37

Emperor Wudi of the Liang Dynasty Goes to the Land of Extreme Bliss through Ceaseless Cultivation

This poem was written by an acolyte by the surname of Fan, with the Buddhist name Puneng, who cultivated his inner nature in Guanghua Monastery in Xuyi County during the reign of Emperor Ming [r. 494–98] of the Qi dynasty [479–502]. In his previous existence, he was a white-necked earthworm born in the front yard of the cell of Abbot Datong of Thousand Buddhas Monastery. In his hours of meditation, Abbot Datong intoned only the Lotus Sutra. The earthworm happened to be one endowed with intelligence. Every time it heard the chanting of the sutra, it stretched out its head and listened. For three years, the abbot intoned the sutra and the earthworm listened.

One day, the abbot emerged from his meditation room to partake of a vegetarian meal and to pay homage to the Buddha. As his eyes happened to rest on the excessively overgrown weeds in front of his cell, he called a young novice to hoe up the weeds. Having weeded the middle section of the yard, the novice moved to one corner of the wall. With a mighty wave of the arm, he struck his hoe several inches deep into the ground. He realized too late that the earthworm was right there and had been cut in two. “Amitabha!” exclaimed the novice. “How sinful it was of me to have killed a life!” He dug up some earth and buried the earthworm. We shall speak no further of this.

With the strength he had gained while listening to the sutras, the earthworm gained human form and was born into the Fan family. After the loss of his parents when he had grown into adulthood, he left secular life to live in Guanghua Monastery, serving Abbot Empty Valley as kitchen attendant. An honest man, he lived near the kitchen, boiled tea, and cooked meals, attending to the needs of the abbot as best he could. He treated all other monks in exactly the same way. Though illiterate, Puneng had learned some sutras by heart, but the Lotus Sutra was the one text that he could recite from beginning to end without the least e ort. Whenever he had a moment to himself during the day, he would intone the sutras to cultivate his soul. After living for over thirty years in the monastery, he heard that Abbot Datong of Thousand Buddhas Monastery had willed his own death. Full of admiration for the blissful way the abbot died, he thought of an idea and said to Abbot Empty Valley, “I have lived in this monastery for many years. For all my life, I have observed a vegetarian diet. Never have I entertained the least bit of greed, nor have I ever wasted any of nature’s resources. Today, I would like to leave you and depart from this life. Would you please kindly pray for a good place of reincarnation for me?” With these words, he fell on his knees.

“Rise and listen to me,” said the abbot. “Though you have cultivated your inner nature, you have not yet gained enlightenment. If you choose to go, be sure to live a quiet life and avoid the trap of wealth and rank. (The trap of wealth and rank is where all evil comes from.) Should you fall victim to a moment of weakness, you will not even be granted transmigration.” Thus admonished, Acolyte Fan bade farewell to the abbot and went to the kitchen, where he took a bath and changed into clean clothes. After paying homage to the Buddha, heaven and earth, and his parents, he took leave of the other monks and, stepping into a monk’s coffin, sat down with his legs folded in lotus position, closed his eyes, and was gone.

The monks chanted sutras for him and asked some laborers to carry the coffin to a vacant lot. They were about to get the abbot for the cremation ceremony when a bell was heard pealing from the hall. Hastily the abbot sent someone to say, “Do not light the fire.” Immediately thereafter, the abbot arrived at the scene in a sedan-chair and had the lid of the coffin opened. There, for all to see, was Acolyte Fan, back to life again with his eyes wide open. Unable to stand up, he said to the abbot with his palms joined together, “I went to a nice place just a moment ago. I was lying comfortably under a red canopy of brocade when I heard a bell toll. A golden arhat pushed me into a big pool of white lotus flowers. I woke up with a start. What instructions do you have for me?”

The abbot said, “You were reincarnated into the animal world because of some impure thought in your mind. It was I who woke you up so that you might start the reincarnation process over again.” Turning to the rest of the monks, he said, “Dig up the green rock under the ginkgo tree outside the monastery gate and take a look.”

The monks all proceeded to the tree, dug up the stone, and revealed a small, newborn red snake, lying there dead. In astonishment, the monks returned to report what they had witnessed to the abbot, who then had his most senior disciple tell Acolyte Fan, “Keep your mind clean from impure thoughts and you will find yourself in a good place. After cycles of transmigration, you will achieve the rank of kings and dukes, but you still need to devote yourself ceaselessly to spiritual cultivation in order to enter the land of extreme bliss.” At this prediction, Acolyte Fan shouted, “Namah Amitabha!” and closed his eyes. Invited by the monks to light the cremation fire, the abbot put on his Tathagata robe and went in a sedan-chair to Acolyte Fan’s coffin. And this is what he said about Acolyte Fan:

After intoning these lines, the abbot had someone light the fire, which soon crackled into flames. As the monks chanted Buddha’s name, a wisp of blue smoke curled up from the top of the coffin to reach a height of several tens of feet before it spiraled away toward the east.

Now, to the east of Xuyi County lay the Village of Happiness and Peace, where there lived an immensely rich man named Huang Qi. Instead of resorting to chicanery to cheat and squeeze money out of people, he accumulated much moral credit in the netherworld by doing good deeds far and wide. His wife, Meng-shi, well advanced in pregnancy, was on the verge of childbirth. Acolyte Fan, bearing in mind the abbot’s instructions, threw himself with a flash of divine light into Meng-shi’s belly. Therefore, Acolyte Fan had no sooner passed away than Meng-shi gave birth to a handsome and well-shaped baby. In his forties, Squire Huang had never had a son. This baby brought as much delight to the entire family as would acquisition of a rare treasure. A happy occasion it was, all right, but the baby cried day and night and refused to be fed. Consumed with worry, the couple prayed to gods and Buddha, but to no avail.

Their steward, a Mr. Li, suggested to the squire, “There might be a reason for the baby’s ceaseless crying. Twenty li from here, in the mountains, is Guanghua Monastery, where Abbot Empty Valley is a living Buddha with knowledge about the past and future. Why don’t you go to him for help? He will surely have an answer for you.” Without a moment’s delay, Squire Huang prepared some boxes of gifts and o erings of incense, and set out for the monastery. What did the monastery look like? As the poem says,

Barely had he been greeted by Abbot Empty Valley in his cell than Squire Huang fell on his knees and said, “My newborn baby cries day and night, refusing to be fed. His life is hanging by a thread now. I will never forget your kindness if Your Reverence will show compassion.”

The abbot knew that Acolyte Fan was crying day and night in an attempt to seek his blessings. Without letting on any of this, the abbot said to Squire Huang, “I will have to go myself to see him. He’ll be all right.” He kept Squire Wang for a vegetarian meal in his cell. Then the two of them together mounted sedan-chairs and went to the squire’s house before the night was out. After being o ered a seat in the hall, the abbot asked to have the baby brought in, which the squire did.

