Chapter Thirteen: Autumn Excursion (Part Six)

There are two mountain paths on Quanling Mountain.

One is a new route paved just in recent years for tourists to ascend the mountain, while the other is an old trail previously used by the resident monks to travel back and forth.

Due to lingering annoyance, Cao Aiqing had evidently lost her sense of direction for a moment, causing her to wander onto the old trail and become separated from the main group during the school autumn outing.

The girl now felt deeply apologetic, while He Tianran wore a teasing expression.

"What... what should we do?" Cao Aiqing asked, feeling ashamed.

He Tianran placed his hands behind his back, took a couple of steps toward the direction of the mountain peak, and said with an air of mature authority, "We just keep walking, what else can we do? We have to go to the temple anyway, we can just regroup when we get there. You don't expect us to walk halfway up and turn back, do you?"

And so, Cao Aiqing inexplicably found herself trailing behind the boy.

Her lips were pursed, yet the corners of her mouth curved into a pretty arc, with her two dimples faintly visible on her cheeks.

The trail was winding, but fortunately, it was navigable, and with the mobile signal still reasonably normal, He Tianran explained the situation to the tour leader, Xue Yong. The latter simply replied with a witty doge sticker to acknowledge the message and bothered no further about the stray boy and girl.

By the time the two reached Quanling Temple, it was already noon. There were plenty of students at the temple, completely stripping the originally serene place of any tranquility. Bai Tingting stood at the temple entrance, craning her neck, and upon spotting the tardy Cao Aiqing, she immediately trotted over, took her hand, and began whispering incessantly.

Seeing that they had arrived at their destination, He Tianran did not linger and wandered off on his own to find Xue Yong, who was squatting in a corner of the temple secretly smoking.

"I told you, you two are old enough that even with navigation apps on your phones, you wouldn't get lost."

The schoolyard bully exhaled a puff of smoke and said leisurely.

"Did the teacher chew you out?" He Tianran hopped up to sit on the stone railing beside him.

"Nah, the homeroom teacher has no clue. She went off on a tryst with her math-teacher lover. Tch~ and this is a sacred Buddhist sanctuary! What an absolute disgrace!"

He Tianran smiled. "Judging by your look, you're full of resentment."

Xue Yong glanced at him sideways. "You're no saint either, spending such a long time alone with Cao Aiqing. You know what? From the bus ride all the way to the temple, Bai Tingting was on my left and Ye Jiaqi was on my right, and those two women kept nagging me nonstop—complaining about people getting lost one second, and bickering about seating arrangements the next. I'm sick to death of it."

He Tianran's smile deepened. "Didn't you say you wanted to improvise?"

"Oh, well, what's going on? Any progress? You're smiling pretty brightly." Xue Yong extinguished his cigarette.

"No progress," He Tianran shook his head.

"Such a waste, brother. What a great opportunity."

Xue Yong sighed dramatically, clapped his hands together as he stood up, and continued, "We'll have lunch at the temple refectory at noon, and the afternoon is free time. You can tour the temple, listen to the monks chant, or go to the back mountain to see the monkeys. We head down the mountain at five-thirty."

"And you? Got plans?"

"Me?" Xue Yong smiled smugly. "Ye Jiaqi invited me to go see the monkeys after lunch, and then we'll continue up the mountain to watch the sunset."

He Tianran was puzzled. "You have to be back at five-thirty, and you're still planning to watch the sunset?"

Xue Yong chuckled. "You really know how to play dumb."

"???"

"Let's go, time to eat."

He Tianran realized what was going on and smiled knowingly. Watching the sunset? They were just going off to cultivate their relationship.

"Hey, didn't you say this is a sacred Buddhist sanctuary?"

"Mainly because it's too quiet and I'm not used to it."

...

The vegetarian meals at Quanling Temple were quite appetizing. Even though it was mass-cooked food for hundreds of people, it still tasted rather flavorful—though considering the one-hundred-yuan autumn outing fee they had paid beforehand, they would have had to call it delicious regardless...

After the meal, some students dozed off right there in the refectory or in corners, while more of them gathered in groups to play with their phones.

Quanling Temple was quite large. Although it lacked the grand scale of some famous temples in Hong Kong, being nestled deep within the mountain forest endowed it with a detachment from worldly hustle and bustle.

He Tianran strolled leisurely among the Buddha halls. He was not a Buddhist, but having lived through an unforgettable September, he retained a proper sense of awe toward these unknown realms.

Before he knew it, he walked to the Ksitigarbha Hall in the southwest corner of the temple. He did not go inside, merely lingering outside the hall for a long while.

The sun in the sky was gradually swallowed by drifting dark clouds. The weather in the mountains was always fickle—clear skies and boundless sunshine in the morning could transform into a misty vapor by afternoon, looking precisely like an impending mountain shower.

At that moment, a monk in yellow robes appeared at the entrance of the Ksitigarbha Hall. He was in his sixties or seventies, and as he slightly lowered the reading glasses on the bridge of his nose and looked up to confirm, a benevolent smile spread across his face. He beckoned to He Tianran.

"Young donor, come inside and take shelter. It's about to rain."

He Tianran pondered for a moment, walked slowly up to the old monk, and awkwardly cupped his hands together. "Master... I... I'll just stay under the eaves."

"Very well, then let us sit right here on the threshold."

With that, the old monk flicked his yellow robe and casually seated himself on the threshold.

The boy froze for a second, but with no other choice, he followed suit and sat down.

