The Golden Hairpin

The Broad Mercy Temple where Master Muxian resided had its gate halfway up the mountain. Its grand halls were meticulously arranged in tiers along the steep slope, ascending all the way to the summit. The mountain was precipitous, and the temple complex so vast that from the midpoint upward, one could see only the temple's yellow walls and roofs layered upon each other, completely obscuring the mountain itself.

Master Muxian was now the abbot of the temple, his meditation quarters nestled amidst deep greenery and flowers. Behind his quarters, a spring emerged from between the rocks, its murmuring waters winding past the quiet retreat.

"So this is the spring that supposedly grew overnight?" Huang Zixiang walked to the spring's edge, carefully examining the fissure at its base. The fresh cracks were still visible, with large patches of moss missing from the surrounding stones as water gurgled forth.

Li Shubai bent down to look with her and couldn't help but chuckle. Huang Zixiang turned to meet his gaze and murmured, "It's clearly man-made."

Li Shubai whispered in her ear, "Such crude handiwork—yet why did nearly everyone in Shu Commandery believe it? Even Yu Xuan was convinced. Isn't that bizarre?"

Huang Zixiang glanced at Yu Xuan standing beneath an osmanthus tree some distance away, then nodded at the stone crevice. "Indeed. The edges of these cracks are still sharp."

As they continued examining the spot, a young attendant monk approached and said, "Is this your first visit? You must be here to see our master. Behold—this spring is proof of his boundless spiritual power!"

Huang Zixiang turned to him and asked, "I heard this spring suddenly expanded overnight?"

"Exactly! Just the day before, Master Muxian had remarked how small this spring was. Then the next morning, I awoke to the sound of rushing water—it had flooded the brick courtyard! See how it gushes forth in great surges!"

"Appeared overnight? Truly a miracle!"

The young monk puffed out his chest proudly. "Indeed! Do you know about Adjutant Chen of Chengdu Prefecture? His wife was notoriously fierce—everyone knew how she made him kneel in punishment, even balancing a chamber pot on his head..."

Huang Zixiang, who had indeed heard of Adjutant Chen's plight, feigned interest. "Ah yes, I've heard of him."

The monk continued triumphantly, "But now he's the master of his household! His wife fears him like a tiger—they say she serves him meals on bended knee, treating him with utmost reverence!"

Though Huang Zixiang didn't believe in such supernatural claims, she maintained an eager expression. "How did the master transform her temperament?"

"Our master is truly remarkable! Without scolding or punishment, he simply had the couple sit in his chamber. He boiled a pot of tea with purified water, spoke to them about Buddhist teachings—reasoning with them and moving their hearts. And just like that, the tigress was tamed!"

"Amazing! Master Muxian's spiritual power is truly formidable!" Huang Zixiang adopted an awestruck expression, hanging on every word. "Are there other miracles he's performed?""There's another matter related to General Fan, the Military Governor of Xichuan! This incident is quite famous in Chengdu—everyone knows about it!" The young novice's entire face seemed to glow with excitement as he continued, "At the time, General Fan's son became infatuated with a courtesan and was determined to bring her home, even threatening to take his own life. The general was utterly helpless against his son's obstinacy—neither beatings nor scoldings worked. Yet when our venerable master intervened, just a few words from him completely turned the young master around. He abandoned the courtesan without a second thought. Truly, the boundless power of Buddhist teachings can cleanse the soul. Our master's great wisdom and virtue are enough to turn the tide, bring prodigals back, and ferry lost souls across the sea of suffering..."

Huang Ziguang couldn't help interrupting, "Is Master Mushan available?"

"The master is in his meditation chamber." The oblivious novice clasped his hands and continued eagerly, "If you'd like to hear more, I can tell you about the shrew from Liujia Lane who became a lady, the unfilial son from Zhen'an who repented, or the case in Yunzhou—"

Before he could finish, Yu Xuan arrived to escort them to meet Master Mushan. Carrying a pot of water, he lightly knocked on the slightly ajar door: "How fares the venerable master's health? Your disciple Yu Xuan seeks an audience."

