Chapter 117: Zen Sayings Conceal Wisdom, A Cup of Tea Talks About the Past
The shadow of the crape myrtle was stretched slantingly by the morning light. As she climbed over the threshold of the main hall, she ran into Xiaoyanzi, dragging the crape myrtle inside. A corner of her aquamarine skirt was lifted by the wind, and she clutched a half-finished orchid handkerchief in her hand. The tassels on her hairpins tinkled and swayed gently with her steps.
"Grandpa Abbot, this is the Ziwei I was telling you about!" Xiaoyanzi pushed Ziwei in front of the abbot and then jumped to his side like a little bird, her fingertips unconsciously curling the corner of her monk's robe. "She can write poetry, and her handwriting is beautiful, just like the people in the paintings!"
Ziwei hurriedly bowed and said softly, "Hello, Abbot. I often hear Xiaoyanzi mention you. She says that your chess skills and Buddhist teachings are very profound." She caught a glimpse of the book "A Brief Explanation of Zen Chess" on the table. The handwriting on the cover was round and hidden, and she couldn't help but take a few more glances.
The abbot clasped his hands together in return, his gaze lingering on Ziwei's face for a moment before turning to Xiaoyanzi. The smile in his old eyes was as soft as cotton wool soaked in warm water. "You are all good children." He stood up, twirling his Buddhist beads. "Girl, I'd like to see the complete copy of 'A Brief Explanation of Zen Chess' that you copied. Could you please come to the study?"
Xiaoyanzi's heart skipped a beat, and her fingertips loosened the monk's robe, causing several wrinkles at the corners. She quickly glanced at Xiao Jian, and when she saw her brother nod at her, she forced a calm smile, "Of course! Grandpa Abbot, please come this way. I have freshly brewed Rain-Previous Longjing tea in my study!"
The scent of ink lingered in the study. On the desk lay Xiaoyanzi's half-rehearsed copy of the qin sheet music for "The Sound of Bells and Chimes," with a half-dried ink stick pressed beside it. Morning light slanted in through the window lattice, casting a gridded pattern on the floor, and dust danced softly in the light. Xiaoyanzi busied herself making tea, the bubbling sound of the kettle bringing some relief.
"Please sit down." The abbot sat down on the armchair by the window and watched Xiaoyanzi push the celadon teacup in front of him. The steam from the tea blurred her slightly red ears. "Where's the copybook you made? Bring it to me and let me see it."
Xiaoyanzi took the blue cloth-covered volume from the bookshelf, her fingertips trembling slightly as she handed it over. This was the copy she had spent three months on, with every page meticulously crafted, even the stitching on the spine mimicking the original.
The abbot flipped open the book, his fingertips lightly brushing across the pages, his gaze slowly moving over the handwriting. From the awkwardness of the first page to the fluidity of the last, the intensity of the ink belied the girl's tenacity. "You wrote the word 'empty' seven times before finalizing it," he suddenly said, his voice as gentle as the wind across the scroll. "The first time, too hastily, the second too slowly. It wasn't until the seventh time that the meaning of 'loose but not scattered' was achieved."
Xiaoyanzi paused, her teacup in her hand nearly spilling. She remembered copying the calligraphy, recalling the desperate yet unwilling suffocation she felt in the clan prison in her past life. The words she wrote were filled with a tense energy. It wasn't until Xiao Jian sat quietly with her in the bamboo forests of Jiangnan for an entire afternoon that she finally achieved a stroke she was satisfied with. "How did Grandpa Abbot know..."
"Words reflect the heart, and the heart reflects the state of mind." The abbot closed the book and placed it on the table, spinning his Buddhist beads half a circle between his fingers. "Even when I was at Hanshan Temple, I felt that the look in your eyes was not what a sixteen-year-old should have." He looked up at Xiaoyanzi, his gaze gentle but as if he could see through people's hearts. "Sometimes at night, I hear you practicing sword in the bamboo forest. The aura in your sword is not wrapped in the spirit of youth, but... the protection of a person who has experienced many hardships."
Xiaoyanzi's fingertips suddenly dug into her palm, not even noticing the coldness of the tea. She lowered her eyes, her long lashes casting a shadow under her eyes. "Grandpa Abbot..." her voice was as soft as a mosquito's hum, but her heart was filled with turmoil - did he know?
"I don't care about the past," the abbot interrupted her, taking a sip of tea from his cup. The fragrance of the tea dispelled the tension in the study. "The Buddha said, 'Everything is destined; only the mind is free.' If the secrets you hold bring peace of mind, then keep them; if they become shackles, try to let go." He pointed out the window. Ziwei and Fang's mother were watering orchids in the courtyard. The sun fell on her hair, warm and cozy. "Just like this orchid, it was an orchid last year in Jiangnan, and it's still an orchid this year in Beijing. Where the roots are, the soul is."
Xiaoyanzi followed his gaze. Ziwei was smiling back toward the study, the water droplets from the kettle in her hand sparkling in the sunlight. Suddenly, she remembered Ziwei in her past life, calling her "sister" at the execution ground. Her nose felt sore, and tears nearly fell. "I'm afraid..." her voice broke, "I'm afraid that if I do it again, I'll mess it up again."
The abbot pushed the copy of "A Brief Explanation of Zen Chess" toward her. The word "Zen" on the cover shone softly in the morning light. "Girl, look at this character. Its straight lines conceal harmony. How can there be absolute perfection in life? Being able to hold onto the warmth in the present moment is the best form of spiritual practice." He pulled a small wooden fish pendant from his sleeve pocket and handed it to her. "The bell tower of the royal temple is in need of a pianist. If you have time, go sit there often. The sound of the bells can purify your mind."
The wooden fish pendant was made of mahogany, smooth and warm from being rubbed, and with a faint sandalwood scent. Xiaoyanzi took it, her fingertips clenched tightly, and the tense defenses in her heart softened as if soaked in warm water, slowly loosening. "Thank you, Grand Abbot." She looked up, her eyes red, but her smile revealed two dimples. "When I enter the palace, I'll play 'The Sound of Bells and Chimes' for the Bodhisattva in the bell tower."
"Entering the palace?" The abbot raised an eyebrow in feigned surprise. Seeing Xiaoyanzi sticking out her tongue and laughing sheepishly, he also laughed. "Then you must practice your piano even more diligently. The Bodhisattvas in the palace also like to listen to pure music."
From outside the window drifted Ziwei's laughter, mingling with Fang's mother's exhortations and the distant clink of Xiao Jian's swordplay. Morning light filtered through the window paper, casting a warm glow on the cover of "A Brief Explanation of Zen Chess." The sandalwood fragrance of the wooden fish pendant, blending with the scent of ink and tea, quietly permeated the study. Xiaoyanzi stroked the pendant, suddenly feeling a sense of peace of mind. No matter how many walls lay ahead, at least the warmth she felt now was truly within her grasp.
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