Chapter Seventy-Three: Lihua Monastery

Yang Hong was not at the residence?

Ge Quan felt a bit puzzled, unsure where Yang Hong had gone. He signaled the young eunuch to inquire further at the gatehouse, but the reply was that Commander Yang had left early in the morning, and none of the servants knew his current whereabouts.

Since the man he sought was not present, Ge Quan had no other recourse. He could hardly wait outside the military governor’s residence until Yang Hong returned—that would be utterly beneath his dignity.

So be it; if they did not meet today, he would simply come again tomorrow. With that, Ge Quan resolved to return home, but then, finding he had nothing pressing to do, he decided to pay a visit to Lihua Temple, listen to the monks expound on the Dharma, and donate some incense money to accumulate merit.

Lihua Temple was the largest monastery in Xuanhua City, built during the Dade era of the false Yuan dynasty by Nichijo, a monk from the Eastern Isles of Japan. After his passing, he was interred beneath the pagoda of Lihua Temple, and it was said he left behind relics, though no one could say for certain.

This Japanese monk was known as an accomplished master, deeply versed in Buddhist teachings, and held great fame. He presided over Lihua Temple for twenty years, during which the temple flourished, drawing countless devotees. After his death and the rumor of relics, common folk flocked there in even greater numbers. Over the course of more than a century, it had become a scenic highlight of Xuanhua; if a visitor did not offer incense at Lihua Temple, their trip to Xuanhua was considered incomplete. The temple, set in the city’s heart, brought prosperity to the surrounding streets, which were filled with all sorts of vendors—a thriving place to eat, drink, and find amusement.

Ge Quan, having a physical disability like most eunuchs, believed firmly in the cycle of rebirth. Since his body was ruined in this life and his family line cut off, he sought solace in Buddhist practice, hoping that by worshipping and reciting sutras he might be reborn into a good family in the next life. He had thus been a frequent visitor to Buddhist temples since his early days in the palace, praying for blessings for his future. Since arriving in Xuanhua, he had become a regular at Lihua Temple, visiting several times a month.

The monks of Lihua Temple treated the city’s guardian eunuch with great warmth. The senior monks had performed several ceremonies to pray for his wellbeing, not out of pure goodwill, but because Lord Ge was a major benefactor; his annual incense donations were enough to keep the monks counting silver until their hands ached.

Lord Ge was a man of his word; once he resolved to do something, he acted at once. He gave the order, and his sedan chair was carried directly from the military governor’s residence to Lihua Temple.

The streets were lively along the way, the city in a scene of peaceful prosperity, not at all diminished by rumors of marauding Oirat raiders on the border.

Ge Quan observed all this with pleasure, pondering whether, upon his return, he ought to send a memorial to the emperor, depicting the tranquil state of Xuanhua in glowing terms. But then he recalled that His Majesty was currently leading the army at Datong, and thought better of it. Now the emperor’s mind was set solely on war—such reports of peace could wait until the army returned to the capital. Otherwise, the emperor might suspect ulterior motives, or that he was trying to offer veiled advice, and he would only end up bringing trouble upon himself.

Ge Quan had heard stories: in order to march out with his troops, His Majesty had already flogged quite a few officials who dared to dissuade him, and had even dismissed several censors—he would tolerate no dissent, not even the mildest remonstrance. Ge Quan had struggled long to reach his current post; though life in Xuanhua had hardly been pleasant these past years, he was, after all, the city’s guardian. If he could avoid mistakes for another couple of years, he might even be reassigned to Jiangnan. It was best not to court misfortune—once the imperial army arrived, the Mongol threat would die down. Let the emperor enjoy his triumph. In any case, it would only be a month or so; the emperor would have to return to the capital sooner or later, and he was hardly likely to embark on a campaign to the distant north in imitation of Emperor Taizong. There was no need to create trouble at this juncture.

Ge Quan traveled in a modest fashion. Though his sedan required six bearers, including the porters, guards, and two trusted young eunuchs, his entire entourage numbered only twelve. There were no grand displays befitting a guardian eunuch, no gongs clearing the way, so the group looked like nothing more than a wealthy family on an outing. They did not disturb the public or alarm the populace.

As for oppressing men or abducting women—such crude amusements held no interest for Lord Ge. That sort of thing was far beneath him; he was, after all, a distinguished guardian eunuch, a notable among the court officials. He would not stoop so low as to disgrace himself with such vulgarity. Thus, though he saw many lovely young women from respectable families along the way, Lord Ge did not spare them a second glance. True, he was sometimes tempted, but the limitations of his body ensured that his temptations remained nothing more than a fleeting itch.

In this manner, they arrived before the gate of Lihua Temple. As the sedan chair was set down, before Ge Quan could alight, a young eunuch hurried over in delight to report, “Lord, Commander Yang’s sedan is parked outside the temple!”

“Commander Yang’s sedan?”

Ge Quan lifted the curtain and looked out. Indeed, the sedan parked outside was unmistakably Yang Hong’s—the very one specially bestowed by the emperor out of regard for his loyal service.

A dozen or more burly soldiers from the military governor’s residence stood guard by the sedan. Seeing Ge Quan’s retinue, the leader looked a little surprised and whispered a few words to an attendant, who immediately hurried into the temple, no doubt to inform Yang Hong.

Well, so it is: one may search the world in vain, only to find what one seeks by chance.

Ge Quan was delighted—who would have thought Yang Hong was at Lihua Temple! He did not trouble himself to wonder why the Left Commander, known for his lack of religious faith, would suddenly visit the temple. He waved and ordered the young eunuch, “Come, let’s go inside.” Just as he was about to rise from his seat, one foot still in the sedan, he suddenly cried out, “Wait!”

Seeing Lord Ge sit back down, the young eunuch was quite puzzled, but before he could ask, Ge Quan’s expression changed, and he ordered anxiously, “Quick, turn around, we’re leaving!”

“But, Lord, Commander Yang is right inside the temple—why are we turning back?” The young eunuch was utterly confused, unable to understand Lord Ge’s decision.

Ge Quan glared at him irritably. “When I tell you to go back, you go back! Enough of your questions!”

The young eunuch dared not inquire further and quickly instructed the porters to turn the sedan around.

The bearers and guards, all Yang Hong’s old soldiers, had just seen their former comrades from the governor’s residence and were thinking of a reunion. They were baffled by Lord Ge’s sudden decision not to enter the temple, but, though surprised, none dared disobey him. They could only mutter curses under their breath as they turned the sedan and departed.

What they did not know was that inside the sedan, Lord Ge’s expression was even more unpleasant than theirs. For, as he was about to step out, he had caught sight of two men emerging from the temple.

How odd—what was Shih Tai from the Prince’s Residence doing in Xuanhua City? And why was he with Yang Jun? Wasn’t Yang Jun supposed to be leading reinforcements to Dushibao? How was it that he was here instead?