughout history, even the most esteemed figures from both religions couldn't escape this common practice, either engaging in heated debates in imperial courts or writing books to denigrate each other. They all had to wallow in this mud several times, with few ever being recognized by later generations as truly untainted. Only in the last century, with the emergence of a white-robed monk who journeyed west for scriptures, was the current dynasty's awkward religious hierarchy—Confucianism first, then Taoism, with Buddhism at the bottom—somewhat alleviated. However, the concept of "sudden enlightenment," once it appeared, dealt a huge blow to both the white-robed monk and Liangchan Temple. This tall monk once joked that the dispute between Buddhism and Taoism was like two old farmers in a village fighting over irrigation water for their fields. The water source was the same, but the quantity was limited. Whoever managed to steal, grab, or trick more water into their own field would have a better harvest. Naturally, quarrels over water would lead to clashes: first verbal arguments, then physical fights if persuasion failed. And if all else failed, whoever had a better relationship with the local official would call in the armed authorities to resolve it.

This was, of course, the white-robed monk's self-deprecating way of subtly criticizing Mount Longhu's Taoist sect for its closeness to the imperial court and favor with the monarch, which historically led to no fewer than six anti-Buddhist campaigns, from the palace and court down to the common folk. On two previous occasions, the white-robed monk single-handedly fought against more than a dozen enlightened Grand Daoist Masters on the Golden Summit, the ancestral home of Taoism, winning through methods akin to "losing eight hundred to kill a thousand." Strangely, in previous decennial debates between Buddhism and Taoism, even when one side achieved a decisive victory, they would still face countless criticisms afterward. Only the white-robed monk, who never spoke excessively, managed to win despite staggering, and even the extremely arrogant old Daoist immortals of Mount Longhu could only offer a wry smile, harboring no significant resentment. In recent years, some Daoist Masters from outside Mount Longhu have frequently quoted and adopted Buddhist principles in various texts to criticize and oppose Buddhism, then carried their book boxes to Liangchan Temple to debate with the white-robed monk. Without exception, after descending the mountain, they would become completely silent, refusing to speak a word no matter how outsiders questioned them.

Outside the thatched hut on the back mountain of Liangchan Temple, two bald monks, one large and one small, were sunbathing. This area was too close to the forbidden Stele Forest, so there were few visitors, and thus none of the temple's overpowering incense smell that even covering one's nose couldn't block. Behind the hut was a vegetable patch and a chicken coop, and in front, two peach trees, neither very old. A red peach tree was planted when the middle-aged monk's daughter was born. Later, after somehow "tricking" the little simpleton Wu Nanbei, he planted another weeping green peach tree. The back mountain was shady, so the peach trees grew slowly, with sparse branches. At this moment, their branches were verdant, and the small flower buds were far from plump.

Every year on the two children's birthdays, Nanbei's master's wife would grab a cleaver and take the two children, who were born on the same day, month, and year, to the peach trees to carve their heights. In earlier years, Li Dongxi, being a girl, developed earlier and grew quickly. On every birthday, she was as cheerful as a siskin, chirping incessantly and constantly touching simpleton Nanbei's small bald head, teasing him for being a "shorty." Unfortunately, the tables turned. As she entered adolescence and he became a teenager, Li Dongxi grew displeased. Now Wu Nanbei was taller than her, which made Miss Li a little melancholic. What if simpleton Nanbei grew as tall as his father? Wouldn't she have to stand on tiptoes just to touch his head?

The young monk didn't have to explain scriptures today, and tomorrow he was to replace his master and go to the Lotus Golden Summit of Mount Longhu. The young monk was, after all, a remarkably eloquent speaker at Liangchan Temple, capable of convincing others with reason despite his youth, and showed no signs of stage fright. He merely asked, somewhat dejectedly, "Master, tomorrow I'm going to Mount Longhu to argue with them. Why are there still Daoists coming up the mountain to chatter at you?"

The white-robed monk lay on a rattan chair, stroking his bald head. Noticing his wife stepping out of the hut to wash clothes, he said firmly, "Everyone, both up and down the mountain, knows your wife is a good cook. They're here for a free meal."

