Xu Xiaobin - Dunhuang Dream

“Am I that good? I think you exaggerate, venerable sir.” Although Zhang Shu’s voice was still a bit cold, he was beginning to find the monk absorbing. There was something special about him, thought Zhang Shu.

“It’s just that you have a small mole at the corner of your eye. The Palace of Wives and Concubines, the twelfth palace in the Mayi Physiognomy , is located at this point. Coincidentally, your mole is located above the ‘door of betrayal,’ which means that relations between husband and wife will not be harmonious. This indicates there will be bickering, especially with regard to outside relationships. In addition your Hall of Wealth and Golden Horse display a ‘floating red,’ which indicates unexpected calamity. It is not advisable to reside away from home for very long.”

Zhang Shu looked up suddenly. The monk was still smiling. His face seemed familiar to him at once.

“Didn’t you just say that calamity will never fall upon me? And now you say that I will suffer from unexpected calamity. Aren’t you contradicting yourself?”

“You are wrong, Mr. Zhang. What I just spoke of is innate physiognomy. But ‘where there is mind and no marks, the marks follow as the mind grows; where there are marks but no mind, the marks follow as the mind perishes.’ The marks — in other words, the looks, clothed by good or bad luck are not predetermined by Heaven. If one loses the spirit Heaven has endowed one with, one’s phoenix eyes will gradually become dim and confused and one will accomplish nothing in one’s life. What’s more, one’s spirit is concealed in the five elements, visible in his outward form but without leaving trace. It’s hard to stop any unforeseen misfortune!”

Zhang Shu’s heart gave a thump.

“So, venerable sir, you came here just to tell me this? Okay. Now I know. You can go now, please.” He managed to maintain a cold and proper restraint.

The monk waddled away, looking like a bag of flour. Still he was all smiles, and his smile seemed strangely carved on his face, frighteningly mysterious. It made one think of a mask on which a smile was stamped.

“We are neighbors. If Mr. Zhang cares to favor me with his advice, your humble servant awaits.” The monk looked around in the dark. Zhang Shu shut the door.

At once he realized why the monk’s face seemed so familiar. He was the spitting image of the polychrome statue of Ananda, the emissary, standing before the stolen Lakshmi Bathing painting which had been located in Cave 73. Had Ananda just manifested his own soul?!

He broke into a cold sweat. After a long while he awakened from his bemused state. That dirty wall covered with spiderwebs was still stood before him.

Suddenly it seemed that everything that had just occurred had been a dream.

The monk never reappeared and nothing else disturbed him. The guesthouse was crude and old. He couldn’t figure out why a famous painter such as Xiao Xingxing would stay there too.

8

As a result, Zhang Shu began to constantly ask Xiao Xingxing about Yuchi Yiseng, the Tang dynasty painter.

“He is representative of the Yutian School of painting in Tang dynasty. He was pretty famous,” said Xiao Xingxing, sewing up a button, as she kept her eyes on the pot sitting on the hot plate. “His paintings are fairly unique in the way in which ‘figures seem to come out of the wall as well as his even blending of colors.’ The scholar Dou Meng says, ‘he applied his brush with sharp, vigorous strokes as if he were bending wire.’ His technique and method stimulated the styles of the schools of the Central Plains. He was esteemed by the emperor at the time, Tang Taizong.”

“Tang Taizong? He was. .”

“He once visited the Central Plains during the Zhenguan reign period of the Tang dynasty. 10King Yutian personally recommended him to Tang Taizong. .”

“What did he paint?”

“Mostly Buddhist images. He must have been a devout Buddhist. The Xuanhe Register of Paintings records his Buddhist paintings, which probably included Maitreya, The Buddha and His Followers, Great Compassion, The Prayer Mat , among others. His frescos can be seen in many places including Ci’en Temple, Feng’en Temple, and Puxian Temple in Chang’an. You’ve never seen his work before?”

Zhang Shu shook his head. He was wearing a black T-shirt and uniform shorts, from which extended his hairy legs. In the past when summer came around, he didn’t know where to hide his legs, but hairy legs like his had become a symbol of masculine beauty. A little reserved, he sat across from Xiao Xingxing, in the only chair in the room, so Xiao Xingxing sat on the edge of the bed. He saw a cord stretched across the room on which hung a number of things, most likely women’s underwear and such. For that reason he tried to avoid looking in that direction. A small hot plate stood in one corner, which he had helped her set up. On the hot plate sat a bubbling stainless steel pot.

“How long do you plan to stay?” he asked.

“I haven’t decided. Perhaps I’ll leave in a few days, or maybe I’ll stay the rest of my life.”

He smiled and then stood up to say good-bye.

“Why don’t I come with you tomorrow to see Cave Seventy-three? I think I’d like to look at that empty space.”

He hesitated a bit before nodding. He didn’t know why he preferred to examine the caves alone on his own.

“Why are you so interested in Yu-Chi Yiseng? Would you like to see a painting of his?”

“What did you say? What painting?”

“I brought several books on painting with me. In one of them is a picture of his Lakshmi Bathing —a fresco at Dandan Temple in Hotan, Xinjiang.”

9

It was the first time he had seen the Lakshmi Bathing ; his response was almost imperceptible, the Buddha’s compensation for his devotion.

He found it almost inconceivable that 1,300 years earlier someone could have painted such a beautiful human figure. No, this painting was nothing like the one in his dream. The goddess bathing in the lotus pool was naked save for one leaf covering her buttocks and some ornaments on her neck and arms. Beside her was a chubby little boy, also entirely naked. One arm of the goddess was pressed against her belly, the other cradled her breasts. Owing to the painter’s technique of combining a dizzying palette and sharp delineation, you could almost see the flesh and flowing blood beneath her skin (it should be admitted that the printing of the book was of a high quality). But what was most startling was her lifelike expression. Her modest charm and affection were real enough to set one’s head spinning. He suspected Yu-Chi Yiseng had a nude model; otherwise he couldn’t have painted such a lifelike goddess.

Zhang Shu also noticed Yiseng’s profound interest in the woman. Yiseng was without a doubt a sensualist. He imagined when Yiseng painted those two half-concealed breasts, he must have been aroused. He smiled at his own wild conjectures.

He focused on examining her eyes — only those eyes corresponded to his dream. They were big and dazed, startled and evil — the eyes of a living person.

10

The old manager showed up.

He never knocked. On account of this, Xiao Xingxing had become annoyed with him a couple of times.

His other problem is that he liked to drink. He wasn’t choosy; he’d gladly take a couple of swigs of anything. When he drank, he didn’t eat. He’d drink out of a large glass jar, gulping it down as if it were water.

“How many times have I told you not to use a hot plate?” he scolded her loudly.

“The food here is awful. If I don’t cook on a hot plate, what am I supposed to eat?” In such situations, Xingxing wasn’t the brightest in dealing with others.