Mingmei Yip - Song of the Silk Road

Although I was not a Buddhist, I muttered a prayer to the Buddha to understand and forgive what I’d just done and, I hoped, to protect me. Since I needed all the help I could get, I also said prayers to God, Jesus, and Mary, even though I doubted they’d listen to my prayer about their rival scripture and god.

I knew I would regret it later, but I couldn’t take any time to channel my yin energy to see if there were spirits who could tell me what other secrets were hidden in this forbidden, ghostly silent room. I cast a last glance and closed the door behind me.

Fearful that Floating Cloud or Pure Wisdom might return at any moment, I rushed upstairs, dashed outside the temple threshold, and began the long descent downhill. In my haste, my feet slipped a few times and I had to grab onto vines or rocks to prevent myself from falling. The coolie’s gloves proved to be a smart purchase; otherwise the bleeding from my hands might have led the two monks to think I’d had an accident and start searching for me. I wished nothing more at this moment than to disappear from their sight and from this temple forever.

Just as I was struggling down a slippery section, suddenly I saw movement in the distance. My heart knocked violently against my ribs. Whether it was a monk or a ghost, it would be equally disastrous! Panicked, I slipped and fell into a hole. Fortunately the hole was not deep and I just scraped my knee. I peeked from above the rock and looked. The figure was moving fast as if he was taking long strides. When it got closer, I realized, to my utter fear, it was Pure Wisdom! I had not forgotten that Pure Wisdom was a floating martial artist who could walk on walls and glide between trees. However, to my great relief, he failed to spot me, so a few minutes later I climbed out from the hole and practically rolled down the hill, ignoring the burning pain on every part of my body.

Back in the seeming safety of my desert cottage, the first thing I did was to hide the treasures. I pulled open one of the tires and stuffed the box containing the Gold Buddha inside. Since the box with the scroll was too long for the other tire, I put it underneath my mattress. Not a very subtle hiding place but the best I could manage at that moment. Relieved, l fell into a deep sleep.

When I woke up the sky had already turned dark and the clock next to my bed read 10:30 PM. I’d been so tired that I’d slept through most of the day. I got off the bed, washed my hands and face, then took out the two treasures and examined them. The Gold Buddha gleamed under the kerosene lamp, as if dying to tell me the story of his adventures on this Red Dust. Under a gentle push of my finger, the base spat out the small tray holding the numerous crystals, supposedly leftover ashes of the Buddha.

Suddenly it occurred to me that the two monks might try to track me down. The only safe thing was to return the two objects to the museum as soon as possible. Then I told myself that the monks’ chances of finding me were close to zero. After all, they did not even know who I was—Lily Lin, not Violet Chen as I had told them. Besides, my village was almost a hundred miles from the mountain monastery, and it was not even shown on the map. However, these were not ordinary monks but kung fu experts who managed to live on a mountain with no path.

I went to boil water and brew tea. After taking several sips of the hot, fragrant liquid and feeling more relaxed, I sat up straight, unrolled the scroll, and braced myself to study the Diamond Sutra. According to Floating Cloud, this was one of the most powerful, profound scriptures in the world. Respect and awe rose up in me as I began to read.

All living beings, whether egg-born, womb-born, moisture-born or spontaneously-born, whether formed or formless, whether sentient or non-sentient; whether they are aware or unaware, not aware or not unaware, all these beings will be led by me to Nirvana and released from the cycle of birth and death….

When my eyes landed on the single character for death, my heart sank as words shot out involuntarily from my mouth. “Lop Nor is dead!”

I fell back onto the bed and waited for my heart to stop pounding. Then I reached to turn off the lamp. I began to channel my energy until I sank into a trancelike state and felt my yin eye open. Dimly, I sensed that recently someone had entered my cottage, someone from another realm. The being, apparently male, had lingered for a long time, anxiously waiting for me. Now in the tender of the night, its residual vibrations still seemed to be palpitating, vibrations that seemed to come from someone recently departed to the yin world.

I muttered in the dark, “Lop Nor, are you here?”

