Yunsheng Hall
It was midnight. The young monk was suddenly awakened by the meow of a cat. He listened carefully outside the window, but heard only the rustling of leaves in the wind. Unable to fall asleep, he lit a candle in the moonlight with a lighter and covered it with a glass cover. He did this secretly, wanting no one else to see him.
He walked out of the room and saw the moon overhead was exceptionally bright, the ground gleaming brightly, making the flashlight he'd brought with him completely unnecessary. Now that he was awake, he figured he'd do his duty and conduct a thorough inspection. He'd woken up around this time for many nights, a habit he'd long since formed. However, he'd often sit beneath the thousand-year-old purple locust tree, wondering why he couldn't sleep, or perhaps thinking about other things.
This temple was sparsely populated during the day, with little incense burning, and it was also very quiet at night. It always closed at eight o'clock, and he would inspect the lights everywhere, eat, and sleep. Life was that simple. Sometimes he would put on the ornate robes of the abbot and go to nearby scenic spots to earn some extra money. This was officially forbidden, but privately his superiors were happy with it. He now had food and drink, a long-term, leisurely job, and a little money in his pocket every month. He didn't need much money, so why did he still do that job? He thought, perhaps he still hadn't forgotten the pleasure of the world - making money.
Walking down the corridor, he quickly scanned the scriptures written on the wall, wondering how much of those words still held credence in today's society. He had been reading them for nearly a decade, but he hadn't yet internalized them as a goal or principle for his own spiritual practice.
Spring, summer, autumn, and winter pass, the wind blows and leaves fall. The moon hangs high, and he has a heart to lean on. He is content with this peaceful life. Using his identity as a monk to achieve this goal, is he no different from the others outside this temple?
The young monk first walked halfway around the temple walls and entered the backyard. It felt like a paradise, its landscape designed by a master. Pavilions, terraces, verandas, corridors. Winding paths, winding ponds. Plum blossoms, orchids, bamboo, chrysanthemums, fruits, and vegetables—everything was present, nothing was lacking. The master occasionally met with guests in the highest pavilion, where a waterfall cascaded down, its water splashing against rocks and breaking through the air. In the dead of night, the sound was eerie. He quickly retreated to the front yard, moving from behind the pagoda to the front.
The lanterns under the eaves were dim, the lights from the new electric bulbs installed a few years ago. They were turned off only at daybreak. In front of the pagoda stood a two-faced stone statue of a demon. The one facing the pagoda resembled Zhong Kui, wearing an official hat, bearded, and tall. In his left hand, he wielded a mace, in his right, a halberd, his mouth wide open, his eyes bulging with anger. The statue facing away from the pagoda smiled welcomingly, holding a basket in his left hand and flowers in his right.
A century ago, a scholar discussed this site and argued that the building was not part of Buddhist culture, but he lacked evidence to support his claim. Today, all that remains are the pagoda, the stone statue in front of it, and the thousand-year-old locust tree, making it even more difficult to study its historical origins.
The young monk stared at the statue for a long moment, hoping, as usual, that it would reveal something. He wondered who had brought them here a thousand years ago, and what their first day was like. On either side of the statue stood two acacia trees, hung with prayer ribbons from pilgrims. Some hung from the top of branches, fluttering at the highest point, while many more were within easy reach. The young monk took a quick look and noticed something was amiss with one of them.
It wasn't that the placement of the ribbon was wrong, but rather that it evoked the scent of a wild animal. As the ribbon fluttered in the wind, moving forward or backward, the scent drifted closer or farther. This didn't make sense. He turned on his flashlight and accurately located the distinctive ribbon hidden among the layers of prayer ribbons. Its end gleamed with tiny golden glints, and the young monk twisted it, his hand coated in a layer of gold dust. Nine characters were written on the ribbon, crammed tightly together. He didn't recognize the characters.
The young monk instantly became alert and felt movement behind him. He shone his flashlight towards the top of the tower. At the end of the light path, he saw a man in a red robe with a slanting collar and black edges, shielding his eyes with his arms. A black shadow quickly jumped behind the man.
Who is that? The young monk wondered. His heart was in his throat. Could it be some desperate criminal who had wandered here? He quickly shifted the flashlight, pointing it at his feet. He shone it again, only to find that the figure was no longer there. The young monk calmly turned off the flashlight and watched the other person's performance, wondering who that person was.
Behind the pagoda was a temple, its foundation roughly halfway up the pagoda. So even though the figure had hidden behind the pagoda, his shadow was clearly visible on the temple wall. He was hopping down the stairs like a nimble monkey. Could it really be a monkey? The young monk watched for a long time, no longer afraid, and even hoped he'd reveal his true form.
