Chapter 15: The Daoist Master’s Tenderness Toward Lihua
The wind rushed to meet her, not fierce, but its chill pierced to the bone. It had been snowing for a long time, the flakes clinging to her brows and lashes. The mountain forest was desolate, with no trace of flying birds.
The mountain path was rugged and slippery, making it impossible to even ride in a sedan chair. Fu Tangli had no choice but to get out and walk slowly, step by step.
A retinue of servants all tried to persuade her, “It’s been snowing all day, and the mountain road is difficult to travel. My Lady, why don’t you turn back? It won’t be too late to come up the mountain tomorrow when the weather is clear.”
But Fu Tangli said not a word and continued to walk in silence.
By the time they reached the mountain, it was nearly dusk.
Fu Tangli didn’t even enter her own villa but went straight to Yunlu Temple.
Dailuo and Yanzhi couldn’t dissuade her. One held an umbrella, the other a hand warmer, and they hurried to follow.
The sun was setting behind the clouds, and twilight was gathering. The walls and roof tiles of Yunlu Temple looked even older. Snow fell on the vast, empty mountain wilderness.
Fu Tangli walked quickly, almost breaking into a run by the end, lifting her skirt. But when she reached the gate of Yunlu Temple, she found it tightly shut. She was taken aback.
Dailuo and Yanzhi caught up from behind and, seeing the situation, tried to persuade her, “The weather is bad today, and it’s late. The masters in the temple have probably already retired for the night. My Lady should come back tomorrow.”
Fu Tangli seemed not to hear. She raised her hand and knocked on the door, gently, as if testing the waters.
The door opened immediately. Qingxuzi poked his head out, as if he had been waiting for a long time. Seeing Fu Tangli, the old Daoist’s face showed a look of relief, but then he immediately put on a stern expression. “Does the female benefactor know what time it is?”
He pointed to the sky and said coldly, “It is already dusk. The humble temple is closing its gates. Please come back another day.”
As he spoke, he made a move to close the door.
Fu Tangli took a step back and said in a soft, gentle voice, “I had an appointment with Daoist Master Xuanyan today, which I unexpectedly missed. It is truly my fault. In that case, please convey a message for me, Master. I will come to apologize in person tomorrow.”
Qingxuzi, angered again, instead called Fu Tangli back. “Why wait until tomorrow to apologize? Go now, quickly!”
Fu Tangli breathed a sigh of relief, agreed, and entered the temple courtyard.
At this time, the Daoists in the temple had finished their evening lessons and had likely all returned to their rooms. The vast courtyard was cold and deserted. Only the wind swayed the tree branches, making a faint creaking sound.
Fu Tangli had only taken a few steps when she heard the faint sound of a zither carried on the wind.
Her heart skipped a beat. She quickened her pace and followed the sound, crossing the front courtyard, passing through the moon gate, and turning down a winding corridor. The sound of the zither grew louder as she reached the depths of the temple courtyard.
The plum grove was just over the wall. White plum blossoms slanted over, adorning the green tiles and gray eaves.
The hall was simple and ancient, the verandas and steps old. Xuanyan sat on the ground, playing the zither. His Daoist robe was a deep azure, almost black. The wind swirled snow and white plum blossoms down together. He had been sitting there for who knows how long, a layer of white covering his shoulders.
The zither’s melody was low and slow, with a vast, desolate charm, like an echo from a distant mountain.
Outside the hall, a ritual altar had been set up. It was a high platform with nine tiers of everlasting lamps, twelve banners of the sun, moon, and stars. On the ebony incense table were purple-gold candlesticks, an enamel censer, and a single white plum blossom in a celadon vase. Beside it was a stack of scripture scrolls.
Xuan’an and Xundu stood respectfully to the side, their caps covered in snow.
Perhaps because she had been walking too quickly just now, Fu Tangli’s heart was pounding, threatening to leap out of her chest. She stared blankly at Xuanyan.
Xuanyan stopped playing and looked up slightly. At dusk, the light was hazy, and the shadows of the flowers were mottled, falling on his face, making it difficult to see his expression clearly.
Fu Tangli smoothed her hair, straightened her clothes, calmed her breathing, and slowly walked over. She bowed deeply and said softly, “I did not expect the Daoist Master to remember our appointment today. I am late, and I have made you wait for a long time. I apologize.”
Xuanyan pushed the zither aside and stood up. He brushed the snow from his shoulders. He said no more than necessary, his tone as cold as usual. “Go. Burn the Daoist incense, light the bright candles. I will begin the ceremony and pay respects to the gods for you.”
Fu Tangli replied in a low voice, “Yes.”
