Chapter 150: Buddhist Disciple 10

Qian’s eyes were red and swollen, looking like two peaches. In one hand, she held a large bunch of wildflowers, and in the other, she squeezed a butterfly, her attention finally diverted for the moment, and she stopped crying.

Perhaps even she didn’t fully understand why she felt so reluctant to part.

She had gone through many separations, yet it seemed she hadn’t grown accustomed to them. On the contrary, her emotions had built up, making her feel even more reluctant each time.

For several days, as they walked along the road, Master Wuxin had tried to reason with her every time he saw her crying, using his compassionate, gentle tone, as if pitying her.

If Master Wuxin applied his skills, he could easily move even the hardest of hearts, making three notorious criminals weep and repent.

But for a child immersed in her own sorrow, even the best arguments were nothing more than lullabies.

So, Master Wuxin put aside his preaching skills and, after asking some nearby women who were also taking care of children, decided to spend his time playing with her instead.

Whether it was letting her run around picking wildflowers in a field or taking her to the mountains to pick wild peaches, these were far more effective than any lecture.

Even the butterflies fluttering by were more useful than his “reasoning.”

Taking care of a child was a new form of cultivation, Master Wuxin reflected. Not everything in this world could be explained through reason.

Spring was full of vitality, far removed from the bleak cold of winter, and as the days of sunshine passed, the child’s mood gradually improved.

This time, when Master Wuxin headed toward Mount Taixi, there were no unexpected incidents along the way, and they arrived at Mount Taixi smoothly.

Mount Taixi was a high and continuous mountain range, rarely visited by people.

Atop a steep cliff, there was a small temple, with only a narrow mountain path leading up to it.

Before reaching that rocky path, they had to pass through a dense forest.

In the season when everything was blooming, if they didn’t walk for two days, they would be buried by the overgrowth, so the path was nearly impossible to find.

If Qian, wearing her spring clothes and thin coat, hadn’t been carried by Master Wuxin, she would have been completely hidden by the overgrown wild grass, more than a meter high.

Sitting in Master Wuxin’s arms, she was almost lifted over the woods. The sharp-edged grass bent slightly as Master Wuxin walked past, as if the wind had parted them.

The wild vines and thorns that had tried to snare them were also like this, and Master Wuxin effortlessly walked through the dense forest.

When they reached the mountain path carved into the cliff, the scenery opened up, with vast green fields stretching beneath them.

As they climbed higher, the narrow stone steps, barely wide enough for one person to walk sideways, had no handrails, and the wind whistled around them, tugging at Master Wuxin’s robes and sleeves. The red headband that Qian used to tie her little braid was blown around in disarray.

Having had some experience flying through the air, Qian wasn’t too afraid of heights. She clung to Master Wuxin’s shoulder, leaning over to look at the view below, then glanced at the vast sky.

“Bird, big bird!”

When excited, the child liked to pat her father’s head.

The sound was crisp—a good head.

Master Wuxin said, “That’s an eagle. It must be an eagle building its nest nearby.”

Seeing strangers approach, the eagle wanted to drive them away.

The eagle was quite large, with wings that seemed capable of blocking out the sky. After circling in the air, it flew close to them and called out.

“The big bird is greeting us,” Qian said, waving her hand at it. “What are you saying? I don’t understand.”

Just as they had greeted the wary eagle, Qian’s attention was drawn to a figure moving along the cliffside.

With two sharp pats on Master Wuxin’s head, the child almost leapt out of his arms.

“Someone’s climbing! Just like Daddy!”

Like Daddy, the head was reflecting light.

The figure, a man in gray with a basket on his back, had also noticed them. Agilely, he moved across the almost featureless cliffside. This daring path was second nature to him, and within a few moments, he had reached Master Wuxin, without even knocking the medicinal herbs from the basket on his back.

The figure appeared to be a young monk, around seventeen or eighteen years old. He bowed respectfully to Master Wuxin and called him “Shibo” (Uncle Master).

He was nearly as tall as Master Wuxin, with a natural vitality emanating from him, much like the herbs growing on the cliff.

Ming Zhen skillfully stepped up the narrow and rudimentary stone steps, turning back to talk to Master Wuxin. “Shifu has been waiting for Shibo. Last night, he said if Shibo didn’t arrive soon, he would leave. He told me and Ming De to wait here for Shibo.”

Although Ming Zhen tried to hold it in, he couldn’t help but steal glances at Qian from time to time. Every time his eyes landed on her face, he froze for a moment.

After all, he was still young and not yet able to hide his emotions. Seeing a child who looked similar to his Uncle Master, he couldn’t help but feel a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

Qian, too, was staring at his head. When their eyes met, she held his gaze for a moment.

He seemed familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him.

Qian kept looking at him, and Ming Zhen, embarrassed, quickly turned away, leading the way.

The small temple built into the cliff had wooden eaves, beams, and columns like an exterior window. Inside, a stone cave had been carved out, revealing a hidden world once you stepped inside.

The cave was surprisingly spacious, with Buddha statues of various sizes carved into the stone walls.

The largest Buddha sat in the center. Standing before it, a person seemed small in comparison.

Beneath this large Buddha were two meditation cushions. An old man and a young child sat on them, facing each other as they struck a wooden fish in rhythm.

The rhythmic “dong dong dong” echoed through the small cave temple.

The old man was incredibly old—Qian had never seen anyone so frail.

His beard was long, resembling fluffy willow catkins, and his face looked like the bark of an ancient tree. His body had shrunk into a small, gnarled bundle, much like the knot of an old tree.

