Keiko and Akikawa Yamaguchi would arrive in three days. Wu Aizhen considered what still needed handling before then. First, there was the matter between Zheng Meiqin and Mi Lang — she had promised Mi Lang she would mediate and could not go back on her word. Second, as a special correspondent for Buddha Voice magazine, she wanted to write an article about the insights into emotion that had come to her during this period. But Zheng Meiqin’s husband, Ding Yiming, had left her deeply puzzled. She and he were both “victims” of the same events — why had he stayed completely silent, and when Zheng Meiqin proposed separating, why had he calmly faced his rival in love without a word of complaint? What kind of man was this? How did such a person really see love and emotion? And the fact that he had refused to share a bed with Zheng Meiqin because he could not have a child was also a very peculiar case. Wu Aizhen’s occupational instinct as a psychologist kicked in. She had to meet this unusual man and talk with him.
She sent a text to Ding Yiming’s mobile: “Director Ding, I am a friend of Zheng Meiqin. I have a personal matter I’d like to discuss with you. Would you have time to meet?” Ding Yiming replied quickly — he had heard Zheng Meiqin mention her, he said, and had read her book Buddhadharma and Psychology. He arranged to meet her the next day after five o’clock at his office in the municipal party committee building.
Wu Aizhen knocked on the door of Director Ding’s office right at five. “Come in.” A steady baritone. Wu Aizhen pushed the door open. Across from her, behind the desk, a middle-aged man rose at the sound and came around from behind it, saying warmly, “Dr. Wu?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Ding Yiming.” He introduced himself.
Ding Yiming’s cordial warmth caught Wu Aizhen a little off guard. She shook the hand he extended.
“Please, sit.” Ding Yiming politely gestured to a leather chair opposite his desk, then circled back to his own seat.
Wu Aizhen was quietly surprised from the moment she stepped in and saw Ding Yiming. This man — if not for a faint trace of worldly slickness between his brows that marred him somewhat — could be described as nothing less than imposing and dignified. And when he had stood, he was easily one meter eighty-two or so. Zheng Meiqin had a husband this dashing and charismatic, yet didn’t know how to cherish him.
Ding Yiming was all good cheer, his tone steady and forceful. His eyes, beneath thick brows, regarded Wu Aizhen with a lively intensity as he said,
“Dr. Wu, I’ve long been aware of your reputation. Some of the cases and perspectives in your book are strikingly original. After finishing it, I’d been hoping for a chance to meet its author.”
“Thank you for the kind words. Here I am, arriving uninvited to pay you a visit.”
They both laughed. Wu Aizhen had not expected her first meeting with Ding Yiming to be so congenial. She had assumed a government official like him would be difficult to talk to, yet here they were, chatting like old friends reunited, and a quiet ease settled over her. Ding Yiming rose again to pour her a cup of tea.
“Dr. Wu, I recall you mentioned a concept in your book called the ‘Mind of the Dharma Realm.’ That’s probably a specialized Buddhist term — I couldn’t quite grasp it and wanted to ask you about it.
“Also, once while reading your book, I had a strange experience. You seemed to say that when a person enters deep stillness, a subtle, nimble awareness can arise — an awareness that can sense whether the breath entering and leaving the nostrils is light or heavy, short or long, the breathing of every pore of the body, and finally a breathing that is everywhere at once. I remember that when I read that passage, I tried closing my eyes. First I became aware of the breath at my nostrils — its coarseness, its weight — and then I sensed the breathing of my pores. And at that moment, I suddenly felt my body disappear and no longer knew where the breath was entering or leaving. That experience struck me as extraordinary, which is why your book made such a deep impression on me.
“And then you wrote in ‘Mind of the Dharma Realm’ that in a single kshana there are eighty-four thousand thoughts, and a single thought contains eighty-four thousand kinds of awareness. That the Mind of the Dharma Realm transcends time and space — I can’t remember the exact wording — but all of this left a deep mark on me. I’ve been wanting to discuss it with you.”
“Oh.” Wu Aizhen thought for a moment, as though recalling the contents of her own book. “That kind of breath contemplation you described is only one method of Buddhist cultivation and realization. The experience you had is a perfectly normal occurrence in practice. You don’t need to attach any special significance or mystic wonder to it. If you’re interested, I can find you some more books on that particular dharma door later.
“As for the ‘Mind of the Dharma Realm,’ let me offer a simple analogy. In everyday life, when we disagree on an issue, we often say it’s because we’re looking at it from different angles. But a Buddha sees the world from the most complete and perfect angle, and the world a Buddha sees can be called the Dharma Realm. In the Buddhadharma, the world is constituted by time and space, but in the Dharma Realm, there are no such concepts as time and space. In the Dharma Realm, all things manifest from the emptiness inherent within them, and because they themselves are empty of intrinsic nature, they present an empty appearance.” Wu Aizhen glanced at Ding Yiming, who looked thoroughly lost. She went on, “Let me use another analogy. If we take the human realm as our reference and liken the Dharma Realm to a sphere, then the center point of that sphere could, for argument’s sake, be called the ‘Mind of the Dharma Realm.’ When you see things from this Mind, the countless points both inside and outside that sphere can each be a dimension or a perspective. Seeing from the center of the sphere, you can perceive all the points on the sphere in a single kshana — and that is the most complete, most perfect angle from which to know the world and all phenomena. This ‘Mind of the Dharma Realm’ can also be called the dharma body Vairocana Buddha.
