The Gathering (2)
Mount Emei had been given its name for a beauty said to resemble a woman’s graceful eyebrows. Vast enough to be called the sacred ground of the Bodhisattva Samantabhadra, it was renowned as one of Buddhism’s great peaks.
The Emei Sect stood at Fuhu Temple, built upon the mountain’s second summit, Golden Summit Peak. They had deliberately avoided raising any temple upon the main peak, Ten Thousand Buddhas Peak, for that place was regarded as the very crown of Samantabhadra’s head.
The disciples of Emei often said it was only natural that their sect should occupy the second peak—the Bodhisattva’s eyebrow—just as the mountain’s name suggested. Yet when Jinmyung reached Fuhu Temple, a different thought struck him.
Wasn’t it simply too difficult to haul construction materials all the way up to Ten Thousand Buddhas Peak? The mountains of Sichuan are famous for how treacherous they are.
He felt a quiet relief that he would not have to move the stage props himself. Climbing the temple steps and passing through the One-Pillar Gate, he saw the stage already being assembled.
Young disciples of the Emei Sect had gathered in twos and threes to watch the work. Most of them were women.
Emei had never been a sect that accepted only female disciples. But after so many of their male disciples fell in the last war, it had become a place dominated by women. There were still a few tall, striking male disciples among the lay followers, yet the arrival of outside men for the gathering had clearly stirred the women’s curiosity.
“If you keep staring like that, someone will come over to scold you.”
“There are some rather young faces under those freshly shaved heads. Doesn’t quite suit them. I was just a little curious.”
Ak Jun stepped up beside Jinmyung, who stood near the stage. Jinmyung ran a hand over his own head as he answered.
Ak Jun kept looking at that head and added, “Thinking of shaving it clean and entering the temple for real?”
“Mmm…”
Jinmyung’s brow furrowed, the two eyebrows drawing close together. Only Ak Jun could tell that his lord was genuinely considering it.
“I’ll think about it once I’ve found my sister.”
“Right… By the way, did you already talk things over with the divine thief?”
“When we pass through the third gate… you and I switch places under the stage.”
At Jinmyung’s words, Ak Jun glanced up at the sun and muttered, “That would put us around the hour of the Rooster. We’ll only have about half an hour at most… Is that enough time to break the formation?”
Jinmyung nodded. He clapped Ak Jun on the shoulder and said, “Exactly. So you’d better go take a look around first. You supervise the stage setup.”
Without waiting for an answer, Jinmyung walked away. Ak Jun shook his head slowly.
“Still dumping the work on me, I see.”
Jinmyung stood before the Geumjatap of the Emei Sect. It was the same shape he had seen at Shaolin on Mount Song.
The new dynasty’s currency, the yuanbao, was sometimes called horse-hoof silver because of its resemblance to a hoof. To Jinmyung’s eye, however, it looked more like an oval boat.
The Geumjatap itself was built to look like stacked yuanbao, yet where real ingots were silver, these had been gilded. Perhaps that was why it was called the Golden Pagoda.
The ingots rose in four tiers. Just as at Mount Song, the four sides of the lowest tier each bore a single character of the Donghwa Merchant Group’s name.
At Mount Song he had paid them no mind. Even when he climbed Mount Hua he had been so absorbed in the sword debates that he never sought the pagoda out.
But in his final moments, Grandfather had told him—by sound transmission—to seek the Geumjatap.
Whatever Grandfather had hidden inside, it would be there. And whatever it was, Jinmyung was certain it would help him find his sister.
He examined the characters on the second tier: “Gift to the Emei Sect.”
The third tier read: “Bow with all one’s strength.” It meant to humble oneself in respect and pour out every ounce of effort.
Jinmyung felt he already knew what the fourth tier would say without reading it.
“Only after death…”
Si er hou yi—to cease only after death. The phrase carried the resolve never to stop while one still drew breath.
The first and second tiers simply declared that the Donghwa Merchant Group had presented the pagoda to Emei. The third and fourth, however, spoke of a single man.
“Bow with all one’s strength, and only cease upon death” was the line Zhuge Liang, Martial Marquis of Shu, had written in his later memorial on the eve of the northern campaign—his vow to carry out Liu Bei’s dying will for as long as he lived.
Jinmyung had heard that the people of Sichuan had often spoken those same words during the war against the old empire, filling them with the will to fight for as long as they still breathed.
As a gift to the Emei Sect of Sichuan, it was fitting enough. And yet…
“Words are easy. Living them is hard.”
