Chapter 4: The Prince of Huainan

Within the city of Huainan, four figures walked abreast along the bustling streets. One among them, garbed in the robes of a monk but sporting half an inch of hair, turned to a burly man beside him and asked, "Santong, after all these years, do you think you can still find that merchant guild?"

This man was, of course, Zhang Chi. Santong paced out his steps, silent at first, leading the other three forward for several dozen more paces before finally halting. With utter conviction, he declared, "I counted correctly—this is definitely the place."

With those words, he strode forward, intent on entering.

Zhang Chi nearly stumbled in exasperation. So it turned out Santong had found the place by counting his steps! Did he really think his stride as a child studying in Huainan would be the same as it was now? Yet when Zhang Chi looked up, he realized his earlier exasperation paled in comparison to what confronted him: above the grand gate of the roadside residence hung a signboard painted red with golden trim, bearing only three characters: "Hundred Flowers Pavilion."

At the entrance stood a row of brightly adorned girls, beckoning customers inside.

Unable to help himself, Zhang Chi glanced at Daoyuan and Dao Xuan, then stopped Santong, patting him on the shoulder with a teasing smile. "Bringing a monk to a brothel? You’re truly the first I’ve ever seen to do so."

Santong, who had never set foot in such an establishment, had no idea what a brothel looked like. Still, he knew well enough that no merchant guild would have a group of young women soliciting at its door.

While he was puzzling over how a respectable guild could have become a brothel, a portly, big-eared young master swaggered out from within the Hundred Flowers Pavilion, grumbling as he went: "If it weren’t for that Miss Wang being richer than I am, I’d have lost my temper long ago."

Two timid servants trailed behind, nodding obsequiously.

Catching sight of a woman nearby, the young master pulled her close and asked, "Xiaocui, will you miss me once I’m gone?"

"How could I not miss such a dashing, charming, and passionate gentleman as you, Young Master Pei?" the woman replied with a fawning smile.

Anyone with eyes could see that this Young Master Pei, with his large ears and fleshy face, had nothing whatsoever to do with being handsome or suave. Yet at her words, he beamed with delight. "A reward, a reward!" he shouted.

"But Young Master, you’ve already handed out all the money you brought today," said Pei Lu.

"Idiot! Why didn’t you bring more?" Pei snapped.

Pei Lu was inwardly aggrieved. Iron coins might not weigh much individually, but in quantity, they were hardly light. The young master only ever cared about rewarding, never about how much money there was. The family had mountains of gold and silver, but it wasn’t as though he could carry them all. Still, he dared not voice such complaints, keeping them to himself.

"If I weren’t handsome and charming, how could I possibly be called Pei Jun Cai?" the young master said, giving Xiaocui what he considered a flirtatious grin. He patted her bottom and added, "Next time I’ll reward you handsomely."

With that, he turned to leave, still cursing Miss Wang under his breath—only to walk straight into the burly chest of Santong, who stood at the door.

"How dare you! Are you blind?" Pei Lu stepped forward and shouted, pointing at Santong.

Santong wore an innocent expression. It was clear he hadn’t moved; the young master had walked into him, not the other way around. Why was he being called blind?

Pei Lu had intended to intimidate this impudent fellow who’d dared block his master’s way, but the effect was quite the opposite. Pei Jun Cai himself was startled. "What are you shouting about? Bellowing all day long! No wonder Miss Wang says I lack refinement—it's all your fault, you useless servant." Pei Jun Cai scolded Pei Lu, then turned to his other servant, Pei Fu. "You see, your young master is a reasonable man."

Pei Lu, chastened, hung his head and retreated, not daring to speak.

Just then, Pei Jun Cai noticed the three monks standing behind Santong. He let out a surprised "Eh?"—as if he’d glimpsed Spider-Man or Batman, rather than Buddhist monks.

"Monks? Bald donkeys frequenting brothels?"

Dao Xuan, hot-blooded in his youth, could not abide such slander. At the words "bald donkey," his anger flared, and he raised a fist, but Daoyuan restrained him, intoning a serene "Amitabha Buddha."

Dao Xuan, always obedient to his senior brother, reluctantly lowered his fist.

Santong was about to step forward, but Zhang Chi smiled and said, "Brother, why bother? Porcelain does not contend with earthenware. If it did, you might shatter, and what’s precious would be lost. When a dog bites you, do you bite it back? If you meet a vicious dog, it’s best simply to walk away."

"Excellent, excellent! That’s exactly right. We’d best go," Dao Xuan agreed, brightening.

And so, the four melted into the throng. The crowds surged outside the Hundred Flowers Pavilion, and before long, the four were swept away and vanished from sight.

Pei Jun Cai smacked his lips, pondering for a while before asking, "What did they mean just now?"

"Young Master, they were calling you a vicious dog," Pei Lu replied.

"You think I’m an idiot? I could tell that much!" Pei Jun Cai snapped, slapping Pei Lu across the face. "I meant the part about porcelain and earthenware!"

