Chapter 940
The Gift from the Bodhisattva
He recognized the place.
"Master," he said, quickly walking to Tang Sanzang's side and pointing to a faintly visible building on the mountainside in the distance, "Look over there, it looks like a temple."
Tang Sanzang looked in the direction he was pointing and indeed saw the upturned eaves of the building half-hidden in the clouds.
"It certainly looks like a temple." Tang Sanzang's eyes lit up. "I wonder which sect's monastery it is."
Sun Wukong jumped back from the front, shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked in that direction.
"I, Old Sun, think that temple is quite large, occupying most of the mountain. Judging by the glazed tiles and golden roof, it must be a wealthy and grand temple."
Tang Sanzang said, "Since we have encountered a Buddhist temple on the road, this humble monk should pay a visit so that I can exchange Buddhist teachings with the monks there."
When Pigsy heard that it was a large temple, he also became interested.
"Big temples are great! The vegetarian meals there are sure to be more sumptuous than those in small temples. Master, let's go!"
Tang Sanzang glared at him: "Wuneng, we go to the temple to worship Buddha and seek enlightenment, not to eat vegetarian meals."
Pigsy shrank back: "I know, I know. Worshiping Buddha and seeking the Dao is the main thing, vegetarian meals are secondary."
Chu Yang didn't speak, but silently made plans in his mind.
Guanyin Temple.
This is the temple.
The abbot, Elder Jinchi, is a 270-year-old monk who has been passionate about collecting robes all his life and has amassed hundreds of pieces.
In the original story, he coveted the brocade cassock bestowed upon Tang Sanzang by Guanyin Bodhisattva. Overcome by greed, he plotted to set fire to Tang Sanzang and his disciples to kill them and seize the cassock.
As a result, Sun Wukong saw through his scheme and burned down his own temple instead.
The cassock was stolen again by the black bear monster of Black Wind Mountain during the chaos, which led to a great disturbance.
Chu Yang knew these things, so he had to prepare in advance.
In the last incident involving the White Bone Demon, he chose to stand up at a crucial moment and expose the truth.
This time, he plans to change his strategy—instead of waiting for things to happen before trying to fix them, he intends to nip the fire in the bud.
However, he doesn't plan to tell Sun Wukong or Tang Sanzang right now.
Sometimes, saying something in advance makes things more difficult to handle.
……
The group left the official road and climbed up the man-made stone steps.
The stone steps are lined with pine and cypress trees, their trunks straight and tall, their branches and leaves lush and green, their dense canopies forming a green dome overhead, filtering the sunlight into shimmering gold.
The steps are carved from a single piece of bluestone. Over the years, the stone surface has been worn smooth as a mirror, and in some places, a thin layer of moss has grown, making them a bit slippery to walk on.
The higher you go, the cooler the air becomes, and the mountain breeze blows through the forest, carrying the scent of pine needles and sandalwood.
At a bend halfway up the mountain, there stands a stone archway. Inscribed on the archway are four large characters: “Guanyin Zen Temple”.
The handwriting is vigorous and powerful, with a simple and ancient charm in the strokes.
The stone pillar was covered with old vines, their leaves emerald green and dotted with scattered small purple flowers, trembling slightly in the mountain breeze.
After passing through the archway and climbing about a hundred steps, the entire temple finally came into view.
The Guanyin Temple looks even more impressive than it does from the foot of the mountain.
Built against the mountainside, the temple's tiered halls stretch from the mountainside to near the summit, their yellow walls and gray tiles, upturned eaves and corners, gleaming solemnly in the sunlight. The main hall's roof is covered with glazed tiles, and a row of small animal figures, each with a different posture, perch on the ridge. The plaza in front of the hall is paved with marble and kept spotless.
In the center of the square stands a three-person-high stone statue of Guanyin, holding a vase, with lowered eyes and a benevolent expression. Wisps of incense smoke rise from the incense burner in front of the statue, enveloping the entire temple in a light mist of sandalwood fragrance.
The temple is flanked by symmetrically arranged side rooms and meditation rooms. The red-lacquered pillars are polished to a shine, and strings of copper bells hang in the corridors, jingling in the mountain breeze.
"What an impressive temple!" Tang Sanzang looked up at the stone Guanyin statue, his eyes filled with piety. "This must be an ancient temple with profound cultural heritage."
Sun Wukong looked around and scoffed, "It's impressive, but too extravagant. So much gold, silver, and glazed tile in a Buddhist temple, it's like the Heavenly Palace! I wonder where all that money came from."
Chu Yang secretly agreed.
The fact that a temple located deep in the mountains could be built so lavishly suggests that the abbot is no ordinary monk. He must either have powerful connections, be resourceful, or possess both.
