That evening, Wu Aizhen wrote a long, vivid and emotional letter to Zheng Meiqin. The next morning, she made a copy of the recording of the Little Shramanera chanting the Great Compassion Mantra and sent it, together with the letter and several issues of Buddhist magazines, to Zheng Meiqin. Then she went to the supermarket to buy gifts for her Master, ate a hurried lunch at home, and rested for a bit. It was already three in the afternoon. Just as she reached the bottom of the stairs, laden with bags, Ding Yiming pulled up right on time and stopped the car in front of her.
Seeing all the gifts Wu Aizhen was carrying, as if she were going back to her parents’ home, Ding Yiming helped her load them into the trunk and said, “Don’t monks believe the Four Elements Are Empty? And they take bribes too?” Wu Aizhen couldn’t help laughing. “This isn’t a bribe. In the Buddhadharma, it’s called an Offering. The Master is also a person—he needs to eat, drink, defecate and urinate, and sleep. Monastics don’t earn money, and to teach and transform sentient beings they must give their lifeblood—of course they should accept Offerings. From a human perspective, the Master is our spiritual teacher, a spiritual parent. I see visiting him as the same as visiting my parents. Don’t you bring gifts when you go home to see your parents after being away for a long time?”
“Look at you, getting all worked up. I was only joking, and you took it seriously. I even prepared a red envelope for your Master.”
Wu Aizhen smiled. “I said a Tang-dynasty eminent monk wouldn’t have such poor understanding. But please don’t joke with me in dead earnest—I take things literally.”
Hearing this, Ding Yiming narrowed his eyes, bit his lip, and looked seriously at Wu Aizhen, a not-quite-smiling, mischievous look on his face. “How is that anything like an eminent monk?” Wu Aizhen thought.
Once in the car, Wu Aizhen suddenly caught a faint, subtle fragrance. It was cologne on Ding Yiming. She realized that he was dressed today like a traditional bridegroom on his wedding day. Looking at his freshly blow-dried hair, stiff with mousse, she put on an exaggerated look of surprise and said, “Hey! You’re going to pay respects to my Master, not on a date. What’s with the getup?” “This is respect. It shows my sincerity. I spent the whole noon practically burning incense, bathing, and changing clothes. I heard that when you meet a sage, you do this.” “My Master is no sage. He’s just an old monk in his eighties. Short, his teeth mostly fallen out, with only a few left. But if you judge by appearances, you’d be wrong.” “No, the reclusive masters in novels are all like that—taking on strange and peculiar forms to test their disciples. I’m not so stupid as to form a casual disdain before getting a real grasp.” “With your insight, why haven’t you left the home-life? If you did, history after the Tang would have seen another eminent monk.” “I think if you left the home-life, you’d definitely be a legendary nun. History has many eminent monks but very few legendary nuns—you should be the one to change that.” And so the two of them bantered back and forth in the car, one witty remark after another.
“Hey, serious question—what do you usually ask your Master about?”
“Oh, everything. Whatever I don’t understand.”
“Does your Master answer every question?”
“Mostly, but sometimes when he answered, we still didn’t understand. Speaking of questions, once when I went to see my Master, I heard a little boy ask the Master something really funny. I’ll tell you. It was a boy about six or seven, led by his mother. Maybe the kid saw so many adults asking the Master questions, so he said, ‘Master, I have a question too.’ The Master said, ‘Go ahead!’ ‘What would happen first in America if the president died right now?’ It was right when the U.S. had invaded Iraq, so maybe everyone immediately thought of this war that everyone was following. But the Master said, ‘There’d be one fewer person.’ ‘Yes! You’re awesome!’ The kid high-fived the Master, and both of them laughed happily. The boy said, ‘My dad’s a university professor, and even he couldn’t answer that question. Master, you’re really something…'”
The car erupted with laughter from both of them. After the laughter died down, Ding Yiming sank into thought…
The Master lived somewhat remotely, already out of the city proper. Ding Yiming’s driving was truly good—he weaved like a dragon through the crowded city traffic. The hour-long drive took only forty minutes.