“If we look at this Mind from the angle of time, and suppose this center point represents the present, then all the points on the sphere can simultaneously represent the past and also the future. In this way, there really is no past or future, and without past or future, the present does not exist either — time vanishes. If we look at this Mind from the angle of space, it is impossible to find any directions such as front and back, left and right, up and down. Because we are speaking from the multi-dimensional perspective of the sphere, space too does not exist. Thus this Mind of the Dharma Realm, free of the bondage of time and space, pervades the entire Dharma Realm in a single thought. Or you could say that without stirring a single thought, everything in the Dharma Realm naturally presents itself exactly as it is. And each point on the sphere can itself become the center and form a Dharma Realm of its own. So the mind that pervades the Dharma Realm in a single thought simultaneously contains the ‘Mind of the Dharma Realm’ formed by every point on the sphere — which is why a single thought contains eighty-four thousand angles and awarenesses. Eighty-four thousand is simply a number often used in the Buddhadharma to mean ‘a great many.’
“Comparing the Dharma Realm to a sphere is merely an expedient. In truth, the Dharma Realm is boundless, vast beyond any outer limit and subtle beyond any inner limit — meaning its largeness knows no boundary and its smallness knows no boundary either. Emptiness and existence are non-dual, beyond any description, and the ‘Mind of the Dharma Realm’ is the same. What I wrote in the book was only an analogy. Perhaps it illustrates that when a person’s view, wisdom, and capacity of mind all reach the perfect fullness of the ‘Mind of the Dharma Realm,’ nothing is an obstruction — all obstacles, in oneself and in the world itself, dissolve.
“In fact, each of us already possesses this ‘Mind of the Dharma Realm.’ It is only because our minds are scattered and distracted, because we cling to the self and cling to the obstacles of time and space, that this complete and perfect Mind cannot manifest.”
At this point Wu Aizhen paused and looked again at Ding Yiming. He was gazing at the sphere she had sketched, a faint smile playing on his lips. She could not tell whether she had made herself clear. “Many principles of the Buddhadharma can only be thoroughly understood through cultivation and direct realization,” she added.
“Mmm. Though I can’t grasp everything you’ve said all at once, I find it fascinating. My mother is a devout Buddhist, and under her influence I’ve browsed through a number of Buddhist books. I just find the sutras too obscure and difficult to read, and many of the analogies the Buddha used were limited to the Indian cultural context of his time. If present-day teachers could use theories that modern people have already widely accepted and recognized — mathematics, chemistry, physics, philosophy, astronomy, and so on — to explain Buddhist thought, I think some of its teachings would be much more readily acknowledged and embraced.”
“True! In fact, some people are already using concepts like biofields, wave resonance and frequency, the conservation and transformation of energy, and so on to try to explain the Buddhist principle of the non‑duality of emptiness and existence. But any theory in this world can at best only approximate the truth — it can never prove it,” Wu Aizhen said.
“In the Buddhadharma, even the Buddha’s teachings were only analogies. True Chan cannot be put into words. Since all of them are analogies, all of them approximations, why not explain them using the knowledge that modern people are familiar with? Many scientific expositions are themselves nothing more than hypothetical deductions. As long as the deduction holds, you work step by step to verify it — and plenty of theories remain only deductively valid, beyond what human wisdom and technology can yet prove. It’s just that many Buddhist principles transcend dualistic thinking. In a world that clings to time and space and exists through relativity, much of what Buddhism says cannot be quantified or demonstrated — but that doesn’t mean mathematics or physics can’t reach conclusions about it. Someone once told me Buddhism is idealism, but once I studied the Middle Way View, I understood that the ‘mind’ Buddhism speaks of includes matter — it is the mind of ‘mind and matter as one source,’ a mind that encompasses consciousness. It is not the ‘mind’ of idealism, which refers only to consciousness. So Buddhism is neither idealism nor materialism — it is the ‘perfect teaching,’ a complete and perfect system of thought. If you emphasize ‘only,’ it ceases to be complete. That metaphor of yours, using the center of a sphere for the Mind of the Dharma Realm — I think it’s excellent. I have one more question. Can you explain, simply, what ‘form itself is emptiness, and emptiness itself is form’ means?”
Wu Aizhen burst out laughing. “Director Ding, you ask a question of such profundity and then ask me to explain it simply — you’ve really put me on the spot. As I understand it, the line in the Heart Sutra — ‘form itself is emptiness, emptiness itself is form; the same is true of Feeling, Cognition, Formation, and Consciousness’ — corresponds to the preceding line: ‘Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, practicing the profound Prajna Paramita, illuminated the five skandhas and saw they are all empty, and transcended all suffering and difficulty.’ Those words describe a state of direct realization. Using a mind that is still caught in discrimination and attachment to try to comprehend such wisdom will never yield a thorough and ultimate answer. In truth, for the Bodhisattva who has ‘illuminated the five skandhas and seen they are all empty,’ everything she sees is precisely ‘form itself is emptiness, emptiness itself is form.’ That is already the simplest, most accurate language to describe this state. Any further explanation would only be drawing legs on a snake — a needless addition. But since you’ve asked, let me draw those extra legs and share my own understanding.” Wu Aizhen paused to collect her thoughts. “For instance, in the dhyana states of actual Buddhist practice, you genuinely feel yourself to be on a journey of ‘transcending the Three Realms.’ As you observe each successive heaven, you perceive that its light, its state of mind, all differ — though most people don’t see the light or the states but still transcend. And each heaven you pass beyond simply means you have broken through one more layer of attachment. Once that layer of discrimination and attachment dissolves, even if you continue to move freely within that heaven, you experience everything in it as being like a dream, an illusion, a bubble, a shadow — you experience the sensation of ‘form itself is emptiness.’ And when you carry out all actions within that dreamlike, illusory sensation, a realization of ’emptiness itself is form’ arises. Yet even this is not ultimate, not complete. In the very instant you transcend the Three Realms, the entire billion-world system manifests at once within your own body and mind. You do not see an ’emptiness’ appearance of having left the Three Realms. Rather, after all attachments are shattered, ‘you’ become the totality of dependent origination — the true emptiness of the Buddhadharma is not a void; true emptiness gives rise to wondrous existence. At that moment, you completely and perfectly awaken to the state of ‘form itself is emptiness, emptiness itself is form,’ because everything in the Dharma Realm is exactly this way, just so. And simultaneously you realize there is no ‘Three Realms’ to enter or leave. You come from nowhere and go nowhere. There is no birth and no death.” Wu Aizhen saw Ding Yiming frowning in thought. The experiences and insights of dhyana states were still hard for him.