A dry, hoarse voice responded from within: "Enter."

Yu Xuan paused, then added, "Your disciple has brought two visitors—constables from Shu Commandery... Wang Kui and Yang Chonggu."

"Oh..." Master Mushan responded slowly, dragging out his reply. Huang Ziguang and Zhou Ziqin expected him to refuse, but instead, the door opened, and the monk greeted them with clasped hands: "Honored guests, forgive this poor monk for not welcoming you properly. Please come in."

They took their seats while the young novice fetched spring water from behind the house to brew tea.

Master Mushan wore a slightly worn monastic robe and fingered a polished eighteen-bead rosary. His hair and beard were completely white, but his complexion appeared sallow, with deep wrinkles and age spots—hardly the picture of a silver-haired immortal.

The seventy- or eighty-year-old monk peered at them through narrowed eyes. Despite his aged face, his pupils were sharp as needles, his gaze piercing enough to feel physically hot.

Huang Ziguang also clasped her hands in greeting, thinking to herself: This old monk has viciously sharp eyes—I wonder if he's noticed anything.

The three were invited inside for tea.

Master Mushan asked amiably, "You two constables seem to have northern accents?"

"Indeed, we came from Chang'an," Huang Ziguang replied.

"How fares the capital these days? What brings you to Chengdu?"

Huang Ziguang answered casually, "I heard the venerable master once visited the capital. I imagine it hasn't changed much since then."

"How swiftly time passes, like white clouds turning into gray dogs... When this old monk visited the capital over a decade ago, His Majesty had just ascended the throne. Now he's ruled for more than ten years. Back then, I was still relatively hale, but these years have reduced me to a feeble old man..." Master Mushan's laughter carried profound melancholy.

Naturally, Huang Ziguang responded, "The venerable master remains vigorous in spirit—we younger generations can only admire such vitality."

As they drank tea and exchanged pleasantries, the old monk proved sharp-witted despite his age, offering witty remarks throughout. Huang Ziguang flattered, "No wonder Brother Yu visits so often. The tea and Master Mushan of Guangdu Temple are truly marvelous for clearing the mind."

Master Mushan laughed. "You're mistaken, benefactor. The most marvelous thing at Guangdu Temple isn't the tea or this old monk.""Does the reverend mean the spring behind the meditation hall?" Huang Zixiao flicked the water flask Yu Xuan had brought and said, "Brother Yu came today precisely to fetch water, didn't he?"

Only when this was mentioned did Yu Xuan address Monk Mushan: "As this water is to be used in offering to my adoptive parents, I would ask the reverend to recite a scripture to purify it."

Monk Mushan then sat cross-legged before the flask, counting the beads of his eighteen-bead rosary as he softly chanted a short scripture of two to three hundred words, finishing in no time. The meditation hall was filled with his low, husky voice, brimming with compassion.

Listening to his scripture, Huang Zixiao found herself lowering her lashes when it came to the four lines: "All conditioned things are impermanent. All is suffering. All phenomena are without self. Nirvana is peace." A myriad of thoughts surged in her heart, leaving her dazed and speechless.

When Monk Mushan stopped chanting, the meditation hall was enveloped in the curling incense smoke, silent for a moment.

Yu Xuan stood up, picked up the flask, thanked Monk Mushan, and took his leave. Before departing, his gaze lingered on Huang Zixiao. After much hesitation, he finally asked, "Would the two of you like to come with me?"

Huang Zixiao slowly shook her head. "I will go to pay respects to Prefect Huang and his wife and son, but not now."

Yu Xuan silently watched her, saying nothing.

And Huang Zixiao slowly, deliberately, word by word, said, "If I cannot clear their names of injustice, how can I face them? When the truth behind the Huang family's case is revealed, I will go to their graves and offer the true culprit as their sacrifice!"

