Chapter Forty-Six: Longing Amidst the Mortal World

Buddhism has a saying: The epiphyllum blooms but once, yet a single glance lasts an eternity.

Originally, this referred to the sudden enlightenment upon hearing the Way. Yet, with all the temptations and myriad causes and effects in the world, how could one break free of them after just one night of insight? Among later generations of cultivators, few could sever their worldly desires, leading to countless obsessions. Some disciples even turned to ascetic meditation or complete silence, hoping to attain the Great Way and transcend themselves. Little did they realize, the very pursuit of enlightenment itself gradually became another obsession.

After ten thousand years of arduous cultivation, longing for a glimpse that never arrives, the epiphyllum, though beautiful, becomes a fixation.

...

One blink of an eye, and seasons have passed.

When Liang Yan opened his eyes again, he found himself lying on a clean wooden bed inside a tidy room. There was little furniture: a bed, a desk, and a single armchair—nothing more. But the space was neat and spacious, with ink, brush, paper, and inkstone laid out on the desk, all the scholar’s essentials at hand.

Suddenly, the wooden door creaked open, and a tall, broad-shouldered middle-aged man entered, dressed in a coarse blue robe with a straw hat on his head. His face was chiseled and stern, like it had been carved from stone.

He strode in, scolding, “Sleep, sleep, sleep! If you’re not playing, you’re sleeping. It’s already late morning and you’re still in bed!”

He walked to the tightly shut window and pushed it open, letting bright sunlight flood the room. Liang Yan, unaccustomed to the sudden light, hastily raised his hand to shield his eyes.

“Father!” he blurted out instinctively.

The man rolled his eyes and retorted, “So you do remember I’m your father! How did you do with the ‘Classic of Proper Beginnings’ and ‘The Enlightened Canon’ I told you to memorize yesterday?”

“I was watching a chess match outside town yesterday and forgot to study...” Liang Yan, intimidated by his father’s imposing presence, replied meekly. Even as he spoke, he felt memories slipping away from his mind, vanishing before he could grasp them.

“You, cleverness is your own worst enemy!” The man seemed to realize that scolding was pointless and sighed. “You’re playful by nature, always chasing after oddities. Don’t you know that to govern the land and bring peace is the true mark of greatness? I, Liang Xuan, ask for nothing else in this life but for you to earn scholarly honors, serve in the court, and become a man above others. Then marry, have children, and live out your days in peace.”

Liang Yan flushed and answered, “Father, I know I was wrong. From now on, I’ll dedicate myself to my studies!”

Liang Xuan’s sternness eased a little, and he nodded. “Come have breakfast first. Don’t go hungry.”

Father and son left the room and entered the main hall, where a square table stood laden with food: glutinous rice cakes, plain porridge, fried eggs, and more—all Liang Yan’s favorites.

“A father knows his son best!” Liang Yan thought, a rare warmth rising within him. He leapt to the table, grabbed a rice cake, and gobbled it down.

“Slow down! No one’s going to steal your food!” Liang Xuan scolded with a smile, his eyes full of paternal affection...

From that day on, Liang Yan seemed a changed person, abandoning his playful ways and devoting himself to diligent study. He couldn’t have said why, for his memories were a blank, but there was always a strange feeling spurring him on. Deep down, as if he knew that in a previous life, his love for distractions had ruined him, and Liang Xuan had died with regret, never seeing his son attain office. Now, he was determined to make up for his father’s unfulfilled wish.

Liang Xuan, seeing his son finally applying himself, was delighted, and often brought home game to reward him.

One day, Liang Xuan was out, leaving Liang Yan alone in his room reading. Suddenly, a knock sounded at the courtyard gate.

Liang Yan left his room and found, outside, a young girl in a green dress. She was about fifteen or sixteen, lovely, dignified, pale and delicate, holding a tray in her hands.

“Xiaocui! What brings you here?” Liang Yan exclaimed happily, hurrying to open the door.

Xiaocui blushed, offering the tray. “I brought you some pastries, Brother Liang.”

Liang Yan looked at the colorful cakes. “You made these yourself?”

She blushed even deeper, looking away. “Mm. Try one. See if you like it?”

A wave of warmth flooded Liang Yan’s heart. Suddenly, he grabbed her hand, leaping up, and in the next moment, the two were standing atop the roof.

Xiaocui gasped, clinging to Liang Yan’s waist in fright. After a while, she relaxed, then asked curiously, “Brother Liang, you know martial arts?”

Liang Yan nodded. “I don’t know why. I never formally apprenticed, but I’ve always felt I have boundless strength. Even the town’s martial masters might not be my match. Xiaocui, do you think I’m possessed?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Of course not! Maybe you’re what the old storyteller in the east of town calls ‘one chosen by heaven.’ You’ll achieve great things one day!”

