Xu Xiaobin - Dunhuang Dream

“Well, let’s not talk about it.”

“I’ve already done so. At this point in my dream, I wake up in alarm. This is followed by dizziness and nausea, and sometimes I even throw up.”

“Why don’t you see a doctor?”

“There’s no point. . the medicine doesn’t work on me.”

She stood there, her face pallid. She looked alone and helpless. Her dark eyes were filled with a childlike tenderness.

“I’ve noticed that you really look like—”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said, blushing. “You look like a little girl.”

“I’m someone’s mother.”

“I mean. . your eyes. You’d see such eyes ten years ago, but you don’t see them today. Do you know what I mean?”

She looked up at him with tenderness, then quickly lowered her eyes. His heart felt constricted, touched by some inexpressible feeling. He softly stroked her hair. Then quickly controlling himself, he hastily left.

1

Lakshmi was a goddess in the Hindu pantheon. She deals with fate, wealth, and beauty. She first appeared in the Rig Veda and was personalized in the Atharvaveda . 1She was produced when the devas and asuras stirred the Sea of Milk. She is also known as the Girl of the Sea of Milk. The Buddhists assimilated her as a protector of Dharmadeva. She was the younger sister of Vaisravana and had great merit among the people and was once called Gongdetian, the Goddess of Luck. In Tibetan Buddhism, she is considered the goddess of wealth.

Such was the background on Lakshmi that Zhang Shu was able to piece together; strangely, none of the descriptions matched what was depicted in the frescoes. Not one of the descriptions mentioned her beauty. At most they mentioned her “large, long eyes and calm mien.” Was the painter Yu-Chi Yiseng too partial to her? If so, where did his feelings come from?

The only thing that was certain was that she was a deity in Brahmanism, Hinduism, Buddhism, and Tibetan Buddhism. There were very few such deities. In today’s terms she would be a female spy with the additional quality possessing dual citizenship or more than one passport.

It didn’t seem to matter whether she was Vaisravana’s wife or sister. But the most amusing thing is that her husband, or her brother, evolved into a Chinese man named Li, the deva king who holds a pagoda in his palm, who had three sons, the most famous of whom, Nezha, followed him into the Central Plains, adapting the Western to China and becoming an immortal. This represents not just the exchange of the talented persons between Buddhism and Daoism, but it can be said that like Prince Nezha, who battled the Handsome Monkey King, he was a real foreigner. What would the real Nezha of Buddhism think if he saw how the Chinese modeled him in clay as a boy? Zhang Shu concluded that it was Nezha at the side of Lakshmi in the bathing pool.

But he couldn’t explain why according to Tibetan Buddhism, Lakshmi wore the skin of her son.

How had the beautiful Lakshmi, as painted by Yu-Chi Yiseng, become the demon of Tibetan Buddhism? When the answer dawned on him, he felt terrified.

2

Zhang Shu was unable to control his curiosity about Lakshmi. One day he mixed with a Japanese tour group to get a look at one of the caves opened for special visitors, usually not open to the general public (back then China just opened its door to let foreign tourists visit), hoping to learn something. But he was discovered.

It was a woman who discovered him. She wore a large gray scarf and was dressed in a long black robe with a dirty vest. It was the very same minority woman he had seen when he was with Xiao Xingxing, the one shuffling along alone at Cave 73.

Zhang Shu was escorted to the Dunhuang Cultural Administrative Office. Dusk had fallen and the faces shone darkly by the light in the office. A tall, heavyset, middle-aged woman stood under the light. Her hair was cut short and her bangs, which hung rather unsuitably over her forehead, couldn’t conceal her age, which was evident from the soft, fleshy folds of her neck. Her neck was white but slack. Her chin quivered with every move she made.

“May I see some ID?” The woman spoke softly but clearly, as if each syllable emanated from her diaphragm.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any ID on me.” Zhang Shu looked directly at her. As she moved and sat down under the light, he got a good look at her face. She looked like Guanyin, a goddess of mercy, filled with compassion for people. Her eyes looked upon him with pity. That pitying look infuriated him.

“Don’t be so quick to say you didn’t bring it. Have a look,” her voice softly sounded again. Zhang Shu watched her as she spoke and saw that her lips scarcely moved, as if she were afraid that moving them might create wrinkles at the corners of her mouth. Her face was the kind that was taken good care of to an excessive degree. Her lips were extremely sensuous. He suddenly fancied that this Guanyin could swallow a doe by scarcely moving her lips.

He turned his canvas backpack upside down.

A small ID fell on the desk.

He suddenly recalled that it was his father-in-law’s high-ranking cadre medical ID. Before leaving, he had accompanied the old man to see the doctor, but he couldn’t say why he had stuck the ID in his bag.

The woman snatched up the ID, her eyebrows raised in amazement.

“What is your relationship to Secretary Wang?” She looked up, her eyes still filled with pity.

“I’m. . his daughter’s husband,” he said unwillingly after a moment of silence. This strange reply caught her off guard.

“Oh, you are his son-in-law.” With a feeble wave of her hand, she indicated that he should take a seat. But he continued to stand without moving.

“What business brings you here?”

“I’m interested. . in local folktales and thought I would collect some. .,” he stuttered.

Curious, she tilted her head to one side.

“How is Secretary Wang?”

“He’s fine.”

“What’s your wife’s name?”

“Wang Xiyi. Uh, how do you know—”

“I know Secretary Wang. He has always shown a good deal of concern for us. Several years ago he came to the Mogao Caves and even favored us with his personal instruction.” A faint smile played over her sensuous lips. She pressed a buzzer and a young made-up female clerk appeared. “Your name is Zhang Shu, correct? Little Ma, would you see to it that you prepare a special visitor’s pass for this gentleman, so that he can look at any cave he wishes. Of course, you have to obey the rules.” She smiled, but he felt in her words there was actually an iron hand in a velvet glove. She’s no doubt a sharp woman, he thought.

She tore a page from her desk calendar and swiftly wrote a few words and said, “If you are looking for folktales, you can contact this person. He’ll assist you. If you need anything else, feel free to call me at any time. My number is 431542. My name is Pan Sumin. . you can go now.”

She rose to her feet somewhat indolently and gestured as if to see off a visitor.

He unfolded the piece of paper and saw written there the name Chen Qing.

3

“You mean you met Bodhisattva Pan?”

Zhang Shu was displeased by the abject terror Chen Qing showed at the mention of Pan Sumin.

“We all call her Bodhisattva, which is a wise and compassionate being in Buddhism. Don’t you think she looks like Guanyin, the goddess of mercy?” As the old man spoke, all the wrinkles on his face seemed to move.

“Does she have a lot of power and influence here?”

The old man evaded the question and said, “She seems to have taken a liking to you, so I can be frank with you. Come here and listen up, lad.”