“When a Bodhisattva reaches the Ten Grounds through cultivation, can they realize this state?”
“In terms of actual practice, I would say not yet completely. A Bodhisattva on the Ten Grounds still dwells within the realm of sentient beings and still carries a trace of emotional attachment — the attachment to liberating all beings — that has not yet been broken. Their view may be complete, but when they face their own karmic connections in the human world, a small blind spot remains in the nature of their mind, like the shadow beneath a lamp. That is to say, though a Bodhisattva on the Ten Grounds can already send down the rain of Dharma and illumine all beings with the light of wisdom, like a lamp that can light everything around it, there remains beneath the lamp itself a small shadow cast by its own presence. That is the Bodhisattva’s blind spot. But the Bodhisattvas mentioned in the Heart Sutra — Avalokiteshvara, Manjushri, and the other great Bodhisattvas — all attained Buddhahood in other worlds kalpas ago. They can all be called ‘ancient Buddhas.’ They manifest in this world to demonstrate the path to enlightenment, and the accomplishments of their mind-nature, their wisdom, and the many skillful means they use to liberate sentient beings are beyond our capacity to comprehend or measure.”
“If I have time in the future, I’d certainly like to explore the field of Buddhism further. Well then, let us return to the matter at hand. What is it you came to see me about today?” Ding Yiming fixed his eyes on Wu Aizhen, idly toying with his pen, his face full of sincerity.
“I never expected you to have such deep insight into the Dharma, Director Ding. To have thought about Buddhism so seriously — I’m truly impressed.” Wu Aizhen looked at Ding Yiming with surprise. “But that isn’t why I came today. I’m writing an article on emotion and feeling, and there are some things I’m confused about. I wanted to find someone to talk to. I’m a friend of Zheng Meiqin’s, and I’d long heard she has a husband who is magnanimous and broad-minded, with an uncommon view of marriage. So I came specially to pay a visit.”
“Don’t put a halo on me. If you’ve got something to say, say it.” Ding Yiming was still smiling.
“I want to ask you a few questions. I’ll go as soon as I’m done. Are you willing to answer?” Wu Aizhen said, feigning caution.
Ding Yiming tossed his pen onto the desk, reined in his impatience, leaned back in his chair, and said, “Depends what you ask. Go ahead.”
“First question: do you love Zheng Meiqin?”
Ding Yiming’s face flushed. He hadn’t expected Wu Aizhen to ask such a question, and for a moment he was at a loss for words. He looked at her, wondering what game she was playing.
But Wu Aizhen fixed her gaze on him with earnest persistence. He averted his gaze and said, “I suppose I can’t say I don’t.”
“What kind of answer is that?”
“Love!” Ding Yiming said it lightly and crisply, then watched her eyes with keen interest, as if waiting to see what more absurd questions she could come up with.
“If there were rumors that Zheng Meiqin was having an affair, and you had actually obtained the evidence, what would you do?”
Ding Yiming grew slightly uncomfortable; his face darkened a little, but then he lifted his head and said in earnest, “If something like that really happened, it would be my fault. I’ve fallen short in many ways — always out at social engagements, not able to come home and be with her. Back in school, Meiqin was the campus belle, good with people. She has many talents, a thousand seductions. I know she must feel lonely, but I can’t help it. Once you’re out in the world, you’re not your own master.” At this, his eyes reddened. “If I had been able to treat her the way I did when we were in love, how could she possibly have an affair? Even so, she’s still a good wife. I believe in her. I wouldn’t listen to rumors.” Ding Yiming was still defending Zheng Meiqin’s reputation, his words a little contradictory.
“That’s your view. No one can keep up the passion of courtship after marriage. Some men these days, when they’ve had their fill of the flower at home, still go out to pick wildflowers — for the thrill, for something new.”
“Throwing it all away for a moment’s impulse, a bit of excitement, the fleeting allure of physical beauty — that’s not wise. I think every man, when he steps out his door and walks the street, should guard the warmth of his home, the sanctity of love, that line of defense around his feelings — the way a soldier guards a border. Besides, wildflowers aren’t really flowers; in the end they are women with feelings. Can you pick one and casually toss it away? Both sides end up hurting. Even the one-night stands that are popular among young people now leave traces in the heart — traces like a hole torn in a perfect marriage or love. Even if you patch it up later, it’s still an ugly patch. A scar will remain.”
Wu Aizhen stared steadily at Ding Yiming as he spoke. There are too few men like this anymore, she thought. Whatever he might actually do, at least at this moment, sitting here saying these things, there was an uprightness about him. Once again she thought of Zheng Meiqin. Why doesn’t she know how to treasure this?
“In some families, husband and wife each have affairs and don’t interfere with each other. How do you see that?”
