When I became aware, I was already in his warm palm.
He lowered his gaze to look at me, his eyes clear yet detached, shining like the moon.
His thin, pale lips curved into a sorrowful smile, and I vaguely heard his voice gently wafting through the air: “Bi thu tương tuế vãn, phồn lộ dĩ thành sương.”
His voice was gentle and clear, like a slow melody in the world, drifting like clouds, somewhat languid and unhurried.
After that, I fell back asleep amidst his steady chanting.
When I woke up, I was still in his palm.
He told me I had fallen from the sky; while he was meditating, I had fallen into his right palm, which rested on his knee.
At that time, he was gently chanting in Sanskrit, then, as if sensing something, when he opened his eyes, he saw me awakening to consciousness, and thus I became a little demon with a Buddha-nature.
He said my true form was like mist and water; even after tapping his bald head several times, he still couldn't figure out if I was morning mist or flower dew. Finally, he decided to call me Phồn Lộ, the "phồn lộ" from the line “phồn lộ dĩ thành sương.”
To this day, I have been born and raised at his Buddhist abode.
Every day, he chanted sutras, then copied sutras, only occasionally speaking a few words to me.
Even so, I still couldn't speak.
When meditating, he always placed me in his palm.
I looked into those half-closed eyes, at his long, slender eyelashes, my heart hoping that in the next moment he would open his eyes, his sparkling, ink-black pupils would move, turn towards me, and gently smile.
On days when I couldn't see the sun or the moon, I had only one hope: that he would temporarily stop his boring daily tasks, use that deep voice to whisper something to me, even though I wouldn't fully understand it.
No one knew that Linh Jun – this teenage monk, who seemed gentle and taciturn at first glance – was, in private, when alone, a chatterbox, a babbler.
At least when facing me, he would maintain a babbling demeanor.
It wasn't until much later, at this ancient temple of immeasurable merit, that I diligently meditated and cultivated, finally able to transform into human form.
But because my cultivation was still low, my body was barely an inch tall.
And now, Linh Jun had also shed his naive teenage appearance of yesteryear; he wore monastic robes, his character as calm and stable as water.
Not long after, he suddenly decided to descend the mountain, bidding farewell to this ancient temple deep in the mountains. He took me with him, stepping into the mortal world to experience the path of an ascetic monk.
At that time, I never would have dreamed that this time he brought me to the bustling, vibrant human world to witness all the seven emotions and six desires, would completely make me lose myself.
Suzhou is a fine place.
Linh Jun and I had been staying here for over three months.
In retrospect, it had been three years since we descended the mountain, and this was the first time we had stayed in one place for so long.
The reason was that the abbot of the temple where Linh Jun and I were temporarily staying continuously wanted us to stay, perhaps because too many people came to the temple to hear Linh Jun preach Buddhist sutras, or perhaps because the spring rain continued endlessly, keeping Linh Jun and me here.
And today, the persistent rain finally stopped.
At the temple gate, the old abbot, clad in a red kasaya, his beard grizzled, yet his mind remained sharp and his body robust. He pressed his palms together before his chest, uttered "Amitabha Buddha," and said, "Master Ling Jun has resolved to depart, and it would be improper for this old monk to hold you back. I only hope that in the future, Master Ling Jun may return here to discuss the Dharma with this old monk."
Ling Jun nodded slightly and replied gently, "Ling Jun thanks the abbot for the shelter and care provided these past days. If fate allows, I will certainly return to your esteemed temple in the future."
The abbot smiled kindly, then looked at me, who was in Ling Jun's arms, and said, "Young patron Fan Lu, the path ahead is long and arduous, with high mountains and vast rivers. Along the way, remember to forge many good connections and strive diligently in your cultivation. By then, this small body of yours will have grown to the height of an adult."
I looked at the old abbot's compassionate face and nodded very solemnly in agreement with him.
At that moment, I truly resolved to heed the abbot's words: to widely cultivate good connections and diligently practice cultivation.
And so, Ling Jun, leaning on a bamboo staff with one hand and wearing cloth shoes, carried me as he stepped deeper and deeper into the mortal world.
I asked him, "Why must we go?"
He replied, "We go because of the suffering in the human realm."
But at the time we discussed this, neither he nor I knew that some choose the path of delivering all sentient beings, dedicating their hearts to the world, yet ultimately betray themselves.
For since ancient times, the sorrows and sufferings of the world have been deeply rooted in the lives of every individual. Through countless vicissitudes, those entangled in them sink into perdition, while those who depart step into the cycle of reincarnation.