Water Margin

Poem:  

A wanderer's path leads to the capital, 

Through countless mountains and forests. 

An ancient temple now faces disaster, 

The Central Plains stir with the clash of swords. 

At Xiangguo Temple, he will start anew, 

In the vegetable garden, he will toil. 

Since ancient times, white clouds have no fixed abode, 

Embracing changes as they come and go.

The story continues with Lu Zhishen traversing several hills, coming upon a vast pine forest with a mountain path. After walking less than half a mile, he looked up and saw a dilapidated temple, its bell ringing in the wind. The mountain gate had an old, faded red plaque with the inscription “Earthenware Pot Temple” barely legible in gold. Walking another forty or fifty steps, he crossed a stone bridge and saw an ancient temple, showing its age. Entering the temple grounds, he found that, despite its grand structure, it was severely damaged: 

The bell tower had collapsed, and the main hall was crumbling. The mountain gate was covered in moss, and the scripture pavilion was overgrown with green algae. The Buddha statues were worn, looking as if they stood on snowy peaks; the statues of Guanyin were entangled with thorns, as if guarding a fragrant mountain. Heavenly statues were damaged, with birds nesting in their laps; Indra statues leaned askew, with spider webs in their mouths. The abbot’s quarters were desolate, and the monk’s rooms were lonely. The headless Arhats’ statues were a disaster; the one-armed Vajra guardians, despite their divine power, were rendered useless. The incense kitchen had rabbit holes, and the Longhua platform showed signs of fox tracks. 

Lu Zhishen entered the temple and headed to the guest quarters, but found that the main gate was missing and the walls had collapsed. He thought to himself, “How did this grand temple fall into such ruin?” He went straight to the abbot’s quarters and saw the ground covered in swallow droppings, with the door locked and cobwebs on the lock. Using his monk’s staff, he knocked on the ground, calling out, “A passing monk seeks alms.” He shouted for a long time, but no one answered. He then went to the incense kitchen, where he found the pots gone and the stove collapsed. Lu Zhishen unpacked his belongings, placed them in front of the kitchen monitor, and continued his search with his staff. Behind the kitchen, he found a small room with a few elderly monks, each looking pale and thin. Lu Zhishen shouted, “You monks are unreasonable! I’ve been calling out and no one responded.” One monk waved his hand and said, “Do not speak loudly.” Lu Zhishen replied, “I am a passing monk seeking a meal. What harm is there in that?” The elderly monk explained, “We haven’t had a meal in three days. How can we give you food?” Lu Zhishen said, “I am a monk from Mount Wutai. Just give me some porridge.” The monk replied, “We respect monks from holy places, but we have no food here. The monks have fled, and we have had nothing to eat for three days.” Lu Zhishen said, “Nonsense! How can such a large place have no food?” The monk explained, “This used to be a well-respected temple, but a wandering monk and a Daoist came here, ruined everything, and drove the monks away. We are too old to leave and have had nothing to eat.” 

Lu Zhishen asked, “Why not report them to the authorities?” The monk replied, “The local authorities are far away, and even the officials can’t stop them. The monk and the Daoist are ruthless, capable of killing and burning. They have taken over a place behind the abbot’s quarters.” Lu Zhishen asked, “What are their names?” The monk replied, “The monk is named Cui, with the monastic name Daocheng, and is nicknamed Iron Buddha. The Daoist is named Qiu, ranked Xiaoyi, and is nicknamed Flying Yaksha. They are not true monks or Daoists but are like bandits in disguise.” 

As Lu Zhishen continued to question the monk, he smelled a fragrant scent. He took his monk’s staff and went to investigate. He found a makeshift stove with a pot of boiling millet porridge. He scolded the monks, “You lied about having no food! Why would you lie?” The elderly monks, seeing he had found the porridge, panicked, grabbing bowls and utensils. Hungry, Lu Zhishen saw no other option. He cleaned a dusty spring platform with some straw and poured the porridge onto it. The monks rushed to eat, but Lu Zhishen pushed them aside and began eating. An old monk protested, “We haven’t eaten in three days. We begged for this millet to make porridge, and now you’re eating it.” Hearing this, Lu Zhishen stopped eating and heard singing outside. He washed his hands, grabbed his staff, and went out to see a Daoist in a black headscarf and plain robe, carrying a shoulder pole. One basket held fish tails and meat covered with lotus leaves; the other basket had a wine jar. He sang: 

“When you are east, I am west, You have no man, I have no wife. Without a wife, I can manage, Without a husband, you suffer alone.” 