“I suppose you could call it a way of living, born of helplessness.” Ding Yiming’s face grew more and more somber, as if Wu Aizhen’s questions were stirring some deep reflection. “After all, a marriage touches on so many things — children, finances, status. If dissolving the marriage would harm all that, I’m sure both sides would think about which way of life suits them better. But I believe that kind of marriage takes a heavy toll on body and mind, and it’s even worse for the children as they grow up.”
Wu Aizhen nodded. “Still, temptations are everywhere these days. Under this onslaught of sensory temptations, it’s hard for anyone to keep that inner stillness. What do you think a good man should do?”
“Be a decent human being. Expand your vision, your heart, your breadth of spirit. Keep refining and bettering yourself, and certain behaviors will naturally fall away. Human beings are, after all, higher animals with minds. Some things we ought to be above doing.”
Wu Aizhen fell silent, still turning over Ding Yiming’s words, or else pondering what else she might ask.
“Is the interview over?” Ding Yiming said, laughing.
Wu Aizhen gritted her teeth and made up her mind. “Have you ever had an affair?”
“Do you really think I’d answer that?” Ding Yiming said, somewhere between laughter and exasperation.
“I think you will!”
“Why?”
“Because you’re so candid. Because we’re friends who hit it off the moment we met.”
Ding Yiming looked at her in silence, his eyes probing and distrustful.
“Did Zheng Meiqin send you to ask me that?” He was beginning to suspect Wu Aizhen’s true purpose in coming.
“No. I’m Ren Qingfei’s ex-girlfriend. I know you already know about what happened, but I honestly admire the attitude you’ve kept in the face of all these storms in your marriage and your life — calm, magnanimous, forgiving. I can’t see that any of it has caused you the slightest harm. To be honest, I’m astonished! I’ve always hoped to reach that kind of state myself. If something like this really happened to a man who deeply loves his wife, I’d find it truly incomprehensible — it would mean this husband’s breadth of heart and spirit is no less than the most eminent monk or virtuous master. But I still wonder: you don’t love Zheng Meiqin. Forgive me — so far I don’t deny that you’re indeed a man of upright and noble character.”
“That’s how it is.” Ding Yiming murmured the words. He rubbed the sides of his nose and his forehead vigorously with both hands, drew a deep breath, pressed a finger to his temple, and picked up his pen with the other hand, tapping it lightly on the desk, lost in thought, silent.
“If it’s awkward for you, then don’t say anything.” Wu Aizhen knew when to stop. She didn’t want to put this man, who had left such a fine impression on her, in a difficult position.
“It’s nothing, really. I just don’t quite know how to begin. I trust that you’re a psychologist of good professional ethics, that you’ll keep a patient’s secrets. Maybe talking with you will help. I’ve never had the courage to say any of this.”
“To tell the truth, I haven’t had an affair. But I don’t know whether a secret crush counts as one.”
Wu Aizhen laughed. She found Ding Yiming thoroughly endearing, and had no idea how to answer him.
Ding Yiming gave a serious, rueful smile. “Three years ago, I fell secretly in love with my best friend’s wife. People say a secret love is more painful than lovesickness. I know that from experience. I went to my friend’s house almost every day — on the surface to play mahjong, but really just to see her. I understood the old saying, ‘A friend’s wife is off-limits.’ I still had my bottom line. But that feeling was truly unbearable. It haunted my dreams and my waking thoughts. For nearly three whole years, I couldn’t untie this knot, couldn’t shake it off. So for those three years, my heart was full of this woman. I owe Meiqin a great deal — that’s the truth. Because I was so preoccupied with her, I didn’t want to be with any other woman, including Meiqin. I couldn’t muster any interest. I could only pour all my energy into work and social obligations. I just wanted to free my heart from this feeling as fast as I could, but it was like I was possessed. Doesn’t Buddhism talk about questions of karmic affinity? Whether there’s some cause-and-condition link between me and her — why I’ve been tangled up in this for years and can’t attain liberation.” At this, Ding Yiming forced another smile and glanced at Wu Aizhen.
Wu Aizhen saw that his face had gone a little pale as he spoke, his heart clenched tight, a picture of a hero brought low by a tender weakness.
“You’re not going to laugh at me for being old-fashioned, are you? In this day and age, that someone like me still can’t get over something like this.”
“No, this is the conduct of a true man. I admire you, Director Ding — moved by feeling, yet checked by propriety. And not even that alone — to be sunk so deep in it, yet endure it silently in your chest, honoring the feeling of friendship. You’ve really opened my eyes. How could I laugh at you?”
“What hurts the most isn’t even that. It’s that this good friend of mine doesn’t treat her well. He’s always out chasing skirts; he has no tenderness toward her whatsoever. And he has a violent temper — say two sentences he doesn’t like and out comes the foul language. Once, when I went to their place, I saw her face and eyes were all swollen. I asked her about it, and she said she’d tripped and fallen. Her five-year-old son corrected her right away: ‘Mommy’s lying. She didn’t trip. Daddy pushed Mommy down, and then kicked her.’ You can’t imagine what that did to me. And that friend of mine was laughing and joking as if nothing had happened. I wanted to knock him down with one punch and give him a few kicks of my own. But even an upright official has trouble settling a family quarrel. I couldn’t say a thing, couldn’t do a thing.”
“What kind of work does your friend do? How can he be so crude — hitting the mother in front of the child?
Even if he has no regard for the bond between husband and wife, he ought to think about the child growing up. Example teaches more than words. How is the child supposed to respect him in the future? He’s not only hurting the marriage, he’s hurting the father-son bond.”
