Shaolin Temple
As the Senior Monk had advised, Tang Mujin practiced circulation through the night. When he opened his eyes the next morning, he saw Goiyi packing his belongings.
"What are you doing?"
Without even looking back, Goiyi answered.
"What do you think? Our business here is done. Time we moved on."
"…Mm."
It was only natural. And yet Tang Mujin felt a lingering unease, as though something remained unfinished.
It wasn't the Wooden Man Alley. There was nothing more to repair there, and he had even received the Great Return Pill the day before. His business with Shaolin was done.
So then what was this feeling?
After a moment's thought, he realized. Dan Seol-yeong.
He remembered her face, smiling confidently, saying she had no lingering regrets.
But was that truly the face of someone with no regrets at all?
Lost in thought, Tang Mujin suddenly asked Goiyi:
"Elder… have you finished writing your book?"
"Almost done."
When Goiyi had first said he was writing a medical text, Tang Mujin had imagined him flying through the pages with brush in hand, words pouring out in one stroke.
But in truth, his progress was much slower. He would disappear for days, idle about, or sit with brush in hand until the ink dried, lost in thought.
And so, even by the time the Wooden Man Alley repairs were finished, his book was still incomplete.
Tang Mujin, as if doing him a favor, said:
"Since things turned out this way, why not finish writing here before we leave? I can wait a little longer."
Only then did Goiyi turn around, letting out a short laugh.
"It's not that I haven't finished the book. It's that you don't want to leave because of your lingering attachments. Am I wrong?"
His perception was uncanny. Tang Mujin had expected him to tease mercilessly, but instead, Goiyi quietly unpacked the belongings he had just packed.
"I can wait a little longer. Tell me when you're ready to leave."
Tang Mujin nodded and stepped outside the Guest Hall.
***
When Tang Mujin arrived at Dan Seol-yeong's dwelling, she too was packing her things.
She bustled about busily, then spotted him, waved, and said:
"You're here? I thought you might have already left."
"It hasn't been that long since I fixed the Wooden Man Alley. And I'm not the kind to slip away without saying goodbye."
Tang Mujin glanced at the belongings she was gathering. Piled upon a worn cloth were all sorts of household items.
"Where are you going?"
"Where else? Down to the village, of course."
"You're leaving today?"
"Yes. I already told my father and brother."
Tang Mujin looked toward the graves of her father and younger brother. The brush covering them had been cleared away, and the weeds atop and around the mounds had been neatly trimmed.
"And what will you do from now on?"
"I'm not sure yet. But whatever I do, I won't starve. I know a few people in the village, so if I help here and there, I'll manage."
"Why not go to a bigger city? Luoyang isn't far."
"It's too far to check on the waterwheel. I'll still come back from time to time to maintain it."
It seemed unnecessary—surely the Shaolin monks could tend to it. The waterwheel wasn't nearly as complex as the Wooden Man Alley, and it was in good condition now. Even if it broke, a skilled craftsman could easily replace a part or two.
But Tang Mujin didn't press her further. It was her decision to make.
"…I see. I'll stay a little longer before leaving. I'll come visit when I can."
Dan Seol-yeong smiled brightly, clearly pleased.
"All right. I'll be waiting."
She hefted her large bundle without asking for help.
Waving, she set off down the mountain, looking like a small ant carrying a giant leaf.
Tang Mujin lingered in front of her empty house, then stepped inside. There was little left behind.
In the storage room, he found a bit of unused firewood and a heap of small wooden pieces piled in the corner—parts of the practice wooden men he and Dan Seol-yeong had once crafted together. Too precious to burn, yet scattered and incomplete: arms, legs, knees, all in disarray.
They had made the parts separately because they had been forbidden to assemble a full wooden man outside the monastery gates.
Suddenly, an idea struck him.
He stepped outside, scanning the surroundings, then wandered into the mountains in search of a place untouched by people.
Before long, he found a small clearing.
***
Nearly a month passed after Dan Seol-yeong settled in the lower village.