Before long, the ceremony began. Pine resin everlasting lamps were lit, and benzoin from Chenla was burned. A young Daoist boy washed away the dust with mountain spring water. Young Daoists performed mudras before the altar, rang bells and chimes, chanted hymns of pacing the void, and paid respects to the gods of the eight directions.
The twilight deepened, but the snow did not cease.
Xuanyan held the scripture scrolls and recited the Supreme Scripture for Salvation from Suffering. His voice was magnetic and deep, low, like an immortal in the clouds, occasionally showing compassion for the mortal world.
Dailuo and Yanzhi waited at a distance at the foot of the steps, their hands clasped and their eyes lowered.
Fu Tangli knelt before the altar, her hands pressed to the ground, and kowtowed, her forehead touching the back of her hands. Then, she rose, clasped her hands, and bowed three times and kowtowed nine times in worship.
After reciting the scripture, Xuanyan personally burned a green memorial, reporting to the heavens, saying, “There is a woman of the Fu clan, named Lihua, who prays for her ancestors, asking the saints for salvation from suffering, that the souls of the departed may be delivered and ascend to the immortal realm soon.”
The Daoists on either side scattered flowers and chanted in unison.
Finally, Xuanyan burned another small memorial, saying, “Today is her birthday. I pray to the Celestial Worthy to bestow his grace and grant her blessings and longevity.”
He held a glazed lotus bowl, walked over to Fu Tangli, dipped his finger in the water, and gently touched her forehead three times. “May your youth be everlasting. May you have no worries and no sorrows, only joy and peace.”
He was such a cold person, yet his fingers were scorching hot.
Fu Tangli knelt there, touching her forehead. It seemed his warmth still lingered there. She was a little dazed. She rarely showed such an expression, as if her mind had wandered for a moment. Her words came out slowly. “Today is my birthday, yet not a single one of my closest relatives has celebrated it with me. Only the Daoist Master.”
Xuanyan withdrew his hand and gave a slight nod, his expression indifferent. “The way of the immortals values life and the salvation of all beings. You are a benefactor; it is only right that I wish you well.”
Fu Tangli managed a smile, a smile that was faint and low, like the twilight around them. She said softly, “No worries and no sorrows, only joy and peace. The Daoist Master speaks so beautifully. Unlike my father, who only says I was born to be the bane of my mother, a wicked creature.” Her tone was like a sigh. “My grandmother once told me that I was my mother’s keepsake, a gift from the grace of heaven. Who was right?”
Xuanyan had no answer. He was silent. The sky grew darker, and the twilight fell into his eyes. The white snow drifted down. For a fleeting moment, there was an illusion of compassion.
“When I was little, my grandmother called me ‘Little Lihua.’ Now, my father calls me ‘Queniang,’ because my sister is ‘Yanniang.’ She is a swallow, so am I a little sparrow?” she murmured to herself, not really speaking to him, but just feeling a sudden surge of grievance with nowhere to turn.
“My sister asked me, why did I come back? But my grandmother is gone, my uncle is angry that I took the mine silver my grandmother left me, and my aunt always suspects that I’m trying to seduce my elder cousin. They can’t tolerate me. Where else can I go?”
Tears silently streamed down from the corners of Fu Tangli’s eyes. Her words were broken, her voice trembling at the end, the sound of someone trying desperately to hold back tears. “The only person who loved me is no longer in this world. The world is so vast, yet I have no home to return to.”
This was the first time in his life that Xuanyan had faced such a scene, and he found it extremely difficult. His brows furrowed. He gave Fu Tangli a stern look, trying to intimidate her with his gaze.
But she didn’t notice. She was still crying, her eyes red. She kept trying to hold back her tears, her body shaking with suppressed sobs, sad and pathetic, kneeling there, curled into a small ball.
Xuanyan wanted to turn and walk away, but he felt that it was probably not right. He could only bend down and half-kneel. He was very tall, and even in this position, he had to lower his head to look at her.
He had always been decisive and ruthless, and had no experience comforting others. Now, faced with a crying young lady, he thought for a long time but couldn’t come up with a solution. He could only say simply, “Don’t cry.”
The Daoist Master was naturally stern, and long accustomed to a position of authority. These two words, coming from him, were stiff, almost carrying the authority of a command.
Fu Tangli’s tears flowed even faster. At this moment, she no longer cared about her so-called dignified demeanor. She wiped her tears with her sleeve, her shoulders trembling, unable to hold back her sobs. “Every day, I’m so careful. I don’t fight, I don’t snatch, I’m not angry, I’m not resentful. I try my best to be the best young lady. But why can’t they love me a little more? Is there still something wrong with me?”
Her beautiful face was covered in tears, which she had smeared into a mess. Even the tip of her nose was red. It was utterly ridiculous.