The fact that Elder Jinchi lived to be 270 years old shows that he was no ordinary monk.
Before the group even reached the mountain gate, the monks from the temple came out to greet them.
The leader was a middle-aged monk in his thirties, wearing a gray robe, with a fair complexion and efficient manners; he was clearly in charge of the temple.
“Gentlemen, you have come from afar; I am sorry for not greeting you sooner.” He clasped his hands together in a standard Buddhist greeting. “This humble monk is Guangzhi, the guest monk of this temple. May I ask if you have come to offer incense and pay homage to the Buddha, or if you wish to stay overnight?”
Tang Sanzang dismounted and returned the greeting.
"Amitabha Buddha, this humble monk Xuanzang comes from the Great Tang Dynasty in the East, on his way to the Western Paradise to worship Buddha and seek scriptures. Passing by this precious temple, I have come to pay my respects. If I could trouble you for one night, I would be most grateful."
Upon hearing the words "Eastern Land of Great Tang," a hint of surprise flashed in Guangzhi's eyes.
His gaze swept quickly over Tang Sanzang, and when he saw the dazzling brocade cassock on Tang Sanzang's body, his pupils visibly contracted.
However, he quickly regained his composure and said with a beaming smile, "So you are eminent monks from the Great Tang Dynasty. My apologies for my rudeness. Please follow me, and I will go and inform the abbot."
He led the group through the mountain gate, past the Hall of Heavenly Kings and the Great Buddha Hall, and finally to the guest hall at the back.
The living room was decorated very elegantly. Several ink landscape paintings hung on the walls, their style sparse and serene. Against the wall stood a row of rosewood bookshelves, neatly stacked with various Buddhist scriptures. In the center was an octagonal table, on which sat tea sets. The teapot seemed to have just been filled with fresh tea, the rising steam carrying a refreshing aroma.
"Please have a seat, everyone. I will go and invite the abbot," Guangzhi said before leaving.
As soon as Pigsy entered the guest hall, he looked around and exclaimed in admiration.
"Incredible! This temple is a million times better than the local earth god temple in Gao Village. Look at this table, made of rosewood, it's worth at least several hundred taels of silver. And this tea set, blue and white porcelain, the patterns on it are so delicately painted..."
Sun Wukong slapped him: "Alright, stop embarrassing yourself. All you ever do with those thieving eyes of yours is stare at valuable things."
Pigsy pouted and withdrew his hand that was about to touch the vase.
Chu Yang walked around the guest room, his gaze lingering on the bookshelf for a moment.
The bookshelves are filled with a wide variety of Buddhist scriptures, ranging from the Diamond Sutra and the Lotus Sutra to the Surangama Sutra and the Avatamsaka Sutra, covering almost all the major texts of various schools and sects of Buddhism.
Some of the books looked very old, with yellowed and brittle pages, and worn-out thread on the covers.
The items were arranged very neatly and meticulously, clearly indicating that someone frequently perused and maintained them. "It seems this abbot is a scholar," Chu Yang thought to himself.
After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the curtain to the guest room was lifted.
Guangzhi led the way, followed by an old monk.
The old monk did indeed look very, very old. His face was covered with deep and shallow wrinkles, like the bark of a thousand-year-old tree. His head was bald, without a single hair, and his skin was so thin it was almost transparent, revealing the winding blue veins underneath.
But his eyes were unusually bright.
Those eyes were set in a gaunt face, black and white, sharp and deep, like two bottomless ancient wells. Anyone who was stared at by those eyes would feel as if they had been seen through.
He wore a pale yellow cassock, made of the finest material and embroidered with intricate lotus patterns. On his feet were a pair of cloth shoes with multiple layers of soles, so that he walked without making a sound.
He leaned on a purple bamboo cane with his right hand and held a string of sandalwood prayer beads in his left. His steps were slow but steady, each step firm and measured.
"This old monk is Jinchi, abbot of Guanyin Temple." His voice was aged and deep, as if it came from a bronze bell. "May I ask which of you is a Dharma Master from the Great Tang Dynasty in the East?"
Tang Sanzang stood up and clasped his hands together in a gesture of respect.
"Amitabha Buddha, this humble monk Xuanzang greets Elder Jinchi."
Elder Jinchi's gaze lingered on Tang Sanzang for a moment, then slowly, inch by inch, moved to the brocade cassock Tang Sanzang was wearing.
Chu Yang saw it clearly—the moment Elder Jinchi saw the kasaya, his pupils suddenly shrank to the size of a pinhead.
That gaze wasn't one of admiration or curiosity, but rather a kind of almost greedy, burning desire.
It's like a person who has been trekking through the desert for three days and three nights suddenly seeing a clear spring.
However, Elder Jinchi's composure was clearly far beyond that of ordinary people. That greedy glint only flashed in his eyes for a moment, before being covered by a kind and gentle smile.