Caressing the baby’s head, the abbot whispered a few words into the baby’s ear out of everyone else’s earshot. With another stroke of the baby’s head, the abbot proclaimed, “You shall encounter no disasters. You shall bring benefits to your parents, and there shall be no change in your Buddhist nature.”

At these words, the baby stopped crying, much to everyone’s amazement. “Never have we seen such a strange thing before!” exclaimed the onlookers. “This is indeed the work of a reincarnated Buddha!”

Squire Huang said, “When he is one year old, I will send him to your monastery to register his name as a monk.”

“That would be best,” said the abbot. With that, he took leave of Squire Huang and returned to the monastery. Happy that the baby was made well again, the Huang family raised him with much love.

Time sped by. Before they knew it, the baby’s first birthday came around. Squire Huang declared, “I promised that the baby will be registered as a monk in the monastery.” He prepared some boxes of fabrics, had the baby carried by a waiting woman, and they proceeded in two sedan-chairs to the monastery. Once in the abbot’s cell, Squire Huang bowed in gratitude to the abbot and presented him with the gifts. The abbot gave the baby the religious name Huang Furen [Restore Benevolence] and gave the boy a small monk’s robe and a monk’s cap. After a vegetarian meal, Squire Huang returned home with his boy. And thus the comings and goings continued. Quite unnoticeably, Furen reached six years of age. The squire hired a tutor for him. Being, after all, of uncommon background, the boy proved to be most intelligent. It was widely known among the villagers that he was a reincarnation of Acolyte Fan of Guanghua Monastery and was destined to achieve fame and fortune later in his life.

In the same county was a Grand Commandant Tong, who, considering Furen’s smartness and good looks as well as the Huang family’s wealth numbered in the millions, sent a matchmaker to the Huangs to o er his daughter, of the same age as Furen, to the latter in marriage. At first, Squire Huang was noncommittal, but, yielding under persistent pressure from Commandant Tong, he had no alternative but to grant the betrothal. Three hundred boxes, two hundred taels worth of gold jewelry, a thousand taels of silver, and several bolts of colored silk were promised as betrothal gifts. It was indeed a predestined union, for the girl was exceedingly intelligent and had learned to read without ever having gone to school. She also had a passion for intoning Buddhist scriptures. How did this come about? In fact, she had been a maid serving Mahakasyapa, disciple of Sakyamuni, and was reincarnated to fulfill her preordained destiny. The boy and the girl knew nothing of the ways of the world. By the time they had grown to be fifteen or sixteen, both had their hearts set on o ering themselves to the service of Buddha. Neither would consent to marriage. Because Furen had now reached an appropriate age, Squire Huang chose a day for the wedding. When Miss Tong got word of the wedding date, she took fright and quickly wrote a letter, which she then had a waiting woman present to her mother. The letter said,

Having received the young lady’s letter transmitted by the waiting woman, Mrs. Tong said to the latter, “I haven’t sent anyone over to visit my daughter these days, because I’ve been preoccupied with the Huang family’s marriage proposal. Why did my daughter have you bring this letter over?” The waiting woman thereupon told her about the young lady’s wish to enter the order of Buddha rather than marry and about her assiduous reading of Buddhist scriptures. Mrs. Tong was displeased. She sent for her husband to read the letter.

After reading it, Commandant Tong exploded, “What an imbecile! It is only proper that men and women should marry. Only filial piety and fraternal love move the gods. What can Buddhist practices accomplish?” Tearing the letter to shreds, he cursed, “What crap!” The commandant went ahead and married his daughter o on the day chosen by the Huang family.

Though Huang Furen and Miss Tong occupied the same room after the wedding, they slept in separate beds. This went on for over half a year. The couple remained as deferential toward each other as they would be to guests. To Huang Furen’s announcement that he was going away as a traveling monk, she replied, “In that case, I will join you and enter the service of Buddha. As the ancients put it, ‘A married woman follows her husband for the rest of her life.’ I’ll never compromise my chastity.”

Seeing that she was adamant about entering the Buddhist order and rejecting the idea of remarriage, Furen said to her, “If so, why don’t we pledge to be brother and sister and practice religion together?”

The young lady was delighted. The two bowed in front of the Buddha’s image, and, after the vows were taken, they changed into clothes made of coarse cloth and, maintaining a simple diet, started their cultivation of the spirit at home, much to the annoyance of Squire Huang. Afraid of being laughed at, the squire sent the young couple o , together with a waiting woman and two maids, to a deserted place in West Village in the mountains, where the couple continued to do nothing but read the sutras, pray to Buddha, and meditate.

More than three years later, the couple were seated in meditation under the eternal light in front of the Buddha’s image when a beautiful woman suddenly came into Huang Furen’s view. Walking in swaying, seductive steps, she stopped in front of Furen and said with a bow, “I am Rucui, a singing girl in Commandant Tong’s residence. Mrs. Tong is afraid that since you do not share the same bed with the young mistress, the Huang family line will come to an end. Besides, this will not a ect your spiritual cultivation, and nobody will know about it.” So saying, she started making advances to Furen. With such a beauty using her charms on him and talking about the Huang family line, Furen found that his desire was slightly stirred in spite of himself. A second thought struck him: “Miss Tong is a much greater beauty. I have never even touched her. How can I let this woman soil my thoughts?” In the midst of these thoughts, he heard a loud bang. In the next moment, ten thousand flames blazed up and whirled around. Furen woke with a start, only to find that the young lady was also taking a recess from her meditation. Furen hurriedly got up to make bows to the Buddha and, turning his bows to the young lady, said, “I was not firm enough in my resolution and almost fell under an evil spell. Please point out the way for me.”

The young lady, with her remarkable intelligence, had a better understanding of things than did Furen. “My brother,” she said, “you had a hallucination while under the spell of the demon of lust. I will go with you to see Abbot Empty Valley to ask for delivery from this evil influence.”

The following day, they went to Guanghua Monastery to see the abbot. Empty Valley had this to say: “Once desire raises its head, there is no hope of attaining enlightenment. Only by another transmigration will you be delivered.” He then intoned for them these lines:

The couple took leave of the abbot and returned to West Village. To the waiting woman and the maids, they said, “We two, brother and sister, are leaving you tonight for another world.”

The waiting woman objected, “I have also been engaged in cultivation of the spirit all these years while serving you. Why don’t you bring me along?”

“I’m afraid this is not something that can be done forcibly when you’re not ready for it,” said Furen.

The waiting woman rejoined, “I know what to do.”

Having taken a bath, the couple bowed to the image of the Buddha, sat down, and willed their deaths. Somehow, the waiting woman also managed to pass away in her room. When word of this got to Squire Huang, he came to take care of the remains. Of this, no more need be said.

