PCA Chapter 210

Su Lan never imagined that in the span of just one incense stick’s burning time, how could his precious younger brother have run off with a monk who came begging for alms?

 

The two had climbed over the wall to leave, abandoning a set of apricot-yellow robes on the stove, and even packed up most of his leftover rice before departing.

 

To say these two hadn’t conspired together, Su Lan wouldn’t believe it even if beaten to death. Otherwise, how could a monk have come begging for alms just as they were about to go out? How could it be such a coincidence that he specifically wanted their leftover rice? How could they hit it off so well and leave immediately?

 

Having a younger brother who was a top scholar, Su Lan considered himself quite clever too. He immediately concluded that this monk was definitely not an ordinary monk—Su Zixu must have planned this long ago, finding someone to impersonate a monk and come take him away. He decisively sent servants to search everywhere, even inquiring along the post stations leading to the capital, stopping just short of having people surround and intercept at Chang’an’s city gates.

 

Little did he expect that being too clever led to being outsmarted. Su Cen was right at Lingyuan Temple outside the city, peacefully ringing bells for half a month.

 

The truth finally came from Young Master Wang, who dealt in fragrant powders in Yangzhou: “Yesterday I accompanied my wife to burn incense at the temple, and I think I saw your younger brother.”

 

Su Lan waved his hand dismissively: “Impossible. That little rascal dreams of returning to Chang’an. Having finally let him slip away, why would he still stay in Yangzhou?”

 

“Could it be that my eyes were playing tricks on me?” Young Master Wang sipped his tea. “But he really looked quite similar, helping people write prayer slips there. That small regular script of his, tsk tsk tsk…”

 

The chair scraped against the floor with a sharp “screech” as Su Lan shot up, eyes wide with horror: “Then, then does he… still have his hair?”

 

In front of Lingyuan Temple stood a century-old ginkgo tree that visiting worshippers later used for making wishes. Lingyuan Temple accordingly set up a small table under the tree with various colored silk and ink, where people could write themselves or have temple members write for them, charging only one copper coin as a brush fee. Su Cen always felt that Lingyuan Temple’s lack of flourishing incense was largely because the old abbot didn’t know how to do business. With such good resources, he didn’t utilize them at all. Look how Caotang Temple could prosper from just one well—why couldn’t they solve their food and clothing problems with this tree?

 

But thinking again, if monks truly devoted themselves to such business calculations, their Buddhist devotion wouldn’t be pure anymore.

 

The towering tree was hung full of colorful silk ribbons—some already faded and worn, others newly hung, swaying gently in the breeze.

 

Su Cen sat under the tree writing prayer slips for people.

 

When he first arrived at the temple, he had indeed considered becoming a monk, but the abbot said he had come to escape the world rather than from genuine Buddhist devotion, and with worldly ties still unresolved, refused to accept him. Instead, he was sent to the temple entrance to write for others.

 

Buddhism teaches that all beings suffer, and one must cultivate great compassion to save the world and achieve nirvana through rebirth.

 

In his view, this wasn’t entirely true.

 

Watching those who came to make wishes express their hopes and desires—some shyly, some openly—then helping them put their wishes to paper, the more he saw and wrote, the calmer his heart became. Among these people were those seeking promotion and wealth, family wellbeing, career success, marriage, longevity. Having seen all walks of life, what they sought was nothing more than peaceful prosperity.

 

As the saying goes, “see the big picture from small details, know autumn from a single leaf.” Listening to people’s wishes in this corner, he could piece together fragments of the policies implemented by those in power. Prince Ning’s faction ultimately needed legitimacy and would always suppress Prince Yu’s faction, so the people’s hearts still turned toward good, and the prosperous era remained stable.

 

When Su Lan arrived, Su Cen had just finished writing a slip. Their eyes met, and Su Cen was momentarily stunned before remembering to hand the red silk to the young novice behind him to hang on the tree.

 

Su Lan quietly breathed a sigh of relief—good, his hair was still there.

 

Stepping forward without giving him a chance to explain, he grabbed Su Cen’s wrist to leave: “Had enough fun? Come home with me.”

 

“Big brother, big brother!” Su Cen struggled several times before finally freeing his wrist, looking at him and pressing his lips together. “I don’t want to go back.”

 

“If you don’t want to go back, what are you doing here? Do you really want to become a monk?!”

 

Su Cen said quietly: “That… wouldn’t be impossible…”

 

Su Lan’s eyes widened, and Su Cen quickly stepped back two paces, explaining: “I don’t want to become a monk. This place is good, very peaceful. It lets me think through some things clearly.”

