He was a pure monk, keeping company with a green lamp and ancient Buddha as he devoted himself to spiritual practice and the salvation of all living things.
When I saw him, I was in a grand hall before a shining altar. Candlelight flickered and incense curled through the air. He sat beneath the altar, his monk's robes free of all worldly dust.
I knelt before the Buddha and drew a middling lot from the fortune-telling tube:
“A broken mirror of water chestnut flowers cannot be made whole again. She seeks a husband anew, and he remarries. The past troubles only the foolish; flowers reflected in water and the moon's reflection are all an empty dream.”
The abbot interpreted the lot for me, then gave me a meaningful look. “Devotee, the past is but a dream. When fate is not on your side, do not force it. Do not force it.”
As I passed him, he looked at me. His eyes were as still as a windless lake, and they were still the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen.
I asked, “Why won't you see me?”
He didn't look at me again. His gaze lowered, and his voice was calm and gentle.
“Devotee, you jest. We are strangers who met by chance. How could I be unwilling to see you?”
Back then, I too believed we were merely strangers passing through this world, sharing a fleeting, dazzling encounter.
The day I was hunted down, blood soaked through my clothes. Just as I was about to collapse, he rushed over and held me in his arms. The Buddhist disciple, who had never killed a living thing, had red-rimmed eyes, and warm tears trickled down my cheek.
“So you can cry for me after all.”
“The imperial house wronged your Chu family first. What would be so difficult about changing who rules this land?” That day, dust stained his monk's robes.
Later, in the magnificent Buddhist hall, he knelt beneath the lotus altar, prayer beads scattered across the floor beside him. He bowed his head to the ground and closed his eyes. His voice was low. “This disciple cannot see through it. Is there truly no way to have both in this world?”
He knelt inside all night, while I stood outside in the wind all night. Beneath the bright moon, one shower of pear blossoms followed another. Fallen petals landed on the cloak around my shoulders, and chanting echoed in my ears. How could this world be redeemed...?