“If only he thought the way you do!” Ding Yiming let out a long breath. He poured fresh tea for Wu Aizhen and himself, glanced at his watch, and said, “Dr. Wu, I hope I’m not taking up too much of your time, going on about all this.”
“How could you be? If anything, I’m afraid I’m keeping you from your work.”
“Not at all. It’s the weekend. After five in the afternoon, there’s not much to do.”
“This friend of mine and I were classmates from elementary school all the way through high school, good friends. We only went separate ways for university, and then both came back to City A to work. I remember how we used to travel together on summer break, when we were young students full of high ideals and loyalty, climbing to the top of Mount Tai to watch sunrise and sunset — what heroic spirit we had then, seeing all the lesser peaks spread out below. I never imagined that after starting work, all those youthful ambitions would just disappear. I haven’t done well myself, but he’s even worse. All he does is eat and drink with fair-weather friends and mahjong buddies, play cards, get drunk. He’ll sharpen his wits and grease his way into connections to angle for a promotion. He chases women on the side. The affairs never stop. Everything he learned in school was thrown to the winds long ago. If he reads anything now, it’s Thick Black Theory, How to Thicken Your Skin, How to Make Women Fall for You at First Sight. He never thinks of improving himself as a person. He even lectures me — says I’m slow, can’t keep up with the times, too stuffy and rigid, no good at flattery. In official circles he’s smooth as an eel, a master of groveling flattery, but when he gets home he dumps all his resentment and grievances on his wife and kid.”
At this, Wu Aizhen saw Ding Yiming’s eyes go red. His voice was calm, but his chest looked as though a ball of fire was about to burst from it. He was holding it in, reining himself back…
“There is still justice, goodness, and purity in this world. People hunger for truth, goodness, and beauty, and that hunger will become a cry, become thunder, become a storm. I believe that a man like your friend, if he never repents, will sooner or later be cast aside by life. He’ll lose friendship, love, even family. No matter how much money or fame he has then, he’ll be nothing but a walking corpse, because the soul needs love to nourish it. And that love isn’t found somewhere else; it comes from self-reflection, from the radiance of a self that keeps refining its character. Otherwise, the only thing he’ll ever find in this world is false emotion, because that’s all his spirit can resonate with.”
“Yes. If a public servant can’t improve his moral character or hold himself to a strict standard, can’t lead by example, then not only will ordinary people not trust him, he won’t always have the wind at his back in official circles either. No matter how good you are at brown-nosing and toadying, one day the horse will trip. You think holding onto an official’s rice bowl is that easy?”
Ding Yiming had grown righteously indignant; perhaps his friend’s story had made him think of the darker side of officialdom.
“But there are still good officials like you, Ding Yiming. Ordinary people still have hope.”
Ding Yiming smiled at this. “There’s not much I can do. But wherever you go, the yin and yang sides are always both present. What can you accomplish if you don’t go with the flow? When your rank is low and your power small, wanting to be a good official isn’t so easy. I actually can understand a lot of what my friend does. But no matter what, you can give up the official post, you can give up the profit, but you can’t give up being a human being. If you lose your character for the sake of fame and gain, what is there left to live for? A human life is only so many decades. If in all that time there are only ever a few things you’ve done for the benefit of others, and on top of that you’ve hurt people for a little petty gain of your own, earning yourself a bad name, a rotten reputation — I truly don’t think it’s worth it.”
“If you can think that way, I believe a lot of others can too. I may not have to survive in official circles, but I do believe the day when these dark things are cleansed isn’t far off. Isn’t the country already advocating a harmonious society ruled by virtue? The purification of people’s hearts is the great tide. People are crying out for genuine feeling, for fairness and selflessness, longing for warmth, for love, for families where the old are honored and the young are cherished, where four generations live under one roof. When the longing is strong enough, as soon as the causes and conditions ripen, it will start a prairie fire. And when that time comes, all that is dark and ugly will vanish without a trace.”
Wu Aizhen, too, had grown agitated. Ding Yiming burst out laughing. “Look at us. We might as well be giving a speech. What can our passion alone solve?”
“Purifying society is everyone’s responsibility. We may not be able to change much, but we can start with ourselves. And I believe plenty of people think the same way.”
“All right, let’s drop it, okay? I believe evil cannot prevail over good, and the light will always drive out the darkness. Honestly, Dr. Wu, you strike me as such a gentle woman, yet you have a hatred for injustice and a heart that longs to purify the world — I’m genuinely impressed. Zheng Meiqin is different. She’s always going on about promoting traditional culture, but really she’s utterly self-centered, obsessed with her own gains and losses, and absorbed in her own tender, tangled emotional attachments. Outwardly she seems to move heaven and earth, like some all-powerful superwoman, but inside she’s hollow and desperately dependent. She depends on feelings, on money, on power. She’s never learned to depend on herself. She doesn’t understand that only those who rely on themselves can’t be crushed, that they’re the all-powerful ones, the truly strong.”
“You’re right!” Wu Aizhen looked at him with admiration. “What you said has benefited me too. A woman must genuinely achieve self-respect, self-love, and self-reliance from within. But it’s not just women who depend on emotions, money, and power — men do too. Yet truly relying on oneself — how difficult is that? The ‘self’ has long been lost in desire, power, and money. And all these things are impermanent; they can vanish at any moment. Once they’re gone, those who’ve grown used to depending on them will crumble.”