Now Young Master Huang’s soul found reincarnation in the Xiao family, whereas the young lady found herself in the Zhi family. In the region of Yu Lake, there lived a Second Master Xiao, a descendant of an old family well known during the Qi dynasty, belonging to the same clan as Xiao Yi⁵ and Xiao Tanzhi. Second Master Xiao’s wife, Shan-shi, a most compassionate woman who had done a good many kind deeds, had been pregnant for nine months and was on the point of delivery when Furen willed his own death. In the middle of the night, Shan-shi saw in her dream a man of gold over ten feet tall in royal attire and a crown, surrounded by a spectacular parade of banners and flags. A procession of pink-clothed men escorted by carriages and valets came to the Xiao residence and rested in the main hall. The man of gold, all by himself, entered Shan-shi’s room and bowed deeply to her. Much startled, she was about to ask him questions when she woke up and gave birth to a boy, whose loud wails were quite di erent from those of ordinary babies. He was given the name Xiao Yan. When he was eight or nine, he had about him an extraordinary fragrance that would not go away. A most brilliant boy, he outdid all others in letters and scholarship. He also showed in his conversation great knowledge of military strategy. His accurate predictions about enemy movements and his stratagems were flawless. He had been born on the fifth day of the fifth month. Children born on such a day were, in the Qi dynasty, believed to be a peril to their own parents, and, in most cases, the parents would refuse to raise them. Xiao Yan’s mother, however, brought him up in secrecy, without the knowledge of her husband. Now, when the boy was nine, she took him into the presence of his father. “A child born in the fifth month,” said his father, “is a peril to his parents. What’s the good of raising him?”

Yan replied, “If it is as you say, have I ever brought any harm to my parents during all these nine years of my life? If not, how can I harm you after I am nine? Please put your mind at rest.”

Surprised at the argument, his father felt slightly relieved. When his uncle Xiao Yi heard about this, he said, “A boy of such wisdom will surely surpass our ancestors in status.” Recognizing from this incident the boy’s unusual qualities, Xiao Yi henceforth sought the opinion of the boy on every matter of concern.

At the time, a certain Prefect Li Ben conspired against the emperor and claimed to be the emperor of Yue, with his own separate government structure.⁶ The imperial court ordered General Yang Piao to lead a punitive expedition against Li Ben. Afraid that he might not be able to prevail over the powerful Li Ben, Yang Piao consulted Xiao Yi from time to time. Xiao Yi said, “I have a nephew, Xiao Yan, who, young as he is, has enough intelligence to rule an empire. I will send for him. I am sure that he will come up with a good plan.”

With all speed, Xiao Yi sent a message for Xiao Yan to come and meet Yang Piao. Impressed with Yan’s unusual deportment, Yang saluted the boy and consulted him in all modesty on ways to defeat Li Ben. The following, then, was Yan’s advice: “Li Ben has been planning this rebellion for a long time. His is a mighty army with high morale. If you put a small army against him, you’ll be throwing a piece of meat to a tiger. Defeat will be instantaneous. I have heard that Li Ben, occupying the Huainan region, is poised for a descent upon Guangzhou. Sun Jiong was charged with crime for having tarried. Lu Zixiong was ordered to kill himself for his defeat. Feeling high and mighty, Li Ben has cast all caution to the winds. You can lead a massive army to the Huainan region, pitch camp there, and have Chen Baxian⁷ lead one division to take a shortcut to the rear of the enemy. Send out just a couple thousand men to engage Li Ben in battle, but do not try to win. Instead, fake defeat and flee so as to lure the enemy all the way to Huainan, where the main army is. In the Huainan region, overgrown with rank reeds, the ground is too wet and muddy for riding. You will do well to sit tight in your well-defended camps and, instead of engaging the enemy in battle, wait until their fighting spirit wears o . When the wind starts to blow in the right direction, light a fire while Chen Baxian’s men block the enemy’s path of retreat. They can then pretend to be Li Ben’s men in flight and capture the enemy stronghold. Caught in between with nowhere to retreat, Li Ben will be easily captured.” (He sees the enemy’s defeat in his mind’s eye.)

Yang Piao was agape with astonishment and admiration at the speech. He made a bow and left. Following Xiao Yan’s plan, he did put Li Ben’s troops to rout. Thus, Xiao Yan’s fame spread far and wide and captured the hearts of the populace.

Yan had high aspirations. Emperor Ming of the Qi had a mind to use his army to conquer the state of Wei but dared not act rashly, for fear of Gao Huan’s powerful contingent. One day, he sent a eunuch to summon Xiao for a consultation. Xiao Yan followed the messenger into the court and made obeisance to the emperor. Well aware though he was of Xiao Yan’s reputation, the emperor saw that Yan was no more than a boy and said, “What is so remarkable about your talent that you have gained such reputation in such youth?”

Xiao Yan replied, “The realm of knowledge is boundless, but human intelligence is limited. I make no claims to possessing enough talent to serve Your Majesty.”

These words filled Emperor Ming’s heart with respect. He did not treat Yan as a child but asked for Yan’s advice, saying, “I wish to attack the state of Wei and wipe out Erzhu Rong, but Gao Huan is in command of a large, strong army. That’s why I am seeking your opinion.”

Yan had this to say: “Having a large army means nothing more than having a large number of deaths in the end. But a strong army is one that wins the hearts of the rank and file. (Well-known dictum.) Now, Erzhu Rong is a vicious and cunning man given to the most flagrantly evil deeds. Gao Huan is known for his treachery, blackmailing, and other devious actions. They may possess a large army but not the hearts of the soldiers. Moreover, with the ministers and their sovereign harboring di erent plans and forming their own cliques, they will not be able to hold out for long in any endeavor. What Your Majesty should do is select generals, train troops, and claim that you will strike north while you actually hit east. Should they be prepared for any attack in the east, we will just call the expedition o . By dispatching one division there this year and another brigade the next, we will keep harassing and annoying them until they are exhausted. What is more, the rulers being at variance with their subordinates, internal turmoil is bound to erupt. If Your Majesty can take advantage of the turmoil, victory will be yours.”

Much pleased, Emperor Ming kept Xiao Yan in his court. Yan was then led into the inner quarters of the palace, where the empress and the ladies of the court saw him frequently and came to enjoy his company. Over time, his significant advisory role and his hard work gained him promotions until he became the prefect of Yongzhou.

