Chapter 888: Monk and Daoist

Everywhere else in the State of Yan, officials, gentry, soldiers, and commoners alike lay “exhausted” after only just weathering another war, still panting excitedly in the afterglow of the news that Qian’s capital had been broken.

Eastern Jin was different.

Here, officials, gentry, soldiers, and civilians had been holding in a single breath all this time.

And after learning of their own Prince’s brilliant victories, the sourness in their hearts became almost unbearable.

In the past, every great victory by the Prince had brought celebration from top to bottom.

This time, when news of the victory reached eastern Jin, especially Fengxin City, the common people followed old custom, bought wine, cut meat, and prepared a proper feast.

Then, halfway through eating and drinking, their eyes began turning red.

The dining tables filled with a dense atmosphere of grievance.

Ordinary civilians lamented why they had not been chosen.

With a victory this great, how much reward might rear-area laborers have earned?

A man who merely went along as an auxiliary soldier might even have returned with Standard Household status.

As for the Standard Households themselves, they were practically beating their chests in anguish.

They did not dare openly curse.

They did not dare say anything disrespectful.

Instead, enormous men drank a mouthful of wine, wiped away a tear, and raised their voices in complaint.

“I just can’t understand it! Why would the Prince rather take someone else’s soldiers to war instead of us?”

Fengxin City was absolutely loyal to the Prince.

That was no exaggeration.

The city itself, everything inside it, existed because of him.

But precisely because that love ran so deep, and that respect ran so deep, the Prince going outside and petting some other household’s dogs became even harder to accept from the bottom of their hearts.

Put simply... they were jealous.

Extremely jealous.

The whole of Fengxin City seemed to have been soaked in a giant vat of vinegar.

Anyone eating dumplings no longer needed a dipping sauce.

Over those nights, Qu Peiluo, responsible for internal and external city security, arrested quite a few people for drunken violations.

Fengxin City had no curfew.

It was an extremely prosperous commercial city, functioning day and night.

But that did not mean you could get drunk after dark, bellow in the streets, or smash some innocent household’s courtyard wall, doors, and windows without punishment.

The cells filled quickly.

Once the drunks sobered, before they even had time to remember what crime they had committed, they began huddling together inside the communal cells.

One man shouted about how he had once fought for the Prince at Snowsea Pass.

Another cried about how, back in Chu, he had thrown himself against the Chu battle line for the Prince.

Another wailed that back in Cuiliu Fort, he had once...

“...” The jailer.

At that point the jailer immediately came to his senses.

He hauled that particular gentleman out of the communal cell and moved him into a private one.

Then he summoned his own boss, an old soldier whose arm had been crippled by an injury and who had been forced to retire from the army and become chief jailer.

One look was enough.

The drunk really was an Assistant General!

Motherfucker.

Apparently jealousy did not distinguish between high and low.

Even an Assistant General could drink himself stupid on horse piss and stagger into the streets at night to make trouble.

Still, the jailers were not frightened.

Nor did they rush to apologize.

Many of the jailers in Fengxin City’s prison were retired veterans.

Most held Standard Household status.

Having Standard Household status meant there was a Standard Chief above you.

Layer by layer, that chain could be traced very high indeed.

In other words... they genuinely had people above them.

Standard Households also had their own dedicated yamen.

If they committed offenses or suffered injustice, they had a place where they could appeal directly.

An Assistant General was certainly a high official.

But if he wanted to use his authority to bully people, the vine could always be followed upward until someone even higher was found to uphold justice.

Besides... the order to arrest people and clear the streets had come from General Qu.

And who was General Qu?

His relationship with the Prince was so deep it could hardly be measured.

Who exactly would he be afraid of?

If examined too carefully, the logic behind all this felt slightly strange.

But in essence, though the words were crude, the principle was sound enough.

At present, however, General Qu truly had no time to care how many large fish he had thrown into prison the previous night.

Because... the Princess was about to give birth.

When the Princess had first confirmed her pregnancy, several gentlemen of Prince Pingxi Residence had already calculated the likely date.

The rough period had long since been known.

It was no secret.

This morning, every Brocade-Clad personal guard who should have been resting or rotating off duty had been summoned back to Prince Pingxi Residence.

That meant there was probably movement in the Princess’s belly.

Qu Peiluo paced back and forth inside his yamen office.

Even he found it rather inexplicable.

Why was he this worried?

Why was he this anxious, so full of uncertainty and apprehension?

How deep a relationship did he truly have with the Princess?

Before her marriage, he had only met her perhaps twice.

After her marriage, perhaps twice again.

This woman had once nearly brought him supreme glory.

She had also brought him the greatest humiliation a man could suffer beneath Heaven.

Afterward... she had become the fig leaf allowing him to continue living in this world.

Perhaps the relationship between men and women could never be adequately represented by the single word “love.”

