Mingmei Yip - Petals from the Sky

Although she’d never imposed, Yi Kong’s wish that I would be a nun in her temple was as clear as the twelve scars atop her bald head. As a nun she couldn’t openly object to my falling in love and getting married, yet even here, over eight hundred miles from the Golden Lotus Temple, I could feel her pull, persistent as ever, toward the empty gate. She would think of it as compassion; she didn’t want me to fall into the burning hell of human infatuation.

That’s why “form is emptiness” was Yi Kong’s favorite quote from the Heart Sutra. For, she taught, human passion, like all other forms on earth, will eventually turn into emptiness. When we see that all human suffering is caused by the impermanence of form, we are led to develop compassion. And for her, compassion was the most important thing in life-not shallow passion, like romantic love.

Maybe we can cultivate emptiness, but still live in the world of form. Maybe even have a boyfriend. Or maybe, after all, I didn’t have to be a nun to be a nun.

Now I looked at Enlightened to Emptiness and remembered what it was like to be with Michael, to be kissed by him, to feel his warmth when I lay next to him in bed. Yes, no matter how our future would turn out to be, it’s fortunate to have, at least once, a man in your life.

Then I ventured another question. “Shifu, do you like being a nun?”

“Yes, this is the only life I know.” She smiled, then added, “But sometimes I also feel fed up with all the rules.”

“Such as?”

She started to recite quickly. “We can’t eat food in overly large mouthfuls. We shouldn’t open our mouths when the morsel has not arrived. We can’t eat food making the susasu, thutyut, and phuphphuph sound.”

When I started to laugh again, she said, “Wait, Miss Du, I haven’t finished. We, not being ill, will not make excrement, urine, phlegm, or snot on green grass.”

Then we collapsed in laughter.

Around two-thirty in the afternoon, Enlightened to Emptiness and I said good-bye to each other and Little Lam drove her to the airport. After that, I bid farewell to all the nuns and took a taxi back to the city.

A few hours later, I arrived at the Chengdu Golden Cow hotel. Although the pillars and moldings were all painted gold to match its title, the hotel was an eyesore. Loud and cigarette-dangling-from-lips men were talking with violent hand gestures. Exhausted mothers were yelling to their kids to behave. Shabbily uniformed staff walked around slack-mouthed, grunting…

As I was hauling my luggage toward the counter, to my utter shock, I saw a familiar face appearing and disappearing among milling people.

Michael? I couldn’t believe my eyes. Could it be Michael right here in Chengdu, in China, in front of my eyes? Or was it a hallucination?

Then Michael’s tired face and gaunt body were quickly approaching me.

“Meng Ning!” he screamed. A few people threw him curious glances.

“Michael, is that you?!” It was now my turn to scream back.

Suddenly Michael was standing in front of me. A long silence. Then he said, trying very hard to suppress his voice and seemingly rising anger, “Meng Ning, why did you just shut me out like this? Do you have any idea how much I worried about you? My heart is torn when I think of the danger you might have encountered in China -all alone in the middle of nowhere!”

Now a small group of people started to gather around to watch this free drama between a Chinese woman and an American barbarian in a cheap hotel in this Heavenly Capital-Chengdu.

“Michael, please, people are watching. Let’s talk later after we’ve gotten a room. Please…”

“Fuck these people! I don’t care about them, I only care about you! Haven’t you realized that? If I hadn’t asked your mother, I’d have never found out where you are. How can you do this to me?”

“Michael, please, I’m so sorry, so terribly sorry…please lower your voice and…can we talk later?” I was scared and pleading. I’d never seen Michael so angry before.

He demanded, “Then answer me!”

My voice came out like a wounded animal’s. “I…just wanted some time to think things over.”

“Then have you finished yet?”

“Forgive me, Michael. I’m so sorry. Please…”

After some time, he finally emitted a soft, “All right,” then pulled me to him to plant a kiss on my forehead.

The crowd applauded and cheered.

A middle-aged woman split a big smile, while quoting a popular Chinese proverb. “Yes, when a family is harmonious, ten thousand things will be prosperous!”

A cigarette dangling between yellowish teeth, a young man echoed with another popular saying-“Yes, fighting at the head of the bed and making up at its foot!”-to another loud round of applause.

Michael cast the onlookers angry glances, then turned back to me. “Are these people making fun of me?”

“No, Michael, they’re happy that we stopped fighting! Please, let’s go.”

In silence, we lugged our bags to the counter, behind which sat a man in a navy blue uniform and a fortyish woman.

I said, “My name is Du Meng Ning, and I have reserved a room.”

The man stared hard at me, then Michael. “Are you two going to stay in separate rooms?”

I turned to translate to Michael.

He looked pained. “Now, are you saying that after I flew all the way across the Pacific to see you, you want to stay in a separate room?”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I’m just translating his question.”

“All right, then tell him that not only are we staying in the same room, but also the same bed.” Of course I left out “the same bed.”

I said to the man, feeling ill at ease, “He’s staying with me in the same room.”

The guy’s malicious small eyes ping-ponged between me and Michael. “You’re married?”

Sensing that there might be trouble coming up, I again translated our conversation to Michael.

He frowned. “Tell him that we are husband and wife.”

“But-”

“Just tell him, Meng Ning.”

I turned to the man. “Yes, we’re married.”

His response came as a surprise. “Then show me your marriage certificate.”

I translated that to Michael. “Marriage certificate?” He looked very upset. “Tell him we don’t have it with us.”

I told the guy. Face hardened, he put on an authoritative air and said, “Then you have to stay in separate rooms.”

“But we’re husband and wife.” My voice sounded unconvincing even to my own ears.

Without losing a beat, he shot back, “Then prove it.”

“I’ve told you that we don’t have it here.”

“Then where is it?”

“Back in the United States.”

“Then why are you not traveling with your American passport but with your Hong Kong Entry Permit?”

“Because I haven’t gotten my passport yet. My husband and I have just been married for a few months.”

We kept arguing back and forth like this for a while before I translated everything to Michael.

To my utter shock, he lost his temper. Face flushed and eyes intent, he yelled at the man in English, thrusting his open hand toward him. “Listen, I’m not going to put up with this bullshit anymore-just give us the damn key!”

I didn’t think the guy understood English, but the yelling worked. With a look of humiliation he handed Michael the key.

Then, when we were walking toward the elevator, I heard him complain to the woman next to him. “It’s not my problem if the police come around here tonight and she fails to show their marriage certificate. And don’t blame me if they stamp ‘prostitute’ on her reentry permit.”

“Old Zhang”-the woman chuckled-“don’t forget she’s with an American, so, believe me, the police won’t give them any trouble.”