Chapter 478: Side Story 29: The Monk's Path — The Fat Cat Sheds Its Fur

Side Story 29: The Monk's Path — The Fat Cat Sheds Its Fur

Late summer of the eighteenth year of Jianyan.

Fachang was an ordinary, neither-large-nor-small monk at Famen Temple in Fufeng County, Fengxiang Prefecture. But nowadays, though this monk was called ordinary, he was no longer quite so ordinary. And that was only natural!

Ever since His Majesty set the tone with his great sacrifice at Yutai and decreed that designated temples throughout the land would handle the Green Sprout Loans, the status of legitimate major monasteries had risen. And as His Majesty pacified the north, unified the Central Xia, and cracked his whip over Liaodong, his prestige became unmatched for a time. The policies of these Green Sprout Loan gentry-officials — unified grain tax collection and apportioning the land tax per mu — were swiftly implemented nationwide with almost no visible resistance. The status of these Arhat Temples — the common folk's nickname for the Secret Pavilion-designated temples responsible for Green Sprout Loans — rose sharply, and along with it, the ordination certificates for monks became increasingly valuable and sought after.

Before becoming a monk, Fachang's lay surname was Li. Perhaps a thousand years ago, he might have shared a clan with Li Shimin, the Tang Emperor Taizong whom people so often compared to the current His Majesty. After failing the Imperial Academy examinations for many years, he became a monk in a fit of pique. Because he was literate, and the temples of the day were precisely lacking such talent, he benefited from something called the "Jianyan Sixteenth Year Famen Temple Proposal for Introducing High-Literacy Talent." After entering the temple, he actually skipped the many years of Buddhist ranks — Bhikshu, Shramanera, Mala — that ordinary monks had to endure, and became a full monk directly. That's right, before becoming a monk, Fachang had no idea that not every bald head in a temple could be called a "monk," and that titles like "Great Monk" or "Elder Monk" were even more extraordinary — a temple might have only a few. One step beyond "Great Monk" was the most popular four-character Chan Master of the day. Aside from the nation's sole six-character Chan Master — the Golden Body Pudu Great Wisdom Chan Master, personally titled by His Majesty after the Great Wisdom Chan Master propagated the Dharma in Eastern and Western Mongolia — the four-character Chan Master was the most precious rank in the temple profession.

Fachang was startled awake at the hour of Yin by the temple's wooden clapper. He hastily put on his monk's robe, drew some well water to wash up, then pressed his palms together, chanting the Buddha's name as he slowly walked toward the Buddha hall for morning sutra recitation. Though the late summer weather was still somewhat hot, the well water remained icy cold. The sky had just begun to lighten. In the temple, aside from the occasional bird call, there were only scattered figures trickling toward the Buddha hall from all directions. The small path leading to the hall was spotless, yet in the flower beds by the roadside, several enormous spiderwebs hung incongruously, with plump, aged spiders waiting quietly for prey in every corner. Fachang had once wanted to rescue a butterfly that had unluckily fallen into a web, but his master, the temple's Superintendent, said, "If you save the beautiful butterfly, can you save the mosquitoes and flies as well? Let life and death take their course." He didn't quite understand.

Fachang had originally thought that by leaving home to become a monk, he would be done with everything and have no more attachments. But he found things were not as he wished. There were indeed some monks in the temple who just muddled through waiting to die — they did nothing all day, and as long as they showed up at the Buddha hall on time to chant sutras, they could collect a few coins as reward. But monks like him could not do that. Nowadays, the abbot of Famen Temple was a local man, with a thick Fengxiang accent that occasionally blurted out "O my Buddha," and he was gentle-tempered and didn't meddle much. The Superintendent, however, was a genuine eminent monk who had graduated from the Tokyo Great Xiangguo Monastery Buddhist Academy, and had also traveled through the Great Xiangguo Monastery in Tokyo, the Shaolin Monastery in Luoyang, and the Yanji Spring Temple. He was usually very strict. For those monks designated as abbot, superintendent, and precept disciples, any slight laziness would earn them a harsh reprimand from the Superintendent for not being diligent, and each reprimand never lasted less than half a stick of incense.

Senior Brother Fade, who led the morning devotions, was an interesting monk. In his early years, he had traveled to Japan on the great ships of the Maritime Trading Company and was quite receptive to new things. After the morning sutra recitation, the original schedule called for formal meditation. But under his leadership, the habit changed — the meditation time was forcibly split in half. Half was still formal meditation, but the other half was spent practicing a secret body-tempering technique from the Western Paradise that he had learned at Shaolin Monastery, called the Sinew-Changing Classic. It was extremely focused on body flexibility, requiring one to stretch into all kinds of strange postures. The Superintendent had come to observe it early on, but seeing that it was not indecent and was actually beneficial to the young monks' bodies, he just shook his head and left without interfering. After morning devotions came the meal at the refectory. They walked to the refectory entrance chanting sutras all the way, then waited there until the senior brothers in the refectory were ready and called them in. When Fachang first entered the temple, he had also fooled around with a few lively senior and junior brothers. When they reached the refectory and found it wasn't ready yet, they would all stand at the door and loudly chant the Buddha's name — "Namo Fundamental Teacher Shakyamuni Buddha" — over and over. Every time this happened, the senior brother in the refectory would rush out: "Stop your wailing! You're rushing me to death. I know you're hungry." There were also rules for eating — no talking was allowed. Thanks to His Majesty's establishment of various strange water conservancy projects over the years, and the superior seeds developed by the Imperial Academy's original College of Agriculture, though the weather wasn't particularly favorable compared to past years, grain output increased year by year. The temple never lacked food. If one bowl wasn't enough, when a patrolling senior brother came by, you just used your chopsticks to trace a line on the bowl where you wanted more rice, and the senior brother would take the bowl, add food, and return it.

