Chapter 76: Days and Nights Drift By, Yet Heaven and Earth Stand Firm
Shen Xian looked ahead. In the vast expanse of the lake, a solitary island stood at its heart, surrounded on all sides by water.
A petite temple rose upon the island, bathed by the gentle lake breeze, gilded by the molten gold of the setting sun—a unique scene all its own.
Disembarking from the boat and ascending the island, he saw before the temple an ancient banyan tree, its roots intertwined and gnarled, standing firm and alone.
The Temple on Solitary Mountain lacked grand palaces or imposing Buddha statues; though modest in size and exquisitely crafted, it was rich in atmosphere and not without its own wonders.
Encircled by the flowing lake, water forever streaming past, the currents wound their way around the temple. At high tide, the temple’s steps were submerged; at low tide, even the foundation would rise above the water’s surface.
By now it was evening, the setting sun forging gold across the scene, the river’s waters gradually receding and wrapping the entire temple in the amber glow of dusk. On the outer wall of the Great Compassion Hall, the gilded character for “Buddha” shimmered in the lingering rays.
Thus, composing couplets for the Solitary Mountain Temple was far more challenging than for the Golden Mountain Temple.
The couplets must capture the temple’s unique character—its encirclement by the lake, its position at the center of the waters.
This was what troubled so many masters of classical literature and couplet composition.
Most temples originally shared common couplets—general ones such as “Buddhism relieves the world’s suffering; the sound of Dharma echoes through the heavens.”
Then a certain Living Buddha Kong Zhou emerged, championing the idea that couplets should be tailored to each temple’s own features and location.
Some temples acted shrewdly, rushing to register their couplets and publicize them online.
Those like the Golden Mountain Temple and the Solitary Mountain Temple, slower to act, had their desired couplets already claimed by others.
Thus began the trend of temples far and wide seeking public submissions for new couplets.
“This is the Solitary Mountain Temple,” Xu Zijian explained, “it’s been here for over a thousand years. The incense has always flourished, and even during times of war, it escaped unscathed.”
He had visited the temple many times, each visit bringing a new feeling.
Behind them, engines roared as yachts pulled up to the shore, more and more tourists arriving on the island.
Soon, Bai Yueguang—Lin Zhixia—arrived as well, standing behind Shen Xian.
The muscular bodyguard, sunglasses on, looked with disdain at a monk sweeping in the distance.
With those skinny arms and legs, if I wanted to steal the jade Buddha, what could they possibly do?
“Benefactor, the way you’re looking at this poor monk seems less than friendly—do you have an issue with me?” The sweeping monk looked to be in his sixties or seventies, kindly and serene. Noticing the bodyguard’s gaze, he spoke up.
Shen Xian turned to look.
From experience, sweeping monks were often formidable—hidden masters.
“What if I tried to take that jade Buddha? What would you do?” the bodyguard asked, pointing at the display by the temple’s main hall.
The jade Buddha hung there, suspended.
The sweeping monk smiled, then hefted his broom. “If you insist on taking it, and I happen to be present…”
He narrowed his eyes as he spoke.
A powerful aura, the mark of a true master, seemed to emanate from him.
“Damn, is he about to unleash the Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms?” Shen Xian was excited—he had never witnessed a true martial master before.
The bodyguard took a step back, his expression growing serious, shifting into a defensive stance.
At this, the crowd instinctively stepped away, fearful of being caught in a clash between two experts.
Shen Xian even took several steps back, holding Qingqing close.
The sweeping monk looked up, a mysterious smile on his face. “If you’re targeting me, then I can only say… you’ve chosen the softest fruit in the basket!”
With that, he tossed away his broom and strode into the main hall, vanishing from sight.
“Tch, what a letdown!”
“Wasted my anticipation—I thought he was some hidden master.”
“What, you think this is a movie? How many real martial arts masters do you think there are?”
Shen Xian was speechless as well. So this was the so-called enlightened monk?
No wonder he was relegated to sweeping—he was nothing special at all.
More and more people were arriving on the island—some drawn by the jade Buddha, others just for the spectacle.
Before Shen Xian’s arrival, more than a hundred people had already gathered, all marveling at the jade Buddha.
Shen Xian examined it too; it was perfectly green, about the size of a palm.
On the front, a Buddha with kind eyes and a compassionate gaze; on the back, projected onto a large screen, was the Great Compassion Mantra—415 characters in all.
Even Shen Xian was amazed.
What craftsmanship!
Incredible.
The judges, about as many as at Golden Mountain Temple—twelve in total—sat with the abbot in the center.
Many had already submitted couplets, none of which had been accepted, leaving them all sighing in frustration.
Some scratched their heads, desperate for a sudden flash of inspiration—hoping to compose a peerless couplet and win this priceless treasure.
A few drafts were in consideration, but neither their meaning nor their structure came close to the standards required by the Solitary Mountain Temple.
“Young man, give it a try!”
“He’s the one who wrote the couplet for Golden Mountain Temple—Professor Gong has already started inscribing it!”
“I saw the Golden Mountain Temple couplet; it’s flawless in both imagery and structure—truly first-rate!”
The crowd buzzed with discussion.
With the internet’s reach, even monks kept themselves informed.
As soon as the Golden Mountain Temple couplet was released, the judges and abbot at Solitary Mountain Temple had heard the news.
Upon seeing Shen Xian arrive, they all stood, their eyes filled with hope.
Golden Mountain Temple had its couplet, soon to be hung.
If Solitary Mountain Temple’s couplet remained absent, that would be a disgrace.
Even monks had their rivalries.
How easy is it to achieve perfect detachment?
Try asking someone to donate their money and see how detached they really are.
“Do you like it?” Shen Xian picked up Qingqing and brought her close to the jade Buddha.
Qingqing nodded, her big eyes blinking.
He pinched her cheek. “All right, then!”
Behind him, Lin Zhixia watched the smile Shen Xian gave Qingqing, then compared it to his attitude toward herself, and felt a pang of discomfort inside.
It was as if her favorite toy had been taken away.
Or rather, like the ox and horse she had raised had gone to serve another.
It was irritating.
Shen Xian politely approached the judges’ table. “Excuse me, may I have a stylus?”
The abbot handed him one.
Shen Xian stood before the big screen, eyes thoughtful. He glanced around, an idea already forming in his mind.
Behind him, the crowd had grown dense.
Chen Dabao and Zhang Doudou had arrived as well, blending into the crowd, watching Shen Xian coldly.
Lin Zhixia also watched his back, silent.
Many others had their phones out, snapping pictures.
“Will the jade Buddha of Solitary Mountain Temple be taken today?”
“He already claimed the golden beads from Golden Mountain Temple.”
“This young man is truly talented!”
The crowd buzzed.
After a moment’s thought, Shen Xian made up his mind.
He raised the pen and wrote:
Upper line: Day and night it floats, needing not a thousand poles to strive upstream.
Lower line: Heaven and earth stand firm, alone a pillar bracing the central current.
When the couplet appeared in its entirety on the big screen, Xu Zijian gasped sharply, his scalp tingling as goosebumps rose all over his body!
His pupils contracted, and he muttered, “Incredible—this couplet is truly extraordinary!”
The abbot, who had just sat down, leapt to his feet at the sight of the lines, eyes bulging, trembling with excitement as he shouted, “I want it! This couplet—I must have it!”