Chapter 188 Reception
Chen Chang'an frowned slightly, and before he could speak, the monk continued: "The Buddhist scriptures say: 'The pain of separation from loved ones, the pain of meeting with those one hates.' That you can see through the bonds of family affection is truly the great wisdom of a cultivator!"
He turned to Aunt Wang, his tone compassionate yet with an undeniable air: "This female benefactor, your son has the world in his heart, you should be happy. Why cling to the love between mother and son? You must know that all loving encounters are impermanent and difficult to last. It is better to let go, only then can you attain freedom!"
Aunt Wang's face was pale, her lips trembling, unable to speak. The neighbors looked at each other, momentarily speechless at these Buddhist principles.
Seeing this, the monk became even more smug and said in a loud voice: "Have you all heard the story of Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva? He vowed, 'If hell is not empty, I vow not to attain Buddhahood.' Must he also be called unfilial by you?"
The young man's originally wavering expression gradually became firm again under the monk's words.
Chen Chang'an turned his head and exchanged a glance with A Li, a flash of coldness in both their eyes.
Although this was the first time they had met this monk, that compassionate yet slightly arrogant expression was exactly the same as the Miao Hua monk they had encountered before, even the slightly raised chin while speaking was identical.
Subsequently, Chen Chang'an's gaze grew colder.
These demonic monks had one set of fallacious arguments after another, but he had already experienced this once, knowing that while these monks on the surface cited scriptures to try to persuade you, in reality, once they found this set of fallacies didn't work, it still came down to whose martial virtue was more abundant.
Therefore, rather than wasting breath debating with these monks, it would be better to follow them later and directly end them with one sword.
On the other side, the monk was patting the young man's shoulder with a face full of praise: "Excellent! Excellent! Benefactor, you are young but already understand the greater righteousness, forsaking small love for the sake of greater righteousness, truly the heart of a bodhisattva!"
Flattered, the young man quickly said modestly: "Master, you praise me too much. I am just doing what I can, some things within my ability."
The monk laughed loudly, pointing to the scars on the young man's body: "These scars, every one is a merit! Benefactor, you are willing to be injured to save others. How could such a breadth of mind be understood by ordinary people?"
The young man became even more smug and straightened his back: "Master is absolutely right! Although my cultivation is still shallow, my heart is set on goodness. I only wish to save one more person if I can!"
The monk nodded in satisfaction: "Good! Good! With this understanding, benefactor, you will surely achieve great things in the future! Why not accompany this humble monk to travel, widely form good connections, and save all living beings together?"
The young man nodded without hesitation: "I was just thinking the same!"
The two talked more and more congenially, as if they had known each other for years, praising each other with flowery words.
The monk praised the young man as "selfless, comparable to a bodhisattva reincarnated," while the young man praised the monk as "profound in Buddhist teachings, a true Buddha in the world."
Finally, the two walked out of Ping'an Fang side by side, their figures gradually disappearing at the street corner.
Meanwhile, inside Ping'an Fang, the neighbors gathered around Aunt Wang, comforting her in a chorus of voices.
"Aunt Wang, don't be sad, children grow up and have their own ideas..."
"Yes, maybe he'll come to his senses after a while..."
Aunt Wang lowered her head, tears silently falling to the ground. The tofu spoon in her hand was gripped tightly, her knuckles turning white.
Chen Chang'an stood where he was, not moving.
He looked in the direction the monk and young man had left, the coldness in his eyes not yet dissipated.
But he did not pursue them, because he sensed a familiar aura, currently faintly trailing behind that monk.
Who could it be if not his own little disciple, Jiang Che?
Drunken Immortal Tower, private room.
The aroma of wine filled the air, and the table was laden with delicacies—braised pork elbow, glistening and tender, steamed perch, fresh and succulent, and a pot of aged Huadiao wine exuding a mellow fragrance.
Wang Shouzhi looked at the table full of meat and fish, somewhat hesitant: "Master, this... I have heard that monastics do not eat meat or fish..."
Monk Miao Si laughed heartily, directly picking up a piece of fatty pork elbow and stuffing it into his mouth, chewing until oil dripped down: "Wine and meat pass through the intestines, but the Buddha remains in the heart! Benefactor, to be attached to appearances is true ignorance!"
