Chapter 6: Compassion Falls Short of a Bodhisattva

“Liu Gui, sweep the ground in the courtyard.”

“Liu Gui, fill the water jar to the brim.”

“Liu Gui, we’re out of firewood at home—go to the mountain and bring back two loads.”

“Liu Gui…”

Ever since he’d been placed at Ye Chang’s side, Liu Gui hadn’t had a moment’s rest; Ye Chang truly treated him as an ox or a horse, ordering him about without pause. But remembering the promise from Mistress Liu—that these three possessions were worth several hundred strings of cash, and thinking of the reward he’d receive after all was done—he forced himself to endure.

“Enough, put aside what you’re doing and come outside with me for a walk,” Ye Chang called that afternoon, strutting out the door with hands behind his back.

“He really thinks he’s a young master now—but he’s just the heir of a ruined household!” Liu Gui grumbled behind him, but followed with effort.

“Oh, right, bring a water flask. Today we’ll go check the fields. If this drought continues, there’ll be no harvest in the latter half of the year. Then, we’ll have to sell off family property—fortunately, Aunt sent you here. If we sell a servant, the rice and grain should be enough for me and Xiang’er to eat for a while, eh?”

The words chilled Liu Gui to the bone, but again, he swallowed his anger, thinking of Mistress Liu’s promise. He filled a gourd with water, ready to leave, when Ye Chang called him back: “What water did you fill? It must be boiled water, not just any raw water scooped from the jar!”

“You—!” Liu Gui nearly lost his temper, but remembering Mistress Liu’s promise, he held it in.

This time, Ye Chang wasn’t intentionally making things difficult; since arriving in this world, he’d been careful about water’s cleanliness—this was an era where dysentery could kill.

With his attendant in tow, Ye Chang stepped out, feeling his hands empty; if only he had a folding fan. Not bothered, he went back for a palm fan, but it didn’t feel right, so he wrote “Rare is the muddled mind” on it, imitating Zheng Banqiao’s calligraphy.

Only then did he leisurely leave.

Wuze Po had once been an ancient town, hence the name, but now it was merely a big village of some two hundred households. Small as it was, it had all essentials—some basic shops, crafts like barber shops, and more. Ye Chang had Liu Gui lead the way; soon, they arrived at the barber’s shop, where several people stood outside, pointing and talking.

“Little Gui, go find out what’s going on,” Ye Chang asked.

In terms of age, Liu Gui could have been Ye Chang’s father, but being called “Little Gui” made his skin crawl. Yet he couldn’t refuse.

“This is the young lady’s order, this is the young lady’s order—just keep watch over this brat, and my day to deal with him will come!” Liu Gui muttered to himself several times, controlling his emotions before stepping forward to inquire.

He soon learned that, that very morning, a monk had arrived, claiming to be from Shifang Temple on the mountain. After getting his hair cut, he realized he had no money. The monk, a bit irascible, had rammed the tree outside the barber’s shop with his shoulder, breaking it, then apologized and invited the barber to the temple to fetch payment.

But the barber, seeing such strength, dared not leave the village with him, fearing damage to his livelihood. He excused himself, telling the monk to return to the temple first. The monk, though reckless, was reasonable—he said he’d wait on the mountain for the barber to collect his five coins, and would certainly pay.

The barber intended to accept his bad luck, but that afternoon, some idlers passing by noticed the felled tree and asked about it, prompting him to recount the story. With everyone from Wuze Po being neighbors, indignation grew; voices clamored to go up the mountain and confront the monk.

“Not only should he pay for the haircut, he must compensate for the tree!”

“Exactly, exactly… Hey, isn’t that the eleventh son of the Ye family? You got struck by a broom star, are you better now?”

“Long recovered! Those monks on the mountain are unreasonable. Let’s all go argue with them?”