Later, Xiao Baojuan [r. 499–501] succeeded to the Qi throne and indulged himself in dissolute pleasures, granting no audiences to his court ministers and trusting only the eunuchs. Aware of such a state of a airs, Xiao Yan o ered this advice to Zhang Hongce: “Now that the Great Six, including Xiao Yaoguang and Xu Xiaosi, are dominating the court, there will certainly be turmoil. Moreover, with our sovereign abetting evil and Prince Lun of Zhao showing signs of a rebellion, we cannot a ord not to prepare ourselves for an eventual calamity of earth-shaking magnitude.” Consequently, he started quietly building up arms and raised an army of tens of thousands of brave men. A large number of bamboos and trees were felled and thrown into Tanxi Creek. Great stacks of hay were piled up mountain-high.

Realizing Xiao Yan’s ambition, the Qi emperor consulted Zheng Zhi about a punitive expedition against Yan. Zheng Zhi said, “Xiao Yan has been preparing for this move for a long time. With an army of such power, he is not to be subdued easily. I would venture to suggest that you send him a nicely worded decree and grant him the title of duke. He will surely receive me, which will be a good time to have him assassinated. That will be only one man’s work, saving you a good deal of money, fodder, and troop movements.”

The Qi emperor was immensely delighted. He sent Zheng Zhi to Yongzhou with the mission of assassinating Xiao Yan.

Much alarmed when he learned about the plan, Abbot Empty Valley of Guanghua Monastery appeared in Xiao Yan’s dream and handed over to him a book from heaven with a sharp knife placed between the pages. Upon waking up, Yan thought to himself, “Wasn’t it a monk I saw? Why did he give me a book from heaven with a knife in it? Is it because someone is coming to assassinate me? I’ll see what happens tomorrow.”

The following day, a man came to announce that Zheng Zhi had been sent from the imperial court to deliver the emperor’s decree granting Yan a royal title. “So this is it,” said Xiao Yan. Instead of greeting Zheng Zhi, he ordered a feast set out in the residence of Zheng Shaoshu,⁸ pacification administrator. It was only after an ambush had been laid that he called in Zheng Zhi. “Since the imperial court has sent you here to kill me, there must be a decree to that e ect.”

Zheng Zhi denied. “There is no such thing!”

Xiao Yan called out, “Search him for me!” In an instant, thirty to forty men emerged from behind the curtains and held Zheng Zhi. A body search produced a sharp knife and a secret edict ordering Yan’s death.

Xiao Yan boiled with anger. “What harm have I done to the imperial court to warrant assassination?” Before the night was out, he summoned Zhang Hongce for counsel and, with banners leading the way, the contingent of twenty thousand selected men, a thousand horses, and about thirty boats moved out from Tanxi. The bamboo, wood, and hay that they had been storing were now immediately put to use. With Wang Mao and Cao Jingzong as the vanguards, the army marched to Hankou and, taking the high tide, sailed downstream and took the Jiahu region.

Now the two cities of Yingcheng and Lucheng were the gateways to Jiahu and Jiankang.⁹ When Jiahu fell to Vanguard Wang, the officials guarding the two cities were frightened out of their wits. Knowing that they would surely lose the fight, they agreed with each other that they would surrender. Thus the defenseless city of Jiankang fell to the sweeping forces of the enemy. When Xiao Yan’s army pushed to the suburbs, the Qi emperor, still wallowing in a life of pleasure, sent forth General Wang Zhenguo and others, who deployed a hundred thousand crack troops at Red Sparrow Gate along the Qinhuai River, but Lü Sengzhen set their camps on fire. Cao Jingzong then swept along with the main force of Xiao Yan’s army. The officers and the soldiers fought valiantly amid earth-shaking beatings of drums. Zhenguo and his men were subdued. Their entire army was put to rout. Xiao Yan’s troops pushed deep into the city until they came to Xuanyang Gate. All of Xiao Yan’s brothers and nephews assembled together. General Xu Yuanyu surrendered, o ering up the city of Dongfu, whereas Li Jushi yielded the city of Xinting. In the twelfth month of the year, Xiao Baojuan, the emperor of Qi, perished at the hands of Qi men.

By a decree issued in the name of the empress dowager, Xiao Yan demoted Baojuan posthumously to the position of duke of Donghun, declared himself to be minister of war, and invited into the court Empress Dowager Xuan De to take over all a airs of state. Xiao Yan then made himself counselor-delegate and was granted the title of duke of Liang along with all the nine dignities that an emperor could bestow upon distinguished ministers.¹⁰

It so happened that at the time when Huang Furen was reincarnated, the waiting woman was reincarnated as Fan Yun and the two maids as Shen Yue and Ren Fang respectively. All were now officials serving the prince of Jingling, son of Emperor Wudi, as was the duke of Liang. With such a predestined bond among them, they had a natural rapport with each other. The duke of Liang made Fan Yun his counselor, Shen Yue his palace attendant, and Ren Fang his military advisor. In the fourth month of the following year Xiao Yan, the duke of Liang, took over the throne and further demoted the former Qi emperor to the position of prince of Baling. The empress dowager was moved into another palace.

Although the Liang emperor gained the empire by military force, his predestined bond with Buddhism was not severed, for he did not ignore the element of benevolence in the midst of the killing and still set his heart on spiritual cultivation. To end the ceaseless warfare, he struck a peace deal with the state of Wei. One day, Eastern Wei sent an adviser named Li Xie over for peace negotiations. After a long talk with Li Xie, the Liang emperor dismissed him, but, as it was too far into the night for the emperor to return to his own quarters, he decided to spend the night in the study in a side hall. Having dismissed all company and the palace maids, he sat quietly by himself by the open window, viewing the moon. At about the third watch, there emerged from a narrow lane thirty to fifty blue-robed men who walked up to where he was. One of them was singing a song:

The Liang emperor was bewildered. The men drew near and kowtowed to him, saying, “Your Majesty is full of love and compassion for people and things. We are all animals to be o ered as sacrifice in the temple. There are a million of us to be slaughtered first thing tomorrow morning. We beseech Your Majesty to show compassion and deliver us from our su erings. That will be an act of boundless munificence.”

The Liang emperor said to the blue-robed men, “I had no idea that so many animals were to be slaughtered for sacrifice at the temple. This is indeed a disturbing thought. I will do something about it tomorrow.”

The blue-robed men, one and all, kowtowed, made piteous pleas, and left with tears on their faces.

The following day, the Liang emperor related the incident to the civil and military officials during the morning court session. “Granted that homage must be paid in the temple to the gods, yet I find it hard to bear the thought of slaughtering animals. Henceforth, only food items made of flour and rice shall be o ered as sacrifice. In this manner, the sacrificial tradition will be maintained at no peril to benevolence and compassion. No harm is done on either account.”

The new system was thus established to last for an eternity. Who would dare to violate it?

