Chapter 772: A Rare Gourd

Once the grand strategy had been settled inside Marquis Pingxi Residence's military office, the entire system centered on the Residence, or rather led by it, began operating openly and without concealment.

Fengxin City formed the center.

From there, mobilization spread outward through all of eastern Jin.

At the same time... the temple west of Fengxin City had already risen from the ground.

The temple itself was not large.

Construction was not especially difficult.

And Fan Li, head of the Residence's construction crews, had personally led the work.

Naturally... progress was extremely fast.

As the next campaign drew closer, more and more relatives of Standard households, along with families whose men had been levied as laborers, began visiting the temple to pray for safety.

The war had to be fought.

With the Marquis present, naturally it would be won.

Human life had never been worth very much.

Not in the past.

Not now.

Probably not in the future either.

The lives of ordinary people had always swayed somewhere between "worth less than a dog" and "worth no more than grass."

In essence... foxtail grass.

But no one wanted the person who died to be his own husband, son, brother, or father.

Being mentally prepared was one thing.

Generous compensation was another.

Neither stopped people from praying for their families.

At first... only a small number came.

Then the other relatives of Standard households began feeling as though not going meant losing out.

As though their own men had fallen one step behind everyone else's.

As though they were missing one extra layer of protection.

So they came too.

Then the families of Barbarian soldiers, who worshiped the Barbarian God, began coming.

The families of Savage soldiers, who worshiped the Stars, followed.

"So the essence of faith is the same," Sun Ying said. "To those above, it is a tool for binding and managing those below. To the common people at the bottom, what they seek is simply peace of mind."

His wheelchair rested atop the city wall.

He looked toward the temple and the dark mass of people gathered around it while holding a wine cup.

A'Ming stood beside him.

A'Ming was a solitary creature.

Then again... his personality had never liked crowds.

But because the two of them had once traveled toward Yanjing together while drinking all along the road, his relationship with Sun Ying had become extremely good.

Very few people in this world possessed both the means and opportunity to taste truly excellent wine.

Among that already tiny group, those who genuinely loved wine and understood it were rarer still.

Sun Ying was one.

So he and A'Ming had become drinking companions.

"Faith isn't that simple," A'Ming said.

Sun Ying nodded.

"True. It looks intangible and distant, yet somehow it also feels close enough to touch."

"You can go discuss the subject with the Blind Man."

"Mr. Bei naturally understands these things exceptionally well."

As an adviser to Marquis Pingxi Residence... it was difficult not to admire the Blind Man.

A'Ming smiled.

"Mm. He could probably talk you into converting."

That really had been part of the Blind Man's old profession.

"Hahahaha. I do believe. But I think the one who can truly make people convert is the Marquis."

A'Ming instinctively shook his head.

Master had been pushed into his present position by all of them together.

But after shaking his head...

A'Ming blinked.

Then suddenly felt Sun Ying's statement made a surprising amount of sense.

The Demon Kings had gathered around Master because they needed him to advance.

That was the objective reason.

But it could not be denied that precisely because Master was Master... the Demon Kings could remain gathered together while still finding comfortable ways to live.

At minimum... everyone thought their present lives were not bad.

Sun Ying took a sip of wine.

"I could feel it. When news spread from the Residence that Second Madam... that the Princess was pregnant, the yamen, the Standard households, the ordinary people, even the whole of Fengxin City seemed to straighten its back. When ten thousand hearts are tied to one thing, that itself becomes faith. The Marquis had no children before. Now he has one on the way. In the future there may be more. The Residence now has succession. Everyone's heart settles. Prince Zhenbei Residence stands there as an example. People can now work, fight, and risk their lives while imagining at least a hundred years of hereditary wealth."

A'Ming felt almost nothing toward such matters.

Children.

Descendants.

For an existence like him... those things were simply too distant.

"Have you finished handling logistics?" A'Ming asked.

"The first batch of provisions and supplies is nearly at Zhennan Pass. The second batch is ready as well. By reason, this campaign should require only the first. The second exists in case something unexpected happens. If the war expands or gets out of control, then it will no longer be something I can supply by myself. Even the cleverest woman cannot cook without rice. At that point, Yingdu in the rear will have to begin supplying eastern Jin the way it did during Prince Jingnan's campaign against Chu. So my part is actually simple. Marquis Pingxi Residence does not hear that war is coming and then begin preparing for war. It finishes preparing first. Then says: 'Fine. Let's fight.'"

