by Guo Xiaoting
The monk proceeded up the steps and said, “Excuse me, gentlemen. Is this the house of the Zhao family?”
The household people, glancing quickly, saw that he was a poor monk and said, “You are not wrong. Our master is named Zhao. What are you doing here?”
The monk replied, “I have heard people say that the old lady of your honorable house is sick in body and gravely sinking, and that it is feared that she may die. I came especially to see your master and to offer a cure for the old lady.”
When the family’s people heard the monk’s words, one of them said, “Monk, your arrival is most opportune. You are not wrong about what you have heard. Because the young master of the house became seriously ill, the old mistress was so concerned about the child that she became disturbed and fell ill. A great many doctors have come to see her, but there has been no sign of improvement. The master of the house, Zhao Wenhui, is most filial toward his mother, and from the first, when he saw the old lady’s illness grow more serious, invited famous medical men to come.”
The man continued, “There is a yuanwai named Su whose personal name is Beishan. In his home there is also an old lady who became sick. They invited a gentleman named Li Huaiqun, who is well versed in herbal medical science, to examine her. The master of the house has just now gone to the Su home to invite that gentleman to come here.”
Even as he spoke, a group of horsemen came riding up with three men at the front. The first, a good-looking man riding a white horse, wore a square cap on his head topped by a jade flower with two ribbon streamers. On his body he wore the blue satin leisure coat of a gentleman. It was embroidered with a design of bats and butterflies. This man was Li Huaiqun, a cousin of Zhao Wenhui.
The second wore a double-butterfly treasure-blue jacket and a blue satin gentleman’s cap with three embroidered blue flowers. He wore a soft blue satin leisure garment and black palace-style shoes. His face was like the waning moon, eyebrows compassionate and eyes benevolent. Three long strands of beard, blown by the wind, went sweeping across his chest. This was Su Beishan.
The third was also dressed like a wealthy official with a white face, long beard, and handsome features.
When the monk had finished looking at them, he went over and, stopping the horses, said, “Will the three gentlemen go more slowly? I have been waiting for you for some time.”
Zhao Wenhui, the third of the three riders, seeing the monk walk into the road, said, “We have urgent business, monk; we have invited this gentleman to cure my old mother’s illness. You should come to solicit funds on another day. Today it is not possible to talk with you.”
The monk said, “Not possible, you say! But, I am not soliciting alms. Today I heard it said that the force of the illness influencing the old lady in your residence has grown more severe. I have made a vow to treat those who have become ill, wherever they may be. Today I came with the special intention of treating your mother’s illness.”
Zhao Wenhui said, “The gentleman I have invited here is the most famous doctor of the present age. You can go away. We are not using you.”
As soon as the monk heard this, he turned his head and, looking at Li Huaiqun, said, “Sir, even though you are a famous doctor, I can still teach you what illness one kind of medicine can cure.”
Doctor Li asked, “What kind of medicine are you talking about, monk?”
Ji Gong asked in return, “What illness can be cured by biscuits hot out of the oven?”
Doctor Li replied, “I don’t know. They are not among the herbal medicines.”
The monk laughed. “Ha! Ha! You don’t even know one of the most important principles and still dare to call yourself a famous doctor! Biscuits that come out of the oven cure hunger. Isn’t that right? You didn’t know that! I had better come with you into the Zhao home and help you.”
Li Huaiqun said, “Good! Monk, you just come with me.”
Zhao Wenhui and Su Beishan could not very well keep him back—the only thing they could do was to go on through the gateway with the monk. When they entered the old lady’s house and sat down, they were given tea by the house servants.
Doctor Li examined the old lady and said that she had a collection of bloody mucus in her throat, and that she could not become well except by expectorating it. The old lady was advanced in years. Both her spirit and her blood were deficient, so medicine could not be used. Official Zhao was then asked whether there was anything else he wanted the doctor to do.
Zhao Wenhui said, “Sir, my field is not medicine, but I know that there are famous doctors. You may recommend someone in addition, if you choose.”
