Opening the door, a wave of dark, damp air rushed to meet her. It had been raining continuously in City A for the past few days, and the apartment had long been uninhabited. Setting down her luggage, Wu Aizhen scanned the entire place. Everything remained exactly as it was when she left; even the shattered pieces of that disc were still sitting inside the living room trash can. Ren Qingfei had a key to her apartment, but by all appearances, he had never stepped foot back inside. Yet, when she walked into the bedroom, she discovered a single, nearly withered rose resting inside a small vase on the nightstand, looking as though it had been placed there a few days ago. Wu Aizhen’s tears began to fall.
After tidying up the room and freshening herself up, Wu Aizhen rested for a while. She then dialed that telephone number which had been sealed away in her heart for so long, but the mobile phone was switched off.
The next day, Wu Aizhen called the customer service department of Ren Qingfei’s company. The representative politely informed her that Vice President Ren had already resigned.
A whole week went by, and Wu Aizhen received absolutely no news of Ren Qingfei. Just like she had when she left for Tibet, he had suddenly resigned and vanished without a trace. Wu Aizhen made up her mind to see Zheng Meiqin.
Obtaining Zheng Meiqin’s mobile phone number from a friend proved to be a simple task, and Zheng Meiqin arrived just as agreed at the “Homestead” Teahouse.
Seated opposite each other at the antique, elegant tea table, Wu Aizhen and Zheng Meiqin locked eyes.
“You want to ask about Ren Qingfei, don’t you? I have no idea where he went. He resigned from the company half a month ago,” Zheng Meiqin said, cutting straight to the chase. As she spoke, she pulled a pack of cigarettes from her bag, glanced at Wu Aizhen, and upon seeing Wu Aizhen shake her head, lit one for herself.
Zheng Meiqin was dressed in full ARMANI today—a light green plaid shirt paired with beige trousers. Her outfit was elegant and dignified yet infused with a youthful vitality. Combined with her height in high heels, her entrance made Wu Aizhen secretly marvel; it was truly rare to see a wealthy woman carry off designer luxury with such effortless grace.
Sitting directly opposite, the shirt closely hugged her upper body, accentuating her shapely curves. Yet, none of this could mask her underlying exhaustion. She was noticeably thinner than when they had last met, and her eyes bore faint dark circles from a clear lack of sleep, though she had painstakingly concealed them with makeup. Her hair had been straightened and seemingly trimmed a bit, draping neatly over her shoulders like a jet-black waterfall, its strands shimmering with a soft luster whenever she turned her head. This woman possessed both the grand aura of a highborn lady and the delicate charm of a well-bred maiden. It was no wonder Ren Qingfei had viewed her in a different light, his heart deeply stirred and shaken by her presence. Even Wu Aizhen, with her highly critical eye, was willing to admire her.
Holding the cigarette between her slender, porcelain-white fingers, Zheng Meiqin took a few elegant puffs. Parting her lips slightly, she exhaled a thin wisp of smoke toward the side of the tea table. Noticing Wu Aizhen watching her smoke, she offered a faint smile and said, “It’s been years, and I just can’t seem to quit.”
“The way you smoke is quite beautiful,” Wu Aizhen said.
“Oh, really?!” Zheng Meiqin raised an eyebrow, shooting Wu Aizhen a sidelong, half-believing glance, though she maintained a smile on her face.
“How are things between you and Qingfei?” Wu Aizhen didn’t want to beat around the bush.
A moment of silence passed, and Zheng Meiqin’s gaze turned cold.
“Did Ren Qingfei tell you that?! Is he with you?”
“No, I can’t find him. I was worried something might have happened to him, so I came to ask you.”
“Happened? What could possibly happen to him? That cold-hearted and ungrateful man.”
“Did he betray you?”
Zheng Meiqin’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. The hand holding the cigarette began to tremble, and two clear streaks of tears rolled down her powdered face. Wu Aizhen handed her a tissue.
“Dr. Wu, although I’ve only met you once, I have a lot of admiration for you. Ren Qingfei told me that you two had a relationship, but when he proposed to you, you turned him down. It was only after you broke up that we fell in love. When you asked to meet today, I actually really wanted to see you as well. I have things I need to get off my chest but nowhere to pour them out. My heart feels incredibly heavy. You’re a psychologist; perhaps you can help me.”