“See that sign? That’s ‘Jade Spring Villa’ up ahead,” Wu Aizhen directed.
Ding Yiming drove into a farming estate. He got out, looked around in all directions, and said, “Your Master doesn’t live in a temple—he stays in such a quiet, secluded villa. Is he living in reclusion?”
“The Master was originally at a temple, but his health declined the year before last. The owner of this farm is one of his disciples, who was inspired to build a couple of bungalows on the property and brought the Master here to recuperate. It’s not that the Master is seeking quiet or comfort. He often says: as long as your mind is still, any place is pure; as long as your mind is at peace, any place is a reclusive retreat.”
“It sounds like your Master really is a highly realized adept,” Ding Yiming said, strolling around. Lychee trees grew all over the estate, like a lychee grove. Nestled among the trees were two ordinary-looking multistory buildings. After passing the buildings, far off on a high slope, a blue-brick house came into view.
Entering, they saw on the main altar three gilded statues of the Three Sages of the Western Pure Land standing several feet high. The afternoon sunlight slanted in, and the statues blazed with dazzling light. Beneath the altar were dozens of meditation cushions. Two young women were sitting on cushions looking at a thick picture album; one of them was noticeably pregnant and had stacked three cushions to sit on. Seeing Wu Aizhen and Ding Yiming come in, the two smiled politely in greeting and returned to their book.
There were two rooms. Wu Aizhen led Ding Yiming into the inner one. An old monk sat quietly behind a table. The table was very long, like a qin table, nearly dividing the room in two. In a corner behind the old man was a small bed with a mosquito net. Apart from these, there were only six or seven meditation cushions on this side of the table and nothing else. The four white walls stood bare and expansive, making the room feel exceptionally vast, yet it did not feel the least bit cold or stark.
“Master, we’ve come to see you,” Wu Aizhen said, her voice noticeably lowered. She set down the gifts, knelt on a cushion before the table, and kowtowed several times to the Master. The Master raised his face at the sound and removed the reading glasses perched on his nose; he too had been looking at a Buddhist picture book. He closed the book and studied Ding Yiming and Wu Aizhen.
Ding Yiming suddenly felt awkward, unsure whether he should stand, sit, or kowtow. This was his first time visiting a monastic, and he didn’t know the temple etiquette. Besides, as the old saying goes, a man’s knees have gold beneath them—he wouldn’t kneel casually for anyone, not even a highly respected monk. He hadn’t yet felt the parental kindness Wu Aizhen had described, but he still bowed politely and said, “Greetings, Master!” “Sit anywhere, no need to bow. What’s there to bow to?!” The Master’s voice was soft, yet to Ding Yiming’s ears it held an invisible authority.
Wu Aizhen gestured for him to sit, and he did so without further ceremony, directly across from the old master. The Master’s face was covered in wrinkles; his eyebrows were grizzled and sparse, the corners of his eyes long, the bridge of his nose straight. His mouth was somewhat sunken, probably from missing teeth. But it was clear that the Master had been quite a handsome young man in his youth. Ding Yiming studied the Master at close range, but still could not connect this diminutive old man with a highly realized adept… Wu Aizhen had taken the fruit from her bag to the outer room to make offerings before the Buddha. Left alone with the old man, Ding Yiming didn’t know what to say. “Master, how old are you this year?” he asked, grasping for a conversation starter. “One hundred and twenty-three!” the Master replied, regarding him calmly. Ding Yiming was taken aback. Earlier in the car Wu Aizhen had said the Master was in his eighties; how was it that the Master now said he was one hundred twenty-three? Could it be the Master gave a different answer to everyone, or was he simply so old and muddled that he couldn’t remember his own age? The moment doubt entered Ding Yiming’s mind, a trace of condescension crept in.
