Chapter 83: Shards of Reincarnation Beneath the Scissors

The Golden-winged Roc is Garuda; Garuda is Avalokitesvara, and Avalokitesvara is the savior who transforms all those with karmic ties in the world, rescuing them from suffering. The holy monk Xuanzang, who journeyed to the West for scriptures, as well as all those disciples who came to take refuge, all owe their enlightenment to Avalokitesvara. That young girl, from childhood, held the ambition to “expel demons and uphold the Way,” which is why she was enlightened by Avalokitesvara, cultivating her skills inwardly and virtue outwardly, ultimately journeying alone to the West, deep into Tibet to exorcise demons... That is me!

Gu Qingcheng’s voice pulled Guan Wen out of his visions; four hands clasped tightly, tears streaming down their faces.

Qingcheng, who are you? Who are you really... Guan Wen used every ounce of strength to embrace Gu Qingcheng. His heart felt as if it were being fried in boiling oil, roasted over hot coals—painful to the point of weakness, able only to hold her tightly.

She was his only love, from ancient times to the far future, never changing, never fading.

I am myself, I can only be myself. I cannot change fate, nor can I alter the trajectory of my life—she sought his lips, and theirs met in a blazing kiss, like two parched fish sustaining each other, unwilling to part even for a moment.

Never be apart again, never be apart again, never be apart again... he murmured indistinctly, lips pressed to hers, tongues entwined. He longed to enter her body, or to open his chest and draw her inside, until they melted together completely, one within the other, no longer existing as separate souls.

Then, the world would no longer have a Guan Wen or a Gu Qingcheng, only the two of them as one.

Who knows how long they tangled together, even forgetting the presence of the Crimson Flame Master, until exhaustion overcame them and they nestled together, sitting in that small patch of light.

I do not know how long I have loved you—ten thousand years? A hundred million years? Or a hundred million centuries, or... From the moment everything came from nothing, until everything returns to nothing, I have loved you without diminish, like the blood flowing in my veins, always vivid and red. She spoke.

So have I, he answered. He had read the words of the Dao De Jing a thousand times, but never before had those phrases, shining with wisdom, melted so fully into his thoughts.

Just two steps ahead of them in the air, the scissors handed over by the Crimson Flame Master hung suspended, jaws open as if to cut.

In the illusion Guan Wen experienced, it was those scissors that cut off the girl’s braid, sending her into the depths of reincarnation.

Look at those scissors, he said with lingering fear. If, in that vision, they had parted and not met again today, the regret of passing by each other in this life would surely have been caused by those scissors. Conversely, their meeting today was precisely because of their separation in the past.

I know them. In Chang’an of the Tang Dynasty, they compelled me to press forward, sparing no effort to promote the union of Han and Tibetan peoples and the joint exorcism of demons. Today, those scissors cut off my three thousand strands of troubled hair, sent my spirit wandering through past lives, and enabled me to comprehend the secret Master Bianji carved on the tortoise shell. So, I must thank them, Gu Qingcheng replied with a smile.

Very good, very good... The Crimson Flame Master applauded with a long sigh.

Then the scissors suddenly dropped, slicing through the pool of light and transforming into countless identical scissors that crisscrossed, filling every inch of the quiet room. Next, the light seemed to be cut into fragments, scattering into innumerable pieces, each following a scissor.

Those are fragments of past reincarnations, each representing a life that was born and died. This is a world where time is frozen; all cycles of rebirth can exist side by side. I must let you understand that every effort is not wasted. Because of these fragments, you exist as you are now. So, everyone fights not just for themselves, but for a thousand, ten thousand, a hundred million versions of themselves. As you have realized, if you return to the original “one” and change the first mistake, this world will no longer be filled with tales of sorrow and regret. All virtuous men and women will meet the right person at the right time. Do you understand? The Crimson Flame Master spoke softly, reaching out to stir the fragments of light and shadow.

Those fragments, like liquid crystal screens, displayed dynamic images of people, as if a dramatic television series were being broadcast.

One fragment hovered between Guan Wen and Gu Qingcheng, showing a gorgeously dressed woman of ancient times tossing a chest of jewels into the river, then leaping from the bow of her boat. It was a story well known to modern people: that woman had fallen in love with a man she should not have, and in the end, in fury, sank her treasure chest and drowned herself.

Let us accomplish all things together, and let everything begin anew. Guan Wen held Gu Qingcheng’s hand and swore with resolve.

Only then would he not feel pain for her in every cycle of rebirth, and every cycle would bring her the happiest ending, free from worries.

Gu Qingcheng gently opened the Tibetan silver jar; a braid, unchanged in color after a thousand years, lay curled within.

Master, I have attained enlightenment, Gu Qingcheng smiled as she stroked the braid.

Today’s strands of trouble have already been burned to ashes—should I burn this one as well? the Crimson Flame Master asked.

Gu Qingcheng replied: Before enlightenment, what is the use of keeping a cut braid? The winds and rains of reincarnation change endlessly—how many twists and turns are there? It only adds to troubles. After enlightenment, what is the use of keeping a braid cut in a past life? What difference does burning it make? If life has troubles, then strands of trouble are like grass: wildfires cannot destroy them, spring winds bring them back. If life is free of troubles, even with a head full of black hair, the heart is as calm as still water, the surface smooth as a mirror.

The Crimson Flame Master smiled: Good, good, good. Since you possess such understanding, I am truly at ease.