"Heh."

A'Ming laughed.

"Mr. Ming, do you actually enjoy war?" Sun Ying asked.

"I dislike it. And I like it."

"Oh?"

"No need to explain why I dislike it."

Whenever battle began, A'Ming had to stand beside Master and protect him.

And Master's battlefield luck had always been atrocious.

After one chaotic battle...

A'Ming usually ended up with several fresh holes through his body.

"As for why I like it... only during war do you get truly excellent wine."

Battlefields did not lack experts.

They certainly did not lack dead experts.

Their blood... was the real delicacy.

"By the way," Sun Ying asked, "did the Marquis choose a name for the temple?"

"Master probably forgot about that part."

"But look. They're hanging a plaque."

"Oh?"

...

The temple was nearly complete.

Not completely.

Compared with the main buildings outside, the details inside were what consumed time.

Arhats.

Bodhisattvas.

Buddhas.

Obviously, there was no possibility of lining up all One Hundred and Eight Arhats inside.

The temple was too small.

It could not hold that many Buddhas.

But several representative figures still had to be included.

At the same time... market demand had to be considered.

A Child-Giving Guanyin?

Required.

The Medicine King Bodhisattva?

Required.

The finer the division of services... the more prosperous the incense.

Because the interior had not yet been completed while the coming war had already made the people too impatient to wait, one statue had been placed outside and opened for business first.

The Buddha stood upon a lotus base.

A flood dragon rested in one hand.

The paint was still new.

Its eyeballs had been molded from donkey-dung pellets, yet somehow stared brilliantly forward, exuding a solemn majesty of immense compassion.

An offering table stood in front.

Offerings covered it.

Two monks sat cross-legged on prayer mats to either side.

On the west sat the old monk.

Mad.

Confused.

Half witless.

His head leaned against the offering table as he stared forward.

Somehow... the sight gave him the air of a man whose great wisdom looked like foolishness, one who had already seen through the dust of the mortal world.

On the east sat the little monk.

Fingers pinched into an orchid gesture.

Body slightly turned.

Facing the crowd, his eyes carried a softness and coyness that seemed almost to invite and refuse at once.

At a glance... he was clearly still tempering his heart amid the mortal world.

But sooner or later... surely he would transcend it and achieve great freedom.

The incense burner was not placed on the offering table.

There were simply too many customers.

So in front of the table stood an enormous bronze tripod.

It had been dug out of storage.

Years ago, when the Situ brothers proclaimed themselves Emperors and established their false dynasty, they had ordered the casting of Nine Tripods in an attempt to claim orthodox legitimacy.

Unfortunately... before all nine were completed, the war changed.

The Situ brothers were pushed out to Fengxin City.

The other tripods were lost.

Only this one came back with them and had sat unused ever since.

The thing was a nuisance to move.

A nuisance to destroy.

And it carried a vaguely taboo air.

So no matter which great king's banner later fluttered above the city walls... this tripod had remained here.

Now it finally had a use.

The people could stick incense into it.

Crowds surged forward to burn incense.

Two rows of mats lay at the front.

Burn incense.

Bow.

Finish bowing.

Move quickly aside.

Let the next group in.

There were far too many customers.

And only one service window.

Marquis Pingxi Residence had always employed plenty of Barbarians and Savages.

Unlike people of all Xia, namely Yan and Jin folk, they had not necessarily grown up knowing how to bow before Buddhist images.

Whether Xia people believed or not was another matter.

At least they knew the movements.

Still... this was hardly difficult to learn.

Before long, Barbarian women, generally more forceful in temperament, began squeezing into the crowd and kowtowing before the Buddha.

The Savage women behaved more meekly.

Savage troops ranked relatively low within Marquis Pingxi Residence's military order, almost like stepchildren born to a lowly concubine.

So their women obediently queued at the back.

Even when someone cut in front of them... they dared not complain.

Occasionally, the wife of a Lieutenant Commander or the family of some yamen official arrived.

The people nearby would naturally open a path and allow them to worship first.

"The Buddha teaches that all beings are equal," the Blind Man said, "yet look at those worshiping him. Without anyone arranging it, they've divided themselves into ranks."

Gou Moli stood beside him.

The two would depart tomorrow with Master for Zhennan Pass.

Today... they had rare leisure.

