TMBM Chapter 130: Eat Meat
Before it was bright out, Yaoying was awakened by Xie Qing.
She remembered that today was the day Tumoroga would lead the sutra lecture, so she got up, freshened up, and put on a plain cloth robe. She read a sutra by the flickering candlelight while eating a sesame hubing, reciting it silently.
The sound of bells came from beyond the flower trellis, through the layers of branches and vines, sounding deep and distant.
At the first glimmers of dawn, Yuanjue came over to lead Yaoying to the main hall and nodded in satisfaction when he saw that she was simply dressed. Her long black hair was pinned up with a simple jasper hairpin and she wore no other gold or jade jewelry.
The courtyard where Yaoying lived was in the northeast of the temple, far from the main hall. They passed through several long, airy corridors on the way. She pointed to a far courtyard below and asked curiously, “What is that place?”
These days, she found that the outermost part of the Buddhist temple was filled with many high and low halls and residences. Some were official offices, some were post houses, some were residences, and some were places of retreat for princes and nobles. The courtyard she was staying in belonged to the latter, so technically she did not live in the Buddhist temple and could therefore come and go freely.
The Buddhist temple was a place where the monarchs of the Royal Court practiced, covering a wide area, with monks gathering, soldiers on guard as far as the eye could see, and many people coming to pay homage every day, making it very lively. However, the Buddhist temple had one courtyard that had been continuously vacant. Secluded and desolate, rarely did anyone enter in and out of it.
It was the courtyard at her feet.
Yuanjue followed Yaoying’s line of sight and whispered, “That’s the Hall of Punishment.”
Yaoying did not continue to probe.
She vaguely remembered that Tumoroga had been imprisoned in the Buddhist temple since birth. The princes and nobles wanted to scare him and wear down his spirit, so they deliberately locked him up in the Hall of Punishment until he was thirteen.
The Hall of Punishment was dug out to be one floor lower. The morning light poured down into the gloomy courtyard. It was like falling into a bottomless well, without a single gleam of light, dark and cold.
How uncomfortable would it have been to live in such a place for ten years?
When she approached the main hall, the noise of people entered Yaoying’s ears.
Tumoroga allowed ordinary people to enter the temple to listen to the sermon, regardless of their status and gender. Early in the morning, the pious people gathered under the hall, and there were a lot of people in front of the steps. Even though everyone deliberately lowered their voices, there was still a murmur of talking.
The sermon was about to begin.
The hall was built on top of a platform. It was unlike the Buddhist temples with lingering incense and smoke and liveliness of the Central Plains. Clearly, Buddhism in the Royal Court and Buddhism in the Central Plains each had the inclusion of a lot of local traditions since their original circulation from Tianzhu. The hall’s four walls were painted with exquisite frescoes; it was a large dome of elegant blue flowers. The magnificent hall was empty and clean, surrounded by many narrow passages that two people could walk side by side through.
There was a high platform in the hall, with monks gathered right under the platform. The frontmost left seats shone with gold from the group of noble princes and nobles dressed in luxurious clothes. The hallways were guarded by monk soldiers, and the common people at the bottom of the steps were looking up on tiptoe from time to time.
Yuanjue led Yaoying to her seat in a corner as countless eyes fixed on her. She looked back with a smile, undisturbed and at ease.
The faces of those people stiffened.
Yaoying sat down and looked around. Most of those who looked at her were nobles and the common people. The monks were much calmer and only raised their eyes to look at her for a moment before withdrawing their eyes silently.
The noblewomen squinted at Yaoying and exchanged looks with one another.
Yaoying had her eyes lowered. Her Hu language was not yet good enough to understand the noblewomen’s whispers, so it was just as well that her ears were peaceful.
Not long after, the monks came, flanking Tumoroga.
Yaoying’s eyes grew wide and she didn’t react for a moment.
Tumoroga was walking over, in a wide scarlet kasaya, holding a string of prayer beads in his hand. He walked unhurriedly, floating like an immortal, his expression flat, without a trace of fireworks.
This was the very first time Yaoying saw Tumoroga walking. Her heart could not help but surge with a very strange feeling as her gaze was fixed continually on him.
His posture was tall and straight, his eyes like cold stars, and his temperament clean.
