Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The seventh month of the lunar calendar, the eve of the Ghost Festival.

I received several groups of Lin Family members who came to Daoqing Temple to burn incense.

First was my father, Lin Cheng.

A wealthy big boss, he liked to come alone to offer incense.

Back then, whenever he came, Abbot Hongyi would personally accompany him to pay respects to the Buddha.

After I moved to Yunli Nunnery, that duty fell to me.

Entering the hall, he bowed three times; taking incense between his fingers, he chanted ten invocations. He was deeply devout.

In Daoqing Temple’s Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva Hall, memorial tablets for my maternal grandfather’s family are also enshrined.

Every time he came, he would make sure to pay his respects there.

My father often said that when he started his business as a young man, it was rough.

He first met my mother while running sales calls and ended up at my grandfather’s building materials factory.

In the sweltering heat, he nearly fainted from the temperature. At the pump well in the workshops, he gulped down several ladles of cold water.

My mother saw him and was dumbfounded.

Later, when they started dating, he was determined to build a career worthy of her.

He followed my grandfather to learn the building materials trade, spent years on the road, and ate every hardship there was to eat.

Once he’d learned the ropes, he opened his own factory, then a company.

My grandfather helped him a great deal and admired this capable, driven young man.

When business began to pick up, he married my mother.

Later, the company hit its stride and took on a lot of projects. He left early and came home late every day, with endless drinking banquets.

In the world of business, they’d invite people out to all kinds of foot-massage clubs and the like.

After a while, my mother grew suspicious, and the fights began.

Not long after I was born, they went through a serious marital crisis and almost divorced.

My father said, I’m not like your mother. Your grandfather had money, and only two children-your mother and your Little Uncle.

But our family background was ordinary. I had many younger siblings. Just putting a few of them through college left us flat broke.

Your Third Uncle and your Eldest Aunt both had good grades back then, but with no money at home, they dropped out before finishing middle school and went to work.

I was the eldest. I had to lead them to make something of ourselves. There was no other way.

Your mother always picked fights with me over small things.

After enough fights, even your grandfather and your Little Uncle started complaining.

They felt like our family was a pheasant that had fluttered up onto a branch, bullying your mother now that we’d risen.

She wanted a divorce, and I agreed.

When we got to the civil affairs bureau, she backed out.

Back and forth, never-ending.

I met your Aunt Chen outside. I wronged your mother, but I never wronged your grandfather’s family.

When your Little Uncle’s business went under and trouble hit their household, I was the one who helped support them afterward.

Dad did his best.

At that time, your mother was already upset, and when she discovered the existence of your Aunt Chen and your younger sister, she insisted on a divorce.

…

Lin Cheng talked for a long time. In the end, he said, “Only at my age have I figured it out: everyone has their own karma and their own blessings in this life. It all depends on your own cultivation. No one is born unlucky; every hardship has a cause. So what isn’t yours shouldn’t be forced.”

I spun the prayer beads in my hand. “Amitabha. Benefactor, you’re right.”

A few days later, my Second Uncle’s daughter and three cousins from my Eldest Aunt’s and Youngest Aunt’s families-four girls in total-came to Daoqing Temple to burn incense.

They wore plain white dresses and qipao, long hair down, delicate light makeup, poised and elegant.

Oh, and they brought a professional photographer. In the glow of sunset, against the temple’s yellow walls and by the vegetarian refectory, they posed with sutras, or burned incense, or sipped tea.

Ethereal, otherworldly-pure Buddhist chic with a whiff of sensuality.

At the end, they beamed as they scrolled through the photos, debating which to post on their socials.

Only my cousin Lin Jia said little, looking weighed down by worry.

So I asked, “What’s wrong, Jiajia?”

Before Lin Jia could answer, my Eldest Aunt’s daughter cut in first: “What else could it be? She got dumped.”

“Don’t talk nonsense.”

“Who’s talking nonsense? That son from the Qin Family who came back from overseas-didn’t you have your eye on him? Even went asking around. Think you can measure up? He came back to marry Wu Yufei.”