The monks pointed and whispered to Lu Zhishen, “That Daoist is the Flying Yaksha, Qiu Xiaoyi!” Lu Zhishen followed him as he walked into the abbots’ quarters. The Daoist, unaware of Lu Zhishen, entered the courtyard and set down the baskets. Under a green locust tree was a table with food and three sets of utensils. Seated there was a fat monk with dark eyebrows and eyes like black ink, his chest and belly exposed. Next to him was a young woman. The Daoist joined them. 

Lu Zhishen walked up to the monk, who was startled and jumped up, saying, “Please, brother, sit down and have a drink with us.” Holding his monk’s staff, Zhishen demanded, “Why have you let the temple fall into such disrepair?” The monk replied, “Please sit and let me explain.” Zhishen, with a fierce look, said, “Go on, explain!” The monk began, “Our temple was once a prosperous place with vast farmlands and many monks. But those old monks under the corridor, they drank and caused trouble, spent money on women, and the abbot couldn’t control them. They even ousted the abbot. That’s why the temple fell into ruin. The monks scattered, and the lands were sold. I, along with this Daoist, have come to take charge and restore the temple.”  

Zhishen asked, “Who is this woman, and why is she drinking with you?” The monk explained, “Brother, let me tell you. This woman is the daughter of Wang Youjin from the neighboring village. Her father was a patron of this temple, but their family has fallen into hard times. Recently, they lost everything, and her husband is ill. She came to the temple seeking rice. Out of respect for our patron, we offered her some wine. We have no other intentions, just respect. Don’t listen to those old monks.”  

Hearing this and seeing the monk’s careful demeanor, Zhishen thought, “Those old monks tricked me!” He picked up his staff and returned to the incense kitchen.  

The old monks had just started eating some food and were watching. Seeing Zhishen angrily approaching, he pointed at the old monks and said, “So, you ruined the temple and lied to me!” The old monks replied in unison, “Brother, don’t believe his words. He is keeping a woman there. He saw you had weapons and didn’t dare to confront you. If you don’t believe us, go back and see how he treats you. Think about it, brother: they drink wine and eat meat, and we don’t even have porridge. He might have poisoned your food.” Zhishen, thinking it over, said, “You have a point.” He picked up his staff and went back to the abbot’s quarters, finding the side door locked. Enraged, he kicked it open and rushed inside, where he saw the Iron Buddha, Cui Daocheng, wielding a broad knife and charging towards him. Zhishen shouted and swung his staff at Cui Daocheng. The two monks began to fight: 

One, without his kasaya, held a knife and attacked fiercely; the other, with his robe tied tightly, brandished his monk’s staff. One gritted his teeth and fought like Qin Qiong against Jingde; the other, eyes wide, fought like Zhang Fei against Lü Bu. One never cared for rituals; the other was lazy in reciting scriptures. 

Cui Daocheng, the Iron Buddha, wielded his knife against Zhishen. They exchanged blows for fourteen or fifteen rounds. Daocheng, unable to withstand Zhishen, could only parry and block. Just as he was about to flee, the Daoist Qiu Xiaoyi, seeing his partner struggling, grabbed a knife and charged at Zhishen from behind. Hearing footsteps behind him, Zhishen didn’t dare turn around. He shouted, “Take this!” Daocheng, thinking Zhishen was attacking him, jumped out of the fight. Zhishen turned around, just in time to face the Daoist. The two fought together for ten more rounds. Exhausted from lack of food and the long journey, Zhishen realized he couldn’t win. He pretended to falter and fled, dragging his staff. The two chased him outside the temple gate. Zhishen fought for another ten rounds but was overwhelmed. He ran to a stone bridge, sat on the railing, and the two men stopped chasing him. After running for two miles, he finally caught his breath and thought, “I left my belongings in front of the kitchen monitor. I have no money or food, and I’m hungry. What should I do? Going back would mean certain death.” He walked aimlessly, getting weaker with each step. After a few more miles, he saw a large forest of red pines: 

