by Xu Xu
“You know that I don’t understand these things,” she said, still trembling. “I trust you. Let’s do what you think is best.” Engulfed by the night, we lay silently in close embrace, listening to each other’s heart beat as the hours passed. I finally urged her to go to sleep and told her to pack her belongings the next morning. Only then did I retire to my room.
I left the house early the next day. I withdrew some money, asked for another leave from my newspaper, and found someone who could replace me. I told my mother that I would accompany Yunqian home and then boarded the ten-past-one train to Hangzhou with her. The journey took us through lush, green plains flanked by hills and rivers, and Yunqian glowed like a bird that had been let out of a cage and returned to the forest. Her face shone like a small white cloud in the sun.
XIV
The Buddhist name of my friend’s aunt was Pengwu. She was skilled in traditional painting and poetry and, after her husband’s early death, had devoted herself to Buddhism, studying under a learned, old nun called Master Fazang. Sister Pengwu had not actually taken the vows but had set up Baojue Convent and lived there with Master Fazang who, despite her seventy-six years, was still hale and hearty. Master Fazang did not involve herself in the day-to-day running of the convent and rarely left her room.
Baojue Convent was not very big. The principal compound was made up of three parts: a main hall and an eastern and a western wing, each of which had three rooms. The kitchen was located at the end of the eastern wing, and behind the western wing there was another small courtyard with two more small buildings that were sometimes rented out to worshippers. In the back of the main hall there was a bamboo garden, and in the courtyard in front there were two stone stelae shaped like lotus flowers and an incense burner made of cast iron. The main gate was on the left, and on the right was a bed of lush green nandina shrubs. Sister Pengwu put me up in one of the small buildings in the adjacent courtyard and Yunqian in one of the wing rooms of the main courtyard next to Master Fazang. It was already late when we arrived and, after a snack and a little chat with Sister Pengwu, we soon went to bed.
I got up early the next morning. I walked over to the main courtyard where I saw Yunqian listening to the birds. Grains of rice had been sprinkled at the base of the stone stelae as bird feed. A swarm of sparrows flew over from the eaves of the temple roof to the stone stelae, and then from the stone stelae to the bed of nandinas. Nobody had ever frightened them here or done them any harm, and they flew about freely. Yunqian seemed to have entered a world of her own. She was smiling as she was talking to the birds in a low voice, and her face glowed with that same mysterious radiance. Soon she was encircled by the sparrows, a sight that caused wonder among Sister Pengwu and two or three of the younger nuns. Yunqian all the while did not notice me, and only when Sister Pengwu called out to her did we have our breakfast.
After breakfast, Yunqian and I went for a walk. Baojue Convent was located on a hillside and we walked up the slope. We passed through a dense bamboo thicket until we reached a pavilion. Only then did we go back. In the afternoon I took a nap, and when I got up, I noticed that Yunqian and Sister Pengwu were talking and laughing together like old acquaintances. I was quite surprised at this as Yunqian did not usually warm up to people easily and did not let people get close to her either, yet it seemed different with Sister Pengwu. I started to wonder if maybe this was what people referred to as fate. Sister Pengwu could not possibly have understood Yunqian right away, and why should Yunqian have felt differently about the convent than about our home in Shanghai? Yet the way she behaved around Sister Pengwu and the others in the convent was so different from the way she had behaved around my mother and my friends and relatives. Here, she was her lively, natural self and found it easy to talk to people. It was as if she had lived here for a long time already. But things took an even stranger turn from here.
In the morning of the third day, when the two of us had left for a walk, Yunqian suddenly said, “I think Master Fazang really likes me. Last night she taught me the Heart Sutra.”
“Master Fazang?” I was amazed, because I knew that Master Fazang only very rarely left her study. When she did, she would smile at people and murmur a few Buddhist “amituofo” blessings, but she never said much else.
“She asked me to come to her room,” Yunqian said.
“Did you like the Heart Sutra?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, her face shining with a marvelous radiance. “I can already recite it from memory. It’s even more interesting than poetry.”
“You can already recite it from memory?” I asked in surprise.
“How about I’ll recite it for you?” And she began to recite fluently. Her low murmur again was imbued with a marvelous beauty.
I was in awe. I silently walked behind her as we followed a rivulet downstream. It was a little cloudy, and the sun would hide and then reappear. Down below in the plain, there were rice paddies and the cooking smoke from farmhouses hung in the air. We were now surrounded by trees, and from time to time we could hear birds singing. Yunqian and I were the only ones in this tranquil world.
When she finished her recital, she abruptly said: “Do you see that kingfisher in the tree? It’s so beautiful.”
And sure enough, high up in a tree I saw a bluish-green bird with a long tail. It seemed that Yunqian was murmuring something to the bird and then she said, “Let’s go back.”
“Are you tired?” I asked.
“No,” she said, “Sister Pengwu lent me a copy of the Diamond Sutra. Maybe you can teach it to me today?”
“I am not sure I understand all of it,” I replied.
“It’s strange,” she said, “I like it, and it doesn’t seem hard to understand.”
