Another storm

Initially, it was a group of literati and scholars who came because of her reputation. They would visit her with invitations or take the opportunity to tour the place, all just to catch a glimpse of this legendary talented woman. If they could have tea and discuss philosophy with "Wangji Daoren" and obtain even a few words from her, it would be something to be proud of among their friends.

The abbess of Jingxu Temple was delighted with this, and even specially cleaned up a side hall in the front courtyard to turn it into a tea room, preparing tea and snacks for Xuanji to talk with visiting scholars. She smiled and chatted with them, subtly mentioning the temple's poverty and the need for repairs to the halls, which prompted many people to generously donate incense oil.

Although Xuanji disliked social engagements, she gradually lowered her guard as she saw that most of her visitors genuinely admired her talent. She discussed poetry and painting with scholars, and even talked about the customs of the Western Regions and the political situation at court, often making surprising remarks. Her poetic style, blending profound reflections on her personal experiences with a detached perspective, became increasingly valued. Although *Journey to the West* was attributed to Yang Che, the fact that its true author was Yu Xuanji gradually spread, adding to her legendary status.

For a time, the "Yunqi Courtyard" of Xianyi Temple gradually became a special gathering place in Chang'an City.

The abbess of Jingxu Temple was secretly delighted and offered her full support. She even spared money to publish Xuanji's poetry collection, titled "The Collection of Forgetful Thoughts," which included the best of her recent poems. As soon as the collection was published, due to Xuanji's name and the genuine feelings of vicissitudes expressed in it, many people wanted to buy it, and even people from the palace came to read it.

That afternoon, a small-scale discussion was being held at Yunqi Academy. Xuanji and several familiar scholars were enjoying tea and discussing philosophy. The topic gradually expanded from recent poems and essays to the doctrines of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism, and the atmosphere was harmonious.

However, a scholar who appeared to be in his early twenties suddenly put down his teacup, his voice carrying the clear, youthful indignation that was characteristic of young people:

"...Just now, I listened to everyone's eloquent discussion, all praising Daoist Wangji's talent and eloquence. However, I have something to say, which I feel like a fishbone stuck in my throat, and I must get it out!"

His gaze shifted to Xuanji, who sat at the head of the table, his tone sharp and stubborn, characteristic of a young man: “Even if a woman is talented, she should still know the great rules of propriety! The sages said, ‘A woman’s virtue lies in her lack of talent!’ Even if she is somewhat literate, she should remain secluded in her chambers, cultivating her character and temperament, in accordance with the virtues of a woman! Now, she is openly gathering men in this Taoist temple, composing poems and exchanging verses, showing her face in public. What kind of decorum is this? Such behavior is nothing short of defiling this sacred Buddhist place of cultivation!”

His words were like oil poured into boiling water, and the room fell silent instantly.

As one of the masters, Abbot Jingxu immediately frowned, about to speak. Xuanji, however, slightly raised her hand, meeting the young scholar's aggressive gaze with a calm expression.

"Talent is not a woman's fault. Without talent, how can one express one's heart? Since the world allows men to gain fame through talent, why forbid women from expressing their feelings through literature? I express my aspirations through poetry and make friends through literature. This is not a transgression, but a way of guarding my heart—where the heart leads, talent follows. This is my virtue."

The young scholar, his face flushed, tried to argue, "But the 'Admonitions for Women' says—"

"The 'Admonitions for Women' teaches women to be gentle and obedient, but it does not teach them to be ignorant." Xuanji interrupted gently, "Ban Zhao wrote the 'Book of Han,' and Cai Yan composed 'The Hu Jia'—are these talented women who have left their mark on history all considered immoral in the eyes of this humble layman?"

She gently set down her teacup, her gaze sweeping over the assembled scholars before finally settling on the young man.

Under Xuanji's probing questions, the young scholar was speechless, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

“Young layman!” Abbot Jingxu also chimed in at the opportune moment, “Today’s gathering is co-hosted by this humble Taoist and fellow Taoist Wangji. All those invited are refined scholars who admire the Tao and aspire to learn. To exchange knowledge and enlighten wisdom here is the very duty of our Xuanmen cultivation. How can it be called ‘corruption’? This young layman comes to visit, yet presumptuously uses his sharp tongue to slander our host. Is this perhaps the ‘propriety’ taught by the sages?”

Another older scholar at the table stroked his beard and said, “Nephew, your words are too biased. Daoist Wangji is a man of the secular world, and we admire his talent and insight. When discussing the Dao, what difference is there between men and women? To associate with someone based on talent and learning is a fine thing. You are still young and should not make rash judgments, lest you be impolite.”

The young scholar, repeatedly refuted by the two men for being "young" and "rude," blushed deeply. He retorted, "Those who walk different paths cannot make plans together!" He then turned and stormed off, almost as if fleeing.

The storm has subsided for now.

After the gathering ended, Abbot Jingxu came to Xuanji Room, his tone tinged with helplessness: "I never expected that such a reckless young man would sneak into the gathering today, causing you, fellow Daoist, such an unnecessary disturbance."

Xuanji remained calm, but her eyes held a cold glint in them: "The Abbot's response was appropriate, and Xuanji is grateful. However, the words 'propriety' carry a weight heavier than a thousand pounds. Today you may avoid direct criticism, but tomorrow you may not be able to avoid a hidden arrow from behind." She felt a profound sense of powerlessness and bewilderment.

The abbot of Jingxu Temple remained silent for a moment, then sighed, “Indeed, public opinion is a fearsome thing, and many voices can melt metal. But your talent, fellow Daoist, is like an awl in a bag; its tip will soon be revealed. How can we give up eating because of a choking incident? We have acted uprightly and sat straight; we only seek peace of mind.”