Too many tangled things had long ago wound themselves layer upon layer into bonds.

Impossible to cut.

Impossible to untangle.

Even if those bonds existed only on one side.

In any case...

Qu Peiluo truly was worried about the Princess now.

There was no private desire mixed into it.

He simply hoped she could safely give birth.

At last, he stopped pacing.

Qu Peiluo sighed.

Then murmured:

“Be safe.”

...

At that moment, security throughout Prince Pingxi Residence had been raised to its highest level.

Inside the women’s courtyard, however, the scene was entirely different.

Clack!

Siniang rested her left hand on her already swollen belly while her right moved skillfully across a mahjong table.

Seated with her were Liu Ruqing, Madam Ke, and Yuexin, the Blind Man’s wife.

“Hurry up. Play your tile.”

Siniang urged them.

The three women had no choice but to keep playing.

“Hey, hey. There’s money on this game. Pay attention.”

Siniang reminded them again.

Behind Siniang stood the Princess, one hand supporting her enormous belly and the other braced against her waist.

She joined in the urging.

“Oh, hurry up. Don’t make Elder Sister wait.”

Liu Ruqing, Madam Ke, and Yuexin all instinctively lifted their heads to glance at the Princess.

Then they lowered them and began playing faster.

“Mahjong!”

Siniang pushed her tiles forward.

“Elder Sister’s play is truly extraordinary. In the past, when I sat at the table with you, I never noticed. Standing behind Elder Sister today has truly opened this little sister’s eyes.”

“When we played before, I only put about three parts of my attention into it. Keeping things back and forth was enough. There was no money involved anyway. We were only playing around. Today is different. Nine parts of my attention have to stay on that belly of yours. Naturally I have no spare attention left to deliberately let you win.”

“Hee-hee.”

Xiong Liqing gently bumped Siniang’s arm with her belly.

“Elder Sister is the best.”

“What’s best about it? Your strange habit really is unbelievable. Your belly is already this big and you’re about to give birth, yet suddenly you can’t eat or sleep properly unless you hear mahjong tiles clacking nearby. Yes, our family has enormous property. That’s true. And yes, our Prince has a good temper. Also true. The Prince doesn’t especially care about raising every son into some dragon among men either. But if you actually give birth to a little gambling addict, wouldn’t that be a little too unfair to him?”

“That would be fine too, wouldn’t it? Such a big family, such a huge household fortune. We ought to produce a few wastrel young masters eventually. Otherwise, wouldn’t all the brothers and sisters have to live too exhausting a life?”

By “brothers and sisters,” the Princess meant the children.

Even now, when she was visibly on the verge of labor and the first child of Prince Pingxi Residence was about to be born, Xiong Liqing still had no intention of competing against Siniang.

She could not win a contest for the Prince’s favor.

She could not match Siniang’s methods either.

Siniang had always treated her politely.

If she still failed to understand the situation and tried to start trouble, then she really would be too stupid.

In the past, the Princess had indeed thought about using a child to raise her own standing.

No need to compete in the present.

Bet on the future instead.

But after ten months of pregnancy, that kind of thinking had faded considerably.

Before becoming pregnant, she had viewed a child mostly as a tool.

After pregnancy, the sensation of mother and child connected through flesh and blood had taught her the meaning of motherhood far earlier than she expected.

The more fundamental reason was that although her man was now a genuine “local emperor,” with power far greater than the rulers of many small states, the atmosphere inside the household had always remained unusually harmonious.

It was nothing like the deep palace, cold and suffocating, carrying a faint smell of people devouring one another.

If nobody was forcing you onto that road... who would not prefer a simple, peaceful life?

“Good. Once that Princess Consort of Prince Fu arrives, she can help you take care of the child. Saves us the trouble of hiring a confinement nurse,” Siniang said with a laugh.

Xiong Liqing responded with mock annoyance.

“Our Prince really is too much. Before this, little sister never properly understood what carefree romance meant. Now I finally do. It isn’t enough to fight beautiful battles. In between battles, he still has to gather beauties into his arms. Back in the palace, I watched plenty of plays and read plenty of scripts. I always thought their stories were too ridiculous to be real. Then I look again at our own Prince, and somehow he has managed to live a life even more dramatic than the characters in those scripts.”

“You still need to look at other people? Or talk about now? Take a good look at how you yourself arrived here. Heh-heh.”

Siniang teased her without the slightest restraint.

“Oh, Elder Sister!”

Xiong Liqing’s pretty face flushed.

She lightly pushed at Siniang’s arm.

Even searching five hundred years backward and five hundred years forward through the histories, one probably could not find another Princess abducted from her wedding who later became part of a household that built such extraordinary achievements.

Siniang sighed again.