Wu Aizhen looked at Zheng Meiqin with a gaze full of compassionate pity, remaining completely silent. She was debating internally whether or not she should still tell Zheng Meiqin about receiving that disc.
Zheng Meiqin lost control slightly, her tears overflowing like a spring.
Ren Qingfei—he was endearingly pure, like a big kid. We were utterly intoxicated by one another; we could hole up in a hotel room for three days and nights without ever stepping outside, living solely on takeout. I had never before surrendered myself so completely to the ecstasy of love. It was as if God had been moved by our passion, for I became pregnant. This was the very thing I had dreamed of during my five-year marriage to Ding Yiming. When the news was confirmed, I trembled with excitement and rushed to tell Ren Qingfei—but the smile froze on his face, and the look of sheer terror in his eyes cut me to the quick. Do you understand? He was neither willing nor brave enough to face the reality of it.
Zheng Meiqin stopped speaking and took a sip of tea. She was no longer crying; instead, her gaze held a swirling mixture of anger, contempt, and the parched remnants of love and joy—a look so intense that Wu Aizhen could hardly bear to face it directly.
“Perhaps his cowardice stemmed from a sense of helplessness,” Zheng Meiqin continued. “But he is the child’s father. I wanted to restore his rightful, honorable dignity to be a dad, so I filed for a divorce from my husband.”
Zheng Meiqin’s lips were somewhat dry, and her face looked a bit sallow after being washed by her tears. Clearly, she was still unable to control her emotions. She drank some tea and continued talking to herself, not even looking to see Wu Aizhen’s reaction.
“My husband didn’t refuse me, but he requested to have a talk with Ren Qingfei.”
Tears suddenly welled up again from Zheng Meiqin’s parched eyes.
“But after that conversation, Qingfei just left me a letter, resigned from the company, and there has been no news from him since,” Zheng Meiqin sobbed.
“What could your husband have possibly said to Ren Qingfei to make him come to such a decision?” Wu Aizhen asked.
“I asked my husband, and he told me he only said to Ren Qingfei that he loved me deeply, and that he hoped Ren Qingfei would treat me well and love me just as much as he did. Meanwhile, Qingfei wrote in his letter that he had already hurt one person, and he didn’t want to hurt another, nor did he want a family to be shattered because of him—he simply couldn’t bear the weight of it. He felt he still hadn’t fully mastered his own love, and that he lacked the ability to declare himself responsible for someone’s lifelong affection, so his only choice was to flee. But where does that leave my love? We were so intoxicated by our love, so blissfully happy—does he really think he can just run away from it all? He is too heartless!”
Wu Aizhen took a deep breath, her inner bitterness completely beyond words. As a fellow woman, it had never crossed her mind to weep or complain to anyone. She chose to keep everything silently in her heart, letting it fade with the passage of time. She believed that there were no knots that could never be unraveled.
“In fact, to meet a husband who is so forgiving and who loves you so deeply is already a great stroke of fortune. It’s what every woman dreams of, so what is left to be miserable about? Perhaps your karmic connection with Ren Qingfei was only meant to go this far. You need to look after your health; crying too much during pregnancy will harm the unborn child,” Wu Aizhen advised Zheng Meiqin, her heart aching yet full of kindness.
“The pregnancy already ended in a miscarriage,” Zheng Meiqin said, wiping away her tears as her voice suddenly turned exceptionally hard.
“You had an abortion?!” Wu Aizhen looked at Zheng Meiqin in shock.
Zheng Meiqin lit another cigarette, coldly blowing a few rings of smoke.
“When love is completely gone, what is the point of keeping the child?”
Hearing these words, Wu Aizhen gasped inwardly. She wanted to say that it was something she had always desperately yearned for, but she swallowed the words back down. Just moments ago, she was still wondering if Zheng Meiqin had the mental resilience to bear the truth about the disc; now, Zheng Meiqin’s current demeanor gave Wu Aizhen the courage to speak up about it.