Just then, Wu Aizhen came back carrying a plate of fruit and placed it on the table before the old man—bananas, lychees, kiwis, mangosteens, all kinds that the toothless old man could manage. The old man looked over the fruit plate carefully and silently but didn’t take any. His expression was that of someone still full, eyeing something delicious with a hint of greedy longing, yet unable to eat a bite. Wu Aizhen said, “Master, if you’re not going to eat, at least smell the fruit.” Ding Yiming was touched by the tender concern in Wu Aizhen’s expression. “Master! With your great age, you must have many disciples.” “Three thousand outside the gate, only two inside.” The Master’s reply was crisp, matter-of-fact. Ding Yiming had no idea what “inside and outside the gate” referred to; he turned to glance at the door behind him—inside the room it was indeed only himself and Wu Aizhen, but outside there had been two people just now; how many there were now he didn’t know.
Wu Aizhen, however, smiled with understanding, joined her palms together, and prostrated to the Master. Ding Yiming was left utterly bewildered. “Not that kind of gate—the gate of the Dharma lineage. Though it is also that gate,” Wu Aizhen whispered to him. “Not this one, that one. But also this one.” Ding Yiming was even more at sea. Fortunately, his years in official circles had trained him to remain unperturbed by favor or disgrace and to keep his composure in a pinch. So he maintained a magnanimous smile on his face, though inwardly his mind was drumming, feeling that this old monk spoke rather oddly.
“Master, people say bowing to the Buddha works through ‘the sincerity of the heart’—what does that mean?” Ding Yiming suddenly posed a question.
“The character for ‘sincerity’ is written with a ‘speech’ radical plus the character for ‘accomplishment’—so it literally becomes language. But ‘sincerity of the heart’ refers to ‘the language of the heart’ or ‘the heart’s direction,’ not mere lip service.” The Master spoke very slowly, his voice light and gentle, like he was speaking to a kindergartner.
Hearing the Master expound the Dharma, the two women in the outer room immediately rushed in and knelt on two cushions to listen.
Perhaps worried that Ding Yiming wouldn’t understand, the Master paused for a few seconds and then added, “In truth, ordinary sentient beings don’t even know what their own hearts truly want, what the heart’s direction really is.”
“Master, what I want in my heart is money—the more the better!”
The thin woman who had come in later said it bluntly. It made both Ding Yiming and Wu Aizhen want to laugh but not dare to.
The Master didn’t laugh. “Money is not the purpose; it is a tool. Sentient beings seek money hoping to use it to buy the heart’s happiness and satisfaction. What the heart of sentient beings wants is happiness, not money.”
“Master, I think I’d be happy if I had money!” The thin woman still refused to let it go. Ding Yiming and Wu Aizhen finally laughed.
“Sentient beings think that by taking money they will find happiness. But the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas know that perhaps that money is a ticking bomb for you, or poison. If your blessings are insufficient, it will lead you into degradation and destruction. Because the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas know this, no matter how much you beg, they will not give it to you.”
The thin woman fell silent, clearly thinking it over.
“In fact, the deepest language in the hearts of every person who bows to the Buddha and prays to the Bodhisattvas is a longing for love and happiness. The Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, vowing through kalpas to be a raft across the bitter sea, do so precisely to fulfill this very wish of sentient beings.”
Ding Yiming was shaken. He suddenly wanted to cry. Something compassionate had come from the Master’s nearly toothless mouth and melted into Ding Yiming’s heart…
“Master, can you talk about the matter of affinities? Nowadays the divorce rate is very high; many people even have several lovers. Buddhism speaks of affinities—does that mean all of these have affinities?” Ding Yiming’s heart stirred; this was a question that concerned him too.
