to put oneself above the suffering of the great Lord Buddha, that could be considered pride, one of the greatest of all sins,” Vanya said.
Bodhidharma rinsed his cup and bowl and set about packing his knapsack, but Vanya had not finished. “Detachment, that is the key to all things. That is what The Buddha said. Freedom from desires and cravings. Freedom from revulsion and loathing, until even death no longer holds any fear for us.”
Bodhidharma rose to his feet and slung his knapsack over his shoulder. “Your mind is made up Brother Vanya, and my path takes me elsewhere. I wish you well.”
“Detachment is freedom from the wheel of birth and death,” Vanya said repeating a mantra that he and his companions lived by.
Bodhidharma planted his walking staff firmly in the ground. “Quite right!” he said, and then bent low so none but Vanya could hear. “Just beware of attaching yourself to detachment.”
He walked swiftly through the throng of pilgrims, surprised by the strength of his sudden anger. The hermit had studied for many years, yet he was still so blind. Not for the first time, he wondered if he had the strength to enlighten a single person, let alone the emperor of China. His furious pace took him quickly through the crush of the marketplace, and by the time he had reached the road to Nalanda his anger was replaced by a sadness that reached deep into his bones. His pace slowed and his knapsack felt heavy on his back. Finally he stopped and closed his eyes in despair.
Suddenly, there was the sound of urgent footsteps behind him.
“Wait, Master, please!”
It was Vanya, gasping for breath as he spoke, “I would like to walk with you, if I may. Please, wait a moment. I wish to follow The Way as you do. Let me travel with you as your disciple.”
“No,” Bodhidharma said, setting off again on the road.
“Wait just a moment, I beg you,” Vanya spluttered.
“I’m sorry,” Bodhidharma said without looking back. “My path takes me far from here. I suggest you find a different teacher.”
“But you said you were going to Nalanda,” Vanya said, urging his wasted legs to go faster and catch Bodhidharma.
“I am going a lot farther than Nalanda.”
“How much farther?”
“To Nanjing.”
“I have never heard of it. Is it far?”
“Very.”
“Let me go with you, at least as far as Nalanda. I have so many questions for you.”
Bodhidharma walked. Vanya stumbled along beside him, his head so full of questions that he could not think of a single one, and soon he was too tired to utter a single word. Bodhidharma’s relentless pace quickly became too much for him and he fell behind. But Vanya knew the way to Nalanda and kept Bodhidharma in sight, far ahead in the distance.
When darkness descended and Bodhidharma stopped to rest, Vanya joined him by the fire, just as his little pot of water began to boil. Too exhausted to speak, he simply smiled happily at Bodhidharma, as if they had been traveling companions for so long that words were no longer needed. Bodhidharma handed him a bowl of rice and a cup of hot, sweet tea and this time Vanya ate and drank without protest.
Flowers on the Balcony
“Come on, my friend,” Huo said, pulling on his overcoat and heading for the door of the barrack room. “Let’s go to Longpan. We’d better hurry up, or all the pretty girls will be gone.”
Kuang remained on his bed and stared at the bunk above. “I’m not your friend, Huo, and I’m not going into that stinking town.”
Huo turned back and walked over to the bunks. He noticed Kuang’s face had almost healed from Corporal Chen’s brutal training session. The scab on his lip had all but disappeared and his left eye had reopened. The ugly swelling had gone down and only a little yellow bruising showed around his cheekbone.
“If I’m not your friend, then who is?” he demanded.
Kuang ignored him.
“Anyway,” Huo continued, “why are you sulking? It’s the end of the week. We need to relax. Come on, it’ll be good to get away from the fort. There’s nothing for you here.” He paused to let his meaning sink in. Still Kuang didn’t answer.
“Don’t be an idiot, Kuang!” Huo said finally.
“What do you mean?” Kuang said.
You know what I mean. I saw the way you were looking at Weilin.”
“She was looking at me!”
“She’s just bored—don’t flatter yourself. Weilin is Commander Tang’s daughter and she’s engaged to Captain Fu Sheng.”
“What about it?” Kuang said.
“Fu Sheng would tear you apart if he even suspected.”
“I’m not afraid of Fu Sheng. Besides, it’s none of your business.”
“I’m trying to help you, you idiot!” Huo said.
Kuang glared at Huo, his temper rising. Then he remembered how Huo had carried him back to the barracks when he had been too weak to walk, and the anger left him. “I’m staying here,” he sighed. “You go to Longpan. You don’t need me.”
“Have it your own way,” Huo shrugged and made for the door.
“I never did thank you for the other day,” Kuang called after him.
“No, you didn’t.”
Huo stood in the doorway as Kuang searched for the right words, then gave up waiting. “Never mind,” he said, stepping out of the barracks and into the dusk. “There really is no need.”
Kuang sprang up and checked his face in the polished brass that served as a mirror. He wondered whether to wait another week, but when he thought of Weilin’s pretty eyes and slim waist, he decided he had waited long enough.
He left the barracks and crossed the compound, keeping to the shadows. When he reached the commander’s house, Weilin was not in her usual place on the terrace. He wondered what to do. He could not stand around idly. Someone would soon notice him. Perhaps he would go into Longpan after all, get some food, a few drinks, perhaps a girl—someone to pass the time with until he could have the girl he wanted. He turned to go. He had only gone a few paces when he heard the faint click of a door opening behind him. Weilin was on the terrace. She glanced at him for a moment, then set about rearranging her flowerpots.
He sauntered over to her and stood in the shadows nearby. “Is something the matter, Miss?” he asked with a smile.
“Perhaps I should ask you the same thing?” she answered without looking up from her work.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s