When we returned to the convent, we sat down at a table in the back courtyard and I interpreted the Diamond Sutra for her sentence by sentence. Her eyes glowed with a mysterious radiance. She was fascinated, and whenever we came across a passage that was hard for me to explain, she would just say, “Don’t worry, don’t worry; keep going!” We labored on all morning and afternoon, but what a peaceful and harmonious day we had!
On the fourth day, I went to look up some friends. Yunqian did not accompany me and stayed behind in the convent. My plan was to first find a job and then find a house in a quiet location that was still close enough to my work. Once everything was settled, we would get married. I had made up my mind that, for her sake, we would lead a simple and quiet life, without the kind of socializing she so abhorred; in harmony with nature; and in close proximity to mountains and rivers, forests and birds. But these were all things that I had contemplated while lying awake at night or after waking up in the early hours before dawn. I had never discussed them with Yunqian. After we had arrived at Baojue Convent, Yunqian had been just as calm and happy as she had been back home, spending all day in the company of birds. There was a peaceful smile on her face, and her eyes shone marvelously. I had not wanted to bother her, because I knew that with her childlike character, she had no judgment of such practical matters. Besides, she had complete faith in me. But now I had to tell her. I would tell her the moment I got back to the convent, because I was just too excited and happy. I must have sung and screamed all the way up the hill until I reached Baojue Convent.
Sister Pengwu was conducting the evening recitation and Yunqian was waiting for me in the courtyard. I embraced her as soon as I had entered. I then told her that I had paid visits to three friends, and that I had been really lucky. One of my friends worked in a library, and he had told me that they were looking for a new director. Another friend was the director of a middle school, and he had told me that they were short of an English teacher. They both would be thrilled if I were to accept the position. The third one worked for a newspaper, and he had told me that he could take me on immediately. Originally, I had worried about not being able to find work, and now there were three jobs to choose from. I then told her all my plans for us. I said that I would make a decisi
on about which position to accept tonight, and then would go and look for a house for us to live in. Once I had found a suitable house and it had been fixed up, I would show it to her. Then we could get married and go on a trip to visit the hills and lakes of the lower Yangtze region for a couple of weeks before I took up my new post.
I took her arm as we stood by the main gate, gazing at the setting sun. Cooking smoke from farmhouses drifted in the valley below, and the ravens returned home to the forest. I poured my heart out to her and declared my love to her. I told her that I had made up my mind to leave behind my meaningless life in the city and to live a simple and peaceful life with her in the countryside. Yunqian, however, remained silent. I looked at her. The evening sun shone on her beautiful cheeks, making them look like petals of a lotus flower. The pureness of her face was heightened by the faint smile she wore. Without looking at me, she took out two pieces of paper that had divination rhymes written on them. She gave me one, and said, “This one is for you.”
I took it and looked at it. It read:
There is a cause for everything if long enough thou ponder.
A worldly man in brocade robes can never with immortals wander.
I was overcome by an indescribable emotion. I read the prophecy over and over. Then Yunqian passed me the other slip and said, “This one is mine.”
I took it and read:
Fear not that enlightenment will never come near
For with the right karma you might find it at dawn.
The heart of the jade goddess is pure and clear,
Her senses are empty and her wisdom will spawn.
I was speechless. I silently gazed at the last rays of the setting sun. In that moment, neither reason nor my knowledge of science could tame that strange superstitious belief that was taking hold of me. And what if it was superstition! There was a sublime beauty to it.
After a long silence, Yunqian said, “This place has become heaven for me.”
I still was not able to say anything.
“Master Fazang and Sister Pengwu don’t take me for the dimwit others think I am, and they know I am not stupid.”
“But I …”
“You are a good person, but when I am with you, I feel that I am burdening you. When I am with them, I feel that I am helping them.”
I did not understand. But what did I ever understand?
I turned around and walked into the convent. I began to hate Master Fazang. What magic had this old nun used to bewitch Yunqian? Alone, without Yunqian, I went into Master Fazang’s room. The light had not been turned on, and it was dim inside. Master Fazang was holding a string of prayer beads and was reciting sutras, eyes closed. Without opening her eyes she said, “Please sit down.”
She smiled at me, her wrinkled face full of kindness and humor. Her smile had a calming effect on me. I sat for a long time, mulling over the words I had wanted to say to her, but was unable to say anything. Finally I opened my mouth.
“Master Fazang, do you really think this is the right place for Yunqian?”
“Who but herself would know the answer?”
I didn’t reply.
“What use is there for us to interpret as suffering what she thinks is happiness?”
There wasn’t anything left for me to say. I sat stiffly for a long while. The sky grew gradually darker, and when it was pitch black in the room, I got up and said, “I thank you.”
XV
I tossed and turned all night. The next morning I got up while the morning recitation was taking place. In front of the main hall, I saw Yunqian already dressed in a nun’s robe, assisting Sister Pengwu with the ceremony.
After breakfast, when I was alone in my room, Sister Pengwu came in to see me.
“Yunqian is still willing to do whatever you think is best,” she said. ‘If you really feel that … you know she feels terrible about it all.”
“I know.”
“Yet she was destined to be here.”