The young monk, truly naive, honestly replied, "Ah? Then why did you tell me yesterday, behind wife's back, that the spring chives dish had too much salt and asked me for water? I thought it was perfectly seasoned. But these Daoists are really pushing their luck! Although guests are to be respected, you and wife made a whole table of food for them, they ate it, and then they still want to argue with you. When they can't win, they throw a tantrum and act unruly. Fine, Master, you were annoyed by their noise, so you took them behind the hut to ask them to finish their arguments with their fists. Then they cursed you and even hit you, and in the end, wife still had to apologize with a smile, saying it was our fault. Ah, what a world!”

The white-robed monk's shoulder was fiercely pinched by the woman. So much for being indestructible like a Vajra! The bald monk frowned, looking utterly pitiful. After his wife, carrying a basin, snorted and walked away, he lightly patted his simple-minded disciple's head and glared, though he didn't verbally reprimand the young monk for his lack of perception.

Simpleton Nanbei scratched his head. Indeed, as Dongxi always said, it was quite slippery, like a wooden fish drum. The young monk sighed, "Master, can I really do it? If I lose the argument then, what if the old abbot doesn't even give us copper coins? My master's wife will definitely blame me then."

The lazily middle-aged monk irresponsibly replied, "The old abbot says you can. So, can you?"

The young monk hesitated, "Well, maybe not? The old abbot tells everyone 'yes, yes, yes.' Half a year ago, that foreign monk from India said he wanted to build a temple and preach, and the old abbot agreed without a second thought, completely infuriating Abbot Huixian and whom others who had coveted that piece of land for years. Also, a month ago, Uncle Faling said he wanted to return to secular life, stop being a monk, and go down the mountain to become a butcher who drinks and eats meat. For such a big matter, the old abbot just smiled and said 'yes, yes.' And just two days ago, eight-year-old junior brother Yongfa ran into the old abbot's meditation room and threatened to pee there if he wasn't given candy, and the old abbot agreed all the same."

The white-robed monk simply said "Oh," nonchalantly, and retorted, "Dongxi says you can. So, can you?"

Simpleton Nanbei's eyes immediately lit up. He grinned foolishly and said, "I think I can."

The white-robed monk said impatiently, "Then what are you babbling about? Go see how Dongxi is doing with packing your bag. Even my own daughter doesn't treat me like this. You annoy me when I see you. Go, go!"

The young monk mumbled, "But Master, you're not going on a long journey down the mountain."

Seeing his master glare, simpleton Nanbei quickly lifted himself from the small stool and ran towards the simple thatched hut. As he jogged, his preaching monk's kasaya, which his master's wife had washed spotlessly clean, fluttered gently with its wide sleeves, seeming to attract no dust.

The white-robed monk closed his eyes and said lazily, "Your master walked tens of thousands of miles on one journey, completing a lifetime's worth of travel."

The thatched hut had three rooms. Simpleton Nanbei's room was next to Li Dongxi's. Inside the small room, apart from a bed, a table, a stool, a green lamp, and a few Buddhist scriptures on the table, there were surprisingly no other superfluous items. This stood in stark contrast to the chaotic pots, pans, and utensils in his master and master's wife's room, and the scattered beloved trinkets in Li Dongxi's boudoir. Li Dongxi sat on simpleton Nanbei's neatly folded cotton quilt on the narrow wooden bed, fussing over a simple hemp travel bag. It contained only a few changes of clothes, but she had also tucked in some copper coins and small silver pieces she had begged from her mother. Half the money was for simpleton Nanbei to buy Buddhist scriptures, while the rest was for him to buy some affordable rouge and powder, scholar-beauty novels, and small, carved cosmetic boxes when he went down the mountain. She was currently worrying if the money would be enough, her small brows furrowed, her expression identical to her father's. Wu Nanbei noticed but said nothing, secretly amused.

"Here, simpleton Nanbei, take this string of sandalwood prayer beads. Xu Fengnian gave them to me. He said that when you're out and about, you need to have some flair, otherwise many people will look down on you. It's a loan, mind you, not a gift."

"Master will be unhappy if he sees it. You usually don't even let him touch it. Master has already noted hundreds of 'knives' against His Royal Highness the Young Master in his ledger for this."

"Dead Nanbei, do you want them or not?!"

"Yes!"