Doctor Li said, “Here in Linan there are only two outstanding doctors—myself and Tang Wanfang. Those people that he can cure, I can cure; those that he cannot, I also cannot. We two have the same capabilities.”
When they had conversed just to this point, Ji Gong spoke up. “You need not all become alarmed. First, let me look at the old lady.”
Zhao Wenhui was first of all a caring son, and as soon as he heard the monk’s words, he said, “Good. Come and look.” Li Huaiqun also wanted to observe the monk’s capabilities.
When Ji Gong approached the old lady, he patted her twice on the head and said, “Old lady, you are not going to die. Your head is still hard.”
Li Huaiqun asked, “What are you saying, monk?”
Ji Gong said, “I will summon the phlegm and make it come out, and then everything will be all right.” Going around to the front of the old lady, he said, “Phlegm, phlegm, come out quickly! You’re blocking up the old lady enough to kill her.”
Doctor Li laughed, but just as he said, “Isn’t that a bit unprofessional?” he saw the old lady cough up a mouthful of mucus.
Ji Gong put out his hand with a piece of medicine in it, saying, “Bring me a bowl of water.” It was brought to him by one of the household servants.
Zhao Wenhui looked and asked, “Monk, what is that medicine? Can it cure my mother’s illness?”
Ji Gong laughed loudly, and holding out the medicine in his hand answered, “This medicine that I carry has endless uses. It completely cures numerous symptoms of many diseases. It is the Eight Treasure Pill to Restore the Dead. It is by no means one that may lie loosely with other medicines.” After Ji Gong had spoken, he placed the pill in the bowl, saying, “The old lady is in this state because of anxiety. Now that she is relieved of the mucus she will grow stronger. Very soon she will fall into a stupor and not awaken immediately. Wait and take good care of her. As she takes the medicine, some good results will be seen immediately.”
As soon as Zhao Wenhui heard this, he realized that Ji Gong had an extensive medical background and that he had explained the cause exactly. Excitedly he began to speak: “Saintly monk, you are really too kind. It was because my mother was so fond of the child that she became ill with anxiety. I have a boy aged six who is suffering from a retributive illness. He complains of a wrong having been done to someone else, but no one knows what it is. He is still in a delirium and has not awakened. When my mother became disturbed about the boy, her throat became congested. If, my teacher, you are to cure my mother completely, I must also ask the monk to cure my little child.”
Since the old lady had now awakened, the monk had her drink the medicine, and she recovered completely. Zhao Wenhui went to her and paid his respects. In addition, he kowtowed to the monk and asked him to cure his son.
Ji Gong said, “It is also not difficult to cure your son. It is, however, necessary that we obtain one thing. After that I can manage the cure very well.”
Zhao Wenhui asked what that necessary thing was. Ji Gong would not be hurried nor pressured into explaining that the thing needed to make the entire family of Zhao Wenhui well again was to bring Dong Shihong and his daughter together.
CHAPTER 3
The arts of Chan cure illness in the Zhao home; Buddha’s laws operate in secret to end sorrows
AFTER Ji Gong had restored the mother of Zhao Wenhui to heal
th, there was still the six-year-old son to attend to. Ji Gong said, “I can cure him, but there is a supplementary element which is difficult to find. This is needed to introduce the other medicine. There must be a fifty-two-year-old man who must also have been born on the fifth day of the fifth month, and a nineteen-year-old girl born on the fifth day of the eighth month. The tears of these two people can be combined into a medicine. Then I can make the cure complete.”
Su Beishan and Li Huaiqun could see that the monk truly had a remarkable lineage. They asked the monk where he lived and what honorable names he was called. He answered each of their questions.
Zhao Wenhui went outside and sent people to search for a fifty-two-year-old man had been born on the fifth day of the fifth month.
