“Why not let go?”
“Hm?” Zanxing suddenly looked up.
In the midst of the silence, a voice suddenly spoke, startling and eerie. The voice seemed both distant and near, somewhat familiar, calm, rigid, and as still as a stagnant pool, devoid of any ripples.
Zanxing gazed at the Buddha statue before her. The golden Buddha was smiling at her. Was it her imagination, or did that gaze seem to change?
“Are you asking me?” She was a bit surprised. Was the trial of the Five-Wheel Pagoda not over yet? What should she answer?
People often say that to arrive at the correct answer, one must discern the intention of the examiner. Master Jingshan was a Buddhist practitioner willing to sacrifice himself for the benefit of others. Now, as he looked at her, he must see her as a self-serving person who had not repented.
But Zanxing could not be as great as him. There was a distance between the Buddha and a mortal. Unable to fathom the other’s intentions, she could only speak sincerely from her heart. Genuine emotions were always more touching than deceit.
Zanxing said, “I really wanted to let go, but I just couldn’t. Even if I grudgingly spared him and saved the people, the relief afterwards wouldn’t erase my pain. I can easily imagine what would happen: I would lie awake at night, endlessly regretting, living the rest of my life in bitterness and resentment, and ultimately die in distress.”
“To others, doing these things as a good person is expected and accumulates merit, but for me, it feels like an impossible demand.”
“Buddha may be impartial, but I am human, so I hold grudges and I am unwilling to endure injustice.”
“Unable to let go means unable to let go. I don’t want to force myself.”
After saying this, the surroundings fell silent once more.
The peculiar voice did not continue, but subtle changes were occurring in the void.
The enormous, majestic, and cold golden Buddha statue in the darkness silently watched her. The smile at the corner of its mouth remained gentle, the expression still compassionate, yet from its calm and indifferent eyes, a clear tear began to well up.
The golden Buddha wept.
Zanxing was stunned.
She had merely spoken the truth. it couldn’t possibly move this statue to tears, could it?
The face of sorrow and tears was right before her eyes, droplets falling continuously. It was as if a spring had burst forth, with clear water flowing from the statue, streaming down the giant golden form and collecting into a small puddle on the ground before Zanxing.
Zanxing hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer. The water’s surface was calm like a small mirror, and as she reached out, she felt the warm flow of the water.
In an instant, overwhelming sadness and confusion enveloped Zanxing.
From the mirror-like surface of the water, she saw everything.
She saw Master Jingshan, the Buddhist practitioner, giving up the golden staff under the pleas of the city’s people. Yang Zifeng was thus spared and, as he had claimed, used the grains from his household to aid the people, helping them survive the drought.
The drought ended, and Yang Zifeng gained a reputation for benevolence, while Jingshan was hailed as a compassionate living Buddha. All past grievances were forgiven. People spoke of Jingshan’s great compassion and how Zifeng had repented and turned over a new leaf. Though it was a result of his own wrongdoing, it led to good outcomes. It seemed to be the best arrangement and trial in the world.
But was it truly so?
She saw the Buddhist practitioner standing in the midst of desolation, his gaze filled with anger and sorrow. At times pained, at times unwilling, at times lost, at times hesitant, he ultimately fell silent before the eyes of the world, never speaking again.
He seemed to have truly become a benevolent person who cared for the common people.
He repaired the Liuxuan Temple, avoided crowds, and lived his remaining life in the Yue Mountain. With profound cultivation and a kind heart, he always came forward to address grievances and troubles of others.
He traveled extensively, meeting many different people. His demeanor was calm and expansive, as if he had seen through all the worldly complexities.
He slayed the man-eating beasts that roamed the land, used their bones to build a Buddha tower, and placed a Xie Zhi statue in front of the tower, crafted from his spiritual power. He wandered around the tower every day until he finally attained Nirvana and ascended to heaven.
Every person who entered the Buddha tower had to undergo Xie Zhi’s test. Only those free of sin could become Buddhas, and only they could resolve Xie Zhi’s doubts.
But what exactly was he confused about?
A person who wholeheartedly sought revenge, once a benevolent individual, had to let go of personal grudges and watch his enemies live well before him because he had to save the people of the world. The blood debts were hard to clear, the anger and grief unending. Beneath his always compassionate and gentle face lay extreme unwillingness.
Every night, he repeatedly told himself to let go. All phenomena are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, and shadows, transient as dew and lightning. One should view them as such.
All was illusion.
If all was illusion, why persist?
He grew old, no longer seeking breakthroughs, and eventually reached the moment of Nirvana. He made arrangements for his disciples and entered the Five-Wheels Pagoda alone, where he meditated until his death.
The world says that Master Jingshan’s merits were complete, and he achieved Buddhahood in Nirvana.
But no one knew that, till the moment he closed his eyes, he was still filled with confusion.
It was said that at the moment of Nirvana, all virtues are perfected, and all evils are extinguished. One transcends the suffering of life and death and attains the ultimate bliss of tranquility. He should no longer be aware of pain or feel confusion. So why, even after his death, does he still remain trapped in the suffering of the mortal world, repeatedly recalling the scene of the masses begging under the city walls?
His heart was filled with perplexity and anger. The hidden unwillingness continued to revolve within this Buddha tower, merging with the tower’s essence, and gradually became the final test of the Five-Wheels Pagoda.
A test that was difficult for outsiders to perceive as a trap.
The Eight Sufferings of reincarnation and the mortal world were merely illusions, meant to reveal the final obsession of Master Jingshan.
To save the masses was virtue, leading to Buddhahood.
To kill one person was karma, leading to becoming a demon.
He repeatedly asked the reincarnated practitioners over and over again: the path to Buddhahood or demonhood lies in a single thought.
The enormous golden Buddha sat in the darkness, majestic and serene, compassionately and solemnly observing those who came to weep. In that sorrowful smiling face, it seemed as though there lay hidden the long-standing confusion.
Why not let go? Why the confusion? Why could he not feel peace, and why was he unable to dispel the myriad troubles?
Countless doubts and confusions echoed in the darkness, as if the sounds of a Buddhist chant were coming from afar, like an inescapable incantation, each word imprinted on the heart.
Zanxing looked at the enormous golden Buddha before her: “Are you asking me why I can’t let go?”
The golden Buddha silently gazed back at her.
“Very simple,” Zanxing paused, then slowly spoke, “because I am a mortal.”
Being mortal means experiencing joy and anger, sorrow and fear, love and hatred, obsession and confusion. Mortals face troubles and dilemmas, and they may dwell on past grievances, unable to let them go. This wasn’t ignorance, nor was it sin. It was just the most ordinary human experience.
Jingshan was the same.
Buddhas do not have any confusion, but he was not a Buddha.
He was merely a person.
A pitiful person who could not let go of his hatred.