“It must have been Mi Lang!” Zheng Meiqin said furiously, clearly stung to the core upon hearing about the matter.
“Dr. Wu, I look at you as a friend. Since you’ve already been dragged into this mess, I might as well make everything completely clear to you.”
Zheng Meiqin was already lighting her third cigarette. “Mi Lang was my junior high school classmate, and you could say he was my first love. At that age, we didn’t understand anything at all; we just passed notes to each other and made plans to watch a movie together, terrified that our parents or teachers would find out. After graduating from junior high, Mi Lang only attended a vocational high school for two years before entering the workforce. I, on the other hand, went on to complete my degree in the Chinese Department at XX University. Ding Yiming was my university classmate. His uncle was a provincial official, and upon our graduation, he helped secure jobs for both of us here in the city. Ding Yiming was always excellent with interpersonal relationships, and coupled with some upper-level connections, he was quickly promoted to head the municipal general office. At first, our life together was very harmonious and happy. However, as Ding Yiming moved up the ranks, his social obligations and networking events grew more and more frequent. Aside from meetings and sessions at the Party School, he was always accompanying senior leadership; he was hardly ever home on weekends or holidays. On top of that, we never had any children. There was a period when I felt incredibly isolated and lonely, and it was exactly during that time that I crossed paths with Mi Lang again. Having not seen him for over a decade, he had become emotionally mature and smooth-talking. We went out for tea and dinners together. Back then, he saw right through the loneliness and emptiness in my heart. He confessed to me that I was still constantly on his mind—perhaps, at that very moment, he was actually being sincere.”
Zheng Meiqin paused, looking at Wu Aizhen as if seeking some form of validation. “Our old flame was rekindled,” she said, blushing slightly as if recalling something deeply personal. “When I founded my company with a friend—with my husband’s backing—I initially brought Mi Lang on board as my personal driver. In reality, he acted as my advisor. Mi Lang was highly capable and became very popular among the staff, so after a year, it was only natural that he was promoted to vice president. I was incredibly happy during that period, feeling deeply content to have two men, Ding Yiming and Mi Lang, who truly loved me. The company expanded rapidly, but over time, I noticed Mi Lang was keeping many things from me. Once, I discovered he was embezzling corporate funds, and when I confronted him, he actually tried to brush it off with excuses. I scolded him, perhaps a bit too harshly, and Mi Lang admitted he had misappropriated the money. What infuriated me the most was his claim that he had spent that sum on a hostess at a nightclub, who also happened to be an old flame of his. Mi Lang promised he would pay the money back and suggested I deduct it from his salary first. But from that moment on, our relationship was effectively over, and after some time, he walked away from the company without saying a word.”
“Qingfei and I began our relationship just as things were falling apart between Mi Lang and me. Qingfei was different from Mi Lang; he was so pure and kind. Moreover, I felt he had a deeply romantic and sincere soul, coupled with an immense passion for his work—it often felt like a love that sublimated straight from his heart. Whenever I spoke at meetings about how promoting traditional culture is an undeniable responsibility for everyone, he was always the one clapping the loudest. Within a remarkably short period of working here, he had already memorized the contents of the ‘Four Books and Five Classics.’ His enthusiasm would frequently rub off on me. The ancient Chinese traditions, such as Laozi, Zhuangzi, and Confucianism, are the precious treasures of the Chinese nation; we cannot afford to lose them. Otherwise, the Chinese nation would have no roots.” As Zheng Meiqin spoke these words, Wu Aizhen saw a holy, pure light flash across her face for the second time—a sense of noble, righteous energy and an undeniable power emanating from the depths of her heart.
“But whenever I discussed these things with Ding Yiming, he would usually just smile and say, ‘I admit the cause you’re pursuing is meaningful, but spare me the grand rhetoric. Stop making yourself out to be some savior rescuing humanity—just manage your company well.’ And then there was that art exhibition; in reality, I had simply used the opportunity to hand out some corporate flyers, but afterward, Ding Yiming casually dismissed it, saying I just loved being the center of attention. He could no longer understand me, much less appreciate me. But Ren Qingfei’s admiration for me came genuinely from the bottom of his heart—I could see it. On top of that, he shared the exact same beliefs as I did. Perhaps Mi Lang caught onto our relationship, which is why he resorted to such underhanded, despicable tactics. His sole purpose was to tarnish my reputation along with Ren Qingfei’s—he really is a petty man. I imagine Ding Yiming must have received it as well; no wonder when I brought up the divorce to him, he already knew that the man was Ren Qingfei.”