Every day, the Liang emperor observed a vegetarian diet and made obeisance to the Buddha. One night, he saw in a dream a group of crimson-robed gods who, tablets in hand and riding on divine unicorns and phoenixes under the escort of guardsmen, invited him to visit the netherworld. When the tour took him to a grand hall, a deity wearing a gold crown and a Buddhist robe served as his guide. In every hall that he set foot in, he was greeted by the deity in charge. Those who had been virtuous human beings were enjoying the peace and leisure of paradise without the least hindrance, whereas the treacherous were put through tortures of every description, such as the mountain of swords and the sea of blood, the pulling out of tongues, frying in cauldrons filled with oil, the biting of snakes and tigers, and so forth. A group of men in rags, with disheveled hair and bare feet with sores all over them, poured out their su erings to the Liang emperor, supplicating to him in piteous tones, “Please show compassion and deliver us from this place! We are all starving, solitary souls with no o spring, and have been stranded in hell for a long time.”

The Liang emperor replied, “All right. After I go back to my court, I will try to deliver you from hell.”

The sinners thanked him in their mournful tones.

Last, he came to a big mountain with a cave opening, from which protruded a giant python’s head the size of a room. The sight of the python’s head, which rose higher as he approached, so startled him that he turned upon his heels, but before he could get away, the python opened its blood-red pool of a mouth and said, “Don’t be alarmed, Your Majesty. I am your deceased wife. By way of retribution, I was changed into a python after my death because I used to be a jealous and malicious woman. My unwieldy size makes me hungry all the time, for I can hardly get myself any food. If you still care for your wife for old time’s sake, I beg you to do kind deeds far and wide so as to deliver me from my misery. You will accumulate boundless merit.”

Empress Xi had been his first wife. A most jealous woman, she resorted to all means to persecute every court lady whom her husband took a liking to. An untold number of them died at her hands. There being nothing else he could do to contain her, the Liang emperor had hunters capture a hundred black-naped orioles every month, made soup with the birds, and served it to her daily for he had heard that black-naped oriole soup had a curing e ect on jealousy. Her jealousy did indeed subside slightly. Later, when she learned about this, the empress threw away the soup and her jealousy resumed as before. Now that she had been changed into a python after her death, her soul was begging her husband for help.

He promised, “After I return to my court, I will certainly try to o er penitence for your sins.”

“Many thanks for Your Majesty’s kindness,” said the python. “I will now escort you back to your court. Do not be alarmed.” So saying, it slithered out of the cave, revealing a body hundreds of arm spans around and goodness knows how many thousands of feet in length. The Liang emperor broke into a cold sweat. Upon waking up, he realized it was all but a dream. He stayed awake until dawn, heaving sigh upon sigh.

After the morning session of the court, he consulted the monks about initiating an Avalamba Festival.¹¹ He also wrote The Liang Emperor’s Repentance.¹² The Avalamba Festival, not unlike a grand feast in the traditional sense, was for the benefit of the hungry ghosts with no o spring. The Liang Emperor’s Repentance was written to win forgiveness on behalf of Empress Xi for her evil deeds and, at the same time, to absolve the rest of the souls of their sins. As a consequence of the festival and the scripture, all sinners in the netherworld were delivered from all of their sins until not a single soul was left in hell. In a dream, he saw Empress Xi, who, dressed as she had been before her death, happily acknowledged her thanks: “Your Majesty’s book on penitence has extricated me from the body of a python and landed me in heaven. Please accept my gratitude.” In another of his dreams, a million former prisoners in hell bowed to him in gratitude, saying in unison, “It was only through your beneficence that we had the good fortune of leaving hell.”

Henceforth all the more dedicated to the worship of Buddha, the Liang emperor repeatedly issued decrees seeking monks of great learning to enlighten him on the religion, but none came forth. When he heard that there was a Monk Kowtow, an expert in interpreting the sutras, he issued another order and sent an attendant to bring the monk to him. The monk did indeed follow the messenger into the palace. Emperor Wudi, at the time, happened to be in a side hall playing a game of chess with Shen Yue. When the attendant announced, “The monk sought by imperial decree is now at Wu Gate awaiting further instructions,” Emperor Wudi’s mind was totally absorbed in planning to capture some chess pieces. The announcement was repeated three times, but he heard not a word. Placing a chess piece down on the board, he said, “I’ll do away with this one!”

The emperor was referring to the chess piece, but the attendant took what he said to mean killing the monk. “Yes, sire!” he called out. He then passed on the order all the way to Wu Gate, and the monk was executed then and there.

After the chess game was over, Shen Yue reminded the emperor, “The monk is here, awaiting your further orders.” Immediately, Emperor Wudi called the attendant and asked him to invite the monk into the hall. The attendant reported, “He has been executed, as was ordered.”

Agape with astonishment, Emperor Wudi realized that what he had said about doing away with a chess piece had been misunderstood. “What did the monk say before the execution?” he asked the attendant.

“The monk said that when he was a young novice in his previous existence, he once weeded with a hoe and, by accident, killed an earthworm, which was none other than Your Majesty. He also said that thus it was only right for him to repay the debt with his life in this existence.”

The emperor grieved for a considerable time and grew all the more convinced of the theory of transmigration and retribution. He then ordered that the monk be buried with honor. For days on end, he remained in low spirits.

Perceptive enough to have guessed what was on the emperor’s mind, Shen Yue sent men out to visit eminent monks all over the land. When word came to him that there was a holy monk known by the Buddhist name Abbot Zhi Daolin¹³ practicing austerities in a thatched hut ten li from Jiankang, he reported the news to the emperor, who immediately sent him to visit the monk. And so Shen Yue made his way there in an impressive entourage complete with banners, horse-drawn carriages, and a great many attendants. The pomposity of it all caused quite a stir far and near. In spite of all the clamor and the announcements, Daolin remained seated in meditation, not the least perturbed. Shen Yue walked up to his couch and said, “Does the monk know that the palace attendant is here?”

Opening his eyes, Daolin said, “Does the palace attendant know that the monk is in the midst of his meditations?”

Shen asked again, “How did the monk come by this house?”

Daolin rejoined, “Those in the service of Buddha are free to move from place to place.” With this remark, the temple and the monk disappeared from view, leaving behind nothing but a stretch of bare land. Shen Yue was shocked in no small measure. As realization came to him that this was indeed nothing less than a holy monk, he promptly made a deep bow and addressed the air, “Please forgive me, Your Reverence, for being a mundane mortal being with imperceptive eyes. I am not by nature arrogant, but I had to follow the imperial court’s orders.”

Monk Zhi appeared again out of thin air to greet Shen Yue and kept him for a vegetarian meal. To Shen Yue’s pleas for some words of enlightenment, the monk gave him this quatrain:

On the back of the paper, he wrote the character yin [to conceal] about ten times. What gave rise to this quatrain from Monk Zhi? Well, one day, when a giant chestnut measuring about two and a half inches was presented to the imperial court as a gift from Yuzhou, the emperor and Shen Yue each wrote from memory stories about chestnuts. Shen Yue deliberately wrote three stories fewer than the emperor, saying, “I am no match for Your Majesty.” Once out of the court, he said to others, “That man never admits a fault,” referring to the emperor’s reluctance to acknowledge his weaknesses. Later, the emperor learned of this remark and bore a grudge against Yue.