“I didn’t have my eye on him.”

“Tch. Whether you did, you know best. Are you dumb? Isn’t Wu Yufei your classmate? Do you know her family background? The whole clan is in politics, and her uncle’s the top dog. You think Qin Yue would choose you?”

“Can you not? What’s it to you? Why do you have so much to say?”

…

By the time they left, still squabbling, night had fallen.

I happened to have an unread message on my phone.

It was from Qin Yue.

He said he was going to drive over and asked me to come out to see him.

Men are so two‑faced-saying they have no interest in nuns, yet showing up again and again to find me.

On the outer ring road of Zhushan Scenic Area, we met countless times afterward.

We shared a cigarette. The car filled with the familiar scent of tobacco, mingled with the faint incense of my robes.

His hand rested on my waist; he chuckled, practiced and easy. “Aren’t you supposed to be vegetarian? You’re not any skinnier.”

I smiled. “You like them skinny?”

“No. I like you like this-wild.” In the dim wash of the dashboard lights, his gaze was playful.

I asked, “Aren’t you afraid of the gods?”

Qin Yue scoffed. “There’s no Buddha in this world. It’s because people have too many ghosts in their hearts that gods appear.”

Then he pinched my cheek and asked if I had ghosts in my heart.

I nodded honestly. Yes. Plenty.

He laughed, full and unrestrained, then leaned to my ear. “Sister, then let’s go to hell-together.”

Let the Buddha watch, then.

He wasn’t afraid. Neither was I.

If we were going to hell, the revelry beforehand ought to be more thorough.

I pulled a coat over my monastic robe, put on a bucket hat, and wore lipstick.

Qin Yue took me hiking, wandering through night markets, to the central square to watch old ladies doing their group dances.

In the park, when the musical fountain surged, I ran into the spray, shrieking and dodging as the water jets fanned out and drenched me.

Qin Yue came to pull me out, his hair wet and dripping.

I laughed without restraint and told him I wasn’t afraid of getting my hair wet.

Because I f*cking don’t have hair.

He laughed just as hard, eyes flashing as he looked me over. “If you f*cking had hair, you wouldn’t be throwing yourself at me.”

…

I was wrong-Qin Yue hasn’t changed at all.

In his bones, he’s still cruel and swaggering.

Someone like him should never have had anything to do with me, and yet here we are, tangled up together.

Falling, with effortless ease and abandon.

He said I was retaliating against my dad. He was different-he was retaliating against me.

I didn’t understand what he meant until the day he took me to an upscale restaurant for steak.

There was a piano in the dining room. He lifted his gaze and signaled for me to go play a piece.

I smiled and refused, but he insisted, tugged me over, and called out The Blue Danube by name.

On the polished lid of the piano, a woman’s reflection appeared.

A camel-colored, long trench coat. Short hair to the jawline.

Bright eyes and white teeth, a smile that carried a flirtatious tilt.

Who would know this was a nun in a wig?

The nun sat down and played again.

The melody of The Blue Danube slipped through my fingers, as practiced as ever.

When I finished, I was surprised to see Zhang Zhiyuan was also in that restaurant.

He and my younger sister, Lin Zhi, stood up together, staring at me in stunned disbelief.

Then, with everyone watching, Qin Yue smiled-loose, insolent-pinched my chin, and kissed me.

People in the restaurant clapped and cheered.

Qin Yue laughed in my ear. “Back then I was so jealous-why couldn’t I be the one sitting beside you? Look, now it’s come true.”

“Why aren’t you smiling, big sister? You smiled so bright back then. I’m ready to go to hell with you-you should smile for me…”

I didn’t smile, and I didn’t look at Zhang Zhiyuan or Lin Zhi.

I met Qin Yue’s eyes, wrapped my arms around his waist, and leaned in to kiss him.

“Qin Yue, I love you.”

…

The weather was turning cold.

In the back courtyard of Yunli Nunnery, in the vegetarian quarters, I boiled water to brew tea.

