A woman who had died unjustly a hundred years ago became a man-eating ghost. Jiao Kong stopped her, but the young monk, with his delicate skin and tender flesh, looked even more delicious. She failed to eat him and was caught instead.
The captured vengeful spirit was full of grievances and could not be sent to the next life. He had no choice but to stay by her side, lecturing her on Buddhist teachings and playing music and burning incense for her every day.
The hostility in the female ghost gradually faded, while she gradually fell in love with the detached, ethereal monk. But she was a ghost and he was a monk. How could she ever say such a thing?
When his master learned that he had saved a female ghost and stayed with her day and night, he assumed the monk had succumbed to worldly desires. He ordered him to send her to the next life immediately.
But he could not understand why the sound of that female ghost's weeping night song had joined his music.
Nor could he understand why he felt an inexplicable sense of loss after personally sending her away.
The afflictions of others are my afflictions: I practice medicine to help the world, saving the sick and healing the wounded.
The suffering of others is my suffering: I fight wars between the races and guide the dead to the next life.
The sorrow of others is my sorrow: the destruction of a family is the destruction of my own.
The joy of others is my joy: I entwine myself with you and neglect the Buddha's teachings.
I make this vow, witnessed by heaven and earth.
If I break it, may I never be human again.
Screenshot saved. February 18, 2020.