"A man's life is something he fights for," Gou Moli said. "His position is something he fights for too. Of course, you don't necessarily have to rely on yourself. You can rely on your parents or ancestors. Either way... somebody fought for it."

The Savage King was looking at the awkward position occupied by the families of Savage soldiers.

He himself had risen from being a horse slave on the snowfields.

Naturally, he believed in the logic of survival of the fittest.

The Blind Man did not bother correcting the harshness in Gou Moli's worldview.

Not everyone had received Master's chance to live a second life.

People's values inevitably followed the lives they had actually lived.

When the Blind Man said nothing, Gou Moli smoothed over his own words.

"At least now they're qualified to stand here."

In the past...

Savages inside Fengxin City had been slaves.

Beaten or killed at will.

Their women could stand here in line today because, during the campaign against Chu, Gou Moli had taken those young Savage men and piled up the right to exist with their deaths.

A smile touched the Blind Man's lips.

"There's something I've always been curious about."

"Ask."

"Gou Moli. Do you truly love the snowfields?"

Gou Moli opened his mouth.

Then rubbed his nose.

"I know you don't believe in the Stars," the Blind Man added.

Gou Moli organized his thoughts.

Then asked in return:

"Do you and Master truly love the State of Yan?"

"Heh. Good. Good answer."

The Blind Man was clearly satisfied by the counterquestion.

From Master's perspective... one could say he loved the State of Yan.

But only certain parts of it.

He loved Tian Wujing annihilating his own clan for Great Yan.

He loved the late Emperor Ji Runhao's endurance and sacrifice.

He loved Prince Zhenbei willingly surrendering his military power.

He loved Great Yan's stubborn spirit of beating anyone who refused to submit until they could not rise again.

More precisely... he loved the era in which the Great Yan Iron Triangle had existed.

Gou Moli's answer was similar.

Once... there had been a group of ambitious Savages around him.

They had wanted to carve out new living space for their people.

They had wanted to return to their ancestral lands.

After that entire generation died... how was he supposed to keep loving the snowfields?

Look at the short-sighted sacks of wine and meat living there now.

Even if he wanted to love them... he could not.

A pity there was no tea here.

Otherwise they could have substituted tea for wine.

Fortunately... there were oranges.

The Blind Man took one from his pocket.

Peeled it.

Then split half off and handed it to Gou Moli.

Gou Moli accepted it and chewed while asking:

"With this many people bowing, do you think the Buddha can actually see all of them?"

"No idea."

"I don't think he can. The people bowing probably understand that too."

The Blind Man said:

"But what if?"

"Right. It's all for that what-if."

Gou Moli put the last piece of orange into his mouth.

He wiped both hands on his own sleeves.

Then offered one cuff toward the Blind Man.

The Blind Man ignored it, took out a handkerchief, and wiped his own hands.

Gou Moli withdrew his sleeve.

Hands behind his back, he said:

"I still think this coming campaign is somewhat risky."

"Chu isn't the Hailan Tribe. Nor is it some tiny state like Liang or Wu. If you want to fight Chu without taking risks, that's impossible. Risk is where profit comes from. You of all people should understand that."

The broad strategy Liang Cheng had proposed felt familiar.

The shape of battle changed endlessly.

But the fundamental patterns were usually only a few.

The question was who could play those patterns most beautifully.

Switch the flowers and graft the wood.

Dress weakness as strength.

Lure the snake from its hole.

Then let strength collide with strength.

Years ago, Tian Wujing had used essentially the same plan.

He threw Yan's true field elites straight into Gou Moli's army and shattered it.

With one blow... the fate of that generation of Savages had been decided.

That was why Gou Moli had become so excited at the strategy conference and jumped directly onto the sand table.

An old scar had been ripped open without warning.

"We could clearly wait a little longer," Gou Moli said. "But instead we insist on gambling again and again. Is it really just for the thrill?"

The Blind Man looked genuinely puzzled.

"Hm? Isn't the whole point of living to enjoy the thrill?"

"..." Gou Moli.

"Heh-heh."

The Blind Man gently rolled his neck.

"You have to do something. Even when there's nothing to do... you should find something."

"You don't consider failure?"

"If you spend all day thinking about failure, you'll never accomplish anything. Think more about what happens if the battle goes according to plan. If we smash the main Chu force stationed south of the Wei River, then Chu's river defense collapses with it. Marquis Pingxi Residence's influence can cross the Wei and spread south. And when that happens... Shanggu Commandery. What a beautiful piece of land. Flat. Fertile. Dig a few large canals and draw water from the Wei for irrigation... ah. That wonderful feeling of farming comes rushing back immediately."

