Chapter Seventeen: Arrival in a New Land

When Quan Ce arrived in the Eastern Capital, he was no longer a nameless figure as when he left Chang’an. Many paid him attention now. Though his official rank was not high and his troops were few, he nonetheless stood as a distinct presence. Here in the Eastern Capital, he had no direct superior; he was the chief officer of his own department.

Upon first arriving in this distinguished place, it was customary to pay respects. Before Quan Ce could set out, the scribe of Luoyang Prefecture arrived at his door. Prefect Wei Yuanzhong, eager and impatient, wished to engage in a deep discussion of Buddhist doctrine with General Quan Ce, renowned for his sagacity.

Quan Ce hastily skimmed through the Mahāprajñāpāramitā Sūtra, bracing himself to visit.

“Hahaha! Young master of the Quan family, what took you so long?” Wei Yuanzhong laughed loudly thrice, welcoming him at the gate. Without waiting for Quan Ce to bow in greeting, he reached out, took him by the arm, and led him into the main hall, where several others were already seated. Quan Ce wished he could escape on the spot; Wei Yuanzhong clearly wished for a lively, public exchange.

“You’ve come from Luoyang, accompanied by scions of the Lu clan of Fanyang. Recently, I heard that Master Huineng, who spreads the Dharma in Lingnan, passed by Faxing Temple and saw two monks debating: the wind moves the banner, but what moves? The master replied, ‘It is not the wind that moves, nor the banner; it is your mind that moves.’ This seems contrary to the doctrine of ‘no-self’ and ‘no sentient beings.’ How do you interpret this?” Wei Yuanzhong cut straight to the point, focusing not on the mysteries of the sutras, but on Buddhist philosophy.

Quan Ce breathed easier; this was a topic he could handle. “The Buddhist mind is empty, yet contains all things. Caring for all beings, one forgets oneself and exists for others—this is the benevolent one. Outside the mind, nothing exists; the movement of wind and banner is but illusion and shadow. If the mind is unmoved, all phenomena are unmoved; if the mind does not move, neither wind nor banner moves.”

Wei Yuanzhong furrowed his brow in contemplation, as if enlightened. “Buddhists sever the seven emotions and six desires, yet worldly affairs are hard to resolve. What then?”

Quan Ce smiled wryly. “To sever emotion and desire requires great resolve. For ordinary folk like us, it is enough not to seek unattainable love, nor to harbor irresolvable hate. To forgive others is to forgive oneself.”

“Young master, your thoughts are clear and your grasp of Buddhist doctrine profound. Have you ever considered emulating the sages, retiring from the world, and seeking supreme freedom—thus reconciling all worldly affairs and truly forgiving yourself?” Wei Yuanzhong showed a peculiar smile, clearly pleased with the trap he had laid.

Quan Ce smiled and shook his head, equally satisfied with the trap. He immediately adopted the favorite saying of Buddhist masters, “Your Excellency is caught in appearances. Why must practice be confined to reclusion? Life is a journey against the current; I am but a melancholy traveler in the mortal world, yet also a practitioner of Buddhism.”

Wei Yuanzhong, though rebuffed, was not embarrassed, laughing heartily. “Well said, well said! I heard you discussed Buddhism and Daoism at the Zheng family’s in Xingyang. Sages have always had one heart; tell us more.”

This seemed like the final question; Quan Ce composed himself. “Daoism advocates actionless nature, selflessness and forgetting schemes; to become immortal or demon all depends on a single thought. Buddhism teaches ‘no-self,’ with Mount Spirit residing in the heart; good and evil fruit depend solely on the mind. When one vows with great selflessness and benevolence, both Buddhist and Daoist sages are attained.”

“It seems akin to Confucius’ ‘I desire benevolence; benevolence is attained’—different paths, same destination,” someone interjected, prompting a lively discussion among the guests.

Quan Ce breathed a sigh of relief, bearing himself with dignity. “Red lotus, white lotus root, green lotus leaf—the Three Teachings are originally one family.”

Wei Yuanzhong was first to rise, bowing in respect; the others followed suit, and Quan Ce returned their courtesy repeatedly.

After a brief exchange, Wei Yuanzhong invited him to the study, sat heavily on a stool, his gaze cold. “General Quan, do you truly believe that Buddhist, Daoist, and sage minds are one?”

Quan Ce’s expression sharpened. This old man clearly referred to more than religious matters; to raise such perilous questions at their first meeting—was it reckless? Quan Ce remained silent.

“Hehe, young master, you were eloquent just now, but now you’re as timid as a quail.” Wei Yuanzhong’s mood warmed, laughing like a benevolent Buddha. “All learning is ideal; whether reciting sutras or preaching the Dao, in the end, we are human—and the human heart is the most easily changed.”

“Thank you for your guidance, Your Excellency,” Quan Ce replied with a steady face and formal bow.

Wei Yuanzhong studied him for a long time, sighing softly. “Listening to your discourse on Buddhism, poetic and elegant, and your verses are decent too. My study lacks a calligraphy piece; might you write one for me?”