She had found work at a small tavern tucked into a corner of the village. Many had advised her it would be the easiest option.
But contrary to expectation, tavern work was no easy task.
She was diligent, but inexperienced. She couldn't cook, and she lacked the easy charm to outshine the seasoned servers when tending customers.
In the end, she was left with the menial chores: fetching water dozens of times a day, tending the fire, washing dishes, cleaning, and tidying up.
When she finally had a moment's rest, she would sit on a little stool, lost in thought.
Normally, she rarely reminisced. Her life had not been sweet enough to dwell upon.
But lately, she found herself constantly slipping into memories.
The Wooden Man Alley. The days working alongside Tang Mujin. Shaolin. Her father. Her brother.
The waterwheel. Their small home. And Tang Mujin again.
Most of her reflections were not of long ago, but of the recent months. As always, the happiest times are the first to surface in memory.
She tried to recall the last time Tang Mujin had visited. More than half a month had passed.
At first, he had come every few days. Then, suddenly, he stopped altogether. The thought that he might have left without a word pained her.
The tavern owner's voice broke her reverie.
"Seol-yeong, finish up the cleaning and go rest."
It wasn't a bustling inn, just a humble tavern, so business ended once the sun set. After tidying up, she stepped outside.
Her quarters were a tiny storeroom in the corner of the tavern. Cramped and uncomfortable, but still the best option—she couldn't trek the mountain path back to her old home every night.
She looked up at the sky. With no moon, the stars shone all the brighter.
Just as she was about to retreat inside, she felt a presence.
It wasn't heading down the main road—it was coming straight toward her. A chill prickled her skin.
She clenched her fist.
'One wrong move, and I'll strike first.'
She trusted her strength enough to fend off a drunken lout if needed.
The presence drew closer, then stopped beside her. No smell of alcohol. But the air was heavy.
She was about to lash out when a familiar voice spoke.
"Finished with work?"
Tang Mujin's voice—after so long.
Her heart leapt with joy, but also with a sting of sadness. Her reply came out sharper than she intended.
"What, so you hadn't left after all?"
"I told you I'd say goodbye before going."
"I know. But you stayed away far too long."
"Sorry. I was busy."
"Well… you're here now, that's what matters. So, what brings you?"
"I'm leaving tomorrow."
Her chest sank, though she forced a cheerful tone.
"I see. Did you eat? Let me buy you dinner at least."
She quickly counted her coins. Not much, but enough for a meal.
But Tang Mujin shook his head.
"No. I'm not hungry. And more than farewells, I came for something else."
"Something else?"
"Come with me. I have something to show you."
He strode ahead, the light of red lanterns flickering briefly across his face.
She thought perhaps he meant to stroll together, but soon his steps veered away from the tavern streets.
'Where is he going?'
They left the village behind, darkness enveloping them.
His path led up the mountain—toward Songshan's So-sil Peak, where her old home lay.
For a moment, she wondered if she ought to be following a man alone at night. But she didn't stop. She trusted him. And part of her thought—whatever happens, let it.
"To my house?"
"That's the direction."
The direction? A strange way to put it. Beyond her house, there was nothing of note.
'Is he planning something improper?'
The sound of the waterwheel reached her ears.
If he led her inside now, it would surely be for such a thing.
Her heart pounded. Should she resist? Refuse a few times before yielding?
But to her surprise, he did not stop at her house.
Soon, her father and brother's graves came into view. A few weeds had grown back.
Why bring her here? she wondered. But even there, he did not stop.
Her unease grew. He was leading her deep into the mountains, into places even she rarely visited.
"Where are we going?"
"I have something to show you."
"Can't you at least tell me what?"
"It's better if you see it yourself."
And so he continued without further explanation.
The night air was cool, filled only with the crunch of fallen leaves and the chirp of insects.
At last, in the pitch-black forest, he halted. A faint trickle of water sounded nearby.
He drew a slender tube from his robe. When he opened it, a glowing ember flickered inside—it was a fire-starter.
He lit a torch with it. The smell of oil thickened, and the darkness gave way to light.