“Then Ding Yiming truly is good to you!” Wu Aizhen said, unable to help herself.
Zheng Meiqin smiled bitterly. “He would never allow a family scandal to be aired in public. I can never see through him, but I know he loves his public image, his official title, and money probably more than he loves any woman.”
Zheng Meiqin paused. “You know, we sleep in separate beds at home, and we only have sex once or twice a month. He says that since we can’t conceive anyway, there’s no point in constantly making love.”
“Could it be a medical issue?” Wu Aizhen asked. Zheng Meiqin offered no comment, gently stubbing out her cigarette in the ashtray.
“Dr. Wu, I’ve said a lot today. Thank you for telling me about the disc; it’s been a pleasure talking to you—even if it was just a chance to pour out my heart. I can see in your eyes that you are capable of accepting and understanding everything that happens in this world. You don’t judge or look down on people, and even when faced with things that touch upon your own pain, your gaze remains compassionate. I don’t know where your love and strength come from, but if you’re willing, I’d like to be your friend. If there’s ever anything I can do to help, I’ll do my best. I’ll take my leave now.”
Wu Aizhen watched as Zheng Meiqin’s figure disappeared down the stairwell, her footsteps clacking sharply against the wooden floorboards of the hallway. Sitting all alone at the table, Wu Aizhen gazed through the teahouse window at the endless stream of crowds and vehicles on the street below. In this vast ocean of people, true affection found nowhere to anchor itself. Her heart, overflowing with sorrow like the teacup filled to the brim before her, was tangled in countless melancholy thoughts that could neither be sorted out nor explained. Why was it that for Zheng Meiqin, Ren Qingfei, herself, and perhaps so many others… everyone’s emotions were either tied in knots or derailed entirely? Where did true love come from?! What had turned the people of this world into this? They hurt one another in the name of love, yet each believed that they were the one who had been wronged the most, and that their own pain ran the deepest…
The following afternoon, Wu Aizhen received a phone call from Mi Lang. He asked to meet her, stating that it was a matter of great urgency. If Wu Aizhen didn’t mind, he suggested they meet for a face-to-face discussion at his newly opened “Grand Tycoon Nightclub.”
When Wu Aizhen took a taxi to the nightclub, Mi Lang was already waiting at the entrance, though his forehead was wrapped in gauze, appearing as if he had just been injured.
Mi Lang led Wu Aizhen into his office, which was somewhat cluttered. Moving aside a few magazines and items of clothing from the sofa, he invited Wu Aizhen to sit down. A young lady came in to help pour tea, but Mi Lang said he would handle it himself, sending the girl away. He then closed the office door and locked it. Wu Aizhen silently watched his every move.
Sitting across from Wu Aizhen, Mi Lang spoke with a touch of hypocrisy, “Dr. Wu, it’s been a long time.”
“You didn’t ask me here just to reminisce, did you?!” Wu Aizhen said coldly.
Mi Lang gave an awkward smile and fell into deep thought for a few seconds.
“I imagine you still remember receiving a disc. I want you to hand it over to me.”
“What disc?!” Wu Aizhen played dumb.
“The one with Zheng Meiqin and Ren Qingfei,” Mi Lang said urgently. He had changed his glasses, and behind the lenses, the suspicion and anxiety in his eyes were clearly visible.
“What do you want it for now anyway? You really are shameless. To think Zheng Meiqin held you in such high regard back then. You are too heartless, resorting to such underhanded and despicable tactics for revenge…”
“I’m heartless? I’m despicable?” Mi Lang was provoked, his face turning deathly pale, his voice trembling slightly with rage.
