Chapter Sixty-Eight: Boundless Compassion

“Last time, when little Master Jinghui came to my house for alms, he shared some Buddhist teachings with me that left a deep impression. I wished to come here and discuss the Dharma with him further.”

Monk Tongdeng’s face lit up with joy. In his heart, he thought Jinghui was truly a good child. He liked to go out for alms, and Tongdeng had once asked him why. Jinghui, being considerate, said the monastery’s conditions were tight, and he hoped his fellow disciples could eat better, so he went out to beg for food—and could also spread the Dharma at the same time.

It seemed this was indeed the case, and the results were clearly excellent.

“Very good,” Monk Tongdeng said warmly. “Our temple is humble, but please, benefactor, rest in the Library Pavilion for a while. When he returns, I’ll bring him to see you.”

Though the temple wasn’t large, the Library Pavilion was quite spacious—a two-story building reminiscent of a library, filled with rows of blue-bound scriptures. Beside the bookshelves were low wooden tables and meditation cushions for visitors to sit and read.

Li Changqing sat cross-legged on a cushion, leafing through the books. The Buddhist texts were as inscrutable as the stars to him. But his thoughts were not on the books. He had come this time to see if he could find any answers regarding the mysterious mark on his chest.

Jinghui did not return until one in the afternoon, during which Li Changqing had even managed to enjoy a vegetarian meal at the temple. Hearing that a benefactor, impressed by his preaching, had come looking for him, Jinghui was initially so startled he turned pale. But when he saw the abbot’s beaming face, clearly not angry with him, Jinghui slowly relaxed and entered the Library Pavilion.

“Benefactor Li?”

He came and sat down cross-legged in front of Li Changqing, giving off an air of pure-hearted innocence—a rather handsome young monk at that. Jinghui put his palms together, glanced around to make sure no one else was present, and then asked quietly, “Benefactor, what brings you to me?”

“I have a few questions I hope you can enlighten me on.” Li Changqing smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to report you for anything.”

Jinghui finally let out a heavy sigh of relief, then asked in a low voice, “Do you have a toothpick?”

“The Buddha was right—meat really isn’t a good thing. It’s terrible getting it stuck between your teeth.”

“I don’t have one…”

So, this fellow had gone out to sneak a bite of meat after all.

Jinghui reached into his mouth and picked out the morsel of meat, lest his brothers discover it while he slept and, driven mad by their own craving, cause trouble...

“Benefactor, are you here to perform a rite for that lady donor?” Jinghui blinked. “Our temple’s rites for the departed are first-rate. Excellent service, excellent attitude—our clients are all very satisfied.”

Li Changqing shook his head, organized his thoughts, and said, “A friend of mine heard about someone who, after becoming a zombie, developed a black mark on his chest, eel-like, which keeps growing longer—and the process is accompanied by severe pain.”

“Your friend heard about someone?” Jinghui blinked, then smiled. “The mark you speak of—is it the one on your own chest?”

Li Changqing was startled. Could this fellow really see it? Clearly, the ‘I have a friend’ line was too flimsy.

Jinghui looked curious, not at all hostile. He leaned in and sniffed at Li Changqing. “You don’t have corpse energy about you. Are you a zombie? Is a zombie’s aura different from other ghouls?”

Li Changqing asked, “You’re not afraid?”

Jinghui replied earnestly, “The Buddha teaches that all beings are equal. Zombies should be included, don’t you think? Since we are equals, why should I fear you and not the other way around?”

That actually made some sense, Li Changqing thought, and he was relieved that at least Jinghui showed no hostility. The last time he saw Tang Xiaoyu, he’d been equally unbothered.

“I am, strictly speaking, still a person. I was accidentally contaminated by corpse energy, and recently found my chest aching...” Li Changqing spoke with a degree of caution.

Jinghui stroked his chin, then lifted Li Changqing’s robe and examined his chest. The black line there was about the width of a finger.

“I haven’t seen this before. Wait a moment—I’ll search the pavilion’s books.”

He fetched several volumes, all concerning ghouls and zombies, and began reading intently. Li Changqing did not disturb him.

Time ticked by. After about twenty minutes, Jinghui looked up and said, “This is the Corpse Fiend Calamity.”

“The Corpse Fiend Calamity?”

“Yes. The book says that zombies are immortal, undying beings, rejected by the six realms. Once formed, they must endure three tribulations.”

“The first is the Corpse Fiend Calamity, then the Corpse Thunder Calamity, and lastly, the Five Elements Calamity.”

“According to the book, those who survive the Corpse Fiend Calamity gain immense strength. Survive the Corpse Thunder Calamity, and they can command wind and rain. The book doesn’t say much about the Five Elements Calamity.”

Li Changqing was stunned. “Is there any way to survive these…?”

“The book doesn’t say.” Jinghui frowned and shook his head, then suggested, “Should I try a couple of exorcism rituals? Maybe I can remove the corpse fiend from your body.”

“Hold on.” Li Changqing frowned. He did not want to end up exorcised himself. Still, at least he now knew what the black mark on his chest was.

“When does the Corpse Fiend Calamity arrive?” he asked.

Jinghui consulted the book. “The black line on your chest, for a zombie, is not a bad thing. It’s a sign of your growing strength. As you become stronger, the line will extend up toward your head. Once it passes your neck, the Corpse Fiend Calamity will arrive.”

“The book says that among zombies, only one in ten survives this tribulation.”

Only one in ten? Li Changqing’s mouth twitched. It seemed he had to find a solution before the calamity struck. If only he could find something in the Thirty-six Bureau...

“Thank you, little Master Jinghui. Please, keep my zombie identity to yourself,” Li Changqing said sincerely.

Jinghui looked a bit awkward, put his palms together, and said, “If the abbot asks, I would have to answer truthfully. Monks do not lie. I cannot tell a falsehood. I beg your understanding.”

Li Changqing narrowed his eyes. “Does the abbot know you eat meat?”

“Which is the graver sin: lying or eating meat?”

Jinghui pondered, then responded with a straight face, “What zombie? I’ve never heard of one, nor seen one.”

Li Changqing still didn’t fully trust him. This monk was a bit odd. Threats alone wouldn’t do; maybe a bribe would help.

“Little Master, I happen to have some braised pork at home. As you know, with only two people in my family, we can’t finish it all—and wasting food is such a pity.”

Jinghui coughed. “According to the Dharma, wasting food is to lose good fortune and shorten one’s life.”

“Little Master, surely you wouldn’t want to see my life cut short?”

“I happen to be free in a few days,” Jinghui said, putting his palms together. “I would be honored to help you, benefactor. Amitabha—Buddha is compassionate.”