Chapter 941
The Dark Light of Greed
Elder Jinchi seemed to be startled awake from a dream, and turned to look at him.
"Hmm? What advice does this benefactor have for you?"
Chu Yang smiled slightly, cupped his hands, and said, "I dare not presume to offer guidance. This disciple merely looked at Elder's collection just now and was moved by some thoughts, wishing to exchange a few words with Elder."
Elder Jinchi folded the robe neatly and placed it carefully on the table. Then he sat back in his chair and gently covered the robe with his palm, as if afraid it would fly away.
"Please speak, benefactor."
Chu Yang sat down opposite him, picked up his teacup, and took a sip.
"The elder has collected these robes for hundreds of years, but has he ever considered this question—what exactly is a robe?"
Elder Jinchi was slightly taken aback, then smiled.
"The kasaya is the robe of a monk, a symbol of Buddhist practice. This question is too basic; surely that's not all you wanted to ask?"
Chu Yang said, "The elder is right, the kasaya is a dharma robe. But what this disciple wants to ask is—what does the 'dharma' in 'dharma robe' refer to?"
Elder Jinchi gently twirled his prayer beads and said slowly, "The Dharma refers to the Buddha's teachings. The robe embodies the spirit of the Buddha's teachings; wearing the robe is wearing the Dharma, constantly reminding oneself that one is a Buddhist disciple and must not slacken in one's practice."
Tang Sanzang listened from the side and nodded slightly.
Chu Yang nodded, "Elder is right. But I have a question."
"Please speak."
"Since the robe embodies the spirit of Buddhism, does this spirit reside in the robe itself, or in the heart of the person wearing it?"
Elder Jinchi's smile froze for a moment.
"What's the meaning?"
Chu Yang pointed to the robes hanging in the secret chamber: "The elder has over seven hundred robes, each one precious and exquisite. But the elder can only wear one at a time. So the remaining six hundred and ninety-nine, hanging on the wall, unworn, where has the Buddhist spirit they embody gone?"
Elder Jinchi frowned.
"Although no one wears these robes, they are Buddhist treasures in themselves, embodying the hard work and vows of generations of eminent monks. Preserving them and passing them down is itself an act of upholding the Dharma."
Chu Yang shook his head slightly: "I cannot agree with what the elder has said."
Elder Jinchi's expression darkened slightly: "Oh? What insightful opinion do you have, benefactor?"
Chu Yang said calmly, "In my opinion, the value of a kasaya lies not in its rare material, exquisite craftsmanship, or the fact that it once belonged to a high-ranking monk. Its value lies in the fact that the person who wears it uses it for spiritual practice and to guide sentient beings."
"A robe, no matter how exquisite, is nothing more than a piece of cloth if locked in a secret room. Just like a fine sword locked in its sheath and not used, it will rust over time."
Elder Jinchi's fingers stopped on the prayer beads, and his lips pursed into a thin line.
Upon hearing this, Tang Sanzang glanced thoughtfully at Chu Yang.
Chu Yang continued, "This disciple dares to ask Elder another question."
Elder Jinchi snorted: "Ask away."
"Did the elder collect the robe for the sake of Buddhism, or for the robe itself?"
These words were like a needle, precisely piercing the spot Elder Jinchi least wanted to be touched.
His expression changed.
On that wrinkled old face, the originally kind and gentle expression peeled away layer by layer, revealing the displeasure that had been suppressed for a long time.
"What do you mean by that, benefactor?" His voice deepened, carrying a subtle sharpness. "This old monk collects robes naturally for the sake of Buddhism. Each robe embodies the insights of those who came before me; preserving them is preserving the lineage of Buddhism. How can you, so young, presume to make such wild guesses?"
Chu Yang was not intimidated by his tone and calmly said, "Elder, please calm down. This disciple did not mean to offend you. This disciple just felt that when you looked at our master's robe just now, the look in your eyes did not seem like you were observing Buddhist teachings, but rather like..."
He paused for a moment, carefully considering his words.
"It's like someone looking at something they really want."
It was as if the air had been suddenly sucked away.
The living room was so quiet that you could hear the crackling of the burning lamp wick.
Elder Jinchi stared at Chu Yang with an extremely complex expression.
Anger, shame, embarrassment at being exposed, and a hint of guilt that he was unwilling to admit but could not deny—these emotions surged alternately in his deep old eyes.
Tang Sanzang sensed the change in atmosphere and quickly tried to smooth things over.