 

“Isn’t our big house at home enough for you to think in? If Yangzhou won’t do, there’s still Suzhou. Father and mother are getting on in years and keep talking about wanting you to return. If you won’t serve them at their knees, that’s one thing, but running to this monk temple to lament spring and mourn autumn—it’s just some official rank, just some… what’s there that you can’t think through clearly? Can’t you live without it?”

 

Seeing Su Cen lower his head in silence, Su Lan felt his words had been too harsh. He had always been proud of this younger brother, cherishing and protecting him, afraid he might be bullied. Even when father scolded him, Su Lan would feel distressed for a long time. Now seeing him in such a lost and dejected state, he couldn’t beat or scold the real culprit, so he’d been holding back his anger without being able to sort it out.

 

“Big brother,” Su Cen looked up and smiled at him. “Since coming here, I’ve gotten much better. Look, I’ve started writing again.”

 

Su Lan was stunned, then looked at the brush in his hand. The ink wasn’t yet dry—he had obviously just finished writing.

 

“I just lost something, and my heart feels empty. Give me a little more time…” Su Cen said softly with his head lowered. “I’ll get better.”

 

Su Lan ultimately couldn’t bear to scold him further. Thinking it over, heart ailments required heart medicine. The boundless Buddhist teachings might truly cleanse the spirit and return his former brother to him.

 

Just as he was lost in thought, another old monk in kasaya robes emerged from the temple, supported by the monk who had come begging for alms that day. He nodded slightly to both of them: “Amitabha.”

 

Su Cen turned and responded: “Abbot.”

 

As the temple’s abbot, Su Lan couldn’t be rude either. Following Su Cen’s example, he pressed his palms together and bowed.

 

The old abbot had kind eyes and a benevolent expression. He asked Su Lan: “Has the benefactor come for young benefactor Su?”

 

Su Lan glared at his younger brother and replied: “Indeed.”

 

“Young benefactor Su has a connection with Buddha. This tribulation is destined in his fate—a necessary trial. Only after crossing this tribulation can he achieve great enlightenment. The Buddhist realm is pure, and the compassionate Buddha is willing to help young benefactor Su through this tribulation. Everything will be arranged freely, so the benefactor need not worry excessively.”

 

Everything the abbot of Caotang Temple had said that day had come true, so Su Cen couldn’t help but develop more reverence for these mystical matters. Moreover, since coming to the temple, he indeed felt much better. Every morning he rose to sweep, during the day he helped write fortune slips, and in the evening he joined the monks for evening prayers. He truly found himself thinking less and less about that place and the people there.

 

Hearing that Buddha would help his younger brother cross this tribulation, Su Lan’s heart stirred slightly. He pressed further: “Abbot, are these words true?”

 

The abbot smiled with pressed palms: “Those who have left home do not speak falsely.”

 

After much hesitation, Su Lan finally relented and agreed to let Su Cen stay temporarily. Before leaving, he made three rules with him—first, no becoming a monk; second, no becoming a monk; third, no becoming a monk!

 

Only after Su Cen earnestly agreed three times did Su Lan reluctantly nod. He had lunch at the temple before leaving, and would return every three to five days to confirm again.

 

Su Lan naturally didn’t come empty-handed. Each time he brought ample incense money, appearing devoutly Buddhist, but secretly just wanting to quietly improve Su Cen’s meals.

 

After half a year, not only had the temple’s food improved, but the remaining money had also renovated the Great Buddha Hall, attracting more pilgrims. Su Cen wrote fortune slips daily until his hands nearly cramped, falling asleep the moment his head hit the pillow each night, with no time to worry about other matters.

 

Now everyone in the temple greeted him when they saw him, and even the abbot would smile. Su Cen suddenly realized that the abbot of Lingyuan Temple wasn’t bad at business—he had simply looked down on small profits before. Holding onto him as a money tree was the top priority.

 

At the end of August, as the weather turned cool, the ginkgo leaves changed from green to yellow, scattered gracefully across half the mountainside.

 

While sweeping in the early morning, Su Cen suddenly heard a thunderous sound from somewhere, followed by the entire mountain shaking. Ginkgo leaves rustled down, covering the area he had just cleaned.

 

The monks in the temple rushed out to investigate, chattering and discussing for a long while without reaching any conclusion.

 

Su Cen frowned deeply, an ominous thought arising in his heart.

 

It wasn’t until someone came up the mountain to burn incense in the morning that they learned that early this morning, an earthquake had occurred in Suzhou.

 

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