Chai Sichang Secures A Marriage At The Mountain Temple Through The Five-Flower Formation; Qin Shubao Falls Into Poverty And Distress On His Journey

A Poem Says:

Do not grieve at falling upon hard times;
Rare talent will find its own matchmaker.
A peacock screen unites a worthy pair;
The phoenix terrace rises to the sound of flutes.
Planting jade brings forth a perfect match;
Arranging the zither reveals uncommon talent.
Male and female shall at last be reunited,
Like dragon swords leaping from the waves.

Encounters and unions in this world are often governed by extraordinary coincidences. Thus, what one deliberately seeks is often less successful than what comes about unexpectedly. The Duke of Tang was a valiant minister of the Sui dynasty, while Lady Dou was a niece of the Zhou imperial house. When the Sui ruler usurped Zhou, she was only seven years old. She had thrown herself beneath a bed and declared:

“How I regret not being born a man, that I might have rescued my uncle from his peril!”

They were an extraordinary husband and wife, and were naturally destined to produce remarkable offspring. They had a daughter who was now sixteen years old. She resembled the younger sister of Sun Quan, who became the wife of Liu Xuande during the Three Kingdoms period. She disliked handling needles and thread, preferring instead to draw bows and wield swords. For this reason, the Duke of Tang and his wife considered her exceptional and wished to find her a worthy husband. There were many suitors at the time, but the duke dismissed them all as mediocre and commonplace, refusing to give his consent lightly. Nevertheless, he was constantly attentive to the matter.

Firm as pine and cypress, pure as ice and jade,
A daughter of noble worth had reached the proper age.
Phoenixes and luan birds do not join common flocks;
Would she follow the frivolous youths of Chang’an?

During his stay at the temple, however, the duke had little opportunity to think about this matter. He spent his days sitting idly, with no official business to occupy his attention and no colleagues or friends with whom to converse. Only Daozong was present to discuss household affairs, and the duke felt exceedingly lonely. Moreover, as an official of high rank, every movement he made brought household guards to attend him and monks to inquire after his wishes. He found this very restrictive.

After enduring two days of such confinement, he decided to stroll through the monks’ quarters and kitchens. He wished to see how many monks the monastery housed, how many rooms it contained, whether its monastic regulations were strictly observed, and whether the monks diligently performed their religious duties.

Unexpectedly, little novice monks were constantly peering through gaps in the fences and lattice doors to watch the duke’s movements. As soon as he began walking toward the covered corridors, they secretly informed the abbot, Wukong. Wukong then followed quietly behind him, ready to answer any questions.

As they approached the kitchens, several temple attendants began shouting and calling out. The abbot waved his hand at them from a distance.

The Duke of Tang reached a certain courtyard and asked:

“The paths and courtyards here wind pleasantly, and the corridors are so clean. What place is this?”

The abbot replied:

“This is the humble monk’s own chamber. May I invite Your Lordship inside for some tea?”

Seeing how attentively the monk treated him, the duke entered the quiet building almost without thinking. It was not an ordinary monk’s sleeping quarters, but a secluded room. Its windows were bright and its tables spotless. Truly, not a speck of dust defiled the place, and all worldly concerns seemed absent.

After Wukong had served tea, he pushed open the lattice shutters. Directly opposite stood a reliquary pagoda, its brilliance dazzling the eyes. It was indeed a remarkable sight.

Turning around, the duke noticed a couplet written upon the screen door:

The precious pagoda rises into the clouds; in one glance, river and sky—how pure and tranquil!
The golden lamp replaces the moon; throughout the worlds of the ten directions—how clear and luminous!

Beside it were written the words:

“Respectfully written by Chai Shao of Fenhe, after purifying his hands.”

The Duke of Tang found the language lofty and elegant and the brushwork vigorous. He nodded appreciatively and asked the abbot:

“Who is this Chai Shao?”

The abbot replied:

“He is the son of Lord Chai of the Ministry of Rites in Fenhe County. His courtesy name is Sichang. He is studying here at the temple. When he saw that the monks had built these two small chambers, he wrote this couplet and presented it to this humble monk, who placed it upon the screen door. Many officials who have visited the temple have praised it.”

The duke nodded and departed, saying to the abbot:

“Venerable sir, please attend to your own affairs.”

The Duke of Tang returned to the meditation hall.

