Mingmei Yip - Song of the Silk Road

The monk spoke. “You’re lucky. Tonight the moon will be big and full, so I feel generous to share. These”—his fingers caressed the crystals—“are the Buddha’s relics, or sharira .”

“But… didn’t the Buddha live more than two thousand years ago? So how… can this be possible?” I asked, though I did feel a strong connection with the sharira .

“Our temple was destroyed by the red guards during the Cultural Revolution. To save the treasures, my master and two of his disciples disguised themselves as farmers and carried them up here to hide them. In the past, we didn’t even have stairs. It was only two years ago that Pure Wisdom built them, but due to the constant strong wind there’s nothing much left.”

“Were the stairs built for visitors?”

“No. One time I hurt my leg, so he built them to ease my climb.”

“Then how did your master climb up here?”

“We all practice martial arts since childhood. Have you heard of the ‘floating martial arts’ or the ‘lizard kung fu’?”

“I’ve seen them in Hong Kong kung fu movies.”

“Ha, those are fakes, but what we practice is real. Or surreal when you actually see it. Tomorrow I’ll ask Pure Wisdom to perform for you.”

“Thank you, I’d really love to see it.”

“Everybody does. Today I’ve let you see more than I should, and you’ve accumulated lots of merits by glimpsing the two most valuable treasures here. You might even gain some supernatural power from their aura.”

Floating Cloud wrapped up the statue, put it inside the box, and carefully placed it back on the shelf. After that, he gestured for me to leave. We both bowed, but my feet dragged as I was reluctant to separate from the strong, soothing energy of the Buddha.

After the library visit, I found Floating Cloud not only much less intimidating but also much more appealing. I was starting to like this square-jawed floating cloud and his secret chamber.

Sitting on the skimpy mattress in my room, I was finally left alone to reflect on this weird temple and the even weirder Floating Cloud. Since he was manly, he shouldn’t be hard to seduce. But still, I’d known him for less than twenty-four hours. Was there a skillful Dao of Seduction that seemed artless and spontaneous?

I hoped the sex part would not be too painful or perverse. Although since my teens I’d tried a few daring poses with my different boyfriends, I’d never heard of this hanging-upside-down-lotus, and the upside down part made me nervous. Back in New York, I’d looked it up at the New York Public Library and found a description of this posture in the two-hundred-year-old Erotic Art of China. The book, a sex manual referred to as The Spring Palace Pictures, was supposedly meant to educate newlyweds in the art of the bedchamber. For each pose there was a picture and a poem. The one for hanging-upside-down-lotus read:

To prepare myself for my performance of this alternate “lotus” position—definitely different from the meditative one—I tried to memorize the poem until I gradually fell into a troubled sleep.

The following morning, during the simple breakfast of vegetable buns, soup, and soy milk, I told the two monks I was not feeling well and asked if they could kindly let me stay for a few more days.

Floating Cloud gulped down his last drop of soup. “Of course. Stay as long as you want. Later Pure Wisdom will go to the city to get more food and also medicine for you.”

I turned to the young monk. “I’m so sorry to trouble young Shifu .”

“No trouble, Miss Chen.” He smiled demurely. “I love going to the market.” Then he blushed, as if realizing he’d just said something inappropriate.

Floating Cloud cast his disciple a chiding glance, then turned back to me. “Pure Wisdom is only nineteen, still a boy who loves to play. But he’s also a good boy who works hard and does the errands here.”

Then, I wondered, why had he become a monk? But I swallowed the question together with a big mouthful of my bun.

The master studied me hard. “After breakfast, you rest for a while, then come join us for our morning practice.”

I was eager to learn more about the monks and their rituals, but I had to feign sickness, at least for a while, so I said, “Thank you, Master, I’d love to join you two, but I’m really exhausted.”

It was the first time that Floating Cloud’s eyes adopted a tender look. “Of course, then go back to sleep. If you’re feeling better later, come for our afternoon practice.”

Back inside my room, I sat on the bed, took out Mindy Madison’s document, and stared at her instructions:

Seduce the monk and have sex with him in the “hanging-upside-down-lotus” position. If he screams “Oomarulang” during climax, he is the right one. Other instruction follows.

Feeling a headache coming, I drank water, then inhaled deeply to calm myself. As I tried to settle my spinning mind, I wondered, what did I think I was doing. Was I really going to have strange sex with a stranger monk in a dilapidated temple on a mountain with no stairs?

My better judgment told me I should sneak away from the temple right now and end the whole thing. But alas, I felt so paranoid that I couldn’t even pull myself up from the bed!

I’d fallen deeply asleep when I heard gentle knocks on the door. It was Pure Wisdom.

“Miss Chen, Master invites you to join us for afternoon meditation.”

I thanked the young monk, then followed him to the main room, where Floating Cloud said we’d all go outside to do walking meditation.

“That will do your troubled mind good, Miss Chen.”

He could tell my mind was troubled? Could he also tell that I was going to seduce him?

Thank God that the walking meditation in the fresh air was very pleasant and somewhat soothed my tortured nerves. Floating Cloud taught me how to put my hands together in the form of a lotus bud. “Imagine this is your beginner’s mind, which sees the world with fresh eyes.”

I liked this idea of the beginner’s mind, and the lotus bud was easy to form and looked very elegant. However, it also seemed the right moment to signal that I was attracted to him. So I feigned difficulty forming the correct hand placement and Floating Cloud was obliged to demonstrate by touching and even holding my hand. Although the monk kept his face adamantly emotionless, I could feel the heat emanating from his strong torso. I also noticed the big beads of perspiration forming on his forehead. Good, my message had been successfully sent!

The teenage Pure Wisdom seemed to be completely oblivious of what was going on in this sex-tinged meditation. Maybe his young mind was filled with the wicked pleasures of the marketplace—tasty, forbidden meat, washed down with a bottle of chilled beer!

Minutes later we arrived at a big boulder, shaped, surprisingly, like a sitting Buddha.

Floating Cloud said, “When my master escaped to this mountain, the first thing he saw was this boulder. He knew right away that here was where his karma would unfurl, and that of his disciples.” The monk pointed to the view below. “Now they’re over there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Master passed away a few years ago at the age of one hundred and three, outliving one of his two disciples. Their ashes were scattered in the wind.”