“You think Zheng Meiqin is some kind of saint? Always spouting off about benevolence, righteousness, and promoting traditional culture—she’s nothing but a slut. She craves the attention of every man on earth, wanting them to swarm around her like flies. Old or young, if she takes a fancy to a man, she wants to toy with him and keep him wrapped around her little finger. It was because of my history with her—because I was too sentimental—that I busted my ass working for her for three years. But how did she ever treat me right? The honors were hers, the credit was hers, and the money poured straight into her and her husband’s pockets. After three years, I misappropriated just a small amount of cash, and she completely disregarded our past, tearing into me without a shred of decency. It was only a hundred thousand yuan, for crying out loud! It’s not like I couldn’t pay it back—did she really have to treat me like that? We’d barely finished arguing when she hooked up with that punk Ren Qingfei; tell me, where’s the sentimentality in that? I’m shameless! I’m a bad guy! I’ll admit it! But can others say the same? Can Zheng Meiqin? Or Ren Qingfei?” Mi Lang stood up, clenched his fists, and slammed the table hard.
“If Zheng Meiqin still had any regard for our past,” Mi Lang said, “she wouldn’t have had me beaten up like this. Look!” He rolled up his pant leg, revealing patches of bruises, then pointed at his head.
“Yesterday evening, a few thugs came to the nightclub and caused trouble. After they beat me up, they told me to take back all the discs I’d sent out. Otherwise, they’d come beat me every day. That was definitely Zheng Meiqin paying someone to do it. That woman is capable of anything. I’m a lowlife—she’s ten times more vile than me. Damn it, they dare to carry on in broad daylight and still have the nerve to be afraid of me recording them? A pair of shameless adulterers, their guilty consciences plain to see.”
Wu Aizhen was disgusted. Not wanting to let him continue, she said quietly, “I already destroyed that disc.”
Mi Lang’s eyes widened. He nudged his glasses and gave Wu Aizhen a flustered, helpless look. “I only sent out two copies: one to you and one to Ding Yiming. Now that you’ve destroyed yours, and the other may not be recoverable either, it looks like this game is going to play on…”
“Did you really only send out two?” Wu Aizhen asked.
“Who else would I send it to? No matter how heartless I am, I wouldn’t put her bedroom scenes on the internet for everyone to see. If I did that, my own days wouldn’t be easy either. I don’t want to take this game too far, but Zheng Meiqin shouldn’t push me too hard.”
“What was your intention in sending one to me and one to Ding Yiming? You say you didn’t want to blow things up—weren’t you afraid that Ding Yiming and I would make trouble? Or that it might just clear the way for Zheng Meiqin and Ren Qingfei to end up together? Surely that wasn’t your real motive?!”
Mi Lang gave a triumphant, sinister smirk. “I did mean to help the two of them get together. I’ve heard a bit about you and Ding Yiming from the two of them. You’re both people of status. You wouldn’t go out on the street cursing like a fishwife, and Ding Yiming would never air his family’s dirty laundry. He loves his political image more than anything. If he divorces Zheng, and you leave Ren Qingfei, then Zheng Meiqin would lose on every front and end up with nothing. You don’t understand that slut Zheng Meiqin. Ding Yiming is her backbone; her emotional life and her company both depend on Ding Yiming. Losing Ding Yiming would be a loss for her in every way. Ren Qingfei is still wet behind the ears—for Zheng Meiqin, she’s only fooling around with him; he’s far too green to make a husband.”
Looking at Mi Lang’s sinister face, Wu Aizhen said scornfully, “Don’t overestimate your own intelligence.”
“You think I’m wrong? It’s just that Ding Yiming hasn’t shown the slightest reaction. He’s damn clever! I can’t figure out what he’s scheming. I suspect besides worrying about political fallout, he’s also afraid of splitting assets with Zheng Meiqin. He’s too in love with money to divide everything in half, especially since Zheng Meiqin’s company is still raking in money hand over fist for the household.”
“Can’t you try to see the best in people? Think about tolerance, forbearance, magnanimity, a big heart—why only fixate on the dark corners? Between people, is there really no feeling, no love at all?!”