“I’ve thought about this question many times. How does a person find their true inner pillar? Before you came today, I wasn’t clear on it. But now I feel that the Dharma you’ve spoken of can serve this purpose. Though I haven’t truly studied, cultivated, and realized the Dharma, nor am I a Buddhist yet. Still, when you were explaining the Dharma to me, I seemed to see in you a pure, undefiled strength and wisdom. And more importantly, although I’ve had only one experience of sitting meditation that went beyond the self, that pure and effortless stillness and samadhi instantly lifted me above the ordinary. If I could enter that state often, I believe the defiled filth of this world would drop away from me of its own accord. Now I understand what the ‘world of the unstained lotus’ in Buddhism looks like. I used to think it was just a Buddhist’s imaginary paradise, but now I believe it’s not external — it can be established in each person’s mind. And in that world, even if you lose everything in this mundane realm, you won’t lose its purity and joy. Once a person reaches that, what more is there to seek?”
Wu Aizhen’s eyes widened in surprise. Ding Yiming’s words moved her deeply, she who was always talking about Buddha-dharma cultivation. She recalled something her master had once taught her: “Don’t look down on those who haven’t studied the Dharma. Understanding the principles of the Dharma doesn’t mean you can carry them out in your conduct. Some people, though they’ve never studied the Dharma, already live in accord with it; their actions naturally align with the Way. This is actually the true ‘unconditioned dharma,’ the essence of the Dharma that is beyond words. The ultimate aim of studying the Dharma is to use it in daily life. It is not merely about planting blessings for future lives; more importantly, it guides the arising and movement of thoughts in everyday life, helping people live better, happier, and fuller lives — allowing them to dwell in a great family where the nation is strong and the people prosperous, and where society is harmonious, far from plagues, wars, suffering, and fear. Only when you can integrate the Dharma into your mind in all daily activities — in eating, drinking, urinating, defecating, and sleeping, in ordinary work and worldly affairs — only when your mind is Buddha and the mind-dharma does not stray from the Way, can you be said to have truly learned what the Buddha taught and pointed to. Then, living is cultivation and cultivation is living. Otherwise, none of it is the path to Buddhahood.”
“Dr. Wu, I only wish I’d met you sooner! Perhaps we’re both spouting impractical grand words, but a person ought to have something noble within them; otherwise, living is too sordid. To know only eating, drinking, and pleasure — a few decades no heavier than the life of an ant — your visit today has enlightened me greatly.”
“Director Ding, you’ve moved me as well. These past few years I’ve devoted myself wholeheartedly to psychological research and to cultivating the Dharma. At times I’ve been self-righteously aloof, always seeking to escape from the world of red dust into some secluded place, thinking the world’s defilements too deep, that the human heart held too much ugliness and filth. But you’re different. You’ve wrestled through the red dust. You haven’t truly cultivated and realized the Dharma that I thought so lofty, yet your words and actions put me to shame. It’s made me truly realize that there’s no difference between life in the red dust and cultivation away from the world. It all depends on the attitude and the magnitude of your mind. Your principles in how you treat people, your stance in the face of the ugly, your optimism, your calm, your loyalty to friends, and your freedom from letting private desires and personal feelings interfere with your proper work — truly, I feel ashamed of the vow-power I’m always mouthing!”
After Wu Aizhen had spoken these words in a rush, the two of them smiled at each other. Ding Yiming let out a light breath, as though all the foul air and gloom that had accumulated in his chest for years had been expelled with it, leaving his chest much brighter and lighter.
“Thank you for the praise! What have I done well? Human weaknesses can’t be overcome just by talking about them. I’ve still fallen into the trap of my own emotions and can’t pull myself out.”
“You’re a great man. A great man should be able to cut through the threads of love with the sword of wisdom.”
“But I lack wisdom. I can’t draw that sword.” Ding Yiming said this no longer in great sorrow; his mood had noticeably improved.
“I have a master who can see into the various causes and conditions of past lives. I could ask him to look into the connection between you and this woman you secretly love, and why your emotional knot is so deep.”
Ding Yiming smiled at this. “You actually believe in that? I was just talking off the top of my head. This is nothing but my own weakness. I tied myself up with a rope. Only the one who tied the bell can untie it. If I don’t untie the knot in my own heart myself, who else can untie it for me?”
“True enough. But Buddhism speaks of cause and effect across the three periods of time and of the six paths of rebirth. Many things in life really can’t be grasped or figured out with our ordinary human wisdom alone. Even though this is your emotional knot, the Dharma speaks of ‘dependent origination.’ Finding the root might let you see on which ‘condition’ that knot was tied. I think it would help you.”
Ding Yiming smiled but did not answer.
Wu Aizhen dialed her master’s number. While waiting for him to answer, she whispered to Ding Yiming, “My master is truly formidable. I rarely dare to ask him for anything, and he rarely looks into these things — only for those who have the affinity. He always compassionately scolds me for sticking my nose into other people’s business. Still, where genuine feeling reaches, even metal and stone are split open. I believe your feelings will move the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. Let my master offer a hint, and let the Bodhisattvas help untie this ‘knot’ for you!”
Ding Yiming still didn’t speak, but Wu Aizhen’s words seemed to touch his most vulnerable nerve. He was somewhat moved…
“Master, are you well? I’ve come back from my business trip. I miss you very much. I’m planning to come see you tomorrow — you’ll be at the monastery tomorrow, won’t you? … Yes, I’m fine. It’s just that I have something to trouble you with now. I have a friend …” Wu Aizhen was telling the story of Ding Yiming’s feelings, but without mentioning his name.
Hearing Wu Aizhen speak so intimately with a monastic, her tone like a little girl talking to her father, almost wheedling, Ding Yiming was flabbergasted and couldn’t help laughing to himself.
“Quick — Master agreed. Give me your and her birthdates and eight characters.” Wu Aizhen said to Ding Yiming, who was wearing a strange grin.