Yu Xuan nodded and said quietly, "As it should be." He gazed at her deeply for a long while, and when she said no more, he added softly, "I will go to pay my respects first. If you need me, you can find me at Qing Garden."

After Yu Xuan left, Monk Mushan fixed his gaze on Huang Zixiao, studying her for a long time before smiling and saying, "Though you come from Chang'an, you seem deeply concerned about the case of Prefect Huang's family."

Huang Zixiao nodded. "The Huang elders were kind to me."

Seventeen years of nurturing kindness—now, with the child wishing to care for the parents but they no longer being there, she looked out the window at the branches swaying in the wind, a deep sorrow welling up in her heart.

Monk Mushan gazed at her, his voice slow and low: "Only... what kindness was it?"

Huang Zixiao found his voice soft and gentle, its warmth and acceptance making one unconsciously let down all defenses, so she turned to look at him.

Those eyes, seemingly always half-closed with age, set in a face lined with wrinkles and age spots, at this moment seemed like deep caverns, making it impossible for her to look away, as if she were being drawn into them.

Lost and bewildered, she instinctively said, "It was a great kindness in this life..."

Monk Mushan paused, then asked, "Is your purpose here related to Prefect Huang's death? Who sent you?"

Huang Zixiao, in a daze, unknowingly replied, "I came for myself, and also for..."

Before she could finish, she suddenly felt a sharp burn on the back of her hand. She gasped and instinctively raised her hand to look.

It turned out that while Li Shubai was pouring tea, a small drop of hot tea had accidentally splashed onto her hand.

The water was scalding, and a small red spot had already formed on her hand. She quickly rubbed the spot, thinking about the questions Monk Mushan had just asked her. But her memory was hazy, uncertain whether it was real or not, and for a moment, she felt a slight headache coming on.Li Shubai grasped her wrist through his sleeve, glanced at the back of her hand, and seeing only a slight red mark, said, "My apologies, I poured the water too quickly and didn't notice."

"Haha, this is freshly brewed tea. You two should be careful when pouring," Monk Mushan said with his usual demeanor, pouring another cup for each of them. "Please, honored guests."

Li Shubai merely touched the cup to his lips before setting it down.

Huang Zixiang took a deep breath, suppressing the flood of doubts in her chest, and chimed in, "Truly excellent tea. It doesn’t seem to be from Shu. May I ask where the master obtained it?"

Monk Mushan nodded with a hint of pride and smiled. "This is Yangxian tea, a gift from Eunuch Wang."

"Eunuch Wang?" Instantly, the image of that sinister purple-robed eunuch flashed through Huang Zixiang’s mind—his face as pale as ice, his eyes as cold as a viper’s. Wang Zongshi, the most powerful eunuch in the imperial court.

Monk Mushan confirmed, "Indeed, the Inspector-General of the Divine Strategy Army, Wang Zongshi."

A fine layer of cold sweat broke out on Huang Zixiang’s back, quickly seeping through in the late summer heat.

It was as if she had glimpsed the darkest abyss in the world, standing at its precipice, peering into the frigid darkness below that could swallow her without mercy.

"So, the master is acquainted with Eunuch Wang as well," Huang Zixiang forced down the unease in her chest and smiled.

The corners of Monk Mushan’s drooping eyes twitched slightly, revealing a trace of smugness. "I wouldn’t dare claim such familiarity. We’ve merely met a few times."

"Did the master visit the capital over a decade ago to see the emperor?"

"Indeed. Counting now, it’s been eleven years," he calculated on his fingers. "I entered the capital in the thirteenth year of the Dazhong era and left in the eighth month of that year."

The eighth month of the thirteenth year of Dazhong—precisely the month when the late Emperor Xuanzong passed away.

Huang Zixiang remained composed and asked, "May I ask the purpose of the master’s visit to the capital?"

"At that time, the late emperor’s health was failing. Thus, I and several dozen eminent monks from across the land were summoned to the capital to pray for his recovery. By the grace of Eunuch Wang’s favor, I was the only monk among the group granted an audience with His Majesty in the palace."