With twisted branches, like thousands of ancient dragons; with shadows casting strange shapes, like countless giant serpents. From afar, it looked like an eerie forest; up close, it seemed like a devil’s domain. Blood-red pine needles covered the ground. 

Zhishen thought, “What a sinister forest!” As he was observing, he saw a man peeking out from the trees, spit on the ground, and retreat. Zhishen thought, “That scoundrel must be a highway robber. Seeing I’m a monk, he thought I wasn’t worth robbing and left. That fool is unlucky to meet me. I’m full of anger and need a place to vent. I’ll take his clothes and pawn them for wine.” He approached the forest and shouted, “You in the forest, come out!” The man laughed, “He’s unlucky to meet me!” He came out with a knife and said, “Monk, you’re looking for death, not me.” Zhishen replied, “I’ll make you regret this!” He charged with his staff. The man, wielding his knife, engaged in a fight. As they fought, the man thought, “This monk’s voice sounds familiar.” He asked, “Monk, what’s your name?” Zhishen replied, “Fight three hundred rounds first!” Enraged, the man continued fighting. After ten rounds, he shouted, “Hold on, I need to ask something.” They stepped back. The man asked, “What’s your name? Your voice sounds familiar.” Zhishen revealed his name. The man dropped his knife and exclaimed, “Do you recognize Shi Jin?” Zhishen laughed, “So it’s you, Shi Jin!” They embraced and sat in the forest. Zhishen asked, “Shi Jin, since we parted in Weizhou, where have you been?” Shi Jin replied, “After we separated, I heard you killed Zheng Tu. I fled too. Authorities searched for me, so I left Weizhou to find Master Wang Jin. I went to Yan’an but couldn’t find him. I returned to Beijing, ran out of money, and came here to make a living. I didn’t expect to meet you here. Why did you become a monk?” Zhishen recounted his story from the beginning. 

Shi Jin said, “Brother, since you are hungry, I have some dried meat and biscuits here.” He took them out and gave them to Lu Zhishen to eat. Then Shi Jin continued, “Since your belongings are still at the temple, let’s go back and get them. If they don’t return them, we will deal with them once and for all.” Zhishen agreed. After eating their fill, they armed themselves and headed back to the Tile Bowl Temple. As they approached the temple, they saw Cui Daocheng and Qiu Xiaoyi still sitting on the bridge. Zhishen shouted, “You scoundrels, come on! This time, we’ll fight to the death!” The monk laughed, “You were defeated by me before, how dare you challenge me again?” Zhishen, enraged, swung his iron staff and charged across the bridge. The Iron Buddha, equally furious, grabbed his knife and charged down the bridge. 

This time, Zhishen had Shi Jin with him, bolstering his courage, and he was well-fed and energized. After eight or nine rounds, Cui Daocheng began to tire and tried to flee. Seeing the monk losing, Qiu Xiaoyi rushed in with his knife to assist. Shi Jin, who had been hiding in the woods, leaped out and shouted, “No one is escaping!” He raised his knife and charged at Qiu Xiaoyi. The four of them battled fiercely: 

The monk was fierce, and the warrior brave. The iron staff flew like a jade python, the sharp knife sparkled like rays of light. The hero flipped, wishing to swallow the universe whole; the Daoist stepped forward, wanting to shake heaven and earth. Their arms clashed like Lu Bu fighting three warriors; the clash was as loud as the Four Heavenly Kings. Fighting by the stream, they scared the ghosts and gods; battling on the bridge, they shattered rocks. 

