Qin Shubao Rescues The Duke Of Tang On The Road; Lady Dou Gives Birth To An Imperial Prince In A Temple (3)

The temple’s abbot was named Wukong. Upon hearing the request, he hurriedly ordered the bells and drums to be sounded and assembled all the monks to welcome the visitors outside the mountain gate.

He ordered the novice attendants to clean the abbot’s quarters and prepare the kitchen. Meanwhile, he put on his monastic robe, took incense in his hand, and led the monks out of the temple to receive the duke.

The Duke of Tang ordered his family’s carriages and baggage vehicles to halt outside the temple while he entered first.

There he saw:

Foundations firm for a thousand years,
Majestic halls standing through ten thousand ages.

On either side of the mountain gate
Stood the Four Heavenly Kings who govern wind and rain.
In the central Buddha Hall
Sat three great holy figures of past and future.

Splendid vermilion windows
Were delicately carved with sunflowers and pomegranates.
Red walls and silver-white surfaces
Were painted with mountains and waters, near and distant.

Within the Guanyin Hall,
Ancient bronze vases held golden lotus blossoms.
Within the Arhat Hall,
White jade cups contained limpid water.

Mountain apes presented fruit;
Hearing the golden scriptures, they attained deliverance.
Wild deer carried flowers in their mouths;
Listening to the sacred teachings, they escaped karmic hindrances.

Ten thousand rays of golden light reached into the heavens;
A thousand streams of auspicious vapor enveloped the sky.

A later poet composed these verses in its praise:

The Buddha Hall, like a dragon palace, bears banners of jade;
Among men it is rightly called a place of cool serenity.
Before its terraces, auspicious clouds gather three thousand zhang high;
Within its chambers, a million rays of light forever shine.

Even the fires of a cosmic calamity could scarcely destroy it;
The fiercest heavenly winds could do it no harm.
Since Heaven and earth were first established,
It has endured through countless kalpas in the world below.

Upon reaching the main hall, folding chairs were placed on either side, and the monks paid their respects to the Duke of Tang.

He ordered them to lead the household guards to inspect the abbot’s quarters and temporarily vacate the nearby monks’ rooms. Only then did he have his family brought inside, after which the inner gate was securely shut.

The duke himself settled in the meditation hall.

He thought:

“If those men were merely bandits, they have already suffered a defeat and will not dare return. But if they truly were sent by the Eastern Palace, they may be unwilling to abandon their purpose and could attack again.”

He therefore ordered his household guards to patrol inside and outside the temple as a precaution against unforeseen danger.

He himself sat reading beneath a lamp, with his sword close at hand.

He did not know that the attackers had already removed the paint and powder from their faces, changed their clothing, and reassembled in the mountain forest. Toward evening, they had returned to the capital. How could they possibly come back?

As for Yuwen Shu and the Crown Prince, their scheme had failed, and they had already lost interest in it. Fortunately for them, Li Yuan did not know the truth; otherwise, they would have become a laughingstock.

Moreover, the men had reported that they had killed and wounded many of Li Yuan’s household guards and reduced him to a thoroughly wretched condition. Thinking that they had humiliated him sufficiently to satisfy their resentment, Yuwen Shu and the Crown Prince finally let the matter drop.

But the Duke of Tang was like a bird startled by the mere twang of a bowstring and still dared not relax his vigilance.

He remained seated until the second watch of the night. Just as he was beginning to yawn, he suddenly detected an extraordinary fragrance filling his nostrils.

He hurriedly examined the Boshan incense burner upon the table, but its smoke had already dispersed and its fire had gone out.

What was strange was that the fragrance had initially seemed faint and barely perceptible, but gradually it grew stronger until the entire hall was filled with a rich perfume.

He sent someone to examine the Buddha Hall, but the messenger returned to report that no incense was burning in the censers there either.

Finding this exceedingly strange, the Duke of Tang stepped into the courtyard.

He saw auspicious stars and fortunate clouds shining brilliantly in the heavens. Radiant clouds of good omen glimmered and swirled, while propitious mist curled through the air.