Ding Yiming thought it was great fun, and quickly scribbled his own birthdates and the woman’s on a piece of paper.
After hanging up, Wu Aizhen said to Ding Yiming, “What are you laughing at?! A master is still a person — doesn’t a master like hearing nice things? It’s just that the master is unattached to them. He’s like a father to me. Though I sometimes don’t dare to tell him about my own emotional affairs — not because I’m afraid he’ll scold me, but because I feel I’ve failed to repay the grace of his teaching…”
At these words, Ding Yiming ducked his head and laughed even harder.
“Ai! Just now I was afraid you might not know her birthdates. I didn’t expect you to remember them so clearly.” Wu Aizhen lowered her head and looked at the vigorous scrawl Ding Yiming had made on the paper.
Ding Yiming smiled but still said nothing.
Wu Aizhen’s phone rang. Ding Yiming watched the odd look she gave him as she answered the call, and had no idea what kind of story Wu Aizhen’s “all-knowing, spiritually penetrating” master might be spinning to put her off.
“Master says you and she were once, in a past life, a father and daughter who were separated, and that you later, because of it, withdrew into the gate of emptiness and became a very famous eminent monk of the Tang dynasty!” Wu Aizhen stared at Ding Yiming in amazement, as if trying to catch a trace of that Tang dynasty high monk on him.
At these words, Ding Yiming felt as though his entire body had been struck by lightning and shuddered. The years of anxiety, concern, worry, and loss surged up like a flood that topples mountains and overturns seas … and suddenly he could not hold back; tears poured forth…
Wu Aizhen watched wide-eyed and dumbstruck, then in a moment her own eyes filled with tears, though she did not know why she was so sad.
Ding Yiming had a sudden profound realization, as though a key had clicked open the rusted lock in his heart, and he wept freely. He was not sad; within those tears were the sudden joy of liberation and a gratitude for genuine human feeling.
Ding Yiming had never wept like this before — so freely, so deeply, so thoroughly.
Teardrops also slipped gently from Wu Aizhen’s eyes. Before her, this man of pure feeling, this man who had suffered so for love, his rolling tears seemed to wash all the dust from the air, purifying both himself and Wu Aizhen’s own emotions. These were a great man’s tears, the tears that a real man does not easily shed!
“Thank you! Thank your master, too! Although I don’t really believe in fortune-telling and predictions, I understand my own feelings. Zheng Meiqin and I never had children. I’ve never experienced a father’s love for a daughter. But over all these years, what has accumulated deep inside my emotions has long surpassed the need for desire between a man and a woman. I want her to be happy, I want her to be blessed, I want my friend to cherish her — this feeling has overwhelmingly overpowered my own emotional desire to possess and demand. Now I know how to untie this knot. My friend has let his character sink into depravity, beating and kicking her. Before, all I knew was pain and anger, and outrage on her behalf. But now I know what I should do: I will do everything in my power to help him, to bring him back to the right path, to let him again enjoy the warmth of a home and the joy of true affection. I’ll help him rebuild his ideals and aspirations. That is the best love I can show her. To help fulfill her love is the best way to liberate myself and to untie my own dead knot of ‘love.'”
“You’ve already untied it!” Wu Aizhen said firmly.
“When love doesn’t seek to possess, it already brings happiness and joy. Let alone being willing to devote yourself to the one you love, to help fulfill her love — that is already walking the Bodhisattva Path in Buddhism. My master often says that through such selfless dedication, a person attains supreme wisdom and liberation across all lifetimes. In the Dharma, there are the Four Immeasurables that cultivate the Mind of the Dharma Realm: loving-kindness, compassion, joy, and equanimity.”
Ding Yiming glanced at her and repeated, “The Four Immeasurables,” as if recalling something.
“Loving-kindness is giving rise to an unconditional, all-accepting love for all living beings, like parents for their children.
“Compassion is giving rise to a feeling of pity for every drop of suffering that sentient beings undergo.
“Joy is giving rise to a feeling of shared and rejoicing delight at every drop of happiness that sentient beings experience.
“Equanimity is renouncing every ‘self’ that obstructs accomplishment.” Wu Aizhen briefly explained.
Ding Yiming was still pondering. Suddenly he said: “I understand. I understand what the ‘Mind of the Dharma Realm’ is. On the Bodhisattva Path, it is the Bodhisattva — loving-kindness, compassion, joy, and equanimity — seeking the Buddha Way above and transforming sentient beings below. In officialdom, it is called the people’s servant, upright and incorruptible, working to the last breath. In ethics, it is being filial to parents above, teaching children below, with a husband of virtue and a wife of goodness. In being human, it is abiding by benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness — the basic qualities and precepts of a human being. That is the most perfect expression of the Mind of the Dharma Realm on the human path.
“I don’t understand the principle of the Dharma Realm, but I understand the principle of the human path. The Daoists say that only by fulfilling the human way can one achieve the way of heaven. Buddhism says that to realize Buddhahood, you must first learn to be a proper human. Although the Mind of the Dharma Realm contains all things, without time or space, without good or evil, without distinction or opposition, we are humans, and human nature instinctively yearns for truth, goodness, and beauty. ‘At birth, human nature is good’ — that’s the principle. Only by perfecting human qualities and character, so that the self aligns with heavenly nature, can you resonate with the Way. Only then can you realize the ‘great principle of the Way’ that is beyond distinctions, beyond good and evil, and only then can you truly accomplish the Mind of the Dharma Realm. That’s also why practically all religions exhort people toward goodness.”