“I am honored to serve, Your Excellency.” Quan Ce felt bitter inside; he was not familiar with historical figures absent from school textbooks, Wei Yuanzhong included. Yet, to hold the position of Luoyang Prefect at this time, he must be trusted by Empress Wu. Quan Ce had to plagiarize some poetry to curry favor.

“Cling to the green mountain, never letting go; its roots lie deep in broken rock. After a thousand trials and blows, it stands firm, unmoved by winds from any direction.”

Wei Yuanzhong pondered the verse for a long time, finally remarking, “This poem is heroic and resolute, exuding grandeur and generosity, enough to overshadow the flaws of your handwriting.”

Quan Ce maintained a humble expression, secretly thinking, if it’s overshadowed, why mention it?

“I’ll keep this piece and hang it here,” Wei Yuanzhong gestured to the wide white wall beside the bookshelf, solemnly. “To serve as a warning for myself, and to encourage you as well.”

Quan Ce’s heart skipped a beat. If he is Empress Wu’s man, how could there be winds from all directions? If not, what mountain is he clinging to? And how could he know what mountain Quan Ce himself clings to?

On horseback, Quan Ce pondered deeply, feeling as though he was surrounded by fog. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts; White Horse Temple was just ahead, and the abbot there was not an easy figure.

“Your subordinate Quan Ce, pays respects to General Xue.” Xue Huaiyi was present, sitting upright with a somber face, not mingling with his young disciples.

“That old Wei Yuanzhong is too insolent. You were sent by the Empress to guard the Palace of Myriad Phenomena; how could he just abduct you? Does he think I, Duke of Liang and Grand General of the Left Guard, am made of paper?” Xue Huaiyi’s voice was dark and rough, but Quan Ce sensed something different: in the past, anyone who vexed him would have been physically assaulted, but now he was unusually calm.

Quan Ce carefully played along, also adopting a somber tone. “Indeed, I had intended to pay my respects to the Duke, but Wei forced the issue. I had no choice.”

A flash of anger crossed Xue Huaiyi’s face, but he did not dwell on it. “That old fool can gloat for now. I’ve already ordered someone to throw dung at his house tonight to regain my dignity. I hear your Buddhist and Daoist doctrines are quite effective—perhaps you should shave your head and take refuge here at White Horse Temple?”

Quan Ce was thunderstruck. “Your subordinate, well, my family has elders and children; it’s really not suitable. Please see clearly, Duke.”

Xue Huaiyi glared at him and snorted. “Fine then. I’ve been facing some difficulties lately and need to find a way to save face. You’re clever—help me think of something. If you can’t, never mind your elders and children, you’ll come to White Horse Temple to eat vegetarian meals and recite sutras for me. Now go.”

“I shall serve the Duke as best I can,” Quan Ce replied, his eyes darting as he ventured a request. “Duke, my Qian Niu Guard would like to commission some lightweight uniforms. Might you…”

“Of course, certainly,” Xue Huaiyi’s eyes lit up. “I’ll arrange for someone to report to the Empress right away,” and hurried off in large strides.

Quan Ce suddenly understood: this high monk had surely offended Empress Wu again, and was seeking ways to redeem himself and win favor. This could be exploited.

Leaving White Horse Temple, he next visited the residence of Qu Chongyu, Grand General of the Left Guard. The doorman relayed that the general had already met with Prince Quan yesterday and asked that General Quan not trouble himself further.

Quan Ce was stunned, his mind buzzing. Yes, father and son had different aims, but outsiders didn’t see it that way. Qu Chongyu, having met his father, would not meet him; Wei Yuanzhong assumed the mountain his father clung to was also his own, continually mentioning the fickleness of the human heart—what did it all mean?

Quan Ce’s mind was in turmoil.

Returning home as night fell, Quan Zhong and Quan Li, bearing injuries, dragged themselves to the study to await Quan Ce’s judgment.

Their problems had been made clear the previous evening. Quan Zhong had taken a large sum from the accounts to drink and socialize with servants from Qu Chongyu’s household—not a grave offense, perhaps just misconduct. The serious matter was that he bribed the gatekeeper at Qu Chongyu’s residence to fabricate lies, causing their master, Quan Yi, to be turned away several times. Quan Li learned of this and, in anger, wished to behead the traitor.

Quan Zhong had been gathering information at Quan Ce’s behest, but sabotaging Quan Yi’s schedule was his own idea. He knew the eldest had worked hard to leave Chang’an for the Eastern Capital, and that newly arrived, his master’s close relations with military commanders would harm him, so he resorted to this ill-conceived tactic.

“Quan Li, mother needs help; you’re good at managing finances, so report to the household accounts.”

“Quan Zhong, you’re demoted to menial duties. Go back to Chang’an and bring the unnamed marble from the courtyard to the Eastern Capital.”

“This matter ends here; no one is to mention it again.”

“Yes, eldest,” Quan Zhong replied cheerfully, wiping his face with his sleeve.

“Eldest…” Quan Li collapsed to the ground, wailing loudly.

A loud crack sounded; Quan Ce looked up at the sky. Winter thunder rumbled—it was about to snow.