A small house came into Dan Seol-yeong's view.
It was so tiny it could hardly even be called a shed. Maybe one or two neighborhood children could squeeze inside, but for Dan Seol-yeong or Tang Mujin, it was far too small.
But despite its size, the exterior was surprisingly decent.
Beyond it, a very small waterwheel had been installed by the stream. Its structure was simple, not much different from the one that once stood beside Dan Seol-yeong's own house.
Wooden rods ran from the waterwheel to the little house. Dan Seol-yeong's heart began to race. Could it be…?
"Now, open your eyes wide and take a good look."
Tang Mujin lifted off the roof of the tiny house. For an instant, Dan Seol-yeong forgot to breathe.
Inside, little wooden figures were moving. In front of them stood roughly carved wooden monks, watching over the small figures.
They were the sample parts Tang Mujin and Dan Seol-yeong had made together to repair the Wooden Puppet Arsenal. Piece by piece, Tang Mujin had assembled them, carving replacements where needed, until he had created a miniature Wooden Puppet Arsenal.
A small puppet arsenal—made solely for Dan Seol-yeong.
And only she could see it.
There was only one reason it existed: to show it to her.
"I made it without sleeping. What do you think?"
Under the flickering torchlight, Tang Mujin's haggard face was revealed. He looked far more worn than when he had been working on the arsenal itself. Clearly, the part about not sleeping wasn't a joke.
"…Are you even allowed to make something like this?"
"Don't worry. Once tonight is over, I'll destroy it all."
Dan Seol-yeong gazed fixedly at the tiny puppet arsenal. Then her vision blurred.
Only now did she realize why she hadn't been able to leave Songshan, even after repairing the Wooden Puppet Arsenal. Why she couldn't entrust its waterwheel to some Shaolin monk.
Attachment.
She had told herself there was no lingering attachment, now that the arsenal could move again. But that had been a lie.
No one in Shaolin, no one in this world, had poured more into the Wooden Puppet Arsenal than she had. The weight of her attachment was beyond words.
And now, even the faint attachments others once held had been soothed by Tang Mujin's hands.
But hers had not. If anything, it had deepened. As though she were carrying all those other attachments on her own shoulders.
She had wanted to see the arsenal, even once. The lifelong wish of the Dan family, finally realized—she had wanted to hold it in her eyes.
Her longing was so great she could never leave Songshan. Like a restless spirit, she lingered, waiting for a chance that would never come.
All the layers of grief and yearning, hardened over a lifetime, melted away in an instant.
Dan Seol-yeong buried her face in Tang Mujin's chest and wept without restraint.
Tang Mujin slowly patted her back.
Perhaps it had been worth lingering in Shaolin just a little longer.
Perhaps it had been worth suffering alone in the mountains.
At last, even Tang Mujin felt his heart lighten.
But when he raised his head, his eyes met those of someone he should never have encountered.
In the dark forest, the Precepts Abbot was standing there.
"!"
Tang Mujin's body stiffened, and only then did Dan Seol-yeong sense something was wrong. She turned—and saw the Precepts Abbot.
She did not know who he was, but she knew enough to understand: a Shaolin monk must never see this.
Her mind went blank.
But Tang Mujin's thoughts raced.
There was no excuse. If they were dragged to Shaolin, would the monks still defend him?
No. Impossible.
What should he do? Run? Accept punishment? If he were alone, maybe—but with Dan Seol-yeong, who bore no guilt?
Impossible. Then should he fight? Could he overpower the Precepts Abbot? Even if by some miracle he won—should he?
Just then, the Precepts Abbot closed his eyes and slowly shook his head.
And only then did his expression come into focus. Not the rigid, wooden face Tang Mujin had always seen, but an expression like that of an ordinary man. So unfamiliar.
"Do not worry. What you fear will not come to pass."
"…You mean you will not demand punishment?"
"Of course not. I have never once sought your punishment. I am not as narrow-minded as you imagine. I only stand firm when it is required of me."
Tang Mujin stepped back cautiously, studying the man.
