[The 300th post, and also the final post]
Basking in the serene Buddhist chants, I quietly bloom on the Wangyou River. The almost motionless river water is clear and transparent. What the Wangyou River reflects is the joys and sorrows of the human world. So, I often watch those men and women, laughing, crying, being happy, being sad. I do not understand. I ask Buddha, and Buddha affectionately replies to me: Life in this world is a form of cultivation, and only after seeing through the secular world can one attain great enlightenment. I still do not understand, and Buddha says there is no need to understand. Most of the time, I just quietly bloom, listening to the wind, watching the rain, getting drunk on the moon.
I remember that morning, a scene I had never seen appeared before my eyes. Faint, green, gentle things lightly enveloped the entire Wangyou River, and Buddha held me affectionately, as if watching me. I only remember Buddha whispering, karmic ties. I did not understand these two words. I asked Buddha, what is that, and Buddha said, that is mist. What are karmic ties, Buddha looked at me affectionately, and said, one day you will understand.
I am a green lotus before Buddha, quietly watching the human world, day after day. So many people repeatedly revolve in cycles, repeating stories of past lives. I do not understand, why do they not let go of the secular world when opportunities are in front of them? I asked Buddha, and Buddha cupped the water around me, saying, bloom beautifully.
I quietly bloom on the Wangyou River, year after year, watching human gatherings and separations, without knowing how many years have passed. Finally, one day, I said to Buddha, I want to go to the human world. Buddha still looked at me affectionately, asking if I had truly decided to leave His side and go to the human world. I did not know either, I just looked at Buddha. Buddha softly said, karmic ties, destined fate. Buddha did not let me drink the water of the Wangyou River, letting me retain the memories here. Buddha said, when I truly receive someone's love, I will come take you back. I was about to ask Buddha what love was. Buddha held me in His palm and sent me into the secular world.
I became a human, a woman. My mother told me that the summer I was born, lotus sprouts suddenly emerged in the lotus pond in front of the village, and on the morning I came into the world, all the lotus flowers had bloomed, so my father named me Lian (Lotus). My mother also said that on the third day after I was born, a highly accomplished monk came to see me and said I had a root of wisdom...I did not ask further, just quietly listened. I know, I am a green lotus before Buddha.I didn't tell father and mother.
I am fond of a light purple color. When I am at the Wuyou River, I am that light purple. I often recall that chanting, the gentle breeze, the quiet bamboo, and the bright moon. I often go in the afternoons to the large pond in front of the village to look at the lotus flowers covering the pond.
I remember it was a summer afternoon. I was sitting under that willow tree. Mother said that willow tree was five hundred years old. I knew it was actually eight hundred years old, and it also knew that I was the green lotus before the Buddha. Every time I went there, it would talk to me. I looked at the pond full of lotus flowers, quietly, just like when I first lightly blossomed.
A gentle breeze blew, making the hem of my dress flutter. When I brushed aside the hair that blocked my eyes and turned around, I saw him. He was wearing a green robe, like the mist from hundreds of years ago, lightly enveloping everything. When he saw me, the book in his hands fell to the ground. I also forgot to turn away and kept looking at him until the willow tree lightly brushed my arm with its branches. I lifted my dress and hurried away.
Later, when I went to see the lotus flowers again, I often ran into him. Gradually, I learned his name was Qing. He always carried a book. When I looked at the lotus, he read; I knew he was also looking at me, the willow tree told me so. Gradually, we started talking. He taught me many things, and the first piece of ancient-style poetry he taught me was: 'The reeds are green, the white dew turns to frost; the so-called one I love is on the other side of the water…' He often recited: 'Guan guan ju jiu, on the isles in the river, a graceful and gentle lady, a noble gentleman longs for her…' Then, over and over, he chanted: 'Seeking but not obtaining, awake or asleep thinking of her, leisurely and carefree, tossing and turning.'
I didn't understand what it meant. I only felt that early morning sensation, as if embraced by that mist. Later, one day, he looked at me a little nervously, stretched out his hand, and said to me: 'Though born and die apart, we cherish each other; holding your hand, I will grow old with you.' I actually didn't understand, just felt that when he said those words, it was like how Buddha usually speaks to me. Then I knew, this person, was chosen for me by Buddha. So I lightly placed my hand in his.
Father and mother were very satisfied with him. Both families held an engagement banquet for us. I didn't really understand why everyone looked so happy, different from their usual joy. Mother began teaching me some things, said to be a woman's responsibilities. The days I went to see the lotus flowers became fewer.The willow tree told me that without me, the lotus pond became very lonely. My life, however, did not change much.
Qing treated me very well. He always came back early to accompany me. He often went with me to visit my mother's home, played chess with my father, and my mother cared for me, not making me do the chores. I would just watch my father play chess with Qing. Qing always let my father win; Qing taught me how to play chess, and I could see that he was skillfully yielding to my father. Qing was always writing diligently under the lamp. I could only bring him a cup of tea or grind his ink. At those times, Qing would always put down his pen, hold me in his arms, rest his head on my shoulder, and softly call out 'Lian, Lian' in my ear. Qing always liked to call me Lian, saying I was his Lian. He said I carried a faint scent of lotus. Little did he know, I was originally the blue lotus before Buddha.
