Marital Union
By night the snow billowed. Such was winter in the north; the weather was unpredictable.
Life too was unpredictable.
Xia Ji lit a candle. The light was faint, but it rose to the sky, illuminating the bookshelves around him. The bookshelves surrounded him as if he had fallen into a deep well, in which he opened the Present Shakyamuni Sutra.
Page after page he turned.
Word by word he recited.
His voice was neither loud nor soft. Still, it was drowned out by the blizzard outside.
He read into the night until the candle had melted to half its length.
Xia Ji closed the book.
His lone shadow fell upon the bookshelf.
He muttered, “Cut your flesh to feed the eagle, give your body to sustain the tiger; then all who live will be equal. If all who live are equal, why the need to rend one’s form? Why the need to discern between Buddha, bhikku, and the guardians?”
The pages were closed.
A profound epiphany surfaced from within his heart. The primal spirit at his glabella slowly generated a golden skill bead—the “Dhyana of the Present”.
Seeing the color of the bead, Xia Ji knew that his sister’s efforts were not in vain. This was his fourth golden skill bead.
As it was a golden skill bead, he used it immediately.
The skill bead shattered, turning into a golden stream. From his glabella, it flowed throughout his body—to his blood, bones, organs, skin, and flesh—filling and covering it.
In just half an hour, Xia Ji had completely mastered the ninth level of the “Dhyana of the Present”. This divine skill happened to complement his present shortcomings.
Aryaacalanatha Form was focused on defense.
Nine Suns of the Heart Sutra’s emphasis was inner strength.
Eighteen Levels of Hell Suppression Energy concerned strength.
The Dhyana of the Present gifted strong spiritual energy—an unshakeable Zen.
What did this mean?
Consider two people in this world who bore the same weapon, wielded the same strength, and mastered the same skills; and that one of them must die for the other to survive. The outcome of that battle would be determined by the strength of each person’s Zen; he who could defeat his opponent spiritually would survive.
That was why three thousand elite soldiers can slaughter rabble numbering a hundred thousand. A master with a broken spirit was no better than a peasant.
To put it simply, it represented one’s essence—the wish of a meditative mind; the spirit of a warrior.
In the lonely night, Xia Ji stood up, opened the door, and walked out into the courtyard of the archive chamber. This was a place for the imprisoned imperial prince to take a walk and have a breath of fresh air. Naturally, Eunuch Mei—who would be watching him from the gazebo three hundred meters away— was not there. The entire Imperial Palace was draped in the night’s heavy snow. All the lights in the palaces and halls were extinguished, although the sound of distant laughter still resounded from the emperor’s palace.
Following the stone steps, Xia Ji walked into the heart of the courtyard—to a place where the snow fell. He did not put his hands together but raised his head to look at the sky. A mysterious Zen suddenly permeated his surroundings.
The snow falling around him abruptly stopped, suspended half a meter in the air around him.
Although the snow around him was stationary, the snow continued to fall from above him.
Soon, the pileup had formed a large white bell.
Within this bell, even the air seemed to be still. Nothing moved.
The snow outside the bell flurried excitedly, but Xia Ji seemed to be stripped away and separated from the world.
When the snow came close to him, it became completely still.
“Plucking the flower, I smile because I see that it has blossomed. The earth and sky are connected to my heart; my heart to the earth and sky. If I do not smile, the flower will not blossom; if my heart does not move, neither the wind, snow, grass nor flower will.
“Was this the extent of the Dhyana of the Present at its ninth level?”
Xia Ji soliloquized, taking another step forward. With a snap of his fingers, the snow cover that surrounded him collapsed, causing the ground to cave under the weight of the accumulated snow. As this happened, the young man had already circled back to the chamber.
In the evening two days later, the door to the chamber was thrown open. Xia Xiaosu poked her adorable face into the room just as Xia Ji finished chanting. The moment their eyes met, the ambiance immediately became warm and relaxed.
The Ninth Imperial Princess brought in a lunch box, took its contents out, and placed them on the table. The dishes were still steaming. Finally, she retrieved two white jade porcelain bottles. These were celestial brews—a tribute from the outer treasury.
Xia Ji sat opposite her and handed her the wrapped cloth bag. “I’ve finished reading the Present Shakyamuni Sutra, so you can return it to the Leiyin Temple tomorrow. That way, you won’t renege on your agreement of borrowing the book for three days.
Noticing the two bottles of wine, he smiled. “You even brought more alcohol today.”
As soon as he said that, tears flowed down the Ninth Imperial Princess’s cheek. She sniffled as she held up a bottle. “I’ll drink with you today.”
Xia Ji took the other.
Xia Xiaosu uncorked her bottle. Instead of pouring the wine into a cup, she immediately tilted her head and began chugging it.
The wine was too strong, and she was a lady who did not usually drink. Promptly, she choked as her weeping grew more intense. By the time she put the bottle down, a few pieces of beef had appeared in front of her face; her brother held them close to her mouth with his chopsticks.
As before, his voice was gentle. “You’ll hurt your body if you have wine without eating.”
Xia Xiaosu ate the beef in a single bite, her tears flowing as she chewed.
Xia Ji exhaled softly, removed the cork from his bottle, and raised it.
Xia Xiaosu, “?”
Very quickly, she understood and also raised her bottle.
Their bottles clinked.
As Xia Xiaosu wept, she boldly sputtered, “Bottoms up.”
Xia Ji replied, “Not bottoms up, just a small sip.”
“Mm…” The Ninth Imperial Princess obediently took just a small sip before putting down the bottle. She cried as she spoke, “Why don’t you comfort me? Although we can’t do or change anything, will you—as my royal brother—not even comfort me?”
Xia Ji’s expression was calm—like a Buddha in a shrine—bearing no sorrow or joy. However, he was not Buddha. Concealed in his heart was chaos and disorder like that of the Big Bang, but he had grown accustomed to treating the only person he was close to with gentle affection. Thus, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
Xia Xiaosu bawled, “They’re marrying me off to Tujue. They said that the land in Tujue is fertile. If I marry over, Tujue and Dashang can ally to outmaneuver Guifang and Quanrong, while repelling Luosha at the same time. They told me that this decision would bring great prosperity to the whole of Dashang and would be a great contribution to the motherland.
“B-But I don’t want to go. I’m not willing to. I heard that the people of Tujue are savages and I won’t be able to see my brother again once I go…”
Xia Ji spoke calmly, “Did they let you know when you’ll be leaving?”
Xia Xiaosu sobbed, “After three months. Once the snow stops and spring arrives, Tujue will send an envoy to fetch me.”
“Three months…”
Xia Ji thought for a while before suddenly saying, “I heard that the Leiyin Temple also has a Past Dipankara Sutra. Could you borrow it when you return the other sutra tomorrow? I’ll just need a day to read it.”
Xia Xiaosu, “?”
She exhaled a long sigh. Her brother was truly obsessed with the sutras. Was he obsessed to the point that he could not show a speck of concern for his younger sister?
She spent most of the day in tears, during which Xia Ji kept her company. It was only when she was about to leave that Xia Ji held her in his arms. He gave her a pat on the back, and with his gentlest voice, whispered, “It will be fine.”