Behind the meditation hall, it transpired, the Purple Tenuity Star was descending into the mortal world. Though the divine being had not yet departed from the Tushita Heaven, its fragrance already filled the sky and had begun to emerge from its mother’s womb.

While the duke was still gazing upward, the household guard stationed at the inner gate suddenly arrived to announce that his wife had given birth to their second son.

It was the first year of Renshou, on the sixteenth day of the eighth month, at the hour of the Rat.

The Duke of Tang hurriedly sent a message through the gate to inquire after his wife’s health.

The reply explained that, when she had first heard of bandits obstructing the road, she had inevitably been frightened. Later, when the bandits attacked and she was ordered to retreat to a populated place, the hurried journey had subjected her to further jolting. This had brought on her labor.

Fortunately, both mother and child were safe.

The Duke of Tang was greatly relieved.

At daybreak, he entered the Buddha Hall and paid his respects before the Tathagata.

The household guards all entered the meditation hall, bowed, and asked after his well-being. The abbot led the monks in presenting a formal congratulatory note written on red paper.

The Duke of Tang said:

“My wife has given birth while residing here, defiling the Buddha’s pure sanctuary. The fault belongs to this humble official. What cause is there for congratulations?”

He immediately ordered his household guards to fetch ten taels of silver and give them to the abbot, instructing him to purchase ample quantities of agarwood, sandalwood, and other fragrant incense. These were to be burned in all the temple halls to dispel the impurity associated with childbirth.

He then said to the abbot:

“I had intended to depart immediately, but my wife has only just given birth and cannot endure the hardships of travel. What would you say if I asked to remain in your temple for several more days?”

The abbot replied:

“Our humble temple is crude and dilapidated, scarcely suitable for accommodating persons of noble rank. Fortunately, it is spacious. If Your Lordship wishes to remain, there would be no difficulty in allowing your wife to complete her month of confinement here.”

The Duke of Tang said:

“I fear that we would cause you undue trouble.”

He instructed his household guards not to go outside and cause disturbances or harass anyone within the temple.

Then he said to the abbot:

“I observe that, although this temple is magnificent, many parts have fallen into disrepair. I should like to see them restored.”

The abbot replied:

“We monks have long wished to undertake such work. But even minor repairs would require a thousand taels of silver, while a complete restoration would cost no less than ten thousand. We have been unable to find a wealthy patron on short notice. Although several gentlemen who frequently visit us have written their names in our subscription register, we monks dare not press them for their contributions. For this reason, we have not ventured to begin the work.”

The Duke of Tang said:

“Then I shall become your principal patron. You need not trouble yourself to solicit the money from me. As soon as I reach Taiyuan, I shall send someone to deliver it.”

He immediately had ink prepared and dipped his fine brush deeply into it.

The abbot hurriedly presented a large register bound in red silk woven with gold.

The Duke of Tang opened it and wrote a line:

“Li Yuan, a devout official, gladly contributes ten thousand taels of silver for the reconstruction of Yongfu Temple and the remaking of all the gilded sacred images in its halls.”

The monks stretched their necks to read what he had written. Every one of them bit his finger in amazement and stuck out his tongue.

But some began privately thinking:

“I wonder who will be appointed to purchase the timber and who will supervise the construction? Surely there will be an opportunity to take a little extra from the accounts.”

Others said:

“Look at those men who contribute not a single coin, yet are so fond of opening subscription registers and writing down donations of hundreds or thousands! When has anyone ever seen them hand over a penny? Once construction begins, we must find a powerful patron to oversee matters, and then we have to offer him great sums. His attendants and household stewards will all make demands of their own. Never mind ten thousand taels—even if he had promised only five hundred, who would dare go and press such a great man’s feet for payment?”

They indulged in these idle speculations for some time.

Early the following morning, the monks prepared four trays of incense and invited the Duke of Tang to burn incense in each of the temple halls. They rang bells and beat drums, attending to him with every possible courtesy.

From that time onward, the Duke of Tang remained in the temple day after day, intending to resume his journey only when his wife’s month of confinement had ended.

What happened afterward remains to be seen.