“Spare me, don’t give me those high-sounding platitudes. I don’t want to hear it. Fine, I’m the dark one, you’re all sunshine—happy now?! As for that disc, I’d appreciate it if you could explain things to Zheng Meiqin, otherwise she won’t believe me. I’m tired and I don’t want any more entanglements with that woman. My wife is pregnant—for the sake of the child, I want to earn a little merit on the quiet. But Zheng Meiqin had better not push me over the edge. Otherwise, I’ll drag out all her shady accounts and dirty secrets; when that happens, it won’t just be Zheng Meiqin who looks ugly—it’ll be Ding Yiming too.”
The light in the room had grown dim. Sunlight from the window slanted in, illuminating half of Mi Lang’s pallid face; the other half was lost in shadow. Behind his lenses, the whites of his eyes were large, his pupils small and dull, and the corners of his lips were slightly downturned. Wu Aizhen felt as if she were looking at a cobra poised to strike. She thought: so Zheng Meiqin’s first love turned out to be a person like this. Mi Lang—whoever had named him must have known: he was a rice-eating wolf who, if cornered, would devour people. That Zheng Meiqin would hire thugs to beat up Mi Lang was something Wu Aizhen had not expected either. Such a refined and gentle woman could also do something like this—in matters of the heart, Zheng Meiqin had clearly gone too far. At that thought, Wu Aizhen sighed. She agreed to go talk with Zheng Meiqin, and hoped Mi Lang would conduct himself properly.
Back at her apartment door, she realized she hadn’t opened her mailbox in a long time. Ever since finding that disc inside it, she had dreaded opening it. But she subscribed to a Buddhist magazine, a monthly, and there were probably three issues waiting by now. She lifted the lid. Inside, besides the magazines and a few flyers, there was a letter in Ren Qingfei’s handwriting—along with yet another recorded disc. The sight of the disc felt like a snakebite to Wu Aizhen’s heart.
Back in her room, she unfolded the letter. It was from Ren Qingfei.
Aizhen,
I hesitated for a long time, not knowing how to write this letter. I’ve betrayed the vow of our hearts. Even though we never swore a formal oath to each other, in my heart I had hoped to look after you for a lifetime, and I was willing to wait for your heart’s final decision…
But I failed to hold my heart’s last line of defense. She is beautiful; she looks as beautiful as you. I couldn’t restrain my feelings; I failed to keep my desires in check. But after the revelry, I discovered that I was facing a woman who, though beautiful, is extremely possessive and controlling—I wasn’t even allowed to answer the phone. I didn’t want to lose her or make her sad, but I lost my freedom. I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye to you or send you a single greeting…
Aizhen, it all happened like a dream: it came quickly, and I woke from it just as soon. I remember you once said my feelings couldn’t be relied on—maybe you had foresight and a penetrating insight into everything. I don’t know where my feelings have strayed; I no longer have any direction. I hurt you, and I don’t want to hurt another person, a man so magnanimous and forgiving. I ran away, from that love of hers. Even though she was pregnant, I really didn’t have the strength to bear the weight of this love. Her love felt too heavy for me; I had no faith I could live a lifetime in that suffocating “love.” Perhaps I’ve hurt her too…
Aizhen, for some reason, every time I gave myself over to pleasure with her, your tear-filled eyes would appear before me. Only a beautiful heart can shed tears so crystal clear. I’ve heard that in Tibetan Buddhism, Tara was born from the tears Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva shed out of compassion for sentient beings. I hope your tears will remain forever pure and unstained, and I also hope you will never again shed tears for love.
I’ve tried to find you, but there’s been no word. I know you’ve left me behind; I’m not worthy of making you wait…
Today I came to say goodbye. I left a single rose on your nightstand. You once told me you liked hearing me chant the Great Compassion Mantra, so I recorded it for you. The passage before the mantra is from your diary—I recorded that too. When you happen to think of me, I hope you’ll listen to this disc.
I don’t want to wait until you return; I can’t sort out my own thoughts either. I no longer know where my heart belongs, so here I say farewell.