"When you're out, be frugal, understand? As for the silver in the package, well, if you don't have enough money for books, then just buy less rouge and powder. Anyway, you're not good with words and don't know how to bargain, so you'll definitely be ripped off. The rouge down the mountain is passable anyway."

"Oh."

"Simpleton Nanbei, don't 'oh, oh, oh' me! This money is half for each of us, we agreed. You're not allowed to spend all of it on my rouge and powder, got it?!"

"Oh."

"Oh, you big dummy! Also, I had Dad pick and roast some tea leaves for you. When you get to Mount Longhu, give lots of gifts and smiles to everyone you meet. Monks from our family should all be as generous and magnanimous as my dad. But if you get beaten, don't be stubborn, just run home quickly! I'll tell Dad and have him get revenge for you!"

"Alright, I know what's important."

"One more thing, don't forget! If you meet Xu Fengnian, be sure to tell him to come visit our home."

"Absolutely."

"When Xu Fengnian comes up the mountain, will you help my dad or Xu Fengnian?"

"Help you, of course."

"Say that again!"

"Help Xu Fengnian."

"That's more like it."

Lying on the rattan chair, the white-robed monk listened to the playful bickering inside the hut and, for no particular reason, remembered a kind of "mien cha" (flour tea) he had eaten many winters ago in a small alley in the capital. It was made from finely ground millet, a very nourishing grain. The flour tea was scalding hot; with a gentle swirl, it would ripple in a small porcelain bowl. There was a particular, somewhat fastidious way of eating it: one had to sip carefully with lips close to the rim, rotating the small bowl. This way, the tea would be hot but not burn the tongue upon entry, and the tea in the bowl wouldn't cool down too quickly. Every part of one's body would feel warm. Icicles hung like cones from the eaves of houses throughout the streets and alleys, but drinking a bowl of such flour tea warmed both the body and the heart. Of course, what truly warmed him in the bitter cold was the woman sitting beside him. Perhaps she wasn't particularly beautiful, might have been a bit narrow-minded and even a little bossy, but in this vast world, among the immense crowds, in such a huge capital city with thousands of empty alleys and hundreds of thousands of people, he didn't see the Emperor, nor did he see the princes or high officials—he saw only her. Since he already revered and honored Buddha more than most people in the world, his heart was free of guilt; he felt worthy of having shaved off the "three thousand strands of earthly worries." He felt he didn't deserve those reverent gazes that saw him as a deity, so he blushed a little when he drank the flour tea with her, and especially when she paid the bill.

"Firewood, rice, oil, salt; coarse tea, plain food—that's good."

His wife said there were too many shameless women in that capital city and forbade him from going there again. If she said no, he wouldn't go.

The white-robed monk smiled, opened his eyes, and looked at the sun high in the sky, muttering to himself, "We're all old now."

The woman hanging clothes had sharp ears. Angrily, she demanded, "Which little hussy is shamelessly trying to seduce you now?!"

The unusually tall monk quickly got up and rushed to help hang clothes, smiling widely as he said, "Wife, let me do it, let me do it."

Li Dongxi, who had finished fussing over the travel bag, stood at the doorway, watching her loving parents. She thought about how her mother snored loud enough to shake the heavens and had terrible sleeping habits, yet her father, who was kicked out of bed every other day, didn't seem to mind at all. The young girl suddenly felt a little melancholic. Would Xu Fengnian like a girl like her?

The young girl's eyes reddened, and her lips curled into a pout full of maidenly sorrow. "Simpleton Nanbei, I know you won't meet Xu Fengnian when you go down the mountain."

The young monk panicked. "Then after Mount Longhu, I won't go home first. I'll go to Beiliang to find His Royal Highness the Young Master, okay?"

Li Dongxi stopped crying and burst into laughter, rolling her eyes. "Oh, forget it! I'm a female knight-errant; I don't care about such things!"

The young monk foolishly chuckled along.

The white-robed monk shook his head and sighed, wondering how he had taken in such a useless, simple-minded disciple.

The woman smiled knowingly, "It's better that Nanbei isn't like you."

That night, the young monk, simpleton Nanbei, slept soundly as usual. In contrast, Li Dongxi, who had no direct relation to the argument, tossed and turned, unable to sleep, only managing to fall asleep very late.