Moments later, a light rain began to patter down.

Some students ran past from a distance, finding it peculiar to see an old man and a youth sitting before the hall, but they hurried away all the same.

He Tianran watched water droplets, strung together like beads from the eaves, drip down onto the sunken bluestone slab. He reached out to catch one, and the droplet splashed across his palm with a chilling sensation.

"What is the young donor's name?" The old monk asked with a benevolent expression, his left hand twirling prayer beads.

"Ah... My name is He Tianran." The boy exhibited the innate reticence one feels in the presence of elders.

"He Tianran? *Tianran*, as in natural and born of nature?"

"No..." He Tianran smiled, recalling the explanation He Panshan had given him during his childhood, and said, "'Naturally and truly wealthy and noble'—that kind of *tianran*. Even though it's written and pronounced the same way, the artistic conception isn't nearly as profound as what Master described. Back then, my dad purely wanted to make money."

The old monk smiled as well, neither agreeing nor denying, but merely asking, "Just now, I noticed you lingering outside the hall without coming in. Why was that?"

He Tianran was not quite accustomed to this semi-classical context. He withdrew his damp hand and said,

"It felt... awkward."

The old monk remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

"It's just that, Master... do you know what... eternal and uninterrupted suffering means?" Trapped within the rain, the boy involuntarily opened the floodgates of his heart and voiced the confusion lingering in his mind.

The prayer beads in the old monk's hand halted their rotation as he softly chanted a Buddhist invocation:

"Suffering day and night through endless eons without a moment of cessation, hence called uninterrupted."

*She will be forever trapped in September, repeatedly watching the tragic future unfold before her.*

A thought flashed through He Tianran's mind, his lips trembling slightly as he asked,

"Master... can... can she be liberated?"

The old monk's gaze hardened momentarily before dispersing, and he smiled with an answer that seemed completely unrelated:

"Young donor Tianran, do you listen to Chinese opera?"

"Opera? Master... I... does this have anything to do with my question?"

The old monk replied, "Not at all. It's just that your explanation of your own name earlier suddenly reminded me of a Kunqu opera piece."

"Master, I only have a superficial understanding of such dramas. That question I asked just now..."

He Tianran had no desire to explore the trivial implications of his name; right now, he only wanted the answer to that burning question.

Interrupting him without playing any riddles, the old monk stated, "If you cannot attain even a momentary pause of a single thought, then only when your karma is exhausted can you be reborn."

"In other words... I... I will see her again, won't I?"

Faced with the youth's hopeful retort, the old monk uttered a profound statement that left him dumbfounded:

"Young donor Tianran, if you are praying for romance, you really shouldn't come to my Ksitigarbha Hall."

"..."

Unbelievable.

He Tianran felt utterly embarrassed on the spot. Monks in reality were truly nothing like the masters of profound Zen wit depicted in novels, nor was he someone destined to casually bump into a reclusive worldly expert.

And come to think of it, what reclusive expert would ever live inside a scenic tourist spot?

The boy blankly shifted his gaze back to the puddle on the ground, watching the ripples spread after each raindrop fell.

"All dharmas arise from conditions, resting upon intention and joy. Whatever vow one makes, such fruit shall one reap. Donor Tianran, you and I share a connection of affinity; let me gift you two words—'Motion'."

Not only was He Tianran unmoving, but he also didn't understand.

"M-Master, what does that mean? How am I supposed to move?"

The old monk turned slightly sideways, prompting He Tianran to shift as well, sitting up straight with a solemn posture.

"Running water never grows stagnant, and a door hinge never gets worm-eaten—that is motion."

With that, he draped the string of one hundred and eight star-moon Bodhi prayer beads from his hand around He Tianran's neck. The boy wanted to shrink his head back, but failed to dodge in time.

"To realize the one hundred and eight samadhis and sever one hundred and eight kinds of afflictions—Donor Tianran, from now on, every time a thought arises in your mind, you shall flick a bead. That right there is the most minute form of motion."

By this point, He Tianran could roughly anticipate the old monk's ensuing pitch.

Sure enough, the next second, the old monk slowly added:

"I trade these stars and moons for incense offerings; conditions arise and conditions cease. Young donor He, do as you please."

Then, the old monk retrieved his smartphone from the pocket of his monk's robe and skillfully pulled up a QR code for receiving payments.

This entire sequence of events was simply absurd.

He Tianran touched the Bodhi seeds resting against his chest. He couldn't tell the market value of these handheld prayer beads, but he noticed that each star-moon Bodhi seed bore a tiny indentation known as a "moon" eye. He found the symbolism wonderful and grew quite fond of them.

Originally intending to tip nine yuan and ninety-nine cents, he ended up paying ninety-nine because of this.

The old monk beamed with joy. Finding it increasingly dull to stay here, He Tianran stood up, cupped his hands in a farewell salute, and took his leave.

The rain continued to fall. The youth gradually walked away along the corridor of the Buddha hall, his retreating figure having already removed that string of star-moon Bodhi beads. With his hands behind his back, his fingers silently began to flick the beads one by one.

The old monk gazed at the puddle the youth had been staring at moments before and chanted:

"All conditioned phenomena are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, shadows; like dew and like lightning. Thus should you view them."

His fingers swayed gently, and shortly thereafter, the old monk's uniquely leisurely humming echoed softly through the rain, seemingly carrying the tune of *The Peony Pavilion*.

Not entering this gate, after all, mattered not at all.