Yaoying thought of his legs, which were swollen and bruised until blackened not long ago. The wide robe covered his figure, and she wondered how his legs had recovered.
Judging from his graceful gait, he should be almost well.
Mondatipa went back to Tianzhu. She did not know what kind of disease Tumoroga was suffering from, but the water anise herb was only simply fighting poison with poison. Hidden problems will definitely develop after long-term consumption.
There were a few coughs and stifled laughs coming from the side. Yuanjue whispered to remind Yaoying: “Princess…”
She was staring at Tumoroga too intently.
Yaoying returned to her senses to find that all the noblewomen in the hall were looking at her. She realized her gaffe and withdrew her eyes.
Tumoroga stood on the high steps of the hall, ascended to his seat, and sat down. He led the monks to begin reciting the scriptures, with a solemn dharma appearance.
The nobles and the people outside the hall were also sitting upright, joining him to chant the scriptures, the crowd speaking in unison, all with a devout appearance.
The Sanskrit words were clear, solemn and respectful, truly moving and shocking.
Yaoying could not help but hold her breath, sitting upright and chanting along with Yuanjue. After they recited the scriptures—that she had memorized skillfully after cramming the past few days—several times over, the chanting stopped.
A young monk walked respectfully to the high platform with a tray of scrolls in his hand. Tumoroga easily extracted a roll, and the young monk’s clear voice read out a name.
One of the monks off to the side rose in response, saluted Tumoroga, and began to ask questions.
Tumoroga replied with a few sentences. The monk frowned in thought, put his palms together, and returned to his seat.
Then Tumoroga drew out another scroll. The young monk looked at the name written on the cloth and read it out. Another monk stood up excitedly and asked questions loudly, speaking quickly. Tumoroga looked calm, but the speed of his answers was not slow at all. The monk kept asking questions, almost aggressively and forcefully, but Tumoroga did not change his face, answering one by one.
In the end, the monk put his palms together with a look of admiration and returned to his seat.
The young monk continued to call the names, and each monk who was named had excitement on their face. They continuously asked questions to Tumoroga, who answered one by one with a calm voice.
Yaoying was confused at this scene.
Yuanjue whispered to her and explained that it was similar to a Buddhist debate. The monks would write their questions on a leather scroll and hand it in. Whoever Tumoroga drew would be able to have a short Buddhist debate with him: about Buddhist teachings, anything and everything, from nothing to everything, the clouds in the sky, the grass on the ground. Everything was fair game.
Yaoying was speechless, braced herself, and continued to listen. The monks and Roga debated in Sanskrit. She did not understand, but both parties in the debate were very quick. Just seeing the expressions of those monks embarrassed, delighted, frustrated, or racking their brains to meditate was also very interesting.
After Tumoroga picked out ten scrolls of names, the young monk removed the tray. The expressions on the faces of the monks off the stage returned to peacefulness, and the atmosphere in the hall became much more relaxed. Roga began to speak the dharma.
He first spoke Sanskrit, then changed to Hu, occasionally sprinkling in another Hu language. His voice was clear and sonorous, his tone mellow, like a jade bead falling on a plate, with a soothing cadence.
The people in and outside the hall all listened with fascination. From time to time, some women bowed their heads and wiped their tears.
Yaoying listened to the story of good and evil karma that Tumoroga was telling, but later she didn’t understand much. Her back was straight, but after sitting on her knees for a long time, her body was aching. She couldn’t help but secretly change her position.
A cold gaze swept over.
Gentle, yet with hidden strength.
Yaoying could not help but jolt. She immediately went honest, not moving a muscle, continuing to listen.
Tumoroga took a look at the top of her dark, shiny hair and shifted his line of sight.
Yaoying did not dare to move this time and sat for another quarter of an hour until the crowd resounded with the rising and falling sound of sighs and their final chants. Everyone got up, respectfully faced Tumoroga with their two palms pressed together, and watched as he descended the tall platform flanked on all sides by monks.
When his lean back disappeared through the door of the temple, Yaoying’s heart was relieved: Was that the end? He wouldn’t check her homework?
It turned out that as long as she sat honestly and listened to the morning sermon, she would be fine.
Yaoying got up and was about to leave when a few shadows came over.