Wang Shouzhi's eyes lit up, and he exclaimed in admiration: "Master is truly enlightened!" He then confidently raised his chopsticks and began to eat with gusto.
After a few cups of wine, their conversation grew even more animated.
Monk Miao Si narrowed his eyes, asking as if casually: "Benefactor, you are young but possess such understanding, which is truly rare. May I ask where these ideas come from?"
Wang Shouzhi put down his wine cup, his gaze slightly distant: "It's strange, I often have dreams, and in my dreams, there is a senior monk..."
"Oh?" A gleam flashed in Monk Miao Si's eyes, but it quickly returned to a benevolent smile. "What kind of senior monk?"
"He is draped in a golden-red kasaya, seated upon a lotus platform, with a Buddha light shining all around him." Wang Shouzhi recalled, his tone gradually growing reverent. "He told me that all living beings suffer, and only by letting go of small love can one achieve great compassion..."
Monk Miao Si was ecstatic inwardly, but his expression remained unchanged as he nodded repeatedly: "Excellent! Excellent! Benefactor, you have encountered a karmic connection with Buddhism!"
As he poured wine for Wang Shouzhi, he pondered to himself: Indeed! This person before him is likely the reincarnation of the Buddha's son for this generation!
But recalling the momentary hesitation Wang Shouzhi had shown when facing his mother at Pingan Lane earlier, a trace of gloom flashed in Monk Miao Si's eyes.
—The Buddha's son still has worldly attachments? This won't do...
He smiled and raised his wine cup: "Come, Benefactor, have another drink!"
Wang Shouzhi, suspecting nothing, tilted his head back and drank it all in one gulp.
In the flickering candlelight, Monk Miao Si's smile grew deeper, but hidden in the depths of his eyes was a cold, obscure glint.
It was just as well. Guiding the Buddha's son to his rightful place was the duty of these reception envoys.
...
That night, the sky was as dark as ink. Wang Shouzhi felt, in a daze, that he had stepped into a boundless void.
But he was not panicked, for he had grown accustomed to this dreamscape over the years.
Sure enough, golden lotuses suddenly appeared beneath his feet, blooming with each step, carrying him towards the depths of the sea of clouds.
From afar came the sound of Sanskrit chanting, like bells and chimes, shaking his spiritual platform into clarity.
Suddenly, he saw a myriad of colorful lights ahead, where a senior monk sat upon a nine-grade lotus platform.
The monk was draped in a golden-red kasaya, the corners of which fluttered without wind, revealing an inner lining of purple-gold kasaya.
His face was like a full moon, with a dot of cinnabar between his brows that seemed like blood, and behind his head hung a seven-layered precious wheel halo. With each rotation, the six-syllable mantra "Om Mani Padme Hum" scattered like golden powder.
"Foolish child, come forward," the senior monk spoke, his voice not human, but like the simultaneous tolling of a thousand ancient temple bells.
Wang Shouzhi's knees went weak, and he knelt beneath the lotus platform. When he looked up, he was startled to find the senior monk had no shadow—no, the entire dreamscape was without shadow or light, only the golden glow of the precious wheel cleaving the void into fragments of light and dark.
"Do you know why you always dream of me?" The senior monk's fingertips dangled a string of obsidian Buddhist beads, each bead reflecting a different scene: a woman kneeling and weeping, a city engulfed in flames, and finally, the image of an infant in swaddling clothes being thrown into a pool of blood.
Wang Shouzhi's throat tightened, and he pressed his forehead against the cold lotus petals: "I beg for your guidance, Master!"
The senior monk suddenly placed his hand on Wang Shouzhi's crown. In an instant, a piercing pain shot through his heart. Wang Shouzhi saw dense Sanskrit characters appear under his skin, like countless golden centipedes crawling through his veins.
"In your past life, to save a city's people, you personally offered your birth mother as a sacrifice." The senior monk's voice suddenly became the chorus of a million people. "That is true compassion! And now you falter for a tofu-selling woman?"
The dreamscape abruptly flipped. Wang Shouzhi found himself standing atop a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, with Wang Shouzhi's corpse beneath his feet. The senior monk's voice pressed in from all directions: "Strike!"
When he awoke, his pillow was soaked in cold sweat. A lotus-shaped burn mark, like a brand, had appeared on his left shoulder at some point, faintly exuding the scent of sandalwood.
...
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