Liang Yan smiled wryly. “Chosen by heaven? For now I study day and night, just so I won’t disappoint my father. If I can scrape by in the exams and earn a minor post, I’ll thank the heavens.”

Xiaocui nodded fervently. “You’ll be top scholar, I know it!” Then, as if remembering something, she said softly, “But... when you become famous, you won’t come... come play with me anymore...”

Seeing her eyes brimming with tears, Liang Yan’s heart was stirred. He couldn’t help but say, “Don’t worry. If I become top scholar, I’ll come home for you!”

“Really?” Xiaocui’s eyes shone. When Liang Yan nodded, she blushed and threw herself into his arms. Liang Yan froze, then gently embraced her...

Three years passed in a flash.

One day, on the ancient road outside the capital, a lazy donkey ambled along, ridden backward by a scholar in blue. He carried a bamboo basket half his height, a book in his left hand, reading as he rode, and a bamboo whip in his right. Every now and then he whipped the donkey, which would scurry forward a few steps before slowing again, awaiting the next whip.

Man and donkey reached the city gate, where a guard stopped them.

The scholar leapt off and bowed politely. “I am Liang Yan, a scholar from Huaiyuan Town, come to take the imperial exam. I hope you’ll let me pass, sir.”

The guard frowned. “Do you have a letter of recommendation from your township?”

“Yes, yes!” Liang Yan hurriedly produced a letter from his sleeve. The guard checked it, nodded to those behind him, and waved him through.

Liang Yan retrieved his letter and smiled. “Thank you, sir!”

He led the donkey through the city gates, marveling at the palatial mansions and bustling, crisscrossing streets. “The capital’s splendor is beyond a countryman’s imagination,” he thought.

“Years of hard study, and it all comes down to today. If I become top scholar, perhaps one of these mansions will be mine!” The thought filled him with excitement.

Just then, a horse neighed loudly behind him. Liang Yan turned to see a tall steed rampaging through the street, ridden by a richly dressed young man, clearly of noble birth. He clutched the reins with feverish excitement, shouting, “Run! Run! I won’t write my name the right way if I can’t tame you today!” With that, he lashed the horse’s haunches.

Pedestrians scattered in panic, merchants’ stalls were overturned, and chaos reigned. Suddenly, the cry of a little girl pierced the crowd. Liang Yan looked and saw a five- or six-year-old girl, crying in terror on the ground, directly in the path of the crazed horse.

The young noble showed no sign of stopping, waving his whip with glee, utterly unconcerned with the child’s fate.

The horse’s front hooves rose, ready to trample the girl. In a flash, someone dashed forward, scooped the girl up, and punched the horse in the belly.

With a pained whinny, the horse foamed at the mouth and collapsed, throwing the nobleman head over heels.

“You must have a death wish!” roared a dozen guards rushing from the crowd to help the noble up. One shouted, “Do you know who you’ve offended? Our young master is the only son of Lord Li, Minister of Rites!”

Before he could finish, the noble had recovered and shouted, “Men, beat him to death! I’ll take the blame!”

At his words, the crowd drew back in fear of trouble. The guards drew their weapons and lunged at Liang Yan, each eager for the first blow.

Liang Yan, undaunted, shielded the little girl behind him.

Half an incense stick later, the onlookers were all stunned.

They say two fists can’t beat four hands, yet Liang Yan’s simple, straightforward punches had sent more than a dozen skilled guards fleeing in terror. In just a few moments, they all lay groaning on the ground, wounded and crippled, not one able to rise.

The young noble hadn’t expected such skill. Panic flickered in his eyes, but his voice was cold and threatening. “You’re bold! Daring to cross Li Xun in the capital—we’ll see who laughs last!” With that, he ignored his guards and left, supported by his servants.

Only then did a couple burst from the crowd, thanking Liang Yan profusely as they took their daughter back. Liang Yan, making sure they were truly her parents, let them go.

The farce on the street ended as the crowd dispersed. Yet in a pavilion overlooking the street, a lady in red sat holding a cup of tea, her gaze fixed on Liang Yan’s departing figure.

A maid at her side coughed and whispered, “That country bumpkin dares offend Young Master Li and still dreams of passing the exams? Foolishness!”

The lady in red seemed not to hear, still staring dreamily at the corner of the street. The maid giggled, “That silly boy really has some luck, stealing my lady’s heart like this!”

The lady snapped back to herself, cheeks flushed, and tapped the maid’s forehead. “Cheeky girl!”

But though her words were chiding and her almond-shaped eyes flashed with annoyance, she offered no real rebuttal to the maid’s teasing.