At first they asked among those in the household itself and in the homes of relatives and friends nearby. They found no one. If the age was right, the birthday was wrong. If the month and day were right, the year was wrong. The crowd kept searching until they reached the gate. There they saw a man standing outside whose years seemed to be about half a hundred. One of the family, Zhao Liansheng, quickly went over to him and raising his clasped hands in greeting asked, “May I ask Brother’s name?”
He replied, “My surname is Dong, and my personal name is Shihong. My family came from Qiantang. I am waiting here for a man.”
The family member asked, “Is the elder brother fifty-two years old?” The answer was “You are not wrong.” Again the family member questioned him. “Were you born on the fifth day of the fifth month?” Again the answer was “You are not wrong.” The family member, quickly taking him by the hand, said, “Master Dong, you come with me. The head of our household has invited you to come in.”
Dong Shihong asked, “How does your honorable household head know me? Tell me and I will go with you.”
The family member then explained in detail the reason for the search and the need for the supplementary medicine. Dong Shihong then went in with him. There he saw Ji Gong, Zhao Wenhui, and the others. The family member introduced him to everyone.
Ji Gong said, “Now, quickly find the nineteen-year-old girl who was born on the fifth day of the eighth month.”
As soon as Dong Shihong heard the age and birthdate, which were the same as those of his daughter, his heart moved swiftly. Just then he saw one of the household people come in who said, “Auntie Gu found that the slave girl, Spring Maid, is nineteen and was born on the fifth day of the eighth month, and has called her.”
Then Dong Shihong saw a girl come in from outside. As soon as he saw that it was his own daughter, his heart was filled with anguish, and his tears began to fall. When the girl saw that it was her father, she also started crying.
The master of the household where she originally had been was named Gu. At that time he had only recently returned from the diplomatic corps. When Scholar Gu had been given a new post, Auntie Gu and Spring Maid had become part of the Zhao household. Father and daughter were each weeping bitterly as they saw the other’s face.
The monk laughed, “Ha! Ha!” and exclaimed, “Excellent! Excellent! Today I have made three for one, and how delightful the three are!” Putting out his hand, he received the medicinal tears. Holding them in his palm, he called for a household person to dissolve the medicine in water. Ji Gong then had them wash young Master Zhao with the mixture. In a little while, the boy’s facial expression became normal, his delirium was gone, and his illness was completely cured.
The monk told Zhao Wenhui the entire story of how Dong Shihong had lost the money and had been about to hang himself and how he, Ji Gong, had saved him and brought father and daughter together.
Zhao Wenhui rewarded Dong Shihong by giving him one hundred ounces of silver and allowing him take his daughter away with him. Afterward, Zhao Wenhui would buy another serving maid for his father’s sister.
When Li Huaiqun questioned the monk, he learned for the first time that Ji Gong was a senior monk of the Monastery of the Soul’s Retreat. Su Beishan went over and greeting the monk ceremoniously, inquiring, “May I ask as a great kindness that you cure my own mother’s illness?”
The monk stood up and replied, “I will go to your home now.”
Su Beishan said, “Very good!”
Zhao Wenhui could not very well detain Ji Gong. Bringing a hundred ounces of white silver, he offered it to the monk to buy some more clothes. The monk said, “If you wish to thank me, come closer,” and then he whispered something into Zhao Wenhui’s ear.
Zhao Wenhui said, “Teacher, please rest assured that on that day I will be there.” Then he asked Su Beishan whether he had asked anyone to treat the illness of his mother.
Su Beishan replied, “Actually I have invited a great many gentlemen, but all have turned out to be useless. Recently one who is truly a living saint of the medical profession, Tang Wanfang, treated her, but I have seen no improvement in her condition. I also asked Dr. Li to treat her, but he, too, was not effective. They all say that older people cannot be helped when the vitality and blood are deficient. I also with all my heart rely on the will of heaven. Today I was able to meet this saintly monk who was fated to help this old lady to recover from an illness that has been truly hard to bear.”
At Su Beishan’s home, which was known as the “Green Bamboo Studio,” they entered and went into the western courtyard. There they came to the door of a spacious house of five sections on the north side. When they were seated inside, they could see the old lady, Su Beishan’s mother, lying on a bed.