In the early morning, a centenarian monk of extremely high seniority personally came to the thatched hut on the back mountain to escort the Zen-lecturing monk to the Mahavira Hall. Led by the old abbot, whose beard and hair were like snow, some old reclusive monks in the temple also specially emerged from their retreats. At least three to four hundred bald monks in kasayas gathered in the square, not to mention many young novices and bald children hiding in the distance to watch the excitement. It was an unprecedented spectacle, rarely seen in a decade. If Li Dongxi had seen this scene, she would have rolled her eyes until she was tired. As a child, she used to enjoy counting how many bald heads there were when monks chanted scriptures, but counting them year after year, month after month, day after day, was never truly an interesting task. Fortunately, Miss Li slept late and hadn't gotten up yet. Neither the white-robed monk nor the young monk Wu Nanbei dared to wake her. This girl, who aspired to be a female knight-errant, had a terrible temper when woken up. Even the young monk's master's wife wouldn't easily risk it, let alone the master and disciple, who were the two with the least standing in the martial arts world among the four family members. Furthermore, Wu Nanbei was afraid that he wouldn't want to part when the time came, and Dongxi would either mock him or get angry if she saw it.

The crowd automatically parted.

The young monk with clear eyes and the languid white-robed monk walked side by side.

The old abbot, known for being good-natured, descended the steps with a smile. Seeing the young monk, he liked him from the bottom of his heart.

Just as the old abbot was about to speak, he saw the previously closed crowd part once more. Looking up, he spotted the 'biggest' little girl in Liangchan Temple running over, surprisingly crying as she ran.

Simpleton Nanbei's master's wife stopped at the edge of the square, her face full of helplessness.

The girl ran to her father and the simple-minded young monk, who had grown up together like childhood sweethearts. Crying all the way, her eyes were already swollen. She had probably fallen while rushing, as her body was covered in dust. She gripped a corner of the young monk's kasaya tightly and, heartbroken, cried, "Simpleton Nanbei, I had a nightmare!"

Even though the bald monks present were all renowned enlightened masters, at this sight, they all burst into good-natured laughter.

The white-robed monk and the old abbot exchanged a look, and both sighed faintly in unison.

Li Dongxi clung desperately to the young monk's kasaya, fearing that if she let go, she would never be able to grasp it again, nor ever see simpleton Nanbei, whom she naturally assumed would always be with her. Heartbroken, she choked out, "I dreamed you died and became a Buddha, and you said you were going west and would never talk to me again! I called you Wu Nanbei, I said I wouldn't call you simpleton Nanbei anymore, and I even told you to call me Li Zi and Dongxi, but you still ignored me and left! Nanbei, I dreamed you were standing beneath Beiliang City, and I was on the city wall, only able to watch you. In front of you were countless terrifying cavalry, hundreds of thousands, I don't know how many. But you said, 'The world is vast, but this humble monk needs only an inch of ground before Beiliang City to erect a monument of compassion for Li Zi.' Then those bad people all shot arrows at once. They didn't charge, just poured waves of arrows down on you! First, you bled, your whole kasaya turned red. Then you sat down on the spot, bowing your head to chant scriptures, and your blood turned golden! And then you became a Buddha. Dad said that's 'Bodhisattva's humble gaze and Vajra's angry eyes.' You became a Buddha, and you wouldn't see me anymore! Simpleton Nanbei, I don't want rouge and powder anymore! Please don't die, okay?"

The girl spoke disjointedly, her face tear-stained.

The young monk, whose debates with the old masters were so eloquent they seemed to make flowers fall from the sky and stones nod in agreement, probably felt sorry for Dongxi's sadness and started crying too.

All the monks in the square were utterly shocked!

They were completely overwhelmed with shock.

The old abbot lowered his eyelids, then gently looked at the white-robed monk. The latter smiled and said, "No matter. My disciple doesn't need to go to Mount Longhu. I'll go, Master, is that acceptable?"

The old abbot smiled slightly. What should have been a reasonable response was, this time, a huge surprise, and he nodded, saying, "Alright."

The young monk, simpleton Nanbei, straightened the lapel of his kasaya, clasped his hands together in a prayer gesture, and facing the old abbot, who was positioned high behind him, beneath the plaque of the Mahavira Hall, he softly bowed his head and said, "If this humble monk can truly attain Buddhahood, then from today onward, I no longer wish to become a Buddha."

16.