Xuanyan said calmly, “Tears and snot streaming down your face. Only this is not good.”
This person is talking utter nonsense! She only has tears, no snot!
Fu Tangli bit her lip and glared at him angrily. But she was crying, her eyes wet. When she was angry, her small lips would pout slightly. She herself didn’t realize that she actually looked delicate and pitiful, even a little like she was sulking.
The sun was about to set. The twilight was hazy, and all was silent. Perhaps people, in such a setting, also became softer.
There was no expression on Xuanyan’s face, but his voice, because it was so low, sounded gentle. “Everything else is good. Mm. So, don’t cry.”
His hand reached out and seemed to pat the top of her head, but Fu Tangli couldn’t be sure. It was so light, like the falling snow, like the passing twilight. The faint, bitter scent of plum blossoms on his sleeve was elusive.
Perhaps this was his comfort?
Fu Tangli was a little dazed for a moment.
***
It snowed all night, finally stopping at dawn.
Pushing open the window to see the snow, the sky was just clearing. The distant mountains were vast. It was another fine day.
When Fu Tangli woke up, she had completely regained her composure. She looked at herself in the mirror and said casually, “Do my eyes still look a little swollen?”
Yanzhi, holding a rouge box, said eagerly, “Does My Lady need to use some powder to cover it?”
Fu Tangli waved her hand. “I don’t like wearing makeup. Let it be. It’s not too unsightly.”
Dailuo deftly combed Fu Tangli’s hair. “How can you say ‘unsightly’? Our lady is naturally beautiful and elegant. No one in all of Chang’an can compare. I think those people are all blind not to like you.”
Fu Tangli let out a soft laugh. “Alright, no need to coax me. I lost my composure yesterday and had a good cry. It’s over now. You know my temperament. Those foolish people, what they do, I don’t take it to heart. I just can’t be bothered with them.”
Seeing that their lady’s eyes were clear and bright, without a trace of gloom, Dailuo and Yanzhi were relieved and nodded in unison. “My Lady is absolutely right. Can’t be bothered.”
After finishing her toilette and breakfast, Fu Tangli tidied up a bit, took a pottery jar, and went to the plum grove alone.
As expected, Xuanyan was in the grove, playing the zither.
Last night’s snow had been heavy, weighing down the plum blossoms, like a watercolor that had been smudged too much. The blossoms fell with a rustle, brushing against his zither strings.
Two white cranes were strolling under the plum trees. Seeing Fu Tangli approach, they flapped their wings and flew away.
Fu Tangli walked to a spot not too far and not too close, and stopped. Because she was holding the pottery jar, she couldn’t perform a formal bow. She lowered her head, bent her knees slightly in a graceful curtsy, and said in a gentle and soft voice, “Yesterday, thinking of my ancestors, I was overcome with emotion and lost my composure. I have made a fool of myself before you, Daoist Master, and am deeply ashamed. I have come today especially to apologize.”
Her posture was graceful, her expression serene, her eyes bright and clear. Her every word and action was impeccably elegant, as if her pitiful state yesterday had truly been just a momentary lapse.
Xuanyan stopped playing and brushed the fallen blossoms from the strings. “The last time you lost your composure in front of me, you denied it in every way and were extremely audacious. This time, it was nothing much, yet you come to apologize. It surprises me.”
Fu Tangli’s expression was composed. She nodded and said, “Indeed. It is likely that after hearing the Daoist Master recite the scriptures and feeling the power of creation, I had a sudden epiphany. It shows that the Daoist Master’s cultivation is profound and his merits are great.”
“What nonsense are you spouting again.” Xuanyan glanced at her. His tone was as cool as usual, but his gaze was gentle.
Fu Tangli smiled faintly. “As I said before, I wish to collect plum blossom snow for brewing. I’m afraid I will be disturbing the Daoist Master’s cultivation.”
Xuanyan gave her a cool glance, then lowered his head to play the zither again, saying no more.
Fu Tangli, holding the pottery jar, strolled among the plum trees, carefully collecting the snow from the calyxes, gently shaking it into the jar. She only got a little at a time, but she was unhurried, letting the snow melt in her arms.
The zither’s melody was long and drawn out, like the wind through ten thousand ravines, settling in the mountain forest with the plum blossoms and the snow.
In the distance, the clear cry of a white crane could be heard occasionally, as if in response.
Through the branches, Fu Tangli looked up and saw Xuanyan sitting quietly under a tree, in a long robe with wide, drooping sleeves, as elegant as an immortal. A thought suddenly came to her. She smiled and called out, “Daoist Master.”
Xuanyan stopped playing and looked up at her.