“Yes, let’s go reason with them! Not long ago, we went up the mountain to pray for rain, and the monk called Daoning said it was because we weren’t sincere in worship—so heaven withheld rain. He asked us to bring livestock, rituals, incense, oil, fruits, and vegetables to pray for rain… Bah, that sneaky monk, with those shifty eyes, is clearly a wine-and-meat monk!”

Everyone laughed: “Let’s go together, let’s go together!”

During this drought, with no one to organize, the villagers mostly idled at home, bored. So, spurred on, even the barber found courage and joined the crowd heading to Shifang Temple. The group joked and laughed along the way, and Ye Chang, because of the “broom star” incident, was teased frequently. Liu Gui felt relieved hearing this, but noticed that whenever others mocked him, Ye Chang would deftly steer the conversation to praying for rain. He was eloquent, completely unlike the timid boy he’d been.

Arriving at Shifang Temple, their numbers quickly alerted the monks, who gathered out front. The leader was the head monk, Chunxin. Upon hearing the villagers’ purpose, Chunxin intoned, “Amitabha”: “Good people, there are only five monks at Shifang Temple; four are here, and the other, Daoning, is out in the woods. You all know him… There’s no such reckless monk.”

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“Impossible! The monk said he was from your temple, and the robe he wore had your temple’s inscription,” said the barber.

“An inscription from Shifang Temple?”

“He said so himself—he’d written ‘Shifang Temple’ on his robe.”

“That’s absurd—who would write on a monk’s robe? Look at ours, none are inscribed,” another monk protested.

The crowd thought so too; inscribing robes was too strange. But just then, a young novice stammered, “Master… Actually, there’s a robe with writing on it…”

“Monks do not lie, Daokong, don’t speak nonsense…” Chunxin’s face changed.

“Let him speak, let him speak!” The crowd, sensing drama, insisted, thinking the novice’s words were childish. Chunxin’s ears rang from the hubbub, so he had no choice but to let the novice continue.

“I… I’ll show everyone,” the novice’s face flushed red as he led them into the temple. The crowd surged in, nearly filling the courtyard.

“Here!” The novice pointed to the hall behind him.

Everyone turned and saw the statue of Wei Tuo. Though clad in armor, the statue was draped in a monk’s robe, and on one corner, “Shifang Temple” was indeed written.

But the statue’s robe was painted; it couldn’t be real. Some were about to protest, but the barber, trembling, pointed at the Wei Tuo statue in terror: “It’s… it’s him… that reckless monk!”

The crowd was stunned. The barber’s hand shook as he pointed at the statue, his eyes full of fear.

“Yes, that’s him!” Others who had seen the monk that morning cried out—the statue resembled the monk enough, and with the inscription and the barber’s confirmation, everyone believed Wei Tuo had revealed himself. Those with faith in their hearts knelt immediately, and as people are herd animals, others soon followed, kneeling and begging for forgiveness, fearing their quest for payment from Wei Tuo might bring divine retribution.

Of course, some were bold and skeptical—Ye Chang, for instance, did not kneel.

Not only did he not kneel, he stepped forward to scrutinize the statue, then exclaimed, “Look… five coins!”

At the statue’s feet lay a small string of coins—five exactly.

Those who hadn’t knelt joined him, confirming it was indeed five coins, threaded together and placed at the statue’s feet as if awaiting someone to take them. Remembering the monk’s words, everyone felt chills, as if someone were blowing cold air down their necks.

“There’s hair clippings too!” someone noticed another detail at the statue’s feet, calling out again.

At this, no one remained standing—even Ye Chang knelt.

“Wei Tuo Bodhisattva has revealed himself!” was the thought in everyone’s heart; one event linked to another left no room for doubt.

“Amitabha!” As the crowd murmured in confusion, Chunxin intoned a Buddha’s name: “Could it truly be Wei Tuo Bodhisattva?”

“It’s true, absolutely true!” The barber was pale, his lips quivering as he spoke.