"Young and impetuous Benefactor Chu, your speech is not tactful enough; I hope the elder will not take offense."
He turned to look at Chu Yang, his gaze carrying a hint of reproach: "Benefactor Chu, you mustn't be rude."
Chu Yang nodded slightly to Tang Sanzang, then looked back at Elder Jinchi, his tone softening.
“Elder, I have no intention of offending you by saying this. I simply recalled a story, and I wonder if you would be willing to hear it?”
Elder Jinchi remained silent for a moment, turning the prayer beads twice in his hand, barely managing to suppress his emotions.
"Tell me about it."
Chu Yang said, "Once upon a time, there was a monk who loved collecting Buddhist scriptures. He traveled all over the world, collecting countless rare and unique copies, filling three entire meditation rooms. His greatest pleasure each day was to peruse these scriptures, touch their pages, and smell their ink."
"But one day, a wandering monk passed by his temple and asked to borrow a scripture. The monk hesitated for a long time, but ultimately refused. He was afraid the wandering monk would soil his book or tear its pages."
After the wandering monk left, the monk's master asked him: "Why did you collect these scriptures?"
The monk replied: "Naturally, it's for studying Buddhist teachings."
The master then asked: "Have you finished studying it on your own?"
The monk was stunned. He had collected scriptures his entire life, yet he had never read a single one from cover to cover. He was too busy—busy finding books, busy buying books, busy arranging books, busy maintaining books. As for what was written inside, he had no time to care.
Chu Yang paused here.
The guest room was extremely quiet, with only the sound of pine trees outside the window and the faint sound of a wooden fish drum that could be heard from a distant hall.
Elder Jinchi sat motionless in his chair.
His right hand rested on the brocade cassock on the table, his five thin fingers slightly curled up, as if grasping something or letting go of something.
After a long time, he finally spoke.
"I understand what you mean, benefactor."
His voice was much lower than before, as if it came from the bottom of a deep well.
"What you're trying to say is that my collecting robes is like that monk collecting scriptures—it's putting the cart before the horse."
Chu Yang said, "This disciple dares not presume to judge whether the Elder has put the cart before the horse. This disciple merely feels that the Elder has cultivated for 270 years, and his understanding of Buddhism is far beyond my reach. With the Elder's cultivation, he should not be entangled by worldly possessions."
Elder Jinchi remained silent.
Tang Sanzang then spoke up.
“Amitabha.” He clasped his hands together, his tone sincere and gentle. “Elder, although my cultivation is still shallow, I know one principle—Buddha resides in the heart, not outside the body.”
"Although this robe was bestowed by the Bodhisattva, it is indeed a treasure. But ultimately, it is just a garment. This humble monk has worn it through countless mountains and rivers, enduring wind, frost, rain, and snow. Its value lies not in its intrinsic preciousness, but in the paths this humble monk has walked and the deeds he has performed while wearing it."
"If you lock it in a box and enshrine it, it will no longer be a robe. It will just be a pretty garment."
Elder Jinchi slowly raised his head and looked at Tang Sanzang. A complex light flashed in his old eyes, which had been cloudy for a moment.
“The Master speaks well,” he sighed. “The Buddha resides in the heart, not outside the body. I understand this principle. It’s just…”
He lowered his head and looked at the hand covering his robe.
"It's just that my life has been too long. Two hundred and seventy years... Do you know what two hundred and seventy years means?"
He raised his head, and a rare hint of vulnerability suddenly appeared in his cloudy old eyes.
"My master died, my fellow disciples died, my apprentices died, and even my grand-disciple died. The monks in this temple have come and gone, and I've seen countless people pass away."
"In the end, all that's left for this old monk are these robes."
"They will not die, they will not age, they will not leave. When I touch them, it's as if I'm touching the warmth left behind by those departed friends."
The air in the living room suddenly became heavy.
Chu Yang looked at Elder Jinchi, and an emotion he had not expected welled up in his heart.
In the original novel, Elder Jinchi is a greedy old monk who would not hesitate to set fires and kill people for the sake of his cassock.
But the person sitting in front of him at this moment is far more complex than described in the book.
He was not just greedy, he was also lonely.
Two hundred and seventy years of loneliness—that kind of feeling is something that ordinary people cannot understand.
“Elder,” Chu Yang said softly.
Elder Jinchi looked at him.
Chu Yang's tone softened considerably, no longer displaying the sharp edge he had before.