Gou Moli raised both hands.

He surrendered.

The Blind Man reminded him:

"We won't deliberately seek death. And we aren't too stupid to lower our heads and watch the wind. But once you possess sufficient confidence... don't be a coward."

"I know, I know. You told me before. I should keep moving closer to your side. When you open that inn someday, you'll save me a stall in the stable."

"Heh. Exactly."

At that moment... a procession approached with gongs and drums.

They carried a complete signboard set.

"You ordered it?" Gou Moli asked the Blind Man.

The Blind Man shook his head.

"No."

"Then Master?"

"Master only gave one order. Nothing else. In truth, he forgot about the promise he made this monk and disciple long ago. He only remembered because he happened to run into them on the street while shopping with the Sword Saint. The old monk had gone mad. He was hugging a pile of gourds and shouting about many sons and many blessings."

"Aiyo. That really scratched Master exactly where he was itching."

His wife had only just become pregnant.

Then someone showered him with blessings for more children.

How could he not feel refreshed?

The Blind Man shook his head.

"I don't think it was coincidence."

"Oh?"

"These two monks are people with absurdly deep fortune. Their preaching on the snowfields produced the best results. Then they went looking for the black-armored man and entered a situation with nine deaths and one life. Yet master and disciple both survived. And in the end... the whole street full of gourds even reminded Marquis Pingxi: 'You haven't forgotten your old promise, have you?'"

Gou Moli smiled.

"Gourd has plenty of meanings," the Blind Man continued. "Hulu echoes fu-lu, fortune and prosperity. Gourds carry many seeds, so they symbolize many children. But say hulu enough and it starts sounding like hutu... muddled. So tell me. That day on the street... was the old monk blessing Master with fortune and many sons? Or reminding Master that once the deed was done, he shouldn't play the gourd... heh. Shouldn't play muddleheaded?"

"Never would've guessed there was that much buried inside it," Gou Moli said with a laugh. "Wasn't the old monk mad?"

"An ordinary man goes mad and he's simply mad. Some people go mad and achieve enlightenment. Mad monks... best not provoke them. Heh-heh. Master building them a temple just outside Fengxin City and giving them incense offerings may only partly be about fulfilling the promise. What he really wants... is to tie this master-disciple pair down here permanently."

A plaque was not cheap.

Someone had to place a deposit before craftsmen would even begin.

If neither the Blind Man nor Master ordered it... then most likely... the two monks themselves had done so.

The plaque was lifted into place.

GOURD TEMPLE.

Among the worshipers, many knew what had happened on the street that day.

Then came the news from Marquis Pingxi Residence that the Marquis's wife was pregnant.

Afterward... the Marquis ordered a temple built for this master and disciple.

With Marquis Pingxi's own blessing attached to it... the Gourd Temple instantly became even more sacred.

There might be countless Buddhas and gods filling the heavens.

But they were too far away.

Their own Marquis lived right here... inside Marquis Pingxi Residence in Fengxin City.

You could choose not to believe in gods and Buddhas.

But the Marquis?

You had to believe in him.

Cheers erupted among the crowd.

This story might someday be carved onto the Gourd Temple's stone stele.

A hundred years later... perhaps even a thousand... descendants might discover the old site or read the tale in books.

Of course... the journey to and from the snowfields... and the black-armored man... were destined to vanish from the story.

Once the main plaque had been hung, a couplet was placed along both sides of the Gourd Temple's entrance.

Nothing mystical.

No Zen riddles.

Simple.

Easy to remember.

Carrying a trace of self-mockery and the easy freedom of those who had left the worldly life behind.

The first line:

A muddlehead builds a muddleheaded temple; The second:

The Gourd Temple welcomes gourd-headed monks!

After the plaque and couplet were hung... the mad monk lifted his head and stared.

For an instant... a flash of Buddha-light seemed to pass through his eyes.

His disciple beside him sensed something.

He looked at his master.

Then the plaque.

Then his own orchid fingers.

The smile on his face grew even softer and more charming.

The mad monk slapped the water gourd hanging at his waist with his left hand.

Then scratched his head with his right.

With a foolish, simple grin... he said:

"A rare gourd indeed."

[End of Chapter 772]