There were several old women and slave girls standing in attendance who found the monk’s torn and ragged clothing quite ridiculous. Their laughter was more than Ji Gong could tolerate. “You should stop laughing at this clothing of mine and listen to what I say. Those who laugh at the monk’s torn clothes have neither eyes nor face.” (Meaning they lack both perception and self-respect.)
The household people offered tea. Ji Gong took out a piece of medicine and held it in his hand. As soon as Su Beishan perceived its black color, resembling betel nut, and its strange repellent odor, he reached out for it. Taking the unfamiliar pill in his hand, he asked, “What is the name of this medicine?”
Ji Gong answered, “This is a subtle medicine that I possess as a monk. It is called the pill of fate. If a person is about to die and takes this medicine of mine, life will return. It is also the pill of movement and understanding.”
Su Beishan used water to dissolve the pill and gave the mixture to his mother to drink. In a short time the old woman had completely recovered from her illness.
Su Beishan directed someone to prepare wine and invited the monk into the library, where they sat drinking wine and discussing ancient and present affairs. Ji Gong revealed to Su Beishan the splendor of his erudition and the aspirations hidden within his breast. Su Beishan than knew that Ji Gong was one who transcended the great men of the world. Su Beishan begged Ji Gong to become his teacher, and wanted to give him new clothing. But the monk would accept nothing, saying, “If you wish to thank me, it need only be as it is between us at present. Now I must go.”
Su Beishan said, “My teacher, here it will always be as if this were your worldly home. When you wish to come, you may live here.”
The monk replied, “Nicely said. Today I will return to the temple.” He left the Su household, and in the street began singing as he walked on his way.
Where now are the sounds of their laughter?
Where are the flowers and brilliant brocades?
Where are those years we once were so joyous?
Lonely tombs echo back my cry.
Though I grieve for my old companions,
I must follow the light of truth.
May I flee the world and its pleasures;
May the world only pass me by.
So Ji Gong returned to the temple. The superintendent of the monks, Guang Liang, wanted to destroy Ji Gong. Guang Liang was holding a grudge because Ji Gong had stolen his robe and also had played a trick
on him with a bundle of dust and dirt that the superintendent had thought was an object stolen by Ji Gong.
Guang knew that Ji Gong slept in an upper room of the Great Pagoda, and sent one of the acolytes to make sure that Ji Gong was there—and, if he was, to burn him to death during the night.
The first time that the fire was set, Ji Gong had risen to relieve himself, and the water he made showered the little acolyte on the head and put out the fire.
When the little acolyte started a fire the second time, the high, blazing flames were seen at once. The multitude of monks in the temple cried out: “This is terrible! Quick, let us put out this fire! That crazy monk Dao Ji is up in the Great Pagoda sleeping and will be burned to death—perhaps he can be saved.”
Superintendent Guang Liang thought that this time he had been able to burn the mad monk to death. Although no one knew it, Guang Liang was just savoring this delight when he saw Ji Gong coming out of the Great Hall of Treasures. He was laughing loudly, saying, “When men call upon men to die, heaven may be unwilling; but when heaven calls upon men to die, there does not seem to be any difficulty.”
When Superintendent Guang Liang saw that Ji Gong was not dead, he was most unhappy. He went to the temple master and told him, “We are now obliged to punish Ji Dian for the burning of the Great Pagoda.”
The old temple master replied, “The fact that the Great Pagoda caught fire was the will of heaven. How can it be attributed to Dao Ji?”
The superintendent answered the temple master saying, “Nations have the law of kings; temples have the Buddhist rules. In this temple, when one person has a lamp lighted, everyone has a lamp lighted according to the time specified—such as when they come together to eat, and when they go to their rest at night. Dao Ji keeps his lamp burning all night and makes it burn like a supernatural fire. This is against Buddhist rules and he should be punished for that. He should be sent out of the temple and not be allowed to be a monk.”