Mingmei Yip - Song of the Silk Road

“No, thanks.” I smiled. “I’m Christian.”

“Christian? No good. You’re Chinese. Should be either Buddhist or Daoist. Christian only one god, no use.”

I would have been offended by this remark had I not found him likable and his comment amusing. “Why is it no use?”

He pointed to the many paintings on the wall and introduced each. “Mother Empress of the West, Heaven Emperor, Hell Emperor, Jade Emperor, General of Thunder, God of Happiness, God of Rank, God of Affluence, God of Longevity….”

“Wow.” So many deities in Chinese culture. Now I was grateful that my mother had me baptized as a Christian, so I didn’t have to be bossed around by so many gods but just One. As a free spirit, I had always tried to avoid authorities by drifting around rules like water flowing between rocks.

The man smiled. “See, miss? When you have troubles, there are all these gods and goddesses to look after you. You think your God can do a good job all by Himself, with no assistance?”

I chuckled. “Maybe you’re right. I’ve never thought of that.” Then I said, “I’m looking for Master Soaring Crane. Is he here?”

He widened his eyes to scrutinize me, then winked. “Miss, what kind of fortune you want—career, success, drop-onto-your-lap fortune….” He looked up at me. “Or maybe romance?”

I wanted to say, “That’s none of your business,” but stopped myself since he was friendly and comical. A clown, even if a bored and probably lonely one.

“So, that means the master is here?”

“Yes.” He signaled to the back of the room where there was an exit I had not noticed. “But he rarely sees clients now, since he doesn’t need any more money. He’s rich.”

Rich? Living in this run-down place? But I asked, “So is he involved in some other business?”

He chuckled. “No, from donation, big ones.”

“How?”

“Let me tell you, young miss.”

“My name is Lin. Please go ahead.”

“All right, Miss Lin. Master Soaring Crane’s nickname is Shen Suan, Divine Calculus, meaning that his predictions are extremely accurate, I’d say ninety-nine percent.”

“Why not a hundred?”

His eyes gave out a few mysterious sparks. “Because the remaining one percent is for heaven, not us mortals, to know.”

I nodded, liking the idea.

He went on. “Since Master is so good, people literally flood here to consult him day and night, which means that he could be drowned in money, if he didn’t know how to ‘swim’ in this sea of monetary suffering.”

“Then why doesn’t the master hire an assistant?”

He laughed, showing long, yellowish teeth. “Ha, Miss Lin, you’re so naïve, you think you can learn this kind of skill just like that?” His two fingers collided to give out a small explosion.

“No?” I deliberately pretended ignorance.

“Of course not! You have to be born under a certain star to be endowed with this gift from the highest heaven. Master is so good that after a while he wouldn’t accept any more payments as a means to stop people from crowding his place, ruining his peace, intruding even into his dreams. He made the people stop paying, but now they donate instead—jewelry, antiques, one even a house and a piece of land.”

“Oh, my, then why is he still working?”

“To help people, what else? When Master first started his consultation here, the Daoist priests let him use this space for free. Now Master is paying back their kindness by using his donation money to renovate the temple. The work will start in a month and that’s why you don’t see any visitors around. It’s temporarily closed.”

“Then will the master still do consultation after the renovation?”

“It all depends on where his karma will take him. He said you never know, sometimes once in your lifetime you might run into someone whose star shines so bright that you are transformed. He doesn’t want to miss this kind of destined, once-in-a-lifetime encounter. Miss, haven’t you heard the phrase ‘the loneliest person is the one whose rival never shows up’?”

I was trying to digest this when he spoke again. “Or the saying that ‘the happiest chess master is the one who finally meets his worthy rival’?”

The Chinese also say, “Never judge a person merely by his appearance.” This small, insignificant-looking man was definitely not to be slighted. I could only imagine what his master Soaring Crane would be like.

Just then an old man materialized in the small hall. He also had a slight build with delicate-seeming bones and finely formed features. His long, deep blue silk gown, though frayed, enhanced his detached air. Although he wore dark glasses, I sensed he possessed the ability to “see.” Though his eyes were concealed, his qi energy was penetrating. The gloomy room now seemed lit up by an invisible light.

“Ah Hung, if you don’t keep your voice down, how can I meditate?”

I was not at all surprised that his voice was sonorous like a bronze bell.

“Please offer tea to this young lady guest. Never forget our temple rules, and rules number one and two are to be courteous and to make excellent tea.”

Since he was supposed to be blind, how could he tell that I was young, a guest, and a woman?

Ah Hung immediately rose from his chair and went up to the old man. “Master, Miss Lin would like to see you. I’ve been chattering and entertaining her.”

“You mean gossiping.”

“I mean exchanging information.”

“You’d better watch your glib tongue, Ah Hung.”

“Yes, Master. Tonight I’ll vigorously wash my mouth with soap and scrape my tongue with a knife.”

“Better still is to wash your mouth with alcohol and scrape your tongue with a razor.”

“Yes, Master, thank you once again for your valuable advice.”

I chuckled at this pretend chiding from the master and his disciple’s pretend fear; it was obvious they had a genuine bond of affection.

Both were silent for a moment, so I took the opportunity to chime in. “Master Soaring Crane, Mr. Ah Hung was just telling me how wonderful you are and how marvelously precise your predictions.”

He turned to me; his glasses were two bottomless dark wells.

“Please follow me, Miss Lin. I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”

How could he have known that I’d be coming? I felt some disquiet now in this remote, nearly empty temple.

As I followed Soaring Crane, Ah Hung gave me a thumbs-up and winked to me, as if to indicate how fortunate I was to be in the presence of the master.

I smiled.

The master slightly turned his head. “Ah Hung, don’t make funny faces. Some visitors might take this as an offense.”

Was this old man really blind or just faking it? Then I quickly killed my disrespectful thought. What if he was reading my mind right now?

Despite the two monks’ good humor, as I followed the master somehow I felt like a mischievous student about to be disciplined by the school principal. Treading after him and listening to his cloth slippers’ authoritative thudding on the temple floor, I thought the sound seemed to synchronize with my thumping heart and the whiny squeaks of my sneakers.

Finally we reached an entrance. The wooden door creaked as he pushed it open to reveal a small room.

Soaring Crane went straight to sit behind a large wooden desk. “Miss Lin, please take your seat.”

I sat across from him. The desk was covered with knickknacks—brushes crammed into a holder, ink sticks, small ceramic ink dishes, rolled-up sheets of rice paper, scroll weights. Paintings and calligraphy covered the walls, and the fragrance of incense in a small burner wafted into my nostrils.

Before I had a chance to say anything, Ah Hung came in the room holding a lacquered tray with a teapot and two teacups. Carefully he put all the items on the desk, then poured us tea. After that, he left, this time without a word or a mischievous wink.