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"Young Master," Pei Fu quickly interjected, eager to please after seeing Pei Lu slapped, "he likened themselves to porcelain—precious but fragile—and you to earthenware, which is sturdier but less valuable."

Pei Fu, far from the fool Pei Lu was, understood matters well, and Pei Jun Cai thought, Are they saying they’re worth more than I am? "Could it be that the one who bumped into me, along with those three monks, are richer than I am?"

"Surely not," Pei Fu said carefully. "Those four were dressed in plain cloth—how could they possibly be wealthier than you, Young Master?"

Reassured, Pei Jun Cai relaxed. His family was exceedingly wealthy, and apart from Miss Wang, he’d never met anyone more extravagant.

"True enough—there are few in the world as rich as the Wangs."

In this world, there were few who lived up to their names, as Pei Jun Cai did not. Though called 'Jun Cai'—handsome and talented—he was neither. Yet his two servants, Pei Fu and Pei Lu, truly did bring him both fortune and prosperity.

"Young Master, now that the Wang family enjoys unrivaled power at court, if you marry Miss Wang, you’ll surely ascend in rank and wealth," Pei Fu said.

Pei Lu, not one to miss a chance to flatter, hurried to offer his own congratulations.

Pei Jun Cai waved them off. "Do you think holding office is all fun and games? Rising early for court, sitting in judgment all day—how could that compare to the carefree pleasure of visiting the Hundred Flowers Pavilion? I seek to marry Miss Wang not for her family’s power, but because she is beautiful—her skin fairer than Xiaocui’s, her figure more enticing, her gaze more alluring than Xiaocui’s…"

As if he’d ever seen any woman besides Xiaocui.

"You’re all just shallow toadies, incapable of understanding your young master’s heart." Pei Jun Cai sighed. "But tell me, how can I win Miss Wang’s favor?"

After some thought, Pei Lu ventured, "Miss Wang is as powerful as any man—a true force in her own right. She’ll surely be drawn to someone even stronger, someone who dares oppose her and bests her at every turn. If you, Young Master, can outdo her in all things, she’ll surely be yours."

"Brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that?" Pei Jun Cai exclaimed, slapping his thigh.

While Pei Jun Cai and his two servants plotted their courtship, Zhang Chi and his group had already found the Dachang Merchant Guild. In truth, they had come to the guild for Zhang Chi’s sake—after days of trekking mountain roads, his legs felt as if they were filled with lead.

Santong was loyal to a fault; these three had saved his life, and so he’d followed them south, handling all the chores of fetching water and finding paths, and even learning some martial arts from Dao Xuan whenever he could. Dao Xuan, pleased to have someone eager to learn, spent his days teaching Santong and singing with Zhang Chi—though his own voice was so dreadful that Zhang Chi could only sweat in admiration.

Zhang Chi, having crossed into this world from another, had never walked so far in his life. After a few days, his feet were blistered and bleeding. Santong, seeing this, suggested that since the Huainan merchant caravans regularly traveled between Huainan and Jiankang, they might join the caravan and ride the rest of the way.

Unfortunately, Santong had been a rather unsuccessful bandit—after all his years of robbery, he’d saved a bit of grain and not a single coin.

He had none, but Daoyuan did.

In fact, all their food and drink these days had been paid for by Daoyuan. Santong couldn’t fathom why a monk would be wealthier than a bandit. He also wondered why the venerable master would agree to bring him along on the journey south when he had nothing to his name.

It was as if Daoyuan could read his thoughts. He merely smiled and said, "Both you and Zhang benefactor are fated with the Buddha."

"Am I destined to become a monk?" Santong wondered.

But Daoyuan, ever sparing with words, said nothing more. Zhang Chi, meanwhile, was naturally open-minded and never pressed for answers, content to enjoy whatever food and drink came his way.

Live and let live—even before crossing worlds, Zhang Chi had been the type to take things as they came. He had never asked why the old monk had brought him along. Since he had been forced into this new life, he might as well accept his fate, and this made his disposition all the more easygoing. Now, he found himself indifferent to most things, wandering about with eyes half-closed as if forever half-asleep.

He cared little, was rarely surprised—but now, he was genuinely taken aback. Who would have guessed that the reticent, unassuming old monk Daoyuan was in fact a man of great renown?

The manager of the Dachang Merchant Guild was surnamed Li and already in his fifties, yet he treated Daoyuan with the utmost respect. "Master, you studied under Master Dao'an and your fame spread far and wide even then. You are a great monk, traveling a thousand miles south to spread the Dharma—truly admirable. Please, do not mention travel expenses again. In fact, I should offer you an allowance, and I hope you will not refuse."

Santong tugged at Zhang Chi’s sleeve and whispered, "Who is Master Dao'an?"

"I have no idea," Zhang Chi replied honestly.