The child sitting before the old man, striking the wooden fish, looked about the same age as Qian. He had a round face and appeared innocent. He wore a short monk’s robe with a sweat towel tied around his neck.

He kept nodding off, his hands still slowly striking the wooden fish, with his pace gradually slowing.

Ming Zhen put down his herb basket, went over, and gently lifted his drowsy junior monk.

Ming De stirred as soon as his brother’s hand touched him, groggily waking up. When he opened his eyes and saw his brother, he quickly sped up, resuming his rhythm in striking the wooden fish.

Ming Zhen took the sweat towel tied around his younger brother’s neck and wiped away the drool, swiftly picking him up.

Master Wuxin sat down on the meditation cushion that Ming De had been sitting on, holding Qian, facing the silent old monk.

The old monk struck the wooden fish slowly, his demeanor unhurried, as if nothing in the world could disturb his calm.

It wasn’t until Master Wuxin set down the child in his arms and picked up his staff to tap it gently on the old monk’s forehead.

“Wujian, wake up.”

The old monk, as steady as a wooden stake or a stone, suddenly trembled. A faint glimmer appeared in his drooping eyelids—the light of someone just awakening.

The speed of his wooden fish striking picked up, as if his younger disciple had just done the same.

The two of them, master and disciple, had been dozing head to head.

“Huh? Brother… oh, Brother’s here? Good, good,” Wujian stopped striking the wooden fish, inspecting his elder brother before him.

Every time he saw his elder brother, his age seemed to change, but his elder brother was always getting older.

And of course, he couldn’t help but notice the child with the round eyes spinning around in his elder brother’s arms.

A little girl with two small braids was staring at him. She looked very much like his elder brother when he was a child.

“Hmm, she really does look like him,” Wujian nodded, his long snowy white beard shaking with the motion.

“This is Daddy’s junior brother, Qian call him Shishu,”(Dharma Uncle) Master Wuxin explained.

But Qian looked up at the relatively young face of her father, then at the old man opposite them, and with her mouth slightly open, she shouted, “Grandpa!”

Wujian laughed heartily. “Haha, just added a generation to my brother’s age, good, good!”

Master Wuxin raised his staff, aiming to tap Wujian’s forehead, but Wujian quickly raised his hand to block it.

Although he seemed to be an elderly man, his movements were swift, so much so that Qian didn’t even see it coming.

“Hey, if Brother lets me ‘enlighten’ again, I might just be able to leave this world with perfect merit. No need to rush, no need, let me have a look at her first.”

Master Wuxin’s cultivation dealt with life and death, intricately tied to the world.

Wujian, however, cultivated beyond the world, transcending it.

The two brothers were both Venerable High Monks of the Spirit Realm Bodhi Mountain. Though their paths of cultivation differed, they both understood the workings of cause and effect.

If Master Wuxin could see things “clearly,” then Wujian could see them “remotely.”

Sitting between them, Qian looked around, seeing they were silent. She grew bored and felt the surroundings were too dim. She stood up, wanting to go and play with the child she had seen earlier.

Just as she got up, Master Wuxin picked her up again.

“Wait a moment, we’ll be done soon,” Venerable Master Dad coaxed.

Qian couldn’t run away, so she focused on Wujian’s fluffy, large beard, lifting it to see what might be hidden inside.

She had been curious earlier—such a thick beard, surely there was something inside.

To her surprise, there really was something hidden.

From within the bushy, gray-and-white beard, she pulled out a fluffy, gray bird.

As a young eagle, it was surprisingly large.

After Qian pulled it out, it fluttered its chubby wings in her hands before settling down.

“?”

Qian then went after Wujian’s beard again, trying to pull out another fluffy bird from inside.

Wujian let her rummage, his old, wrinkled face showing no expression. His voice remained calm, as though nothing unusual had happened, and in his usual composed tone, he said, “Hmm, I see. What an interesting child.”

“Are there more birds? No more birds?” Qian asked repeatedly, now only concerned with his beard.

Wujian’s withered hand reached into his own beard, pulling out another young eagle.

Qian eagerly took it, giggling with delight.

Master Wuxin watched his brother teasing the child and waved for his nephew to come over.

Ming Zhen ran over, taking Qian along with the two young eagles, which had made their nest in the monk’s beard, and carried them away.

As Ming Zhen carried Qian, she saw the large stone Buddha statue in the distance, where the young and old monks sat in a row in the dim light.

They spoke quietly, and the yellowish light cast upon them made them seem as though they had merged with the Buddha statues carved into the surrounding stone walls.

“Do you want to see the eagle?” Ming Zhen asked the child in his arms.

Qian immediately looked up, her eyes sparkling. “Yes!”

It was the same large eagle they had seen circling the cliffside earlier. Its nest was right beside the small temple. Originally, it had been a Buddha cave that Wujian had carved, but the eagle had turned it into its nesting place, with some branches coiled around the legs of the Buddha statue.

Ming Zhen held both his younger brother and Qian with one arm, while the basket he carried had the two young eagles inside. With this posture, he gently placed the young eagles back into their nest.

“This eagle is very spiritual,” Ming Zhen explained. “She gives birth here, and when she goes out hunting, she leaves her chicks here. Master will give them teachings and help them in their cultivation.”

The clever eagle returned and perched near the nest, stepping forward and tilting its head, eyeing the unfamiliar Qian with a sharp gaze.

Ming Zhen moved Qian closer, letting her touch the eagle’s feathers. The eagle remained still, maintaining its regal and composed demeanor.