As for the reference to the “cutting of tongue,” Shen Yue and Fan Yun once tried to persuade Emperor Wudi to take over the throne. On his sick bed, Yue dreamed that Emperor Hedi of the Qi cut o his tongue with a sword. In great fear, Yue secretly asked a Taoist priest to o er a prayer to heaven to atone for his sin. These two incidents that preyed on Shen Yue’s mind were known only to himself. Now that Monk Zhi was making reference to them, Shen Yue broke into a cold sweat. So frightened was he that it seemed as if his soul had left his body. After some moments of stupefied silence, he pressed the monk for an explanation of the word yin.

Why did Monk Zhi write this character about ten times in succession? Well, after Shen Yue’s death, the imperial court proposed enfeoffing him posthumously as duke of Wen. Out of spite for him, the Liang emperor refused to do so, saying, “Not revealing all is to conceal.” Consequently, the title was changed to duke of Yin [Conceal].

The first two incidents that Monk Zhi referred to occurred in the past, but that concerning the posthumous title had yet to take place. How was Shen Yue to have any inkling as to what lay in store for him in the future? To his repeated pleas for the monk to explain, the monk replied, “Heaven’s design is not to be freely divulged. Future happenings will bear out what I said.” With these words, he closed his eyes as before and remained in his seat.

Disappointed, Shen Yue returned to see Emperor Wudi and acquainted him with all the details about the honorable Monk Zhi’s magic power. Emperor Wudi said, “There do exist divine Buddhas in this world, but mundane humans are kept from that knowledge.” By the emperor’s order, the royal carriage set out the following day to the temple, escorted by an assembly of civil and military ministers, twenty thousand guards and attendants, drummers, and banners.

Well aware that the procession was on its way to pick him up, Monk Zhi gathered his things together as if ready for a journey. Emperor Wudi and Shen Yue greeted the monk upon arrival at the temple. In spite of his exalted status, the emperor fell on his knees and honored Monk Zhi as his mentor. The salutations over, the monk said, “Please be seated, Your Majesty, and accept a bow from this monk.”

“Who has ever seen a teacher bow to a pupil?” asked the emperor.

“Nor has anyone seen a wife resisting her husband,” rejoined the monk.

These remarks were like a bucketful of cold water pouring down on the very crown of the emperor’s head. A numb weakness spread throughout his body. In an instant, the emperor somehow gained enlightenment and recalled what had happened in a previous existence between Huang Furen and Miss Tong. The two men nodded in understanding, feeling at the same time a growing attachment toward each other.

The emperor invited the monk to go to his court in the same carriage and put the monk in the study along a side hall. Every day after his court session was over, Emperor Wudi would retire to the room to discuss with the monk the ways of Chan, in order to seek enlightenment. The monk said to the emperor, “My living here is not, after all, the best arrangement. I would like to take leave of Your Majesty and return to the monastery.”

Emperor Wudi said, “About thirty li away, there is a White Crane Mountain, which is a most quiet and secluded place. I will build a monastery there for you to live in.” The monk consented.

Emperor Wudi charged an official with the task of supervising the construction of this monastery. It was a grand project that consumed a million in cash and produced thousands of halls and meditation rooms. The new building was named the Monastery of Shared Felicity, a name that meant that the husband and wife were to reach the land of the Buddha together. Thousands of monks came from far and near to partake of the meals. In the Monastery of Shared Felicity, Monk Zhi lived for more than a year.

The Liang emperor had a son, Prince Zhaoming, who, a most intelligent, kind, and filial son now six years old, could already recite the Five Classics. One day, he suddenly lost the use of his four limbs and fell unconscious, his eyes and mouth tightly shut. The entire palace was thrown into panic and the emperor was made aware of the situation. Physicians from all over the land were summoned, but none could come up with a cure. The emperor said, “My son is a most brilliant boy. Should he not survive, Id have no wish to live on, either.”

Alarm spread throughout the palace. A group of court ladies residing in the east wing of the palace suggested, “Unconscious as the prince is, his body is still warm. Why doesn’t Your Majesty go to see Monk Zhi and ask for his advice?” Promptly, the emperor mounted his carriage, went to the Monastery of Shared Felicity, and told the monk about the prince’s death.

The monk said, “There is no cause for alarm, Your Majesty. The prince is not dead. He is just in a coma. In olden times, Duke Mu of Qin took a tour of heaven, where the celestial joys kept him for seven days before he woke up. Zhao Jianzi of the state of Jin [toward the end of the Spring and Autumn period] also toured heaven for five days and killed a bear there before he regained consciousness, just as Bianque the physician had said. By Zhao’s order, the event was duly recorded by Dong Anyu in the palace. Now your son has been in heaven for four days. On the thirty-third level of heaven, the god of the Ganges is holding festivities. The prince was so enraptured by the celestial music that he was pecked by the Three-Legged Divine Bird. The Queen Mother of the West has already killed the bird, but the prince is still up there. I’ll go and bring him down for you.”

The Liang emperor fell on his knees. “Should my son live again, I would be more than willing to move into the monastery with my son and devote ourselves to Buddhism.”

“Your Majesty may now return to the palace,” said the monk, “for the prince has come to.”

The emperor went back with all speed and saw that his son had indeed come back to life. He held his son in his arms, and father and son broke down in bitter weeping. The emperor said, “My son, your comatose state in the last few days so frightened me that I could hardly live or die. What a miserable time I had!”

The prince said, “I was watching a festival in heaven when a divine bird pecked my hand. The Lord on High had a divine physician apply some ointment to the wound. I was still playing when a monk held me and brought me down.”

“That monk,” said the emperor, “is Abbot Zhi, whom I will take you to see tomorrow.” He then went on to explain about the pledge of devotion to Buddhism. For three days the Liang emperor held a vegetarian banquet catered by the imperial kitchen sta for the benefit of the whole populace as an acknowledgement of his gratitude to heaven and earth. The Liang emperor and the prince did move into the monastery for spiritual devotion. The prince had a poem that said,

The Liang emperor and the prince had stayed in the monastery for over twenty days when civil and military officials as well as commoners came to the monastery with pleas that the emperor return to the court—pleas that the emperor turned down. The empress dowager sent eunuchs to ask for his return, but also to no avail. At night, Monk Zhi said to the emperor, “The sin of only one moment of amorous desire will come back to haunt you time and again. Your Majesty will need to pay several more years of the debt before you can be redeemed. Your Majesty must now return to the court and come back here only after the predestined allotment of time has run its course. By that time, there will be nothing to pull you back.”

