Chapter 266: The Strange Temple (2/2)
I almost couldn’t believe my ears. Would a monk use such derogatory language? I was suddenly struck by a thought–perhaps this “monk” was really a wanted criminal in disguise?
I tried to recall all the fugitives wanted within the province but I didn’t remember ever coming across this face.
”Amitabha!” came a mellifluous greeting. At once, a stubby monk walked over and rebuked Two-Face. ”Jingkong, monks shouldn’t use expletives. How can you speak like this to our guests? Go back and copy the Diamond Sutra ten times, and make sure you reflect on it.”
Two-Face walked off with a cold snort and entered one of the rooms.
The stubby monk looked kind and amiable with the disposition of a wise master, his hands held together in the Anjali Mudra. ”I am Jingwu, the abbot here. Fate must have brought you our humble temple. Please stay for a vegetarian meal before you go!”
Since we skipped lunch, we had been starving for three hours now. Dali said, ”That won’t do, we’ll just be troubling you. We’ll donate some money for sesame oil!”
The abbot laughed, ”Everything is as fated. Please, come in and have a seat.”
Zhu Xiaohao had quietly appeared in the yard while our attention was focused elsewhere. He exchanged a few words of courtesy with the abbot before we were led into one of the wings named, ”Heavenly Scents Kitchen,” where the monks ate.
There was another monk in the room with a scar across his ferocious face. His eyes were fixed on Bingxin, almost boring holes through her. ”Be careful!” I grabbed the edge of Bingxin's T-shirt and warned in a low whisper. “This temple seems a bit suspicious!”
The abbot turned to Scarface, ”Jingneng, please prepare some vegetarian food for our four honored guests.”
”Should I prepare the radish we pickled this year or the one from last year?” asked Scarface.
”The former will do,” replied the abbot. “Make sure to prepare more rice and don’t forget to ask Jingci to slice some pickled cabbage as well.”
”I never knew monks were so particular about food, even categorizing their pickled radishes!” chuckled Dali. “If they’re out of this year’s, would they have some from 82'?”
Unfortunately, I wasn’t in the mood for laughter. My grandfather once warned me that if someone spoke in a strange, specious manner much like this, it was most definitely Jianghu code. Take the fortune tellers in the past for example. Before a fortune reading, the assistant would request for the client to fill out a form before bringing them in to see the master. Then, the assistant and the fortune teller would proceed to chat about some meaningless subjects such as what the weather was like outside or whether the client would like some tea. While their conversation sounded perfectly normal, it was in fact code for the client’s family information in full detail. Of course, outsiders remained completely in the dark.
I had a nagging suspicion these “monks” were imposters, most likely wanted criminals in disguise!
Zhu Xiaohao soon found a seat and continued the niceties with the abbot, asking him how many monks there were in the temple.
Grinning from ear-to-ear, the abbot explained that the temple was once home to many monks in the early years but as fewer and fewer devotees visited each year, the number of donations and incense they received decreased and the temple gradually declined. Many of their monks eventually left to wander and spread the word, leaving only a few of them to continue watching over the temple. As for their daily needs, the monks would travel down the mountain to beg for alms. After all, monks found happiness in poverty and contentment in simple food.
”The Buddhist perspective of attaining peace and happiness through poverty is indeed worth learning from,” commended Zhu Xiaohao. “To be honest, I’ve always wanted to practise Buddhism ever since I was a child. I would visit and pray in every temple I come across. If it’s okay with you, I’ll help clean up the prayer hall later.”
The abbot folded his hands. ”How could we dare to trouble you?”
“What a pretentious prick!” Dali snorted, not forgetting to lower his voice.
While they were chatting, I weighed the abbot’s words and watched his microexpressions. Right then, I interjected, ”Abbot, are you and those other monks disciple brothers?”
”Of course not, I am their master.”
”Forgive me, I’m not very knowledgeable about Buddhism,” I sneered. “If you’re their master, then why are you all named ‘Jing’?”
The abbot's lips seemed to twitch, a large bead of sweat appearing on his shiny, bald head. He chanted a few Buddhist mantras under his breath before explaining, ”Strictly speaking, I am their senior disciple brother. But since I started on this path earlier than them, I was the one who performed all their initiation ceremonies.”
1. A common way of addressing monks.
2. A common gesture of placing the palms together, usually in greeting or prayer.
3. Jianghu is the community of martial artists in wuxia stories and, more recently, outlaw societies like the Triads.
4. Students of the same generation under one master or teacher, like the twelve apostles.
5. Usually, disciples of the same generation share the same character in their names, for example, “Jingci,” “Jingneng,” and “Jingkong” in the text. Previous ChapterNext Chapte