With respect, Qingfei
XX year, XX month, XX date
The handwriting grew hurried toward the end of the letter, but Wu Aizhen could see that tear stains had blurred the characters of Qingfei’s name. She did not cry. Her heart was very still, but a little cold. Looking at Ren Qingfei’s familiar scrawled handwriting, she felt as though she were stroking his soft, tousled hair, as if watching a child who had made a mistake sobbing in his mother’s arms while the mother examined him with calm, gentle eyes and stroked his head. Wu Aizhen was surprised that her own heart was so tender at this moment. She did not hate Ren Qingfei, did not even blame him. She wished him happiness!
She went to the bedroom and turned on the CD player, putting the disc in. It was Ren Qingfei’s voice, reciting through sobs:
“Father, Namo Amitabha, I hear the Great Compassion Mantra, that sound from home! My wandering heart is so weary; it has lost its way in the world of emotion and the ocean of desire. I yearn to return. Please receive and guide me with that compassionate light, and I will resolutely follow that pure, sacred chant to soar across the world of emotion and the ocean of desire…
Namo, ha la da na, duo la ye ye. Namo, a li ye, po lu jie di, shuo bo la ye. Pu ti sa duo po ye. Mo he sa duo po ye. Mo he, jia lu ni jia ye. An, sa bo la fa yi. Shu da na da xie. Namo, xi ji li duo, yi meng a li ye. Po lu ji di, shi fo la leng tuo po. Namo, na la jin chi. Xi li mo he, bo duo sha mi. Sa po a ta, dou shu peng, a shi yun, sa po sa duo, na mo po sa duo, na mo po qie, mo fa te dou. Da zhi ta. An, a po lu xi. Lu jia di. Jia luo di. Yi xi li. Mo he pu ti sa duo, sa po sa po. Mo la mo la, mo xi mo xi, li tuo yun. Ju lu ju lu, jie meng. Du lu du lu, fa she ye di. Mo he fa she ye di. Tuo la tuo la. Di li ni. Shi fo la ye. Zhe la zhe la. Mo mo fa mo la. Mu di li. Yi xi yi xi. Shi na shi na. A la can, fo la she li. Fa sha fa can. Fo la she ye. Hu lu hu lu mo la. Hu lu hu lu xi li. Suo la suo la, xi li xi li. Su lu su lu. Pu ti ye, pu ti ye. Pu tuo ye, pu tuo ye. Mi di li ye. Na la jin chi. Di li se ni na. Bo ye mo na. Suo po he. Xi tuo ye. Suo po he. Mo he xi tuo ye. Suo po he. Xi tuo yu yi. Shi bo la ye. Suo po he. Na la jin chi. Suo po he. Mo la na la. Suo po he. Xi la seng, a mu qie ye, suo po he. Suo po mo he, a xi tuo ye. Suo po he. Zhe ji la, a xi tuo ye. Suo po he. Bo tuo mo, jie xi tuo ye. Suo po he. Na la jin chi, bo jia la ye. Suo po he. Mo bo li, sheng jie la ye. Suo po he. Namo, ha la da na, duo la ye ye, namo, a li ye. Po lu ji di. Shuo bo la ye. Suo po he. An, xi dian du. Man duo la. Ba tuo ye, suo po he.”
Ren Qingfei’s chanting of the Great Compassion Mantra echoed throughout the room, and Wu Aizhen’s tears began to fall…
That evening, Wu Aizhen lit incense and bathed, then knelt at the bedside. She took down the rose and, one by one, pressed its still-supple petals into the pages of a copy of the Vajra Sutra. There, the feelings between herself and Ren Qingfei would find their home.
That night, she had a dream. She dreamt that the Vajra Sutra on the table opened by itself, fanning out and lying face up, and the petals tucked inside gave off a golden radiance. Then Ren Qingfei appeared, reached out his hand, closed the book, and held it in his hands. Beaming, he said to her, “Bodhisattva, thank you.”
“Little Shramanera!” she cried out, waking from the dream with a start… At that moment, her phone rang. It was Keiko; she was about to return to Japan and wanted to come to City A with her father to see Wu Aizhen before leaving. Wu Aizhen joked to Keiko, “A friend is coming from afar—isn’t that a joy?” Keiko giggled on the other end and said, “Teacher, you’re still as funny as ever.”
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