That day, Xuanji strolled to the main hall of Xianyi Temple, as if only in front of the compassionate, downcast statue could he find a moment of solace and answers.

Xuanji quietly gazed upon the jade statue of Guanyin in the center, its eyes lowered in a gentle smile. The Buddha's face was full and round, its robes flowing like clouds, and its fingers lightly touched a willow branch, as if it were about to sprinkle sweet dew upon the world at any moment.

Just as he was lost in thought, a gentle voice came from beside him: "Taoist, you are contemplating this image, your spirit wandering beyond the mundane world. Have you gained some insight?"

Xuanji came to his senses and saw a woman who looked to be about fifty years old. She was wearing a dark brown Hangzhou brocade jacket and had only a plain silver ruyi hairpin in her hair. She had a calm and dignified demeanor. Beside her was an old nanny with gray hair and a kind face.

Xuanji clasped his hands in a gesture of respect: "This humble Taoist, Wangji, greets the two laymen. Madam, you are insightful and discerning. Just now, seeing the Bodhisattva's lowered eyes, I was indeed reminded of that story at the Vulture Peak Assembly—when the World-Honored One held up a flower, millions of humans and gods could not understand its meaning, but only Venerable Kasyapa smiled."

The old woman smiled slightly and introduced herself, "My surname is Zheng, and this is Granny Qin."

Then her eyes flickered slightly: "The Taoist saw it clearly. The Buddha's offering of a flower was a 'manifestation,' and Kasyapa's smile was 'enlightenment.' This manifestation and enlightenment are precisely the manifestation of the mind." She raised her sleeve and pointed to the jade statue of Guanyin, "Look at this Bodhisattva. Although she did not offer a flower, she showed people her full Dharma form. The place where she lowered her eyes was the moment she offered the flower; if sentient beings understand, is it not also Kasyapa's smile?"

Xuanji pondered intently, and his mind suddenly became clear: "Does Madam mean that this main hall is Mount Ling, and this moment is the same as back then?"

“Indeed.” Madam Zheng nodded slightly. “The moon is always bright; it appears when the clouds disperse. Since the Taoist has seen the moonlight shining through the clouds, it is good news.”

Xuanji was startled by her words and said softly, "Thank you for your guidance, Madam. I call myself 'Forget-Machine,' and I know that I should eliminate all scheming and return to nature. However, sometimes I still seek the Way in words, forgetting the principle that 'the Way is in the ordinary.'"

Madam Zheng shook her head: "Although poetry and prose are minor arts, they can still reflect one's temperament. The name 'Forget-Me-Not' is very good. Only by forgetting worldly concerns can one attain true enjoyment. The scenery beyond the Great Wall described by the Daoist could not have been written by someone without profound knowledge and experience."

Madam Zheng continued, “In your travelogue, you recorded Zen Master Huiming’s teachings. Zen Master Huiming also said, ‘The Buddha’s teachings are in the world, and enlightenment is not separate from the world.’ Since you are already at Xianyi Temple, why not treat this place as a place of practice and regard the scholars who come and go as fellow practitioners? Use poetry as a mirror and literature as a raft to ferry others and ferry yourself.”

These words were like a gentle spring breeze and a soothing rain, washing away the last trace of confusion in Xuanji's heart.

She rose and bowed deeply to Madam Zheng: "Thank you for your guidance, Madam. I understand the mystery now."

Madam Zheng nodded with a smile.

Xuanji then invited them to a secluded room in the temple. The two talked about everything from Buddhist art to poetry and literature, from the scenery of Northwest China to their life experiences. Madam Zheng said, "When I accompanied my husband to his post, we stayed in Dunhuang for several years. The people and customs of Shazhou were very different from those in the Central Plains. There were many women who managed the household, engaged in business, and even participated in community affairs. Their talent and courage were in no way inferior to men. It can be seen that when Heaven and Earth create people, they endow them with spirituality, and there is no distinction between men and women."

Upon hearing this, Xuanji's eyes flashed with a glint of light: "The lady once lived in Dunhuang?"

“Indeed,” Madam Zheng said, a look of reminiscence in her eyes. “It was more than twenty years ago. Back then, caravans could be seen every day, their camel bells echoing across the desert; the murals in the grottoes were dazzling. Although we were living in a foreign land, we felt our hearts were broadened. In his ‘Journey to the West,’ the Taoist described the scenery of Shazhou and mentioned that the Mogao Grottoes murals were ‘flying apsaras with robes like clouds, as if they were about to break through the wall and fly away.’ It was a wonderful description! When I first saw them, I was just as shocked.”

Xuanji hadn't had such a congenial conversation in a long time, and before she knew it, her initial awkwardness had quietly dissipated. She even talked about her early days working with Wen Tingyun on compiling the county annals, and Madam Zheng listened attentively, her eyes occasionally showing a knowing look.

As the sun began to set, the light inside the hall dimmed. Madam Zheng gazed at the last rays of sunlight filtering through the window and said softly, "A conversation with the Daoist was like drinking fine wine. It's a pity it's getting late; I must take my leave."

Xuanji felt reluctant to part with her: "If you have any free time, Madam, you are welcome to visit the temple often."

Madam Zheng gave her a deep look, her gaze gentle: "Take care, Daoist. To settle your heart with your talent and writing is the best form of cultivation. Away from the chaos of the world, one can see one's true nature more clearly."

The two bowed to each other in farewell, their figures slowly disappearing at the end of the long corridor outside the hall.