The farmer and the fisherman walked back into the room. Huang Rong asked, “I wonder who the Reverend’s enemy is? What is this jade bracelet that was delivered earlier?”
The scholar replied, “It’s not that we don’t want to tell you, but frankly speaking we don’t even know the truth surrounding this matter. All I know is that the reason my Shifu became a monk is closely related to this matter.”
Huang Rong was about to inquire further when suddenly the farmer jumped up and shouted, “Aiyo! It’s dangerous!”
“What is it?” the fisherman asked.
The farmer pointed his finger to the scholar and said, “Shifu has lost all his strength, he is telling everything, concealing nothing; if these two harbor any ill intention while the four of us are powerless to hold them up, will Shifu be still alive?”
The woodcutter said, “The Honorable Zhuangyuan can predict with divine accuracy. If he could not predict the outcome of this small matter, how could he become the Dali’s Prime Minister? He had known from the start that these two are friends and not foes; but he deliberately proceeded with fighting them. First, to test these two friends’ martial art; second, to convince the two of you.”
The scholar showed a faint smile. The farmer and the fisherman looked at each other; they were partly admiring the scholar, partly blaming their own rashness.
At that moment they heard footsteps coming in from outside the door. A young monk came in. He clasped his hands and said, “Shifu orders four martial brothers to send the guests off.” Everybody stood up immediately.
Guo Jing said, “The Reverend is expecting an enemy; how can we walk away just like that? Forgetting my own inability Xiao Di [little/lowly younger brother] wants to collaborate with the four martial brothers to face the visitor.”
The fisherman, the woodcutter, the farmer and the scholar looked at each other with delighted expressions. “Let me ask Shifu,” the scholar said.
Four people went in together. They stayed inside for quite a long time. When they came back out Guo Jing and Huang Rong saw their crestfallen expression and knew that Reverend Yideng did not allow them to help. And sure enough; the scholar said, “Shifu thanks the two of you very much; but he said that everybody reaps what he sows, other people must not interfere.”
“Jing Gege,” Huang Rong said, “Let us talk to the Reverend.” They went to the building where Reverend Yideng’s meditation house is. Guo Jing knocked the door for half a day but nobody answered. He could have shoved the door open, but how could he dare to play rough?
The woodcutter low-spiritedly said, “Shifu cannot receive the two of you. The mountain is high and the river is long, we will meet again some other time.”
Guo Jing felt deeply grateful toward Reverend Yideng, his warm blood bubbling up his chest; he was unable to restrain himself, with a loud voice he said, “Rong’er, whether the Reverend allows us or not, let us go down the mountain. If we see anybody messing around, we’ll beat the hell out of him first, then we’ll talk.”
“That is a wonderful idea,” Huang Rong replied. “If the Reverend’s enemy is so fierce that we die in his hands, consider that we are repaying the Reverend’s kindness.”
Guo Jing spoke with power, Huang Rong also intentionally raised her voice, of course Reverend Yideng heard them. They were just about to turn around when the wooden door suddenly opened. An old monk with a sharp voice said, “The Reverend invites you to come in.”
Guo Jing was pleasantly surprised; alongside Huang Rong he walked into the room. Reverend Yideng and that Indian monk were still sitting cross-legged on the meditation mats just as before. Two people bowed down to the ground. They raised their heads and saw that Yideng’s complexion was yellow and sickly; totally different from the first time they saw him. Two people’s hearts were overwhelmed with gratitude and regret at the same time; they did not know what to say.
Yideng turned toward his four disciples on the door, “Everybody come in, I want to say something.”
The fisherman, the woodcutter, the farmer and the scholar went inside the meditation room and paid their respects to their master and martial uncle. The Indian monk nodded his head to acknowledge, then he went back into his meditation, did not pay more attention to anybody. Reverend Yideng gazed at the rising incense smoke, he seemed to be lost in thought; his hand played with a sheep-white colored jade bracelet.
Huang Rong thought, “It is obviously a woman’s bracelet. I wonder what is Reverend’s enemy’s intention in sending it over?”
A moment later Yideng heaved a sigh and turned to Guo Jing and Huang Rong, “The Old Monk gratefully accepts your kind intention. This matter relates to a complicated cause and effect; if I did not talk, I am afraid there will be casualties on both sides, and that is not the Old Monk’s original intention. Do you know what kind of man I was?”
“Uncle was the Emperor of the Dali country of Yunnan,” Huang Rong replied, “The only emperor of the southern sky, with awe-inspiring power and prestige; who in this world has never heard about you?”
Yideng showed a faint smile. “Emperor is superficial, Old Monk is also superficial, awe-inspiring power and prestige is fake. You, a young miss, are also a fake.”
Huang Rong did not understand his allegorical words; she stared at him with her bright, crystal clear beautiful eyes.
Yideng slowly continued, “My Dali kingdom was founded by the Emperor Shen Sheng Wen Wu Tai Zu [lit. divine/holy literature and martial art (or civil and military) great ancestor] in the year of Ding You. It was twenty-three years before the Great Song’s founder, Zhao Kuangyin, Emperor Zhou staged a rebellion and assumed the throne of the Song Dynasty. Seven generation from the Emperor Shen Sheng Wen Wu, the throne was passed on to Emperor Bing Yi. He became an emperor for only four years before he became a monk, bequeathing the throne to his nephew, Emperor Sheng De. Following Emperor Sheng De were Emperor Xing Zong Xiao De, Emperor Bao Ding, Emperor Xian Zong Xuan Ren, and then my father, Emperor Jing Zong Zheng Kang; all had become monks. From Tai Zu [great ancestor/founder] to me, there are eighteen emperors, among which seven had left their home [meaning: became monks].”
The fisherman, the woodcutter, the farmer and the scholar were people of Dali; naturally they knew their country’s history. But Guo Jing and Huang Rong felt strange, they thought, “Reverend Yideng did not want to become an emperor but became a monk instead was already surprising; turned out many of his ancestors had taken the same path. Could it be that being a monk is better than being an emperor?”
Reverend Yideng continued, “By divine providence our Duan family has been ruling with a great power over a small area ever since. Each generation realizes his own virtue and ability. In reality we all are insufficient to bear this heavy responsibility; hence all along we fulfill our duty with fear and trepidation, did not dare to overstep our boundary. Didn’t the emperors eat without plowing? Wearing clothes without weaving? Going out and coming in to the palace in a carriage? Are these not the common people’s blood and sweat? When the emperors reached their advance years their own hearts convicted them of all their merit and guilt; always enjoying the toil of the people while contributing only a few, how they have committed a multitude of sin while performing their office duty. Therefore, oftentimes they decided to abdicate their thrones and became monks.”
Speaking to this point he raised his head looking outside, the corners of his mouth revealed a smile, while his eyebrows showed a grieving heart. Six people listening silently, nobody dared to make any noise. Reverend Yideng raised up his left index finger with the jade bracelet on it. He spinned it around several times and said, “As for me, I did not become a monk for the same reason. Actually, it has something to do with the Sword Meet of Mount Hua, where we compete over the Manual. That year the Quanzhen Sect’s founder, Chongyang Zhenren won the Manual. The following year he paid a visit to Dali, passing along the ‘xian tian gong’ to me. He stayed in my palace for about half a month. We were having the time of our lives discussing martial art. But his martial brother Zhou Botong was fidgety after about ten days of doing nothing; he roamed to the east and strolled to the west inside the palace, and had caused an incident.”
Huang Rong said in her heart, “It would be strange indeed if the Old Urchin Zhou Botong did not create any trouble.”