Mingmei Yip - Song of the Silk Road

“It was Ah Hung who came to me.”

“As a baby? How?” Did he crawl here on four limbs? I almost chuckled.

“One cold evening he was left at this temple’s entrance. I had just finished with my last client and gone to the kitchen to cook myself dinner when I heard a cry. It was so loud and urgent that I immediately knew it was a call from above. The cry seemed to be shaking loose heaven and earth while stirring up mountainous waves in the ocean. So I dropped everything and dashed out. On the ground outside the temple entrance was a soggy, squirming bundle.

“From that moment on, I knew our fates were linked. The temple monks and I taught him everything—reading, writing, Chinese aphorisms, and philosophy. He never went to school.”

“Because no school would take him?”

The master laughed his bell-like laugh, tilting his head. “Oh, no, because little Ah Hung just wouldn’t leave me or this temple. I once sent him to a nearby village school, but he caused so much trouble that finally both the school and I gave up. He just wanted to stay with me here and play with the Daoist monks. As a child, he followed me everywhere: when I performed rituals, doing Subtle Purple Calculus, even on trips out of the temple to the houses of rich clients. What he found here in the temple were his toys—cushions, statues, vases, musical instruments, brushes, ink stones. Although a very naughty child, he never broke anything or bothered the monks.”

Soaring Crane paused a moment, then continued, “I was very grateful for the monks who let me work here and raise him.”

“But you also attract huge donations for them.”

He “looked” at me through his dark glasses. “Miss Lin, never think of how you help others, only how you’re being helped. Heaven will know when or when not to reward.”

I sipped my tea, digesting every word uttered through the master’s wrinkled lips. “So, Master, how long have you been here?”

“Like Ah Hung, I was an orphan left at this temple door and picked up by my master, a Daoist monk who taught me to read people’s destinies.”

“How cruel that parents actually abandon their children.”

The master studied me for a while. “This has nothing to do with the parents, but in what place the child’s stars shine. Maybe to their parents they are worthless burdens, but to this temple, they are gifts from heaven.”

“Master, both you and the temple are very compassionate.”

“Compassion and generosity are the two virtues that keep this world from falling apart.” A long pause, then he suddenly changed the subject of our conversation. “Miss Lin, did someone send you to me?”

I stared at my own pale reflection in his glasses and felt a shiver. Instead of answering his question, I asked, “Master Soaring Crane, since I haven’t made an appointment, how did you know that you had a visitor and that I’m a woman?”

He laughed. “Miss Lin, I’ve been waiting for you for ten years.”

“How…?”

“Let me make it real simple. Ten years ago my Subtle Purple Calculus told me that I would have a woman visitor today, exactly ten years later.”

“Oh… excuse my ignorance, Master. How can this be possible, and what exactly is this Subtle Purple Calculus?”

“A thousand-year-old Chinese astrology,” he said. “So, did someone send you to me?”

“Hmm… yes and no, Master.”

He counted his fingers while muttering something in a strangely appealing manner. “Ten years ago, a very special woman came for my consultation. I believe she’s related to you.”

Wow. How could he tell?

I blurted out, “Yes, she’s my aunt.”

I bit my lips. Damn! Didn’t Mindy Madison instruct me to tell him nothing but lies?

The master went on. “I’ll never forget this woman because of her constantly transforming qi. In half an hour, it kept changing from being very full and strong to the opposite. Because of this extreme qi swing, I could tell she’d lead an unusual, dangerous life.”

“Master, I think… she’s already dead.” This time I remembered to lie.

The old man tilted his head and sniffed the air. “Dead? No. But in between.”

“What do you mean?”

“She is now hanging on a thin thread between life and death.”

“Why would that be? Because she’s a bad person?”

“She’s neither good nor bad.”

“What do you mean? That she’s neutral?”

He shook his head. “It all depends who’s judging her.”

I digested his words for seconds, then I lied again. “I think she’s in a very dire financial situation.” Of course, since my aunt had three million dollars to give me, she couldn’t possibly be poor. Could she?