“Buddhism speaks of Cause and Effect across the Three Periods of Time and the Six Paths of Rebirth. In their endless cycles of rebirth, sentient beings form various affinities—wholesome affinities and unwholesome ones. If in this life they are born together in the human realm, the karmic results are vastly different; it cannot be explained clearly in just a few words, because it involves the causes and conditions of the Three Realms and Six Paths. But in ancient times, because transportation and communication were undeveloped, two people with deep affinities might be born in different lands thousands of miles apart. For them to meet in a single lifetime was extremely difficult, and their causes and conditions would have no chance to ripen—they would not bloom and bear fruit. In the present age, however, with technology advancing daily—airplanes, cell phones, computers—time and space have shrunk. All those with affinities can exchange information in a kshana: making phone calls, going online. An airplane can cross the Pacific in a few hours and join two lovers on opposite shores. In this way, the opportunities for various causes and conditions to mature have multiplied enormously. In fact, you could say that in this era, all those with affinities from life after life are living together in one great family. Look up and it’s an affinity; look down and it’s an affinity. Even the flowers, grasses, and trees have affinities. Tell me—which one has no affinity?”
The Master was clearly amused by his own impromptu sing-song words. He laughed, revealing his few remaining teeth, the wrinkles on his face blooming like a peony. Gazing at that aged yet childlike face, Ding Yiming suddenly felt a warmth rise in his heart.
“There are too many affinities. The question is whether you can guard your heart. That takes wisdom, a sense of honor, a sense of responsibility — all the qualities that make a decent human being. The age of testing has arrived. If you lose those human qualities, you will sink into the world of emotion and the ocean of desire, unable to pull yourself free — and from there you will fall, deeper and deeper, until you become no better than dogs or cats driven by lust. But if you can hold the basic line of your humanity, you will be uplifted. The greater the trial, the greater the Merit once you pass through it. It becomes a way to temper the mind through worldly events — plucking a lotus from the fire.” At this, the Master suddenly glanced at Ding Yiming. Ding Yiming felt that glance pierce straight into the depths of his heart like a flash of lightning, and he shivered despite himself.
“A man without feeling is not necessarily a true man of character, but one who wallows in lust is certainly no great man.” The Master unexpectedly raised his eyes and looked at Ding Yiming again, and Ding Yiming felt a creeping unease.
“A person living in this world is connected to all things; how much more so to other people. To ensure that not a word or deed of yours harms another — that is what a gentleman does. A gentleman dwells in constant joy; a petty man in constant worry. Everyone here can decide for themselves which to be. Do not live so selfishly, caring only for your own feelings and sensations while ignoring the tears and suffering of others. One day, that same calamity will surely fall on you. Karmic retribution is exact, without the slightest error. Look further ahead; do not fix your gaze only on what is right in front of you.” After saying this, the Master glanced at the thin woman. She smiled, seemingly unmoved. But Ding Yiming felt that every word the Master spoke, while appearing to explain Buddhist principle, was in fact pointed — a Dharma-teaching directed at each person present. The thin woman looked composed on the surface, but surely her heart was, like his, churning with turmoil.
“Dependent origination is emptiness; emptiness is dependent origination. It is only because you do not understand this that you have wandered through birth and death for lifetime after lifetime. Once birth and death are realized, there is no knot that cannot be untied. A great Bodhisattva, amid the arising and ceasing of conditions, never loses the bliss of emptiness, never loses the compassion of emptiness.” The Master looked at Ding Yiming a third time. Ding Yiming’s heart had begun to grow still — and grew stiller and stiller. In the Master’s instruction and Blessing, his mind seemed to travel backward through time and space…
“Master, I don’t understand,” the thin woman said.
“Ai, don’t be impatient. Just take in whatever you can now, alright? Gradually you will understand it all.” The Master’s tone was slow and unhurried, gentle and soothing, as if coaxing a little girl in kindergarten.
This time it was Wu Aizhen who suddenly felt like crying, because she resonated with her Master’s compassion.