“I believe so.”
“She can stay here for a while and doesn’t have to be ordained right away. She is already a vegetarian,” Sister Pengwu said. “If you work in Hangzhou, you can come as often as you please. That wouldn’t be too bad, would it? Getting married and starting a family, would that really mean happiness to the both of you? You are an intelligent person. You know her much better than I do and her happiness surely is of even greater concern to you than it is to me. You decide.”
I thanked her, and she left. Alone again, I sank into a deep state of contemplation. If I were to listen to Sister Pengwu’s advice, work in Hangzhou, and come here every week to see Yunqian; maybe that would be a happy life? But I knew I could not do it. I could not rid myself of my earthly desires. I did not want to be selfish, but still I couldn’t help it. I knew well that Yunqian was detached from such yearnings and that she was of a nobler kind. She did not belong with me; she belonged in a world unspoiled by worldly matters. Only in such a world could her sublimity and magnificence manifest itself. Only in such a world could she truly feel at ease and be happy. I would be of no help or value to her. I had become superfluous. In fact, I had become an emotional burden to her, just like she had been a burden to me in Shanghai. What was there left to say? I did not see Yunqian again. Early the next day, I descended the hill and immediately returned to Shanghai.
My life in Shanghai returned to its usual grind. Petty quarrels and social engagements kept me busy, and I had my share of ups and downs. I was hoping that I would quickly forget Yunqian, yet she would invariably appear in my mind in moments of fatigue and loneliness, even though our worlds were so far apart. After two months, Bingyang suddenly came to see me. He told me that he had received a letter from Yunqian. He had written a reply, urging her to get married to me, but she wrote back telling him that Baojue Convent was like heaven to her and that she wanted to stay there. Worried at first, he had made a trip to the convent to see for himself. He had stayed there for a week, but when he saw how happy Yunqian was and how she talked and laughed with the other nuns, his mind was put at rest. Before he left, he made a donation to the convent as a token of support for his sister. And that was the last news I had of Yunqian.
In the years that followed, I wandered aimlessly. I indulged in wine and women, and I got worn down by poverty and sickness, living out of tiny rooms. I threw myself into frivolous affairs and participated in noisy brawls. I changed from one job to the next and drifted from place to place. I married, got divorced, raised kids, went to America, Europe, and Africa. I sold my songs and my stories and everything else to make ends meet. And in the end, I drifted to Hong Kong.
I forgot Yunqian. I forgot her a long time ago, but every time I travel to the countryside and gaze at the mountains and streams and the lush forests, and I hear the distant singing of birds, the figure of Yunqian faintly flashes into my memory. But it is just like a fleecy cloud drifting by in the sky, and as soon as I return to my mundane existence, I forget her again. How many times had I thought of writing her a letter to ask how she was doing; but when I looked at my own vulgar life, I could never muster the courage to disturb her pure and peaceful soul. Once, five years ago, after I had returned from abroad, I wrote a letter to Bingyang, but I did not receive a reply.
Yet when I received the Diamond Sutra through the mail, I realized at once that it was the one that Master Fazang had lent Yunqian and that we had studied together on our third day in Baojue Convent, sitting at the table in the small courtyard. The letter and the sutra had been sent from my grandmother’s village. I did not know which of my relatives still lived there or how they had gotten hold of my address. That of course was not too difficult, since many of my relatives and friends in Shanghai knew of my whereabouts. In any case, I had no desire to know. I looked at myself in the mirror. What a vulgar face! I had long stopped being a vegetarian, even if I still did not touch poultry or fowl. I tossed away the mirror. As my tears fell on the open sutra, my eyes caught sight of a line in the opening chapter:
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All sentient beings, whether born from eggs or born from a womb or born from moisture or born through metamorphosis, whether born with physical form or without, be they capable of reason or incapable of reason or neither capable nor incapable or reason, all will eventually be led by me to enter Nirvana where all their anguish will be extinguished.
百靈樹
The All-Souls Tree
“The All-Souls Tree,” published in Hong Kong in 1950, is another short story that explores the theme of exile. The story is set in Taiwan after the Nationalists’ retreat to the island in the wake of their defeat by Communist forces during the civil war. Taiwan had been a Japanese colony from 1895 until the end of World War II, when sovereignty over the island was transferred to Chiang Kai-shek’s Nationalist government. By the end of 1949, large parts of the Nationalist government as well as approximately two million troops along with their families and other civilians had arrived there from the mainland.
The short story recounts a mystifying incident that occurs when a group of friends undertake a trip to *Mount Ali 阿里山, one of Taiwan’s most scenic tourist destinations. The friends take a train from the capital Taipei 台北 in the north to *Chiayi 嘉義, a town in central Taiwan. From there, they board a famous *narrow-gauge railway to the top of Mount Ali that had originally been built to transport timber down the mountain. During the colonial period, the Japanese had developed the island’s infrastructure, in large part to facilitate the transport of agricultural produce and the extraction of natural resources. In addition, many Japanese-style buildings, like the hotel the group is staying in on Mount Ali, were erected during colonial rule and continued to be used thereafter.