Chapter 49: The Buddha Child of Chanlin Temple
There were still two days before the Water Forest Dharma Assembly began.
Preparations at Chanlin Temple had already started early. Since the assembly would be held at night and most attendees would be ordinary townsfolk, the monks needed to hang lanterns all around the temple.
Even the statue of Guanyin at the temple's center had to be moved aside for the time being, temporarily placed near the Buddha's statue — so that, as they said, the two could "discuss the scriptures together."
That space would then be used by the monks to "earn their meal."
People of the world loved beauty. Only what looked good could attract visitors, so the floral wreaths and garlands had to be arranged perfectly, ensuring that the first impression was splendid.
Although the overall appearance somewhat resembled a mourning hall, in truth, there was little difference between what they did and what a mourning hall was for.
After all, both were meant to "guide souls to transcendence," so it could hardly be called inappropriate.
The monks of Chanlin Temple treated this with great seriousness, carefully arranging the flowers to appear both beautiful and deliberate — especially around the position where the sponsor's memorial tablet would be placed.
That part had to be done flawlessly so that the benefactor could immediately see that their money had been well spent.
After all, those wealthy patrons never understood the scriptures they recited. Even if one could chant the sutras with artistic brilliance, the benefactors would not comprehend a word of it — but they always understood grand displays.
The key was to emphasize the right balance — refined, but not too refined; vulgar, but not too vulgar.
The abbot of Chanlin Temple, an elderly man with white hair and beard, stood leisurely against a pillar outside the main hall, his saffron robe gleaming faintly under the sunlight.
Beside him stood a young novice monk — a small boy with a smooth, shaven head and bright, expressive eyes that made him appear quite endearing.
Watching the abbot relax so contentedly, the little novice finally couldn't help but ask,
"Senior Brother… you really agreed to this year's Water Forest Dharma Assembly?"
"A monk does not speak falsehoods. Since I've said so, then yes, I've agreed," the abbot replied with a genial smile. "Besides, I'm not asking you to go up there yourself. What are you afraid of, losing face?"
The little novice hung his head and sighed. "Senior Brother, the other temples already call us the Greedy Monks… and now this…"
"Greed lies in the heart," the abbot said, gently rubbing the boy's head. "If one seeks for oneself, that's greed. But if one seeks for others, can that still be called greed? I am not doing this for myself, so why call it greed? If you are not doing it for yourself, then it isn't greed either."
"Then why do you want so much money, Senior Brother?" the little novice protested. "The Buddha teaches that all five aggregates are empty."
The abbot smiled serenely. "If all is empty, then why do you still care about what others say?"
"The Buddha may be empty, but I am not," the novice retorted earnestly. "Of course I care."
Hearing that, the abbot laughed heartily and, pleased, rubbed the boy's head again.
"Good, good! The Buddha may be empty, but this old monk is no Buddha — I'm only half-empty, half-full."
The little novice was about to continue arguing, but the abbot raised a hand to stop him.
"Just this once, all right?" the abbot said with a chuckle, half pleading.
The little novice clearly didn't believe him — that promise had been made more than once before.
The abbot tapped his own head lightly. "A monk does not speak falsehoods."
"Then… all right," the novice sighed. "But this time, you mustn't lie again. Too many lies, and you'll never become a Buddha."
The abbot burst out laughing.
"For this assembly, you'll be leading the sutra recitation…"
He didn't finish his sentence but merely raised his eyebrows playfully, signaling the boy to get to work.
The little novice sighed like a small adult, clasped his hands behind his back, and walked into the main hall.
The abbot watched his back with a faint smile, pressed his palms together, and silently began to chant a sutra.
The little novice entered the grand Buddha hall.
The monks who were polishing and decorating the interior immediately stopped their work, put their hands together, and bowed deeply in unison.
"Greetings, Grand Martial Uncle."
The little novice gave a small nod in return, then sat cross-legged upon the meditation cushion beneath the Buddha statue and began softly reciting the Transcendence Heart Sutra, which he had already chanted hundreds of times before.
Though young, the little novice was exceptionally intelligent — or at least, that was what everyone said.
He also knew that whether the sutra was recited correctly or not, those who came to watch the ceremony wouldn't understand it anyway.
But whether as a person or as a Buddha, one must follow a single principle — to be true to one's heart.
When the little novice had reached the fifth repetition of his silent chanting, noise began to rise outside the hall.
As Chanlin Temple's sole Buddha Child, his talent was extraordinary. Even amid noise and clamor, he could hear without letting it disturb his mind.
However, a monk's anxious voice soon pierced through the noise:
"Abbot! That man sent over the plaque for you to bear at the Dharma Assembly! Look at this — such blatant mockery! Let's just smash it!"
The little novice's ears instantly perked up.
"A monk… cannot speak falsehoods… if promised, it must be done…"
The abbot's slightly troubled voice drifted faintly into the novice's ears.
Forgive me, Buddha! This disciple's curiosity burns unbearably!
He stopped his chanting, turned around cautiously — and froze.
Before his eyes stood an enormous plaque.
It was written in neat, bold calligraphy, so clear that even the illiterate could not mistake it.
And what was written upon it was not some spirit tablet.
The little novice stared blankly for a moment, then his restraint shattered.
He broke his composure and shouted,
"Damn it all!"
————————
At that moment, Li Yingling stood dumbfounded.
Even Li Xingtian, who had been reborn and seen countless absurdities, had never witnessed such a scene — he suddenly felt that his second life had not been lived in vain.
Chu Xingchen laughed uncontrollably. "Hahaha! Truly worthy of being the number one temple in Yuzhou City! If you want fame, you have to make a spectacle first!"
Even Yaoqin, utterly incredulous, hurriedly removed her rabbit mask.
She even suspected someone had tampered with the mask's enchantment — she simply couldn't believe an abbot would willingly bear such a plaque.
Yet even after taking off the mask, the scene before her remained unchanged.
There stood the white-bearded, elderly abbot of Chanlin Temple — Yuanjing, renowned throughout the region.
At that very moment, he stood at the center of the floral wreaths, holding high above his head a large wooden plaque.
On the plaque, written in formal small script, were the words:
"Don't Compete with the Old Monk for the Abbess."
Because their abbot himself was holding up that plaque, the monks of Chanlin Temple all looked utterly dejected, their spirits crushed.
Around them, many of the faithful could barely suppress their laughter, whispering and pointing.
Yet the abbot upon the platform wore a serene, tranquil expression, unmoved by mockery or ridicule.
This was far from the temple's first Water Forest Dharma Assembly — everyone knew how these events worked.
Clearly, someone had spent a great sum purely to humiliate Chanlin Temple.
After all, no one would believe that an aged abbot — one long past the vigor of youth — would willingly hold up such a sign to destroy his own reputation.
Still, for the sake of wealth, he had done it, and from that day onward, Chanlin Temple's name was irreparably tainted.
At the very least, their reputation for loving money would forever stick.
Yet many also began to look forward to next year's Water Forest Dharma Assembly, wondering what new plaque this famous abbot would bear then.
Two days after breaking his composure and violating his precepts, the little novice squeezed through the crowd, finally reaching Yaoqin and the others.
He clasped his hands and asked respectfully,
"May I ask, are you Benefactor Yaoqin?"
Yaoqin's gaze fell upon the bowing little novice. Her spell had not yet been withdrawn, yet the child's body showed no trace of spiritual fluctuation — he should have been a mere mortal.
And yet, this little monk could clearly see through her concealment.
This must be the Buddha Child of Chanlin Temple, the one the temple had long claimed before the cultivation world — Yuan Kong.
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