Ye Chang handed him the string of coins. “Tsk tsk, your skill is so fine, even the Bodhisattva seeks your haircut… Yet with boundless power, why come down the mountain for a trim?”

The crowd pondered, but no one doubted the Bodhisattva’s authenticity—only envied the barber. If the Bodhisattva sought him, surely he would be blessed; the five coins, being a gift from Wei Tuo, would bring fortune if worshipped at home.

Those quick of mind began scheming how to acquire one coin from the barber.

“If it is Wei Tuo Bodhisattva… Yesterday, this old monk had a dream. The Bodhisattva said that, with drought unending, he felt compassion and would not let the people go hungry. He would choose a blessed one to ascend the mountain and grant him a spring to irrigate the fields,” Chunxin said with hands pressed together.

“Ah?”

With the village suffering from a long lack of water, the mention of a spring granted by the Bodhisattva brought great joy. Everyone looked to Chunxin, waiting for him to announce who the blessed one would be.

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But Chunxin frowned.

Ye Chang’s heart skipped a beat; up to this point, everything was going according to his plan, but Chunxin’s hesitation signaled a shift.

Chunxin’s gaze swept the crowd, his mind weighing options.

His goal was achieved—the villagers believed that Wei Tuo Bodhisattva had manifested at Shifang Temple. Once they returned home, word would spread, and soon all the neighboring villages would know, bringing devotees to worship and offer gifts.

But if he continued as Ye Chang had instructed, Shifang Temple’s reputation would become intertwined with Ye Chang’s. If Ye Chang’s next plan failed, the temple’s name would suffer once again.

To burn bridges was no hard thing. Though Chunxin was a venerable monk, the higher his status, the more he must protect his temple. To glorify the Buddhist faith, he must, for now, disappoint this young patron.

Thus, Chunxin intoned “Amitabha,” then said, “Monks do not lie. My fortune is thin; I only heard the Bodhisattva say that the blessed one is a star descended from heaven… The rest, I am too dim-witted to know.”

Upon hearing this, Ye Chang was stunned.

This was wholly different from their agreement—according to the script, Chunxin should have announced Ye Chang, the eleventh son of the Ye family, as the blessed one, so the crowd would push him forward, he’d improvise a speech, and then lead everyone to dig for the spring.

But now the old monk had changed the script, speaking of a “star descended from heaven”—as if such a figure could be easily produced.

Who says the ancients were simple? Though he understood people well, Ye Chang had underestimated the old monk’s own calculations.

Not once did the monk look at him, remaining solemn and dignified. Ye Chang narrowed his eyes, his mind racing—perhaps he should scheme against the old monk in return for this betrayal.

In the monk’s view, his actions were justified, but Ye Chang marked him as an enemy. Given the chance, he would certainly make the old monk pay.

Though the turn of events surprised him, it was still within his control; only, instead of being named the chosen one by the monk, he would now have to step forward himself—his authority would be somewhat diminished.

As Ye Chang pondered how to take the stage, someone beside him suddenly cried out, “A star descended from heaven… I know who it is!”

The voice was sharp and urgent, as if racing to be the first to speak. All those kneeling in the courtyard turned in astonishment.

It was Liu Gui!

Liu Gui knelt, a strange smile on his face. Ye Chang saw his expression and felt a jolt in his heart.

Why had this fellow stepped forward now? Had he seen through Ye Chang’s scheme, and was jumping in to sabotage it from the start?

The thought irritated Ye Chang; he disliked losing control.

“Liu Gui, what do you know? Don’t talk nonsense or offend Master Chunxin.”

Wuze Po was a small place—most people knew each other. He was only a servant; with Ye Chang present, it was not his place to speak, and someone immediately rebuked him.

“Exactly, exactly! Master Chunxin, your wisdom is boundless. Look among us—who is the truly blessed one? When we return, we’ll prepare offerings and come to thank you!”

“I truly know!” Liu Gui, seeing most didn’t believe him, grew anxious and leapt to his feet, shouting.

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