The table was piled with pearls and jade, their brilliance making Santong’s eyes ache. Not only did the manager refuse to accept payment, he seemed worried they might refuse his gifts. Santong found this odd, but was even more puzzled when Daoyuan declined without a second glance.

"Benefactor, I dare not accept rewards without merit. A monk is content with simple tea and plain food, nothing more than a full belly. Please forgive this humble monk for declining your generosity."

The manager looked troubled. "If Master insists on refusing, then I am in a difficult position. To be candid, my employer is of the Wang family of Taiyuan, which has supported Buddhism and Daoism for generations since migrating south. If my employer hears that you visited our guild and I failed to show the proper respect, I’m afraid I’ll lose my position."

"True reverence for the Buddha does not lie in bribing monks," Daoyuan replied with a gentle smile. "If your master is truly devoted, he must surely be a virtuous man, and would not take offense over such a trifle."

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With that, Daoyuan fell silent.

Manager Li could only sigh and collect the items from the table. "Very well, I won’t press the matter. The caravan sets out in a day. My young mistress is currently in Huainan, consulting with the caravan leaders and several local notables. There should be no problem with you joining the party, but you will need to meet my young mistress and the others traveling with us."

He led them to a reception hall and said, "Please wait here while I make the introductions."

As Manager Li departed for the inner chambers, Santong whispered to Daoyuan, "Master, that manager offered you so many valuable things—why did you refuse?"

"One should not wade into unknown waters," Daoyuan replied, true to his reticent style.

Santong waited a long time for more, but none came. Disappointed, he turned to Zhang Chi with a look that plainly asked: Did you understand that?

"Other people’s money is not so easily taken," Zhang Chi said, clapping Santong on the shoulder. "Now, with the great clans vying for power, fortunes shift quickly. The Wang family might be on top today—but who knows about tomorrow? Best to wait and see."

Santong suddenly felt he was far too naive—even monks, it seemed, could be shrewd and calculating.

When Miss Wang appeared, she did not come alone—the room filled with people of illustrious backgrounds, and even Young Master Pei was among them.

Before Miss Wang could speak, someone interjected loudly, "Where in the world are there so many great monks? I suspect this reputation for holiness is nothing but a fraud."

Miss Wang frowned slightly, then introduced him to Daoyuan: "Master, this is Huan Heng, a renowned scholar from Jingzhou."

Only then did Daoyuan take notice—the man had long brows, narrow eyes, a pale face, and a blue-tinged beard.

Before Daoyuan could respond, the man pressed on, "I may not be a monk myself, but I have read many Buddhist scriptures. You call yourself Daoyuan, meaning the path to enlightenment is long and distant. Yet true Buddhist teaching points to the mind within; seeking Buddha outside oneself is futile, no? Is this not labor in vain, missing the true nature?"

Daoyuan, never one for debate, merely smiled in silence.

Seeing no answer, Huan Heng continued, "Master Dao'an’s teachings on emptiness were a revelation to me, yet I remain confused on many points. Since you studied under Dao'an, perhaps you have attained his insight. May I ask you to instruct me today?"

Still, Daoyuan said nothing.

"I have heard Master Dao'an say, ‘Before the myriad things, there is nothing; emptiness is the source of all forms.’ Monks say all is empty—so tell me, what is the emptiness of Dharma?"

Again, Daoyuan did not reply.

Huan Heng sneered, "I have heard that Master Daoyuan studied with Master Dao'an for years and is deeply versed in Buddhist teaching, but it seems his reputation is much exaggerated. Rumors in the marketplace truly cannot be trusted."

Daoyuan remained composed, but Dao Xuan was grinding his teeth with fury. Alas, he had never read a Buddhist scripture cover to cover—how could he argue the finer points of doctrine?

Seeing Dao Xuan glaring, Huan Heng approached Zhang Chi and Dao Xuan with a cold smile. "It is said that sages can teach without words. Since Master Daoyuan disdains to answer me, perhaps you two, as his disciples, can enlighten me instead."

"Master Huan is a renowned southern scholar. No refined conversation is complete without wine. If you have wine, I will teach you," Zhang Chi replied loftily. Never one to back down, he was not about to let Huan Heng browbeat them.

Huan Heng regretted asking—who would have thought this monk would go along so brazenly?

Miss Wang, surprised to hear the young monk audaciously demand wine, glanced at Daoyuan, who showed no objection. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of a monk drinking wine.

She was well aware of Huan Heng’s reputation for sharp-tongued debate, and with some leisure amid her recent busy days, she welcomed the entertainment and said with a smile, "I have long heard of Master Huan’s love of spirited discussion, even to the point of neglecting food and sleep. If wine is required, I will gladly host a banquet so that you may converse to your heart’s content."

Zhang Chi, having resolved to make sport of Huan Heng, mimicked Santong’s manner and declared, "You may not know, but I am a great monk."

This, of course, provoked laughter all around.

In fact, after so many days on the road, Zhang Chi’s mouth was dry as dust—he genuinely longed for a drink.

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