There was sincerity in his expression. Yet his past deeds weighed heavily. Tang Mujin could not easily trust him.
"There is no need to doubt. I have been watching you ever since Lady Dan left home and you began building this puppet arsenal. If I had meant to harm you, trouble would have already struck."
The Precepts Abbot knew exactly when Tang Mujin had begun.
And he was right—had he spoken a word, Tang Mujin would have been dragged off and punished immediately.
Though still tense, Tang Mujin's voice softened.
"So you've been watching me?"
"Not you, precisely. I was watching the Shaolin monks. I lingered here to make sure they would not discover the arsenal."
"…Why?"
"Because if your little puppet arsenal were seen, there would be no saving you."
"You mean… you protected me?"
"Protected? No, that sounds wrong. The Great Precepts exist to restrain Shaolin monks, not to harm outsiders."
Dan Seol-yeong, unable to follow the exchange, gripped Tang Mujin's sleeve tightly.
And he, too, struggled to understand.
Tang Mujin pulled her a little closer and said,
"I cannot believe this. You—the very man who once called a special assembly over my learning of White Lotus Divine Fist and Shadowless Immortal Steps."
"I regret that. But I had no choice but to speak."
"Then explain, so I may understand."
"That is the role of the Precepts Abbot. To speak the thankless words, to take the blame, even knowing they will not be accepted. That is the seat I occupy."
The Precepts Abbot gave an awkward, almost embarrassed smile. His expressions were surprisingly human.
He walked slowly toward the stream.
"The world is like a river. Ever-changing, ever-flowing. Since Shaolin was founded, countless clans and sects have risen and fallen, and kingdoms have risen and crumbled."
He set a fallen leaf afloat on the current. It drifted a short way, then reached swift water and was pulled under, vanishing.
"If the world is a river, Shaolin is a boat upon it. A boat cannot escape the current. Master Boda and Bodhidharma, fearing Shaolin would be swept away, forged an anchor to hold it steady."
"You mean the Great Precepts?"
"Indeed. The Great Precepts, and also the Ten Commandments upheld by the Ten Guardians. Precepts kept Shaolin from being swept away, and so it has endured for centuries."
The Precepts Abbot continued in his calm voice.
"Because Shaolin follows the precepts, we do not build merchant guilds, we do not play at wealth, we do not chase after power. We remain in Songshan, waiting for times of chaos. That is the role Bodhidharma decreed. The Precepts Abbot is the anchor that holds Shaolin firm for another thousand years. I am the anchor that keeps Shaolin from being swept away."
Tang Mujin frowned.
"Then you would also apply those strict precepts to me."
But the Abbot shook his head.
"You are not aboard the boat called Shaolin. You are a leaf upon the current. You may sink tomorrow, or drift one day into the sea. And this old anchor does not grasp at drifting leaves. Precepts exist to steady monks' hearts, not to harm outsiders."
Not meant to harm outsiders…
Tang Mujin thought back on whether the Precepts Abbot's actions had caused him harm.
None. In fact, thanks to him, his White Lotus Divine Fist and Shadowless Immortal Steps were now free of potential trouble.
And the Divine Monk had even offered him the Great Elixir. Unlike other monks, the Divine Monk understood the Precepts Abbot's role, and so gave him a reward more generous than any.
The Abbot could easily have boasted of such things to justify himself, but he did not. He only bowed again, apologizing.
"I know my rigidity has caused you hardship. I am truly sorry."
Suddenly, Tang Mujin remembered how other monks had reviled the Abbot—how they had shouted and scolded him.
And here he was, having endured all that, bowing his head to a young outsider.
The Precepts Abbot was not unlike Dan Seol-yeong in some ways—that same pure, stubborn single-mindedness.
Tang Mujin did not speak of forgiveness.
Instead, he asked,
"Isn't the post of Precepts Abbot too heavy a burden?"
The Abbot blinked, as though no one had ever asked him that before.
Then he smiled gently, like Vairocana himself.
"Does that truly matter?"