“Master, these days when people look for lovers or husbands, it’s fashionable for the woman to be older and the man younger. Several of my girlfriends have married men younger than them. Some people say it’s a sign that yin is flourishing and yang is in decline. What do you think?” The pregnant girl suddenly blurted out the question. The abruptness startled Ding Yiming out of his stillness — could you really ask a monk something like that? He looked at the Master with curiosity, wondering how he would answer.
“It is not really a question of whether the man or the woman is older or younger. The pace of society today is fast, and change comes quickly. Whether boy or girl, if one’s own ability is insufficient, one will be exhausted by all this flux and the competition of work. And if on top of that one has no faith, no spiritual life, then the heart is empty, and one will certainly need some dependence outside oneself, body and mind. In China, by tradition, men have always seemed to bear more social responsibility. Most men have a sense of male pride and are unwilling to rely on a woman to earn a living and support the family. In this era, the pressure on boys seems to be somewhat greater than on girls. Girls now receive the same education as boys and enjoy the same rights to participate in social activities. That means in every profession a man’s competitors are far more numerous than in ancient China, because in many fields there are women who excel. This kind of competition and pressure makes a boy’s heart more easily worn down. A weary heart makes him more willing to seek out a psychologically mature and capable woman as a partner. That is how the tendency has arisen for some boys to pursue older women or wealthy women. In fact, a boy’s heart is no different from a girl’s. Though they may take pleasure in sensual indulgence, seeking joy in purity, innocence, and beauty, relieving the weariness and fear of the heart is always the first priority.”
The Master then looked at the pregnant girl and the thin woman, as if asking whether they had understood. Ding Yiming finally grasped what it meant when people spoke of a Buddha or Bodhisattva teaching with tireless, painstaking patience.
“I understand, Master. It is not a question of yin flourishing and yang declining. The weariness, loss, and fear of the heart cannot actually be liberated by depending on anything outside oneself. They can only be resolved by continuously enriching one’s inner life and examining one’s own mind. The Heart Sutra says that when Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva was deeply cultivating and realizing the Buddhadharma, Avalokiteshvara illuminated the Five Aggregates — form, feeling, perception, mental formations, and consciousness — and saw that they are all empty, thus crossing beyond all suffering and difficulty. It also says that if a Bodhisattva deeply realizes the wisdom of the Buddhadharma, that Bodhisattva can rely on such wisdom and abide with no impediment in the mind. Because the mind has no impediment, there is no fear. In fact, every one of us who studies the Buddhadharma should make a vow to seek and realize this very wisdom and power of Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva.”
The pregnant girl knelt there, her freckled face shining with a sacred light. Looking at her, Wu Aizhen found her beautiful.
“Yes, that is so,” the Master answered gently.
“Master, during pregnancy, can I read the Earth Store Sutra every day? I have heard that the Earth Store Sutra can eliminate the karmic obstacles of a pregnant woman and the child in her womb, and can dissolve adverse conditions between parent and child. Is there such a teaching?”
“The Earth Store Sutra teaches the great vows of Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva, and it also warns the world of the karmic retribution that brings suffering akin to the hells. But if you can hold this thought and read it with this vow-power and a Pure Mind, there will be extraordinary Merit in it. Trust that Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva, in his Loving Kindness and Compassion, will fulfill your wish.”