“I hear that Princess Consort of Prince Fu was tamed by our man a long time ago. They already had contact during the first invasion of Qian. This old lady was even there at the time. This time, I suppose Master went to rekindle the old flame and make the plum blossom bloom for a second spring. A woman who never bares her thorns is no fun to train. This old lady is still waiting to see when that Commandery Princess will finally enter our residence too.”

In truth, the women seated here had long possessed a strange collective illusion.

Rather than saying the women of Prince Pingxi Residence had been gathered by the Prince... it felt more as though Sister Feng wanted to collect women herself and merely borrowed the Prince’s name to do it.

Liu Ruqing smiled.

“With the Prince returning victorious this time, this little sister can finally breathe again. When rumors of the fighting first came back, I was genuinely terrified.”

“Isn’t there a saying, ‘Regret sending one’s husband off to seek a marquisate’?” Xiong Liqing asked with a smile as she picked up a cup of red-date tea and drank twice. “Our man is already a Prince. For us women, regret is long past the point of usefulness.”

Yuexin spoke next.

“I wonder whether the Prince can return in time.”

Madam Ke agreed.

“The Prince must be riding as quickly as he safely can.”

The Princess waved one hand.

“Whether the man comes back or not, this child still has to be born. Last time, the assassination was such an enormous risk, all because next door...”

The Princess paused.

“The Prince should take it steadily. As long as he returns safely, that’s enough.”

“All right. Drink less of that blood-and-qi tonic tea for now. Otherwise when the time truly comes, ginseng soup might stop having an effect. And go lie down and sleep a little more. Save your strength.”

Siniang gave the order.

“All right, Elder Sister.”

Xiong Liqing obediently lay back down.

“Elder Sister, keep playing.”

With narrowed smiling eyes, she urged them onward.

Siniang felt a headache coming.

She still had a huge pile of work waiting on her side.

Bonds.

Treasure Notes.

Coinage.

Some time ago, while her man was campaigning outside, she had become unbearably bored sitting around with a swollen belly. So she had begun tentatively implementing several ideas she had once only imagined.

The work had only just begun.

It was precisely the busiest stage.

And yet she still had to remain here, playing mahjong merely so this pregnant woman could listen to the tiles clack.

Unfortunately, there was no helping it.

She had, after all, been the one to “marry” this woman into the household.

She had to accept a little responsibility.

“Come. Shuffle.”

...

The incense at Gourd Temple had remained extremely prosperous ever since the temple was first established.

The wars of previous years had brought Savages once, Chu troops once, and Yan armies fighting in and out repeatedly.

Even famous ancient monasteries had been battered by wind and rain until little remained.

Afterward, whether during the original Count’s Residence, the later Marquis Residence, or today’s Prince Pingxi Residence, the policy across eastern Jin had remained the same:

Whenever wandering religious practitioners were discovered, regardless of sect or school, they were invited into centralized “training,” then sent to the snowfields to enrich the spiritual and cultural life of the people there.

Under that rather selective policy, ordinary people around Fengxin City seeking this kind of religious comfort had basically only one option left.

Gourd Temple.

The only shop in town.

No branches.

No competitors.

It would have been stranger if the incense offerings were not prosperous.

Today was no exception.

There was only one difference.

The worshippers arriving today did not see the Mad Monk or the beautiful young monk.

And the innermost incense hall, where Prince Pingxi’s longevity tablet was enshrined, had been closed.

The public explanation was that repairs were underway.

In truth... there were people inside.

A Daoist in a filthy robe stood before the longevity tablet.

Above the tablet sat a carved statue of the Prince mounted upon a Pixiu. Clouds rolled beneath the Pixiu’s feet, and the entire statue radiated heroic majesty.

Master craftsmen had carved it with extraordinary care.

Compared with that treatment, the “countless gods and Buddhas” elsewhere in the temple, many of whose eyes looked as though they had been pinched from donkey droppings, could only stare in envy until they cried.

Below the tablet stood a merit stele recording Prince Pingxi’s life and achievements.

The newest section covered his campaign into Qian.

The carving was not even finished yet.

The Daoist looked at it for a while, then laughed.

“The tablet is already standing. The statue is already carved. The stele is already being written. Yet the man himself isn’t even dead.”

Behind him, young Monk Liaofan heard this and replied:

“Must a man die before anyone can erect a tablet, carve a statue, and inscribe a stele for him?”

The Daoist nodded.

“Otherwise? A coffin must be closed before judgment can be settled. And sometimes even a hundred years after death, you still have to worry someone will overturn the verdict and stink your reputation into the gutter.”

Liaofan joined his palms.

“Fellow Daoist, this is a Buddhist temple.”

“So what if it is?”

“What a Buddhist temple enshrines is Buddha.”

“Hahahahaha! That flattery is sour enough to make my teeth ache. He’s still alive and you’re already in such a hurry to turn him into a Buddha?”