Zhishen and Cui Daocheng fought intensely. Seizing an opportunity, Zhishen shouted, “Take this!” and struck Cui Daocheng off the bridge with his staff. Seeing the monk fall, Qiu Xiaoyi lost the will to fight and fled. Shi Jin pursued him and struck him from behind, causing him to fall with a loud crash. Shi Jin stepped forward, turned his knife, and stabbed him repeatedly. Zhishen chased Cui Daocheng down the bridge and struck him with his staff, ending his life. The two bandits met their demise, as the saying goes: those who do evil will meet their fate. 

Zhishen and Shi Jin tied the bodies of Qiu Xiaoyi and Cui Daocheng together and threw them into the ravine. They then re-entered the temple. The old monks, fearing retaliation from Cui Daocheng and Qiu Xiaoyi after Zhishen’s initial defeat, had all hanged themselves. Zhishen and Shi Jin searched the abbot’s quarters and found the woman who had been captured had thrown herself into a well. They searched the small rooms and found no one else. They retrieved Zhishen’s belongings, which were untouched. Zhishen said, “Since we have our things, let’s leave as we came.” They also found several bundles of clothes, gold, and silver, which Shi Jin took, selecting the best items. 

They went to the kitchen, found wine and meat, and ate until they were full. They made torches, lit the fires, and set the small rooms behind the temple ablaze. They then lit torches and set fire to the main hall and the rear eaves. The strong wind quickly spread the flames, and soon the entire temple was ablaze. The fire burned fiercely: 

Thick smoke rolled and fierce flames soared. In moments, it reached the heavens; in no time, it opened the gates of the underworld. Birds in flight fell from the sky, their wings scorched; animals fled, their fur singed, leaping into ravines. In an instant, the entire temple was ablaze; in less than a morning, all the monks’ quarters were engulfed in flames. It was as if the ancient alchemist’s furnace had been overturned, a fire mountain rolling across the earth. 

Zhishen and Shi Jin watched for a while, then said, “Although Liangyuan is good, it’s not a place to stay long. We should leave.” They left the burning temple and traveled through the night. As dawn broke, they saw a small village in the distance. They headed towards it and found a small inn by a single-plank bridge. It was a rustic place: 

The door was half-open, and a cloth curtain hung low. An earthen wine jar sat beside a wooden bed, with a dust-covered painting of an immortal on the wall. A village boy measured wine, though not quite a learned man; an ugly woman tended the counter, far from a beauty. Large characters on the wall, scribbled by a drunken scholar; reed capes on the shelf, ready for the fishermen. 

Zhishen and Shi Jin entered the village inn, ordered wine, and asked for some meat and rice to cook a meal. As they drank and ate, they discussed their journey. After finishing their meal, Zhishen asked, “Where will you go now?” Shi Jin replied, “I will return to Mount Shaohua and join Zhu Wu and the others. We will figure things out from there.” Zhishen nodded and gave him some gold and silver. They packed their belongings, paid their bill, and left the inn. 

They walked together for five to seven miles until they reached a three-way junction. Zhishen said, “Brother, we must part here. I am heading to Dongjing. You don’t need to see me off. Take this road to Huazhou. If we meet again, it will be fate. If you can, send word through someone.” Shi Jin bade farewell to Zhishen and went his way. 

Zhishen continued towards Dongjing, traveling for eight or nine days until he saw the city in the distance. Entering the city, he saw: 

Thousands of doors and windows, a display of red and green; bustling markets and streets, crowded with people. Majestic phoenix towers and jade pavilions, dragon palaces and crystal halls. Flutes and drums filled the air, songs and dances in the pleasure quarters. The city was full of joy and prosperity, rich merchants and officials everywhere. Flower streets and willow lanes, filled with famous courtesans; countless singers and dancers in lavish mansions. The rich and powerful played games, sons of nobles bought pleasure. The city’s splendor was unparalleled, like a paradise on earth. 