The emperor gave his consent.

The following day, various officials came again to invite the emperor back. He addressed them as follows, “I have vowed to devote myself to the service of Buddha. If I return to the court without a valid reason, my vow would be tantamount to a lie. However, I have an idea. If you want me back, you all must pay a ransom. (This is more a child’s game than a religious practice.) I myself will contribute ten thousand taels. Every official’s household will contribute ten thousand taels each. The empress dowager will also pay ten thousand taels. All of the money will be sent to this monastery to be o ered to Buddha and the monks. Only then will I and the prince return to the court.”

The various officials and the empress dowager duly sent their silver to the monastery. The emperor himself also had ten thousand taels of silver delivered to the monastery before he returned to his court.

Something happened not long thereafter. To the west of the sea was a land called the Roman Empire, under whose jurisdiction was a state named Tiaozhi,¹⁴ whose ruler, eight to nine feet tall, ate raw food and was as ferocious and savage as a beast. Also in possession of some magic powers, he was capable of swallowing swords, belching fire, and slaughtering humans and horses. As word got to his ears about the Liang emperor’s ascension to the throne, he mobilized all the forces of the state for an attack against Liang. No sooner had the officials guarding the sea border learned of the news than they reported the news posthaste to the Liang emperor, who then took the counsel of the assembly of officials, civil as well as military. “It wouldn’t have mattered if the challenge had come from any other source,” said he. “But how can we stand up to the forces of the state of Tiaozhi? What is to be done? Any one of you who can lead the troops to fight them for me will be generously promoted.”

At these words, the various officials looked at each other in dismay. No one had the courage to engage the enemy.

Palace Attendant Fan Yun suggested, “I will go to the Monastery of Shared Felicity to ask Abbot Daolin for advice.”

“I will go myself,” said the emperor. With all speed, the emperor headed for the monastery, where, upon arrival, he greeted the abbot and gave him to understand the situation. The monk said, “Don’t worry. In order to come here from Tiaozhi, they will need to cross the Western Sea before reaching the ocean. It’s one thousand seven hundred li to Mingzhou¹⁵ and another two or three rivers from Mingzhou to Jiankang. In Mingzhou there is the Sarira stupa, built by King Asoka of India. The stupa contains Sakyamuni’s fingernails and hair. It was built for the express purpose of protecting the mouth of the Western Sea from attacks against China, and a great deal of good it has done indeed. The pagoda now is badly in need of repair. If Your Majesty could restore it to its former state so that it can provide a protecting influence over the area, I will pray for the divine protective power of Sakyamuni and King Asoka. How will it then be possible for the Tiaozhi troops to cross the sea?”

Thus advised, the Liang emperor promptly ordered that the stupa be reconstructed to attain a height of nine hundred feet, with the spire as high as one hundred feet, like the Changgan Pagoda of Jinling. A tremendous amount of money, grain, and manpower was lavished upon the project.

While the construction was going on, Tiaozhi’s mighty army of one hundred thousand men and horses, under the urging of the emperor of the Roman Empire, set sail in one thousand ships across the ocean for a major onslaught. Abbot Daolin saw the scene in his meditation. The following day, he invited the Liang emperor to the monastery for a prayer session devoted to Sakyamuni and King Asoka. While the abbot was paying homage to Buddha and o ering penitence, the emperor took o his royal robe, put on a Buddhist monk’s gown, and went to a quiet hall furnished with nothing but a simple couch and some earthenware. There he personally delivered a lecture, explicating the scriptures.

Great indeed was the power of Buddha, for while the prayer ceremony was going on, the Tiaozhi troops were caught in a hurricane less than three or four days after they had set sail on the sea. Almost every ship was capsized. They took refuge on an island in the middle of the sea and waited more than ten days until the wind subsided before continuing on their way. Soon the wind rose again. With surging waves spouting sky-high, they had no hope of crossing over, so they turned back to their shelter on the island. The wind died down when they decided not to set sail but rose again when they were ready to go. Grand General Qiandu of Tiaozhi said, “This is all too strange! There’s no wind when we stay put, but there it blows whenever we’re ready to set sail. This is indeed a blessing for the Chinese emperor. Even if heaven lets us cross over for a battle, we may not be able to prevail, judging from what is happening now. The best course is to withdraw.”

When the boats turned back, the wind stopped altogether, to let them return in peace. Followed by a group of various chieftains, Qiandu went to see the emperor of the Roman Empire and acquainted him with the previous happenings. The emperor said, “The Chinese emperor is immensely blessed. We are but a small state. Let us not try to pit ourselves against a big empire.” He ordered Qiandu and several other chieftains to write a statement of surrender, and so this group of foreign officials went to the Chinese imperial court with tribute o erings of lions, rhinoceroses, peacocks, three-legged pheasants, and long-crowing roosters. At Qiandu’s account of how the wind had prevented them from crossing the sea, the Liang emperor knew that this was the work of Buddha as a response to his reconstruction of the pagoda. Henceforth, he was even more devoted to Buddhism and more ardent in serving the Buddha.

Emboldened by China’s wealth and power, the Liang emperor wanted to annex the two Wei states and make Hou Jing surrender. Hou Jing was in the service of Gao Huan of Eastern Wei. With his left leg shorter than the right one, Hou Jing was by no means skilled in archery or horsemanship, but was unsurpassed by other commanders in astuteness and sagacity. He had once suggested to Gao Huan, “If I could have thirty thousand of your best soldiers, I would have them sweep all over the land and capture Old Man Xiao on the other side of the river so that you could have the whole empire.”

Greatly delighted, Gao Huan gave him one hundred thousand generals and soldiers for control over Henan. After Gao Huan’s death, the Liang emperor, aware of the strained relationship between Gao Huan’s son Gao Cheng and Hou Jing, set the two men against each other. Gao Cheng did indeed suspect Hou Jing of wrongdoing and summoned Jing with an order issued in the name of Gao Huan. Knowing that it was a trap, Hou Jing used Henan as his base and rose against Wei. Hou Jing then made Commandant Ding Hefeng submit to the Liang emperor a statement of surrender, o ering him all of the thirteen prefectures of Henan.