Liaofan did not become embarrassed or angry.

Instead, he answered solemnly:

“There have always been Buddhas among men.”

“A Buddha among men?”

“Five years ago, this place was nothing but bare earth. Armies had washed over it again and again. Salt crusted the soil and nothing grew. Now eastern Jin has already recovered its vitality. That is great merit. If one possesses great merit, why can one not become a Buddha? The dead are already dead. What benefit is there to the living if you turn a dead man into a Buddha? If the man is alive, let him become Buddha while alive. Then compassion may dwell within his heart and restrain his actions. That benefits the people.”

The Daoist considered this and nodded.

“The reasoning sounds strange and new, but it is genuinely interesting. Only you bald donkeys could master this sort of flexible method. No wonder you eat temple offerings until oil runs down your mouths. One with a fat head and enormous ears. One with powder covering his pretty face. In troubled times, Daoists descend the mountains. In prosperous times, monks rake in wealth. That saying really isn’t false.”

Liaofan replied:

“If one has already left the household, yet still distinguishes you, me, and him, has one truly left the household at all?”

“This poor Daoist has no interest in exchanging riddles with a little monk. I descended the mountain for one matter only.”

“What country is Fellow Daoist from?” Liaofan asked.

“Heh. Didn’t you just say that once one has left the household, there should be no distinction of country? Does Buddha have a country?”

To one side, the Mad Monk, head tilted and saliva running from the corner of his mouth, suddenly spoke.

“Buddha has no country. His believers do.”

The Daoist choked.

Finally he cursed:

“Truly! Between the two of you, that one mouth can argue every side of anything!”

Then he seemed to remember something else.

“Are you Yan men, then? It doesn’t seem so.”

Old Monk Kongyuan pointed beneath his feet.

“Here is our country. Here is our home.”

“Good.”

The Daoist drew a deep breath.

He swept one sleeve outward.

Immediately, streams of luminous qi spread around him like morning glow.

Among cultivators of the present age, one either pursued the mysteries of Heaven and the Dao like Back Mountain, or emphasized practical effectiveness like the late Grand Eunuch of Yan and today’s Eunuch Wei.

But this single display made it obvious the Daoist followed neither the ordinary Qi Refiner’s route nor the inner-palace lineage of that old Grand Eunuch.

He walked the most ancient path of Daoism.

A very difficult path.

“This poor Daoist was merely passing through. I came to take a look.”

A faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

“Heaven’s secrets are empty and elusive, but man lives between Heaven and Earth, and every life carries its allotted measure. Yet today, I sense that a spirit is about to emerge. A spirit appearing without cause must surely be ominous.”

Old Monk Kongyuan sighed.

“You should ask the child’s father about that. Every cause has its source, just as every debt has its debtor.”

Liaofan interjected:

“The Prince will return within days. You may discuss cause and effect directly with the Prince.”

“Hahahahahahahaha!”

The Daoist laughed with enormous vigor.

When the laughter ended, he said:

“I don’t dare.”

“...” Liaofan.

“Five years ago, I wanted to leave seclusion and find Senior Master Cang to discuss the Dao and sort through a few heavenly secrets. Unfortunately, once I emerged, I learned that he had already shed his mortal shell. With no other choice, I entered seclusion again. I thought I would wait for Master Cang’s disciple to mature a little more, then perhaps I could seek him out and chat. But who could have guessed that the next time I emerged, Li Xundao had gone down the mountain too? Tell me. Was that master-disciple pair stupid or not? They left the household, then turned around and went back. Once you turn back... how could anything good possibly come of it?”

Old Monk Kongyuan said:

“So in the end, you came because of Back Mountain.”

“I merely came to look.”

Kongyuan joined his palms.

“Fellow Daoist, I hope you will reconsider.”

“What? Have you two decided you’re going to plead for the unborn child of your Master?”

“No. I am speaking for your sake.”

Old Monk Kongyuan limped toward the door of the incense hall.

He reached out and pushed it open.

“Beyond this door is home. Will you turn back as well?”

“In this poor Daoist’s eyes, this is not a door. It is a tribulation. One step upon the Dao.”

The old monk nodded.

“Then this poor monk will see Fellow Daoist on your way.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

“Good.”

The Daoist stepped through the doorway first.

The old monk limped after him.

Monk and Daoist walked from the innermost depths of Gourd Temple all the way toward the entrance.

When they reached the great incense courtyard outside, many worshippers noticed the unusual pair and cast curious looks in their direction.

The Daoist swept his gaze over them.

With disdain, he murmured:

“The people of this world are ignorant.”

The old monk agreed.

“Indeed.”

Then... the old monk pointed one finger at the Daoist and shouted to the surrounding crowd:

“He’s an assassin trying to kill the Prince! Beat him to death!”

[End of Chapter 888]