Gu Qingcheng asked again: Master, I often wonder, the phenomenon of “hidden treasures” in Tibetan Buddhism is listed among the ten greatest unsolved mysteries, shrouded in secrecy to the extreme. No one has explained its scientific principles. So, the “memory treasure” carried in Feng He’s mind, the nightmares innate to Bao Ling, the time-traveling visions that Guan Wen and I just experienced... as well as the many masters’ talk of past lives, nightmares, soul-chasing, soul-seizing, exorcism, spirit-searching, and so on—are they all the same thing, the same principle?

The Crimson Flame Master’s expression grew solemn: I can only tell you what I know, and dare not speculate on matters beyond Tibetan Buddhism.

Gu Qingcheng nodded: I am all ears.

The Crimson Flame Master said: A hidden treasure is simply a hidden treasure, like a Buddhist bead, a relic, a Mani stone. Whether it is a “memory treasure” in the inheritor’s mind, a “book treasure” buried deep underground, or a “sacred object treasure” hidden in temples or Tibetan homes, they are intact, waiting for the inheritor to unlock. Those who inherit and obtain hidden treasures are called “Terton,” said to be incarnations of Padmasambhava and his disciples. Each can perfectly restore the hidden scriptures and accurately interpret their theories and methods; the most famous is the “Bardo Thodol.” The Tibetan name for hidden treasure is “Terma”—“Ter” means precious, worth preserving; its original meaning refers to something precious that is buried and eventually discovered. It is said that Padmasambhava, when spreading the Dharma in Tibet, found that some teachings’ karmic conditions were not yet mature, so he buried many teachings, statues, and medicines at different places, awaiting the right time and inheritor to appear. Some are buried in waterfalls, some in mountain rocks, some in empty spaces, even in the deepest meditation of saints.

Gu Qingcheng nodded again, brow furrowed in thought.

The Crimson Flame Master reached out and traced a shape of fire soaring in the air.

What is that? he asked.

It is fire, Gu Qingcheng immediately replied.

Why fire? The Crimson Flame Master pressed.

Gu Qingcheng pondered for a few seconds before gently answering: Fire is fire; hidden treasure is hidden treasure. What we see is what we see; what we do not see is what we do not see. Eat the food you can eat, walk the path you can walk, do the things you can do; rise with the sun, rest with its setting, following the ancient ways of our ancestors—do not overstep, do not show off, do not act out of bounds. Follow rules, be grounded. That is all.

I know you have understood the deepest Zen principles. You need not seek guidance from others—just traverse the river of time as water flows with clouds, and that is enough, said the Crimson Flame Master.

Listening to the Zen exchange between Gu Qingcheng and the Crimson Flame Master, Guan Wen gained insight, recalling this passage from the Dao De Jing: The highest good is like water. Water benefits all things but does not compete; it dwells in places people disdain, thus approaching the Dao. Dwell in good places; cultivate a deep heart; be kind in relationships; keep faith in words; govern well in politics; be capable in affairs; act at the right time. Because it does not compete, it is free from blame.

The Crimson Flame Master’s teaching to Gu Qingcheng—to act as water flowing with clouds—is precisely the principle of benefiting all things without contention.

Even such a supreme intellect cannot explain the mystery of hidden treasures, so it is clear that this secret within Tibetan Buddhism, like UFOs, aliens, and cosmic life, is among humanity’s eternal mysteries.

Guan Wen and Gu Qingcheng departed the quiet chamber side by side; his watch’s second hand began ticking again, time resuming its flow without a moment’s interruption.

Tibetan Buddhism has passed down numerous secret techniques through generations; outsiders cannot easily enter, nor even glimpse the surface. Thus, among all major sects, others have to some degree lifted a corner of their veil and presented themselves to the public, whereas Tibetan Buddhism has always guarded its secrets, determinedly hidden, never entangled with fame or power, day and night holding fast to its original intent, daring not to slacken even a little.

The Crimson Flame Master’s control over time reminded Guan Wen of the unattainable, unfathomable Ancient Buddha of Burning Lamp from myth. After this meeting, he knew he could never boast of understanding Tibetan Buddhism, just as a mustard seed dares not compare height with Mount Sumeru.

On the return journey, they discussed Bianji, for Gu Qingcheng was convinced that the tortoise shell was left by the Tang dynasty monk Bianji.

Bianji’s birth date is unknown; he died in the twenty-third year of the Tang Dynasty’s Zhenguan era, or 649 CE. He became a monk at fifteen, studied under Dao Yue, a renowned Sarvastivada scholar at the Great Holding Temple, and resided at Huichang Temple in Jinchengfang, northwest Chang’an. For over ten years, he devoted himself to Buddhist theory. By the nineteenth year of Zhenguan (645 CE), when Master Xuanzang returned with scriptures and opened the first translation center at Hongfu Temple in Chang’an, Bianji, known for his mastery of Mahayana and Hinayana texts and respected by his peers, was selected for Xuanzang’s translation center, becoming one of the nine eminent editors.

The other eight eminent editors selected alongside Bianji were: Monk Qi Xuan of Puguang Temple in the Western Capital, Monk Ming Jun of Hongfu Temple, Monk Dao Xuan of Fongde Temple on Zhongnan Mountain, Monk Jing Mai of Fuju Temple in Jianzhou, Monk Xing You of Pujio Temple in Puzhou, Monk Dao Zhuo of Xiyan Temple, Monk Hui Li of Zhaoren Temple in Binzhou, and Monk Xuan Ze of Tiangong Temple in Luozhou. Among these nine, only Bianji was implicated in the scandal of an illicit affair with Princess Gaoyang and was executed by dismemberment, ultimately becoming a historical enigma.

Thus, Bianji is a figure both praised and criticized by history—brilliant, yet his fate was turbulent, much like Master Chen Xuanzang, who was commanded to undertake the pilgrimage to the West for scriptures.