One night in the first month of the year, the Liang emperor saw in a dream various prefects coming to surrender to him with o erings of land. The following day, he gave Zhu Yi an account of his dream. “This is an omen,” said Zhu Yi, “of the unification of the land.” When Ding Hefeng came to the Liang emperor with the statement of surrender, it became known that it was in fact that very night that Hou Jing made up the plan to surrender. Marveling at the coincidence, the Liang emperor accepted Hou Jing’s surrender, made him duke of Henan, and provided him with reinforcements of soldiers and horses. Little did he know that Hou Jing was a treacherous man. Knowing that Xiao Zhengde, the prince of Linghe, had repeatedly o ended the Liang emperor by his greed and ruthlessness and was maintaining an army of dare-to-die soldiers while awaiting a chance for an insurgence, Hou Jing wrote Xiao Zhengde a letter that said,

Enraptured at this letter, Zhengde wrote back to Hou Jing in an attempt to form a secret alliance with him. The letter said,

Thus it came to pass that Hou Jing and Xiao Zhengde, by a secret pact, set the troops in motion, falsely claiming that they were on a hunting expedition. In the tenth month, they took Qiaozhou and captured Prefect Xiao Tai. Liyang was the next city to fall. Zhuang Tie the prefect surrendered, o ering up the city as well as these words of advice to Hou Jing: “The empire has enjoyed peace for so long that people are no longer used to war. Your military action shocked all of the empire and beyond. You would do well to seize the opportunity and descend upon Jiankang with all speed, for victory will be yours without even a bloodstain on the edge of the sword. If the imperial court is given time to prepare and dispatch a thousand crack troops to guard Caishi, even a million of your best armed soldiers will not be able to resist.” Much pleased at the advice, Jing made Zhuang Tie the vanguard.

Knowing nothing about Zhengde’s secret alliance with Hou Jing, the Liang emperor appointed Zhengde, of all people, as the commander in chief of the troops stationed in Danyang. Zhengde dispatched several tens of big boats as reinforcements for Jing, claiming that the boats were laden with reeds. As soon as he crossed over, Hou Jing laid siege to Jiankang. The assault lasted night and day until Dong Xun led Jing’s men up the city walls, and so the city fell. The Liang emperor was confined to the East Hall of Ultimate Bliss under the heavy guard of five hundred armored men posted both inside and outside the hall.

Taking up residence in the palace, Hou Jing grabbed every treasure and antique in the palace that struck his fancy and appropriated for himself hundreds upon hundreds of beautiful court ladies. Of powerful physique, Hou Jing was a man of unsatiable lust. Several tens of women a night still could not satisfy him. Hearing that Princess Liyang was a ravishing beauty with a remarkable talent for music, he wanted to take her as a concubine. By his order, a young eunuch, Tian Xiang’er prepared a gilded decorative box with heart-shaped bows made of soft purple silk threads and some matched pairs of fruits, and quietly sent it over to the princess. When she opened it for a look, those in attendance by her side exploded with rage and advised her to destroy it and reject the gifts. “No,” said the princess. “This is something beyond your ken. Hou Jing is a mighty hero. My father had dreamed of a rhesus monkey¹⁶ ascending the imperial throne. This is indeed happening today. If I do not yield myself to Emperor Hou, all in the Xiao clan will be exterminated.” (A woman of such good sense is superior to pedantic scholars. Similar cases are Chen Shi’s¹⁷ mourning the death of Zhang Rang¹⁸ and Di Renjie’s [607–700] serving Empress Wu as a court minister.) Thereupon she sent to Hou Jing a pair of coral pillows inlaid with gold and a brocade quilt embroidered with a pair of phoenixes.

Immensely delighted at Tian Xiang’er’s reply, Hou Jing dispatched several tens of close attendants to bring the princess to him. That night, the princess swallowed her pride and endured all sorts of debauchery on the part of Hou Jing. Remaining unshaken in her devotion to him, she gradually gained his favor, was able to have her way, and interfered in the a airs of the court. It was thanks to her that no harm came to the royal family. Later, Wang Wei advised Hou Jing to depose Emperor Jianwen [Xiao Yan’s successor] and enthrone a new emperor and to wipe out all members of Xiao Yan’s clan, but the princess raised objections against Wang Wei and, as a consequence, lost favor with Hou Jing.

Confined as he was by Hou Jing, the Liang emperor was not able to see Monk Zhi again. (If Monk Zhi had magic powers, he wouldn’t have to wait for the Liang emperor to come over. It’s just that the will of heaven is not to be defied.) His requests were mostly denied. His daily food portions were also reduced. Grief and indignation wore him down. His requests for honey to sweeten the bitter taste in his mouth were ignored, and he died, bitter and rancorous, at the age of eighty-six. (This tragic death, being attributable to a revenge by Xiao Baojuan, will not prevent him from attaining salvation.) Though Hou Jing did not announce his death, Abbot Zhi knew full well what had happened. As his time had now come, an event that brooked no delay, he sat in the monastery and willed his death.

Aggrieved over the tragic death of the Liang emperor at the hands of Hou Jing, Prince Xiao Yi of Xiangdong of the Liang claimed himself to be the courtappointed commander in chief of various armies and led the men on an expedition against Hou Jing. Wang Sengbian, prefect of Jingling, was sent to head an advance party of five thousand men and horses to recover Jiankang. When the troops marched to Xiangzhou, Sengbian quietly ordered Zhao Bochao to find out about Hou Jing’s strength. Considering the perilous nature of the mission, Bochao disguised himself as an ordinary merchant and set out on his way. When he was passing through the forest by Baitong Peak, he caught sight in the distance of the Liang emperor and Monk Zhi slowly approaching him, each leaning on a sta . Upon drawing nearer, Bochao realized with a start that it was indeed the Liang emperor. Falling on his knees, he said, “What brings Your Majesty and the abbot here? Where are you heading?”

The Liang emperor replied, “I have fulfilled my destiny and am on my way west with the abbot to the Land of Ultimate Bliss. I have here a letter for the prince of Xiangdong. I was just wondering whom to ask to deliver the letter. Put the letter carefully in a safe place and deliver it for me.” With these words, the Liang emperor took out the letter from his sleeve and handed it over to Zhao Bochao. The letter had barely exchanged hands when the Liang emperor and Monk Zhi disappeared. Later, when giving Wang Sengbian a report on what he had found out about Hou Jing, Bochao produced the letter, with an account of how he had met the Liang emperor. Upon opening the letter, the prince of Xiangdong found it to be a poem written in an ancient style:

After reading the poem, the prince of Xiangdong burst into sobs in spite of himself, with tears gushing from his eyes. Later, Wang Sengbian and Chen Baxian did put Hou Jing to rout, and Hou Jing did flee to the Wu region to seek shelter from Xie Daren. Yang Kan’s second son, Yang Chi, killed Hou Jing and exposed the corpse in the marketplace, where the local residents fought over it for the flesh. Even the bones all disappeared. Princess Liyang also ate some of the flesh in order to vindicate herself in the eyes of heaven. She then took her own life. (The princess is not fully understood until now. A true heroine.) All of Hou Jing’s five sons were killed by Northern Qi [550–577] people. Every prediction in the poem was born out. There is a poem that says,