After the morning meal, these disciple-monks had proper business to attend to — they went to the Good Sprout Hall to help out. Since the year before last, the Green Sprout Loans were no longer handled entirely by the monks. The temple was more of a namesake, and the monks' job was to explain the current Secret Pavilion's sprout-loan policy to the farmers, and also to receive those who had encountered injustices but dared not go to the government offices to file complaints. Most were pacified and sent home politely. If a case truly had merit and was not too serious, it would be selectively reported to the Superintendent, who would then compile, select, and report it to the Military Command Office. The actual loan business was handled by the Good Sprout Hall next to the temple, which was modeled after the wildly popular Maritime Trading Company and established as a Sprout Affairs Company. It recruited proper lay Buddhists who understood accounting, and was supervised by the local Fufeng County-level Public Pavilion. The Superintendent often reminded these disciple-monks to keep an eye out for any illegal activities, because since the temple's name was on it, if the Military Command Office uncovered a major incident, it would ruin the temple's reputation — and the consequences would be far more serious than just losing some incense money.

Before becoming a monk, Fachang had never done this kind of mundane work. That was perfectly normal, of course. Because every day, aside from poring over the officially designated civil examination texts, he would repeatedly review past exam papers, and then run off to various famous teachers' classes to scout for exam predictions — where else would he find the time? These famous teachers would each claim connections with some minister in the Secret Pavilion, or boast that after many years they had become familiar with His Majesty's patterns, all insisting their predictions were accurate. In the end, not only did he exhaust his energy, but he also spent all his money — otherwise, he wouldn't have become a monk in a fit of pique. He just never expected that after becoming a monk, he would be even busier. That day, he spent half the day helping out at the Good Sprout Loan office, receiving and sending off seven or eight farmers, then was dragged to the Lodging Monks Reception Office to help. Even his midday meal was a hastily thrown-together fast meal. Nowadays, all legitimate government offices and administrative bodies across the country were copying Tokyo's fast-food system, which had a nice-sounding name called "Tokyo Efficiency." It originated when His Majesty once mentioned it during a Q&A session at the Imperial Academy, and it promptly caught fire across the entire nation.

Famen Temple was not only an officially designated Arhat Temple for Green Sprout Loans, but also, because it housed the Buddha's finger relic, it was the most prosperous temple in the Guanzhong region in terms of incense offerings. Monks came from all directions to travel and lodge at the temple. Their credentials and the purpose of their visit had to be checked and verified, and those who were merely passing themselves off as genuine had to be weeded out — not every wandering monk was to be accepted. That day, because it was the time after the wheat harvest when loans were being repaid, the Reception Office was short on managing monks, so they were busy until nearly dusk, with many monks still gathered at the gate.

Fachang noticed a tall, weather-beaten old monk in ordinary robes, carrying a large bundle over his shoulder, who had been waiting silently in line since the afternoon. When someone cut in front of him, he made no move. The thin, small disciple behind him looked displeased, but seeing that the old monk made no move, he didn't step forward to stop it either. So they remained in the line until dusk. Fachang's heart stirred slightly. He stood up and squeezed his way over to the old monk from the side. Just as he approached and was about to speak, he heard the little novice monk beside him grumbling: "Master won't stay at an inn. We haven't had a good sleep since we left Datong Prefecture. It's getting dark — are we going to sleep in a broken-down temple outside the city again tonight? Why not take out the gold-embroidered purple robe His Majesty bestowed on you and put it on? His Majesty said you can speak to and discipline any lawless monk under heaven. Isn't cutting in line lawless?" The old monk just smiled and said, "This is not lawlessness. The city gates are about to close. Let's go." With that, he turned and left. The little novice had no choice but to hurry after him. Fachang raised his hand as if to stop them, but for some reason, his mouth was dumb and he couldn't speak. He raised his hand, then lowered it again.

The old monk had long since stopped making impromptu Zen remarks.

The time before sleep after evening devotions was Fachang's own. Fachang was good at painting. In his early days of study, he had often painted during breaks, but was frequently scolded for not attending to his proper work. Now, no one bothered him about it. Whatever he saw and felt during the day, he would often paint.

Rest.

A day in the life of a monk, calm as ever.