The voice came from nowhere. Jinmyung turned. From behind the cypresses that ringed the Geumjatap, a single nun stepped into view.
She moved so quietly that she seemed one with the ancient cypress at her back. Seeing the kindly smile that lived among the deep wrinkles of age, Jinmyung pressed his palms together in greeting.
“Amitabha… Are you the actor who performs face-changing?”
“Ah, yes. Just a performer with a few small tricks.”
“I am grateful. I never thought I would live to see face-changing again.”
She bowed once more. Jinmyung, faced with a bhikkhuni who looked to be of his grandfather’s generation lowering her head to him, did not know what to do with himself.
“N-no, not at all. If not for those who fought for the new dynasty, how could someone like me ever display such meager skills?”
She smiled again and regarded him with gentle eyes.
“There is no such thing as a meager skill. Have you never heard the tale of the chicken’s crow and the dog’s theft?”
“Ah…”
“Then do not belittle your own craft. When the heart is placed within it, anything can be moved.”
She pressed her palms together once more and left him. Jinmyung watched her go, turning her words over as he looked back at the Geumjatap.
Chicken’s crow, dog’s theft. The phrase was known to mean that even the lowliest talents have their use.
Among the Four Lords of the Warring States, Lord Mengchang was especially famous for keeping a great throng of retainers. Among them were men whose only gifts were crowing like a rooster or mimicking a dog—retainers who seemed utterly useless.
Yet when Lord Mengchang fell into danger, those two stole treasures by barking like dogs and crowed like roosters to fool the soldiers who barred the pass, saving their master’s life.
Jinmyung scratched his head and glanced around. His senses found no one. Of course, they had found no one a moment ago either.
He decided the old nun must be the one who tended the Geumjatap. Alone again, he stared at the pagoda and fretted.
Even if he came during the performance, if a master stronger than himself was guarding the place, he would never be able to trigger the formation. He had not even discovered how to activate it yet, and now another obstacle had appeared.
He took out an iron coin and rolled it across his palm while he thought.
“Hmm… One-Stroke Face Change, was it?”
How long he stood there he could not say. A touch on his shoulder broke the train of thought.
He turned and found Dang Sohye in green robes looking up at him. Jinmyung clasped his hands in greeting.
“Miss Dang Sohye. You startled me.”
“I heard you were over this way. The Geumjatap… how convenient.”
“Pardon?”
“The pagoda donated by the Donghwa Merchant Group of the Master of a Hundred Faces.”
“Yes—anyone can see it’s a tower of stacked yuanbao. I’d only ever heard of it. This is the first time I’ve seen one.”
Jinmyung tried to steer the conversation away from her pointed remark about convenience. Dang Sohye had no intention of letting him slip past.
“You reeled me in with the face of the Master of a Hundred Faces, and now here you are standing in front of the Geumjatap… Just who are you?”
“I am the successor of the Illusion Master… One-Stroke Face Change. It seems I have unsettled the young lady’s heart far too much. Please accept my apology.”
Jinmyung cupped his fist and bowed. Then he pointed to the Geumjatap and continued.
“Those of the great houses may not know, but they say if you offer a prayer at this pagoda before beginning a business, you will never go bankrupt. Since the Dang family has guaranteed our troupe, I thought I should come and pay my respects.”
Dang Sohye tilted her head and studied the pagoda. The pure, wondering look on her face was almost too cute to belong to a poison expert of the Dang Clan.
Jinmyung bowed again and made to leave. He had not taken three steps before her voice stopped him.
“How did the Master of a Hundred Faces make his human-skin masks? Have you ever met him?”
Jinmyung sighed and turned back. His tone grew a little cooler.
“The human-skin masks are a secret art of the Illusion Master; I cannot speak of them. As for whether I have met him…”
Dang Sohye made no effort to hide her curiosity. Seeing that open expression, Jinmyung suddenly felt the urge to tease her.
“That is a matter I cannot answer. Forgive me. Still… I find myself a little envious.”
“E-envious of what?”
“Living as I must behind a mask, when I see how deeply the young lady is interested in the face of the Master of a Hundred Faces… I suppose I feel a touch of jealousy. Are you not the least bit curious about the bare face of One-Stroke Face Change?”
“W-what are you talking about?”
“Ahem. I should go prepare for the performance.”
Jinmyung cupped his fist once more and walked away. Dang Sohye herself may not have noticed, but her face had turned a brilliant scarlet.