No answer. Of course. Even if there were ghosts and they could somehow talk, I didn’t imagine that they could be heard by the living.

I focused on sending energy to my third eye. Moments after, I thought I saw something—a shadow flickering by the window.

“Please, Lop Nor, if that’s you, are you now in the yang world or the yin one?”

Again, no response.

Feeling that I was about to have a panic attack, I exclaimed, “Lop Nor, please. Give me some sign! Anything! Please!”

Suddenly a strong wind blew in through the window, startling me.

“Just tell me if you are dead.” This time my voice came out softer and calmer.

Again, another wind blew in, rattling the door, the windows, the teapot, the teacup.

“Are you very unhappy? Do you want me to do something for you?”

Yet another strong draft. This time it knocked the teacup off the small table. The sound of the thin china shattering pierced my ears.

Then total silence. I forced myself to stay awake, just in case my friend was going to give me another sign. But it remained disturbingly quiet. Lop Nor’s seeming presence had completely dissolved into thin air. And I, exhausted, fell into oblivion….

The next morning, I quickly ate two rice balls, drank the leftover tea, got dressed, then left the cottage for Lop Nor’s store.

When I arrived at the herbal shop, the door was half open. Hope surged inside me. Maybe Lop Nor was back and what I’d experienced last night was nothing but my own imagination. With a slightly trembling hand, I knocked at the door a few times before stepping in. Then, to my distress, it was not my Uyghur friend who came to greet me but a plump, fiftyish man—in a blue shirt and a matching muslin hat—I did not recognize.

“I’m the landlord. Lop Nor is gone, so we’re not doing business anymore.”

To my relief, he spoke in Mandarin. Maybe he could tell I was Han Chinese.

“I understand. I’m Lop Nor’s friend. He helped me to find herbs.”

“So you must be the girl from the U.S.?” His round face lit up.

I nodded. “Yes, I’m Lily Lin.”

The landlord immediately went behind the counter, snatched a letter and a bulging package, then came back to hand them to me. “Lop Nor left this package for you. I also have a letter he mailed to me to give to you.”

“Do you mind if I sit here while I open it?” I glanced at the envelope hoping to see a return address, but no such luck.

“Go ahead. I’ll be busy packing and cleaning up.”

I sat down on my usual chair, tore open the envelope, snatched out the letter, and saw Lop Nor’s neat, childlike writing in Chinese:

Miss Lin,

Your prediction was right. My wife and child are alive. But this is bad news for me, not good. Before, every night I could not sleep believing that they were dead. Now, every night I cannot sleep knowing that they are alive—because they refused to acknowledge me. The hope you gave me when you entered my life was soon crushed by cruel fate.

After you left, I had a dream in which I saw them together in the marketplace, laughing and looking happy. As soon as I woke up from the dream I went to the shaman’s village, risking my life to look for them. I soon spotted my wife and son. They were happily talking and eating, just as in my dream.

I dashed up to them. But instead of looking happy and throwing herself into my arms, my wife stepped back with a shocked expression. She was not happy at all! Instead she looked so disgusted that I felt my body being axed a million times. As for my son, he looked scared and didn’t seem to recognize me either. He hid behind his mother and looked at me suspiciously.

She grabbed our son and tried to pull him away. I held onto her and asked, “Aren’t you happy that we are a family again?” I begged her to come home with me but she refused. When I tried to put my arm around my son, my wife moved in front of him to block my hand as if I were an abductor, or a leper.

Angrily, she asked me to leave them alone and not spoil their good life. But I’d thought she had a good life with me! I’d given her everything she wanted and pampered her like a princess. But she said I didn’t understand women. Was she crazy, or me?

Then she told me she was now the shaman’s wife and my son his son.

I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. She was having a rich, luxurious life with the murderer of my family! My wife glared at me and said she would tell her husband about our encounter and if I kept harassing them then I needed to watch out. I realized they must be under a spell cast by the shaman.

Life does not make sense anymore—there is nothing left for me. My only hope is to reunite with my family, especially my mother and grandfather, in the Black Dragon Pond.