Lu Zhishen saw the bustling city and heard the noisy market. Entering the city, he cautiously asked, “Where is the Great Xiangguo Temple?” A local responded, “It’s right by the state bridge ahead.” Carrying his monk’s staff, Zhishen quickly made his way there. When he arrived at the temple and entered the mountain gate, he saw that it was grand sight:  

The mountain gate stood tall, and the temple grounds were serene. The inscription on the plaque was clear, with fierce-looking guardian statues on either side. The main hall had five sections, with dragon-scale tiles neatly arranged; the walls of the monks’ quarters were covered in bricks with intricate designs. The bell tower stood imposing, and the scripture hall was grand. Tall banners reached the blue sky, and the pagoda seemed to touch the clouds. Wooden fish drums were hung horizontally, and cloud boards were suspended high. In front of the Buddha, candles flickered, and incense smoke swirled around. Banners fluttered continuously, connecting the Guanyin Hall to the ancestral hall; the treasure covers were linked, integrating the water and land assembly with the Arhat Hall. Divine protectors descended frequently, and exorcists arrived annually. 

Zhishen entered the temple and walked along the corridors, heading directly to the guest monks’ quarters. Seeing a Daoist monk, he asked to see the guest master. Soon, the guest master came out, and upon seeing the fierce-looking Zhishen with his iron staff, precept knife, and large bundle, felt somewhat intimidated. The guest master asked, “Brother, where have you come from?” Zhishen put down his bundle and staff, greeted the guest master, and replied, “I am from Wutai Mountain. My master, the Venerable Zhen, has written a letter asking me to find a position here with the Venerable Master Qing.” The guest master said, “Since you have a letter from Master Zhen, follow me to the abbot’s quarters.” 

The guest master led Zhishen to the abbot’s quarters. After unpacking his bundle and taking out the letter, the guest master instructed, “Brother, you must observe proper etiquette. When the abbot appears, you should remove your precept knife, take out your seven-piece robe, mat, and ceremonial incense, and respectfully greet the abbot.” Zhishen replied, “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” He then removed his precept knife, took out a stick of incense, his mat, and robe, and struggled to arrange them properly. The guest master helped him put on the kasaya and instructed him to spread out the mat. The guest master asked, “Where is the ceremonial incense?” Zhishen responded, “What ceremonial incense? I only have this stick of incense.” The guest master, becoming suspicious, did not say more. 

Soon, Venerable Qing, escorted by two attendants, arrived and sat on the meditation chair. The guest master stepped forward, greeted him, and reported, “This monk has come from Wutai Mountain with a letter from Venerable Zhen.” Venerable Qing replied, “Very well! It has been a long time since my brother sent any letter.” The guest master instructed Zhishen, “Brother, present the letter and greet the abbot.” Zhishen inserted the incense into the burner, bowed three times, and handed over the letter. Venerable Qing opened the letter and read: 

“Venerable Zhen, with folded hands, respectfully addresses Venerable Qing: Though we are separated by distance, our hearts are united. Despite the separation of north and south, we share the same faith. I have a small request: The benefactor of our temple, Zhao Yuanwai, has ordained a monk named Zhishen, formerly an officer under General Zhong of Yan’an Prefecture. He killed a man and chose to become a monk. Twice, he caused disturbances in the meditation hall due to drunkenness, and the temple staff could not manage him. I am sending him to your esteemed temple, hoping you can accept him as a staff member. Please do not refuse. This monk has great potential for future attainment. Please accommodate him. Take care, take care!” 

After reading the letter, Venerable Qing said, “Let the traveling monk rest in the monks’ quarters and have some vegetarian food.” Zhishen thanked him, gathered his belongings, and followed the attendant to the monks’ quarters. 

Venerable Qing then summoned all the senior monks and staff members to the abbot’s quarters and said, “You see, my brother Venerable Zhen has sent this monk, who was originally a military officer and became a monk after killing someone. He caused disturbances in their meditation hall twice, so they sent him here. I can’t refuse him because of my brother’s earnest request, but keeping him here might disrupt our peace. What should we do?”  