When the shadow reached the ground, it disappeared. The young monk saw something moving in the shadow, slowly approaching him.
He turned on the flashlight. The man again covered his face with his wide sleeves.
"Can you turn it off? It's too bright."
The voice was female. The young monk turned the flashlight in the direction of the person, and she slowly lowered her sleeves. He saw her bare feet.
"Aren't your feet uncomfortable?"
They were standing on a pebble-paved ground. Then, naturally, the young monk looked up at the face of the person before him. How could he put it? He felt a great distance from this person. It was like looking at a foreigner. It was clearly the face of a compatriot, but he and she didn't feel the same, living under the same sky.
"Do you still remember me?" Cang Yue asked mischievously, tilting his head, his big eyes as watery as grapes with dewdrops hanging on them.
"Then do you still remember me?" The young monk was actually not in his right mind. He felt as if his usually bright and clever brain had suddenly become rusty, stuck in a certain moment, sinking deeper and deeper into despair. He was simply parroting what he had heard.
The girl sighed. She hopped forward, her hands behind her back. "Of course I don't remember, but I know I've been here. Kind, isn't it? If only I could understand you, you could tell me what happened in the past, where we came from? ... But, have you forgotten, too?"
The little monk's ears were completely devoid of the girl's voice, leaving only the sound of wind ruffling leaves. He seemed to be able to move again, and suddenly collapsed on the stone, responding with a single question, "What's your name?"
The girl's face had become blurry in his mind. Even as he lay in bed, his eyes closed, a knot of unknown doubt still lingered in his heart. He felt very uncomfortable, but he still fell asleep. When he woke up just after five o'clock, he got up, took a broom, and went to sweep the courtyard, waiting for the morning sun to shine on the temple. This was his favorite thing to do.
But why did he keep looking up at the pagoda? What would appear there? He had no idea. Among the prayer ribbons hanging from the acacia tree was a strange one, stained with gold dust and the scent of cats, which lingered for a long time. And those words… what kind of symbols were they? The young monk also spotted a broken tile at the foot of the pagoda, and a footprint on the moss nearby. To his dismay, someone had thrown two tattered slippers into the water tank.
For the next few days, he felt the same way, constantly feeling like someone had broken in the night before. He even spoke closely with the person, and his body smelled exactly like the strange prayer belt, along with gold dust. But he couldn't recall anything. Had he encountered a demon? The young monk even suggested this hypothesis, but quickly dismissed it. He called the police, installed surveillance cameras, and staked out the suspect. But the next day, the symptoms remained unchanged.
The police said, "Young master, why don't you go to the hospital for a check-up? It would be good for you." The surveillance video did not show anyone behaving strangely. Only the young master was doing things in a weird way and talking to himself.
They clearly have a new smell on them.
At night, when he was about to close the door, a hand suddenly came in and pressed against the edge of the door. The little monk stopped and watched the hand push the door open. Then a tall, slender, white-faced man walked in, as if this was his home and he was the only one in charge.
"How come you have time to come here today? Do you want to burn some incense?" The little monk said to him respectfully.
Shuixi snorted and walked around carelessly, touching everything. "Why do you look like you don't welcome me? What happened?"
"How do you know?" Hearing this, Shuixi turned around, his face showing a serious expression of listening attentively. The little monk had known this was going on and was deliberately teasing him. But then he regretted teasing him like this, so he thoroughly explained his doubts of the past few days. After he finished, he couldn't read Shuixi's expression, so he asked, "Do you think I'm being too suspicious?"
"I trust your feelings."
The little monk breathed a sigh of relief, fortunately he believed it.
Shuixi walked over to the acacia tree and carefully looked through the prayer ribbons of others. This was what he always did when he came here. The young monk understood that Shuixi wanted to see the universal love, love, friendship, fame, wealth, fortune, and desires of the world. This would make him feel lively. Such a pitiful person. But today, after a while, Shuixi felt bored and asked the young monk for the prayer ribbon and pen.
"Ten dollars."
Shuixi took out a piece of gold the size of a sugar cube from the outer pocket of his suit and threw it to the little monk.
"Oh, I'm rich!" The little monk was overjoyed, but he didn't move to get anything for Shuixi. "Why don't you just tell me what your wish is? I'm grateful for your kindness and will pray for you to the Buddha day and night."
"Come on." Shuixi shrugged, showing no appreciation. The topic returned to the monk's concerns. "Did you call the police?"
The tone was clearly blaming. The little monk was puzzled, only to hear Shuixi say, "She is my friend. Can you please not take this seriously? From now on, don't mention it to anyone. If your prayers really work, can you pray that she will never appear in front of me again?"
The little monk secretly rolled his eyes, quickly clasped his hands together and prayed to the Buddha sincerely.
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