This time the master shook his head emphatically. “No, she’s rich. But not for long.”

Why did this fortune-teller always contradict what I said?

He took a long sip of his tea. “Miss Lin, tell me your date of birth and the exact time when you were born. Then I will show you the map of your life.”

This was the first time I’d encountered a fortune-teller who did not need to see my face, read my palm, or examine my handwriting to give predictions.

Once, years ago when I was a child in Hong Kong, my mother took me to a fortune-teller. I remembered his small face was comically covered by his oversized, chopping-block-thick glasses. He held my small hand in his big one and exclaimed to Mother, “Ah, what an unusual child you have, with all these intricate ‘energy lines’ criss-crossing her palm. Ma’am, your daughter will be rich and have an adventurous life. This is already engraved on her palm like a map!”

Would the blind Master Soaring Crane predict the same thing as the near-blind master in Hong Kong?

After I told Soaring Crane my date and time of birth, he meditated, counted on his fingers, muttered to himself, then picked up his brush and swept it across the rice paper with swift, bold movements, leaving elegant calligraphic strokes. I was amazed at how well he formed the characters, even though completely blind. After he repeated the process three times, he put the papers into three small red silk pouches, dropped his brush, and “stared” at me.

Although he couldn’t see me (or could he?), the intense scrutiny was nevertheless nerve-racking. I could feel the strong qi from his small frame overwhelming my already-weakening one.

He handed me the pouches.

“Thank you, Master. What are they?”

“Poems.”

“But I rarely read poems. I prefer novels.”

“Then start to read them. They’re novels in a pouch. Besides, don’t thank me, thank heaven. I’m only a messenger bringing you wisdom from above. Take them out to read when you are in trouble, or when you need to pacify your troubled mind.”

I nodded, feeling bewildered.

He continued, “In your life, the money star, shining strong and bright, complements with your transmigration star. That’s why you’re here in the Silk Road, seeking money, adventure.” He paused for seconds before adding, “And danger.”

The word “danger” gave me a chill.

“Miss Lin, you’ll become very rich and famous.”

“It’s very kind of you to say that, Master Soaring Crane. But I’m very poor and have no idea how to make money.” I lied. Being paid fifty thousand U.S. dollars for the trip with the prospect of getting three million later couldn’t be considered poor, after all.

I went on. “Master, I’ve been struggling financially and was helped out by a former professor. So, how am I going to make a lot of money?”

“I’m only telling you what will happen. ‘How’ is not my concern. Anyway, you’ll make lots of money with your own effort, not from another person.”

But I’d be inheriting three millions from someone else.

“However, your father–mother palace is not properly placed in your life’s map, which means your karmic connection with your parents is weak. Indeed very weak.”

I didn’t respond, thinking of the dead father I bitterly hated and the dead mother I dearly loved, one in hell and the other in heaven, I hoped.

Some silence passed and he continued, changing the course of the conversation. “Your so-called aunt, she’s both good and bad to you. When she came to me ten-odd years ago, she was desperate for help and guidance. But unfortunately she didn’t follow my advice. That’s why she has been suffering. The will of heaven is not to be slighted.”

“How is she suffering?”

“Both mentally and physically.” He penetrated my eyes with his sightless ones behind the dark glasses. “Miss Lin, you’re the only one who’ll be able to rescue her from the sea of suffering. You are her guiren.”

Of course I knew the term guiren—noble person. These are people, including strangers, you may encounter along your life’s path who will give you unconditional help, even saving your life. Simply put—angels. But how could a powerless young woman like me be Mindy Madison’s guiren?

The master’s powerful voice rose again in the small cell. “Someday you’ll understand what all this means. Meanwhile, you have to undergo a long, arduous journey. But don’t worry, your effort will be handsomely rewarded. But you have to be careful—very careful. Now please open the door for me.”

After I did, he yelled toward the entrance. “Ah Hung, is the soup ready?”

“Master, can Ah Hung hear you that far away?”

He nodded. “I’ve been summoning him like this for many years since I developed arthritis and can’t walk all the time to fetch him. After all these years his hearing is extremely acute.”