The guest master replied, “From what I see, this monk doesn’t look like a proper monk at all. How can we accommodate him in our temple?” The senior monk said, “I have an idea. Outside the Sour Date Gate, there is an abandoned garden constantly harassed by soldiers and local ruffians. An old monk was living there but couldn’t manage it. Why not send Zhishen to take charge there? He might be able to handle it.” Venerable Qing agreed, “That sounds reasonable. Have an attendant fetch him after he finishes his meal.” 

After a short while, the attendant led Zhishen to the abbot’s quarters. Master Qing said, “Since you have been recommended by my brother, Master Zhen, to stay at this temple and serve as a staff member, I will assign you a duty. Our temple has a large vegetable garden outside the Sour Date Gate next to Yue Temple. You can reside there and manage it. Every day, you should ensure the workers deliver ten loads of vegetables, and the rest will be for your use.” Zhishen replied, “My master, Master Zhen, sent me to seek a position at a major temple, not to manage a vegetable garden. Why assign me to such a task?” The head monk said, “Brother, you don’t understand. You’re new here and haven’t yet earned any merit, so how can you expect to take on a major role? Managing the vegetable garden is already a significant position.” Zhishen said, “I don’t want to manage the vegetable garden; I want to be a head monk or superintendent.” The head monk continued, “Listen to me. In the monastic community, each position has its own responsibilities. For example, I am the guest master and only handle the reception of visitors and guest monks. Other positions like the cantor, attendants, scribes, and head monks are prestigious and not easy to obtain. The head monk, superintendent, overseer, and abbots manage the temple’s assets. How can you, having just arrived, take on a top position? There are also roles like the treasurer, hall chief, library chief, alms chief, and bathhouse chief, which are mid-level positions. Lower-level positions include the tower head, meal head, tea head, and vegetable garden head. If you manage the vegetable garden well for a year, you can be promoted to tower head; another year, and you can become bathhouse chief; yet another year, and you might become the superintendent.” Zhishen said, “If that’s the case, there is a way to progress. I will go tomorrow.” Master Qing, seeing that Zhishen was willing to take the position, let him stay in the abbot’s quarters that night. The next day, the assignment was finalized, and an official notice was written. They sent someone to the vegetable garden to post the notice. That night, everyone dispersed. The next morning, Master Qing held a formal ceremony, issued the official appointment, and assigned Zhishen to manage the vegetable garden. Zhishen received the appointment, thanked the abbot, packed his belongings, carried his precept knife and staff, and, accompanied by two monks, went to the residence outside the Sour Date Gate to take up his new position. 

Near the vegetable garden lived about thirty idlers and scoundrels who often stole vegetables to survive. Seeing the new notice posted on the gate, they read: “Monk Lu Zhishen from the Great Xiangguo Temple has been appointed to manage the vegetable garden. Starting tomorrow, no unauthorized persons are allowed to enter or disturb the garden.” The scoundrels discussed, “A monk named Lu Zhishen has been sent to manage the vegetable garden. Let’s create a disturbance as soon as he arrives, beat him up, and make him submit to us.” One of them suggested, “I have an idea. Since he doesn’t know us, why don’t we lure him to the manure pit, pretend to congratulate him, then grab his legs and throw him in for fun?” The others agreed, “Great idea!” They waited for his arrival. 

Zhishen settled into his room at the residence, unpacked his belongings, leaned his staff against the wall, and hung up his precept knife. The gardeners came to pay their respects and handed over the keys and responsibilities. The two monks who accompanied him and the old monk who previously managed the garden then returned to the temple.  

Zhishen went out to inspect the vegetable garden, looking around. The thirty scoundrels approached him, carrying fruit boxes and wine, laughing and saying, “We heard that the monk has come to manage the garden, so we, as neighbors, have come to celebrate.” Unaware of their intentions, Zhishen walked with them to the manure pit. Suddenly, the scoundrels rushed forward, one grabbing his left leg and another his right, intending to throw him in. But Zhishen was quick and powerful. When his feet moved, even a fierce tiger would be startled; when his fists struck, dragons would tremble in fear. Indeed: 

A once-peaceful garden turned into a small battlefield before their eyes. 

To find out what happened to the scoundrels who tried to throw Zhishen into the manure pit, stay tuned for the next chapter.