"Master Xuanzang has come from afar; this old monk has failed to greet you properly." He slowly walked to the octagonal table and sat down, gesturing for everyone to sit as well. "Please sit, please sit, have a cup of tea to warm yourself."
Guangzhi stepped forward and poured tea for everyone. The tea was emerald green and clear, with a refreshing and sweet aftertaste; it was top-quality pre-Qingming Longjing tea.
"Excellent tea." Tang Sanzang took a sip and exclaimed, "This tea is clear yet not bland, sweet yet not cloying; it must be top-grade Longjing tea."
Elder Jinchi smiled slightly: "Master, you have a good palate. This is sent annually from Hangzhou by an old friend of mine. The yield is extremely limited, only a few ounces a year. I usually can't bear to drink it, but since you have such an honored guest today, I specially brought it out to entertain you."
Tang Sanzang quickly thanked him.
After exchanging pleasantries, Elder Jinchi subtly shifted the topic to the cassock worn by Tang Sanzang.
"This robe of yours, Master, looks completely unfamiliar to me." His gaze fell upon the robe again, his tone casual and nonchalant. "May I ask its origin?"
Tang Sanzang said, "This cassock was personally bestowed upon me by Guanyin Bodhisattva; it was a gift from her when I embarked on my journey to the West."
Elder Jinchi paused for a moment on the prayer beads, and his smile deepened.
"A gift personally bestowed by Guanyin Bodhisattva? That must truly be a priceless treasure."
He twirled the prayer beads in his hand twice, seemingly considering his words.
"This humble monk has only one small hobby in this life—collecting monk's robes."
He stood up, leaned on his purple bamboo cane, walked to the antique display shelf on one side of the guest room, and reached out to open a hidden door.
Behind the hidden door was a small secret room, with all kinds of robes hanging on the four walls.
Red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, and purple robes of various materials and colors, including brocade, silk, cotton, linen, and gauze, were hung in layers, filling the entire secret room to the brim.
"These are all items I've collected over the past few hundred years, large and small, totaling more than seven hundred pieces," Elder Jinchi said, his tone tinged with undisguised pride. "From wool robes of eminent monks from the Western Regions to palm-leaf robes from Buddhist kingdoms in the South China Sea, I have them all."
He casually took off a bright yellow kasaya and unfolded it for everyone to see.
The robe was woven from pure gold thread and shone brightly under the light. It was embroidered with sixteen Arhats, and the needlework was exquisite.
"This item was left behind by a former imperial advisor after his death. I bought it from his disciple for three thousand taels of silver."
He then took off another garment, a deep red kasaya, made of extremely thin, almost transparent fabric, yet exuding a faint sandalwood fragrance.
"This one is even more precious. It was worn by a high-ranking monk at Nalanda University in India. It is said to be woven from the inner bark of the Bodhi tree. I waited for forty years to obtain it."
Tang Sanzang looked at the room full of cassocks, a hint of surprise in his eyes.
"The elder's collection is so vast that it is truly breathtaking."
Elder Jinchi hung the two robes back in their original place and turned to look at Tang Sanzang.
"Even so, in my entire collection, there is nothing that can compare to what the monk is wearing."
He took two steps closer, his gaze fixed on Tang Sanzang's cassock, his voice unconsciously lowering.
"Venerable Master, may I borrow your robe for a closer look? I will not damage it; I simply wish to admire it carefully."
Tang Sanzang hesitated for a moment and looked at Chu Yang.
Chu Yang's expression remained calm; he neither nodded nor shook his head.
Tang Sanzang thought for a moment and said, "Since you wish to see it, Elder, I will take it off for you to examine. However, this robe was bestowed upon me by the Bodhisattva, so please be careful."
He took off his cassock and handed it to Elder Jinchi with both hands.
The moment Elder Jinchi received the robe, his hands trembled slightly.
He unfolded the robe, held it up to the light, and squinted as he examined it inch by inch.
The robe shimmered with a soft golden light under the lamp, and the Buddha images embroidered on it were so lifelike that they seemed ready to come to life at any moment.
Elder Jinchi's breathing became rapid.
“What a treasure…” he murmured to himself, his fingers gently caressing the robe, his voice filled with intoxication, “Truly a treasure… In my two hundred and seventy years, I have seen countless robes, but I have never seen one so exquisite…”
He stood there holding the cassock, reluctant to put it down for a long time.
Chu Yang stood aside and watched all of this.
He noticed that Elder Jinchi's expression was changing little by little—from initial appreciation and admiration to a deeper, almost morbid infatuation.
A murky, dark light began to appear in those once bright eyes.
Chu Yang decided it was time to speak up.
"Elder." (End of Chapter)