By my count, it had been two months since I last saw Qin Yue.

The last time was the day my cousin and the others came to burn incense.

Later that day, I went to see him.

On the mountain path north of Zhushan Scenic Area, Qin Yue pulled me uphill.

Autumn was barren. There wasn’t a soul around, and the trail was rough.

We ended up at a pavilion halfway up the mountain.

The wind rose. Qin Yue, in a black overcoat, rested a hand on the railing and tried to light a cigarette.

He failed a few times in a row; beneath his messy long hair, impatience gathered between his brows.

I stepped up and took the lighter.

He glanced sideways at me, arched a brow, and straightened.

I stood in his arms, tucked into the windbreak made by his coat. He lowered his head; I rose on tiptoe, cupping the weak flame with my palm, and lit the cigarette between his lips.

Qin Yue’s eyes were like deep, dark pools. Once he finally got it lit, he took two quick drags, then suddenly pinched it out and pulled me into his chest.

“Come here. Warm up.”

It was chilly, and my robe wasn’t lined. The tip of my nose must have gone red from the cold.

He held me from behind; the coat was very warm.

Along with the firm beat of his heart, there was his unique, clean scent, and a faint hint of wood.

I looked quietly out at the view beyond the pavilion and said slowly, “Don’t come looking for me anymore.”

He buried his face in the crook of my neck and chuckled. “Why?”

“You’re about to get married. From now on, let’s each go back to where we belong.”

“We were where we belonged to begin with. You came after me first, remember?”

“Mm. So let me be the one to end it, too. We’re done.”

“You don’t get to say when.”

He laughed softly again. “Since you started this, as long as I’m not tired of the game, you don’t have the right to call it off.”

“So you know it’s a game. Playing around is one thing, but if it starts to bleed into real life, that’s no good. Climbing into the Wu Family wasn’t easy. If it all goes up in flames, it’s not worth it.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“You could say that.”

“When the city gates burn, the fish in the moat get cooked. Worst case, we all go down together. You think I’m afraid?”

“Qin Yue, don’t be childish.”

“Childish?”

He gave a cold laugh, turned me to face him, eyes full of mockery. “You think I don’t know what’s in your head? You got close because you were hoping I’d pull you out of the fire. I’m not that useless Zhang Zhiyuan. You know I can do it. So from the start, you were using me, weren’t you?”

“Yes. You can save me. Would you?”

“Lin Wei, you’re not that f*cking important. What makes you so sure about my feelings? Why should I offend the Lin Family for you-just because I slept with you? We were clear from the start. I wouldn’t do anything for you and I wouldn’t promise you a damn thing…”

He talked too much. Every word jabbed at my chest, and it grated on me.

I hooked an arm around his neck and shut him up with a kiss.

The wind was fierce. In that pavilion, we kissed with reckless abandon.

His temper hadn’t cooled; he bit me hard, vindictively.

The faint taste of blood lingered. I let out a muffled sound, and finally heard him growl in anger, “Why do I keep falling into your hands?”

After that day, Qin Yue didn’t come looking for me again.

While I was chanting sutras at the nunnery, I once asked Venerable Huiming, “Why do so many rich people believe in the Buddha?”

The Abbess said, “Buddhism teaches impermanence. Impermanence is suffering. Those who spin in the worlds of business and fame can more readily empathize with and understand the Dharma.”

I said, “So the masses don’t necessarily truly believe. They just want spiritual refuge.”

“Perhaps.”

“Then will the Buddha answer every doubt the masses have?”

“Yes. The Buddha reveals the truth of this world and of every life.”

I sat in meditation before her and smiled. “Master, don’t lie to me.”

“Amitabha. This poor nun does not lie.”

“Good. One last thing-Jingyin wants to ask Master: the Buddha doesn’t favor anyone, does he?”

“Correct. The Buddha only forgives and shows beings the path to liberation and redemption.”

“All right. Master, remember this-one day, I will build a Yunli Nunnery as grand as Daoqing Temple and present it to you and your Buddha.”

“Amitabha.”