"This disciple understands the elder's feelings. Two hundred and seventy years have passed, and one old friend after another has passed away; such loneliness is something no one else can understand."
"But has the elder ever considered that the robes left behind by those deceased people carry not only warmth, but also their last wishes?"
"They wore these robes to practice, preach, and guide others. They hoped their robes would be passed down, not locked away in secret chambers, but worn by later practitioners to continue what they hadn't finished."
Elder Jinchi's body trembled slightly.
Chu Yang said, "The elders kept these robes to preserve the memories of their deceased loved ones. I understand that. But if their spirits were watching from heaven, what would they think if they saw their beloved robes locked in a dark, sunless chamber, never seeing the light of day, never touching the dew, never experiencing the wind and rain?"
"They'll probably be sad."
Elder Jinchi loosened his grip.
He slowly withdrew his hand, which had been covering his robe, finger by finger.
After a long while, he let out a long sigh.
The sigh seemed to come from the deepest part of his chest, carrying the vicissitudes and weariness of two hundred and seventy years.
"This old monk...this old monk was attached to appearances."
He closed his eyes, his lips trembling slightly.
"Two hundred and seventy years... This old monk thought he had long since seen through the illusions of the world, but unexpectedly, he has become so deeply entangled in this matter."
He opened his eyes, his gaze sweeping over the brocade cassock on the table before slowly shifting away.
“Master,” he said, looking at Tang Sanzang, pressing his palms together and bowing deeply, “thank you, Master and this benefactor, for enlightening this old monk. I have cultivated for two hundred and seventy years, yet I am less insightful than a young man; I am truly…ashamed.”
Tang Sanzang quickly rose and returned the greeting: "Elder, you flatter me. This humble monk has no virtue or ability; I merely borrowed the opportunity presented by Benefactor Chu."
Chu Yang also stood up, cupped his hands, and said, "Elder, you are too kind. This disciple was merely speaking off the cuff. I hope the elder does not find this offensive."
Elder Jinchi shook his head, a complex, bitter smile appearing on his gaunt face.
“Every word you spoke, benefactor, pierced my heart. What nonsense! Every word was a gem.”
He paused, then picked up the brocade cassock on the table with both hands and handed it back to Tang Sanzang.
“Master, please keep this robe safe. This robe has accompanied you on countless journeys and through countless eons; it is more valuable than anything locked away in any secret chamber.”
Tang Sanzang took the cassock and carefully put it back on.
Elder Jinchi watched his back as he put on his cassock, the greedy glint in his eyes completely gone.
Instead, there was a sense of almost detached tranquility.
……
That evening, Elder Jinchi arranged for everyone to stay in guest rooms at Guanyin Temple.
The guest rooms are very spacious, the bedding is clean, and the furnishings are simple yet elegant.
As soon as Pigsy got into bed, he started snoring. As usual, Monkey King didn't sleep and said he wanted to meditate on the old pine tree in the yard.
Tang Sanzang and Chu Yang each stayed in adjacent meditation rooms.
As night deepened, the temple was completely silent, save for the distant sound of mountain streams and the occasional clang of a clapper—the sound of the monks on night watch striking the watch.
Chu Yang lay in bed, but couldn't fall asleep.
He had been waiting.
He knew that although the conversation during the day had touched Elder Jinchi, it might not be able to completely dispel the greed in his heart.
A deep-seated obsession built up over 270 years cannot be resolved with just a few words.
Moreover, people are most easily swayed by their desires when it is late at night and all is quiet.
The principles you understand during the day may be overturned by night.
During the day, Elder Jinchi appears magnanimous and insightful in front of everyone, but when he is alone at night, does he regret it? Does he not feel like thinking about that robe again?
Chu Yang dared not gamble.
So he didn't sleep; he was waiting.
Just after 9 PM, a very faint sound of footsteps came from outside the window.
Ordinary people cannot hear such sounds at all, but after Chu Yang entered the Qi Refining stage, his five senses became much more acute.
The footsteps were very light, almost gliding across the ground, like a cat patrolling at night.
Chu Yang's heart skipped a beat, but he didn't move.
He listened intently to the direction of the footsteps.
—They weren't coming towards his room.
They were heading towards Tang Sanzang's room.
Chu Yang silently rolled over and put his feet into his shoes without making a sound.
He pushed open the door to his room and peered into the hallway.
Moonlight streamed in through the window at the end of the corridor, casting a silvery-gray glow on the floor. (End of Chapter)