“A Tang dynasty eminent monk is truly remarkable! You’re about to attain sudden enlightenment and Buddhahood,” Wu Aizhen teased him.
“I wouldn’t presume to say whether people truly have past lives or future lives — I honestly don’t understand that yet. But from your simple words, I can see that apart from being a religious faith, the Dharma is also a doctrine of life’s wisdom. And that is something worth everyone’s inquiry.”
“I’m starting to admire you, Ding Yiming! If you keep awakening at this rate, I’ll have to perform full prostrations to you before long.”
Ding Yiming laughed heartily, glanced at his watch, and asked, “What time do you think it is?”
“I have no idea — is it that late already?!”
“Nine o’clock. We’ve been talking for a full four hours! Are you hungry? My stomach’s growling — let’s go eat together, shall we?”
Almost without noticing, Wu Aizhen had shifted from calling him Director Ding to Ding Yiming, and Ding Yiming, unceremoniously, invited her to join him for dinner.
Ding Yiming drove Wu Aizhen straight to the city’s most luxurious hotel, the Feizixiao Grand Hotel. In high spirits, Ding Yiming ordered several specialty dishes. Wu Aizhen said that was too much for two people. Ding Yiming set down the menu and said brightly, “It’s fine, I’m happy today — let’s celebrate.”
Midway through the meal, when Ding Yiming happened to hear Wu Aizhen mention that she had just recovered from pleural effusion and still had to avoid certain foods, he immediately called the server over and added one more dish, saying it was the hotel’s signature dish called “Feizixiao” and should be good for the lungs. The Feizixiao was brought out. It was bird’s nest, lotus seeds, and small red dates, served in a lotus-petal-shaped silver bowl, set on a dark-green dish shaped like a round lotus leaf. A delicate little silver spoon rested on the dish.
“Go on, eat!” Since only one small bowl had been served, Wu Aizhen was too embarrassed to pick up the silver spoon and eat by herself. Ding Yiming pushed it toward her and said, “I ordered it especially for you. I don’t care for sweets.”
Wu Aizhen dropped her reserve, picked up the silver spoon, and took a sip. Instantly, her mouth filled with a cool, fragrant freshness, a thread of sweetness traveling from her throat all the way to the depths of her heart. Wu Aizhen couldn’t help being astonished — she had eaten bird’s nest, lotus seeds, and red dates before, but never had they tasted this wonderful.
Ding Yiming saw Wu Aizhen studying the contents of the bowl in wonder. Smiling, he said, “It’s to your taste, then? The last time I came here with several leaders, the owner told us this dessert is made from a secret recipe. On the surface the ingredients are nothing special, but the sauce is blended from dozens of pure flower nectars and rock sugar water — first brought to a boil over a high flame, then simmered slowly over a low one, and the fire has to be lychee wood. The bird’s nest, lotus seeds, and red dates have to be added in a certain order. And most important, you have to eat it with a heart full of joy and love to taste it at its finest. That’s why it’s called ‘Feizixiao.'”
Wu Aizhen had started off listening carefully, but by the time he reached the last few lines she thought he was joking, so she stopped paying attention, lifted the little bowl, and finished the bird’s nest in several quick gulps.
“I’m not making it up — that’s what the owner said.” Ding Yiming had already finished eating and was using a toothpick, watching with amusement as Wu Aizhen cradled that elegant little bowl with less-than-elegant table manners. Wu Aizhen set down the bowl, dabbed her mouth with a napkin, and looked at Ding Yiming. “Was it good?” Ding Yiming’s tone and expression were like those of someone asking a child.
“This flavor should exist only in heaven.” Wu Aizhen licked the lingering fragrance from her lips and spoke in earnest.
On the drive home, Ding Yiming said he wanted to pay his respects to Wu Aizhen’s Master. “You’re a government official — is it really appropriate for you to visit my Master?” Wu Aizhen asked with some hesitation. “A government official is still a human being, and a human being has things he’s unsure about. Wouldn’t I be doing my job better if I resolved my doubts? What’s inappropriate about that?” “Oh, I didn’t mean it that way. I meant, if the director of the municipal party committee’s general office pays a visit to a monk, might someone accuse you of engaging in feudal superstition?”
“I want to understand the Dharma to seek its wisdom and verify it for myself. I’m not going to bow to the Buddha to pray for something. How could anyone link that to feudal superstition? There’s nothing to worry about.” Ding Yiming was unexpectedly annoyed by Wu Aizhen’s long-winded refusals. He glared at her, as if to say, Are you going to take me or not? “Tomorrow afternoon, then,” Wu Aizhen said. “I’ll wait for you at my door in the afternoon — come pick me up and we’ll go see the Master together.” Ding Yiming’s expression relaxed. He added, “If you won’t take me, I can find the place myself. It’s not as if I don’t know where the temple gate is.” His manner, stubborn as a child’s, made Wu Aizhen laugh…
Ding Yiming saw Wu Aizhen all the way to the entrance of her apartment building and said, with some reluctance to part, “I never imagined that after all these years, the intimate friend with whom I can talk freely from the heart — the one who truly understands me — would turn out to be a lovely woman.” Wu Aizhen clasped Ding Yiming’s broad, warm hand and smiled, then, mimicking his earlier tone, said, “With a Tang-dynasty eminent monk like you willing to be my intimate friend, in a life such as this, what more could I ask!” The two of them burst into laughter, and Wu Aizhen felt the stifled weight that had pressed on her chest for days vanish completely. All past afflictions and future anxieties scattered like smoke in their hearty laughter…
The world holds no troubles of its own; only fools disturb themselves. Climbing the stairs, Wu Aizhen felt the world was clear and cool.
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