During those days, I never thought about the time before Buddha. I remember Buddha once told me that as long as I truly received someone's love, he would come to fetch me. But when would that be? I asked the willow tree if it had ever seen Buddha, but the willow said nothing. I sensed that the willow did not have much time left. I originally wanted to ask the willow what love is. So I did not ask. It was not summer, there was nothing in the lotus pond, and the willow had aged considerably; aging was something I only learned after coming to the human world.
The color of the sun was very strange, red. The willow said, red is very sorrowful. What sorrow is, I did not know. I remember very clearly, in that sea of red, Qing's qing-green robe, which I had sewn for him stitch by stitch, became very blurry. He rushed to my side, holding me tightly. I was very surprised; Qing was gentle, yet hugging me hurt so much. He kept calling me over and over, 'Lian, my Lian.' I remained motionless in his arms, only feeling my heartbeat behaving strangely.
From Qing's unclear murmurs, I understood that his parents wanted him to take a concubine because I had not been able to bear him a child. Qing did not want to. Today was the day for taking a concubine, and he ran away. He said that his wife was only me. I listened silently. I had a strange feeling that my days remaining with Qing were limited, similar to knowing that the willow didn't have much time left.
Later, Qing did not take a concubine, and his parents did not mention it again. Occasionally, I would go for a walk by the lotus pond, only to see the willow growing weaker and weaker, and I was powerless to help it. Qing's work increased more and more, and he often buried himself in it until very late.I still poured tea for him, ground ink for him, and he often held me in his arms, softly calling my name, Lian, breathing in my scent.
Later on, Qing began to look increasingly haggard. From other people's idle gossip, I learned that the last concubine given to Qing had, in the home of Qing's parents, although Qing was not present, still entered Qing's family home.
That day, I remember it was summer, I had returned after looking at the lotus flowers. The door suddenly rang, and I thought it was Qing returning, so I went out to receive him. Who knew, it was a woman, very beautiful, wearing a light red shirt. Her eyes were red as well. At the sight of me, tears welled up in her eyes, and she kept saying, It's you, you reside in Qing's heart, although I haven't met you, only you could reside in Qing's heart. I have been married to him for three years, and he hasn't even touched me; I could endure him not touching me, but he doesn't even look at me, doesn't even look at me, do you know that he calls me by your name, Lian!
At this moment, Qing returned, looking very urgent, yanked her away, and held me in his arms. To her he said, You go. She cried loudly, but still left. Qing held me as he went inside, looking at me anxiously, speaking incoherently as he explained. I knew he did it for me. He looked at me anxiously, repeatedly saying, Lian, my wife is only you, Lian, Lian. I gently stroked his head, letting him calm down slowly. Qing's blue shirt was still the one I made; I slowly smiled at him. Qing once again reached out his hand to me and said: In life and death, we are bound in love; holding your hand, I shall grow old with you. I slowly reached out my hand to him. At that moment, I suddenly heard a long-lost Buddhist chant and knew it was Buddha coming to take me. I watched my body slowly become transparent, and Qing's expression suddenly turned astonished, no, it was despair. He reached out his hand, wanting to embrace me, but he could not come near. I told him one last thing: I am a blue lotus before Buddha.
That year, I was twenty-four, and Qing was thirty.
I, a blue lotus before Buddha, returned to the river of forgetfulness, accompanied by serene Buddhist chants. I gazed familiarly at the clear water of the river, the gentle wind, the slender bamboo, the bright moon, stretching myself gently. Buddha cupped the water around me and lovingly said, I have brought you back. I saw that among the beads in Buddha's hand, one was missing.I began to habitually gaze at the Worry-Free River again, watching the rights and wrongs of the human world. I saw Qing. One day in the sky, one year on earth—how long have I been back? Qing has withered! Still dressed in a green robe, standing blankly by the lotus pond in front of the village, staring foolishly at the pond full of lotus flowers. Suddenly, an indescribable feeling arose in my heart; a petal of mine drifted away, floating on the Worry-Free River. I silently watched him through the Worry-Free River. Buddha never said anything. Buddha said that he exchanged ten years of time for me with a single Buddhist bead, yet fate still could not be resolved.
Day by day, time passed, and Qing aged little by little. The woman in the red dress I remembered was not by his side. Four seasons, every day, Qing stayed by the lotus pond, staring at it, motionless; the lotus pond was his world. Qing guarded his world, growing older bit by bit! My heart felt full to overflowing, and if I were still in the human world, I would certainly shed a kind of water called tears.
That day, I remember very clearly, a light, green, gentle mist lightly enveloped the entire Worry-Free River, tenderly embracing me, just as Qing embraced me. In the mist, there was Qing's voice, softly calling me, "Lian, my Lian." I smiled faintly, blooming brilliantly, releasing all my fragrance, and I finally understood. Buddha once said, cultivating together in the same boat for five hundred years, sharing the same pillow for a thousand years. Our bond was forged on the Worry-Free River. Merciful Buddha used a single Buddhist bead to make up for our lost time. I bloomed splendidly, leisurely in the green mist, my love within the green mist.
When the green mist dissipated, the Worry-Free River was as serene and clear as ever, the river surface filled with beautiful green lotus petals, fragrant everywhere, leaving only a single lotus seed pod, trembling slightly. Foolish one, Buddha lovingly shook his head, reaching for the lotus pod. A drop-like lotus seed fell into Buddha's hand, crystal clear and resplendent, forming a single Buddhist bead!
I was originally a green lotus before Buddha!