Just then, the pregnant girl’s cell phone rang. She took the call, then joined her palms before the Master and said, “Master, my husband has come to pick me up. I will come see you again in a few days.” The thin woman helped her rise from the meditation cushion. “Go see them out,” the Master said to Wu Aizhen. “Oh!” Wu Aizhen hurried to her feet and escorted the two young women out the door. A car was parked in the distance. A man, seeing them emerge, walked over quickly. Wu Aizhen froze — it was Mi Lang. The gauze bandage on his head was gone now. He clearly froze too when he recognized Wu Aizhen, but then immediately smiled at her, took the pregnant woman by one arm, and walked with her toward the car…
Ding Yiming sat quietly before the Master. He asked no more questions, nor did he feel that this silence needed to be broken with words. With a heart of utter stillness, he savored the quiet of being with the Master. This stillness spoke without end and was filled with boundless wisdom and blessing. It was not empty nothingness; he was truly experiencing, truly feeling the entire meaning that this nearly bare room bestowed on him. Everything was natural — the Master was natural, and he was natural. Outside, the wind rustled the leaves. A car horn sounded in the courtyard, like an echo in an empty valley. He suddenly realized that his body and mind had become so ethereal and luminous. After one thought passed, a trace of joy rose unbidden within the stillness of his heart, spreading outward into his brow, into his eyes, into every cell of his body. He wanted to smile. He felt the space between his brows relax and widen naturally; the smile rose quietly from within his heart and surfaced on his face. He was still. And this stillness was filled with tenderness, joy, and love…
Wu Aizhen came back in and sat on the meditation cushion. “Master, thank you for having me see them out. I saw what I wanted to see.”
“The sea of suffering is boundless, but turn back and there is the shore,” the Master murmured heavily. Ding Yiming emerged from his stillness and looked at Wu Aizhen in puzzlement, wondering what particular thing she had seen.
Ding Yiming’s cell phone rang. It was Zheng Meiqin, saying that a guest had arrived at home.
Ding Yiming put away his phone and looked at the Master. Facing this kindly old man, he did not know how to say goodbye.
“Master, I have to go. Let me bow to you.”
Ding Yiming suddenly rose from his seat and bent deeply at the waist. In his heart, what he faced was no longer an old man of whatever age, but an embodiment of wisdom and compassion. It was for this quality, this presence, that he bowed so deeply — his heart surrendered. Tears welled in his eyes. Once his heart had grown calm, he raised his head. Suddenly, he saw the Master glaring at him with wide, furious eyes, brows bristling upward, nose and mouth stretched exaggeratedly wide to both sides. He was stunned! In an instant, a milky-white radiance poured down from above, enveloping him from head to toe. Though somewhat hazy, within this translucent light he suddenly felt himself grow huge and towering. Everything in the room lay beneath his gaze. His vision and his heart abruptly became vast and enormously broad, and his whole body was filled with a courage and strength that could conquer anything…
“Hmm. Still needs tempering.” The Master closed his eyes.
Ecstasy swept through Ding Yiming. He wanted to embrace the Master, embrace Wu Aizhen, embrace everything in the room — but he restrained himself. The face that emerged from that ecstasy was extraordinarily calm, like a cloudless sky without a trace of shadow. He had entered great samadhi. Standing there, he felt he could gaze down upon the entire cosmos, that his heart could encompass the entire cosmos, possessed of an indestructible strength and courage — a power that poured forth unceasingly from the great radiance erupting from his body and mind…
“You go ahead. I’d like to stay and sit with Master a while longer. I’ll take a taxi back,” Wu Aizhen said to Ding Yiming, who was standing there in a daze.
“Oh!” Ding Yiming had not yet come back from that state. He looked at Wu Aizhen woodenly, then said, “I’m going now, Master,” turned, and left. Behind him, the Master murmured unhurriedly to himself, “Don’t think of this place. Go back and attend to the proper business.” Wu Aizhen saw Ding Yiming out, but he said nothing more to her; he went straight to his car.
Wu Aizhen came back in and said to the Master, “Master, is he alright? He suddenly seems a bit odd.”
“He is fine. He merely caught a glimpse of his hometown. In the future, help him more with this.”
“Oh! Thank you, Master, for the Blessing. I will.” Wu Aizhen joined her palms with deep sincerity.
After Ding Yiming left, Wu Aizhen helped the Master tidy the room and washed the sheets, the duvet cover, and some clothes. She asked no questions, and the Master said nothing to her either, just sat quietly leafing through a few picture albums.
Slowly, gently, Wu Aizhen kneaded the clothes, with utmost care and attention, as if she were cleansing the defilements of her own body and mind…
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