That evening, the moon shone as brightly as daylight. The duke was a man with many concerns, and his enforced stay at the temple was far from his own choosing. How could he readily settle down to rest?

He therefore walked beneath the shadows of the pine trees and returned to the monks’ quarters.

“Has the abbot retired yet?” he asked.

Wukong hurried forward and replied:

“Your Lordship has not yet retired. How would this humble monk dare go to bed?”

The Duke of Tang said:

“The moonlight is exceedingly beautiful. I cannot bear to waste such clear radiance.”

The abbot replied:

“Beside the temple there is a level ridge from which one can admire the moon. Would Your Lordship care to take a short walk?”

The duke said:

“That would be delightful.”

The abbot called for a young attendant to carry a lantern ahead of them.

The duke said:

“With such splendid moonlight, there is no need for a lantern.”

The abbot replied:

“I fear the bamboo paths may be uneven and difficult to walk.”

The Duke of Tang said:

“When we generals go on campaign, we often travel mountain paths in darkness. This is scarcely any distance at all. Even with the shadows of flowers and bamboo, what need have we of a lantern? I need only trouble you to lead the way. There is no need for attendants.”

The abbot obeyed and led him onward.

Instead of returning to the room where tea had been served during the day, the duke passed through a small side gate and followed a secluded bamboo path up an earthen ridge.

There he saw the moon suspended in the heavens, without a single cloud to mar its brilliance. The corners of the temple roofs pointed toward the sky, while the shadow of the pagoda stretched across the ground. Distant mountains appeared faintly, and trees in the wilderness stood in hazy darkness. All was silent and deserted, save for the barking of village dogs answering one another, completing the night scene.

The duke admired the view for some time and was about to descend the ridge when he noticed a faint red lamplight beyond a bamboo grove and heard the sound of someone reciting aloud.

He asked:

“Venerable sir, are the monks reciting their evening lessons?”

The abbot replied:

“Because Her Ladyship has recently given birth, and we fear her health may still be delicate, instructions have been passed down among the monks to suspend the evening services for the time being.”

The duke nodded.

They walked around a bend in the ridge and came upon several open-fronted rooms. The duke stopped.

“That does not sound like the recitation of scriptures,” he said.

The abbot replied:

“That is where Young Master Chai studies. The couplet Your Lordship saw during the day was written by him.”

Hearing that the young man’s voice was clear and resonant, the Duke of Tang took the abbot by the hand and walked quietly toward the study.

Peering through a gap in the window, he saw a handsome youth seated beneath a lamp. His face was as fair as though powdered, and his lips as red as vermilion. A precious sword lay across his writing desk, and he was reciting aloud.

What he studied, however, was not the Confucian teaching of Confucius and Mencius, but the military writings of Sunzi and Wuzi.

When he had finished reading, he drew his sword and began to practice, appearing utterly unconcerned with the presence of anyone else.

After completing his sword movements, he placed the weapon upon the desk and called:

“Chai Bao! Bring me some tea!”

A heart filled with heroic spirit—
To whom can he speak in his secluded dwelling?
The Qingping Sword is his closest friend;
Striking iron, he expresses his extraordinary thoughts.

Hearing this, the Duke of Tang immediately turned and descended the steps, secretly delighted.

He thought:

“In peaceful times, literary learning is esteemed; in troubled times, martial ability is needed. In the present world, what use is there in merely reciting quotations from the Book of Songs and the sayings of Confucius? Only a man who possesses both kinds of talent, who can mount his horse to strike down rebels and dismount to compose proclamations of victory, would truly be worthy of my daughter. Moreover, should I encounter danger or difficulty, such a man could also come to my assistance.”

As they passed through the corridor, he said to the abbot:

“From what I have seen, this young man possesses an extraordinary appearance. He is certain to accomplish great things in the future. I have a daughter who has reached marriageable age. She is dignified and reserved in speech, but has not yet found a suitable husband. I should like to trouble you, venerable sir, to act as matchmaker and arrange a marriage between our two families.”

The abbot bowed respectfully and replied:

“Since Your Lordship has instructed me, this humble monk shall gladly undertake the matchmaker’s duty. Tomorrow morning, I shall invite Young Master Chai to meet Your Lordship. Once you have heard him converse, you will know his qualities.”

The Duke of Tang said:

“That would be excellent.”

He returned to the meditation hall, while the monk took his leave.