Unarmored | Chapter 174 | The Riddle of Tea | Novela.app

*Clang.* A dull thud echoed, followed by a blunt pain blooming across the youth’s forehead. He struggled to suppress the irritation and resentment rising in his heart, trying his best to maintain his usual mask of calm indifference. Before him, seated upon a prayer mat so worn that its cotton stuffing spilled out, was an old man with a messy beard and a face naturally set in a smile. The old man held a copper bowl in his hand. The sound from a moment ago had been the result of an intimate encounter between that bowl and the youth’s head. "Does A-Wei prefer tea or plain water?" It was that same simple question again. He had lost count of how many times he had been asked this today. The youth wordlessly clenched his fists, answering as calmly as possible, "Plain water." *Clang.* Another unceremonious strike. The youth finally reached his limit. His long-suppressed emotions roared forth like a beast breaking from its cage. "It is wrong if I choose what I dislike, and it is wrong if I choose what I like! What exactly do you want from me?!" The old man remained neither hurried nor angry, his expression unchanged. He extended his left hand, pressing three fingers together and pointing toward the space directly above. At the end of the darkness above was a small window. Outside that window lay a chaotic blur of day and night. "Does A-Wei prefer the day or the night?" The night, of course. The night was so quiet, secret, and inclusive—an inconspicuous shroud that allowed him to hide all his wretchedness and evil thoughts without effort. Hearing his silence, the old man withdrew his finger and curved his hand into the shape of a lotus, gesturing to their surroundings. The boundaries shimmering faintly in the darkness were countless ancient stone bricks. Within those bricks were only his solitary self and his unfeeling master. "Does A-Wei prefer to be alone, or to be with his mother?" With his mother, of course. His mother was the only light he could see in the long night. As long as that light existed, he could use his shadow to peel himself away from the darkness that swallowed everything. He remained silent. The old man withdrew his left hand and picked up two clay pots from the side, refilling the water and tea on the stone pedestal. "Tea or water, day or night, being alone or being with a crowd—it is all the same. When you understand this truth, you will be able to walk out of this tower." Truth? What kind of truth was this? What he understood even less was why it had to be *this* specific truth. Through years of bitter cultivation, through countless days and nights, he had stood alone in this darkness against the entire world. He had studied the sutras and classics until he could recite the essentials of Buddhist law backward. How could he fail to find the answer to such a simple question? Perhaps these questions had no answers. Perhaps his master never intended for him to leave this tower. Perhaps all the supreme methods, wisdom, and enlightenment were merely excuses for this four-sided prison—a curse to confine him for a lifetime. He suddenly swept his hand across the stone pedestal. The water and tea were instantly overturned, splashing across the floor. "How can tea be water? How can day be night? How can loneliness be the same as having company?" His master had always been tolerant and compassionate toward the world, yet he was exceptionally harsh toward him. It was as if he were not a disciple, but a demon the master had to spend his entire life exhausting every effort to defeat. He considered himself skilled at endurance. Unlike physical torture, exploring the void within this narrow, dark, sunless nothingness was far more soul-crushing than the world's most cruel punishments. But he had always done well. Until now. This was the first time he had lost his composure before his master. He knew exactly what this meant. Years of forbearance and tempering had vanished in a single night. Would he never be able to leave this cage tailored specifically for him? Would he never pass his master's test? Even so, he demanded an answer. If the answer was indeed nothingness, he would discard his cultivation, tear through the void that trapped him, and completely unleash the beast in his heart. The liquid spread across the stone pedestal, dripping steadily onto the old monk’s tattered robes. The old man looked at the youth. When the youth turned cold and hard, he possessed the spirit of *that man* from years ago. Only the shape of his eyes and brows followed his mother; no matter his expression, a trace of purity and softness remained. Yet beneath this facade, there was often a dangerous turbulence. Deep within those pitch-black eyes, it seemed a world-shaking storm could always be hidden. The old man half-closed his eyes, the smile still on his face, but his fingers rubbing the copper bowl moved faster and faster. "Both tea and water come from heaven and earth, and both shall return to heaven and earth. Day will always turn to night, and night will eventually welcome the day. You came from the void alone, and you will eventually return to the void alone. You have always been solitary; where then does 'loneliness' come from?" The youth was speechless. In debating sutras and dharma, he was never a match for his teacher. But since his teacher was so transparent and learned, and had spent so much effort passing on his legacy, why was he so unwilling to tell him the answer to this one question? "*If one wishes to understand all the Buddhas of the three periods of time, one should contemplate the nature of the Dharma Realm: everything is created by the mind alone.*" Was his heart not firm enough? Or was this the limit of his state of mind? He thought there was a world beyond the void, but in truth, his world would end at this withered tower for the rest of his life. "*When the mind arises, all things arise; when the mind ceases, all things cease.*" No. It wasn't like that. It shouldn't be like that. The overturned teacup still lay crooked. The water and tea that had spilled across half the table merged slowly, mixing until they could no longer be distinguished from one another. He stared at the subtle, flowing movement of the water stains. Suddenly, the image reflected deep in his pupils froze. "What traps you has never been this tower, but the choices in your heart," the old man's voice said, sounding both real and illusory—sometimes male, sometimes female, sometimes old, sometimes young. "Since you love water, choosing tea will breed resentment in your heart. Since you love the night, the day will leave you in constant trepidation. Since you love your kin, their loss will create an obsession born of pain. But as it happens, you were born with more love, hate, and infatuation than ordinary people. Where others mourn for three days, you must grieve for three years. Where others feel sorrow for a few years, to you, it is as if the heavens have collapsed and the world has ended. Conversely, if you never make a choice, then resentment, trepidation, and obsession will cease to exist. Only then can the peace in your heart endure." The youth’s eyelashes, as delicate as cicada wings, lowered gently. When he raised them again, the chaotic vision in his eyes shifted abruptly. On the stone pedestal, the water and tea flowed back to their respective sides, as distinct as the Jing and Wei rivers. Inside the stone tower, light and shadow were sliced apart; day and night separated in an instant. Before the prayer mat, the seated old monk’s features dissolved into a shifting blur of light and shadow—sometimes resembling his long-lost mother, sometimes like the ghost that had appeared in the tower three days prior. "Since I was born into this world, I must endure the sufferings of this world. Without tasting the sweetness of water, how could I know the bitterness of tea? Without craving the slumber of the long night, how could I know the toil of the day? Without experiencing the warmth and cold of human emotions, how could I know what solitude is?" If one were always solitary, where would the sentient beings be? Without knowing the suffering of sentient beings, where would a heart of compassion come from? If the people of the world knew no love, hate, or the pain of parting, then even if he became a Buddha, whom would he deliver? Water and tea were inherently different. They would not become one because of his choice, nor would they cease to mingle because he abandoned choice. He already knew the answer to it all. He wanted to make a choice. He would make a choice. He was willing to make a choice. The figure on the prayer mat gradually receded, leaving only a vigorous laugh echoing in the darkness. "Remember your answer today. If you encounter this difficult problem again in the future, remember how you chose back then." *Clang.* The copper chime gave one last ring, and heaven and earth returned to the void. When he opened his eyes again, what met his sight was the high-hanging night sky and a vast river of stars. A cold wind brushed past. He sat up and looked back at the ruins behind him. Only a bit of the foundation remained of the former Great Hall; were it not for the surrounding courtyard walls, one could not distinguish what this place once looked like. Amidst the dust of rubble and wooden beams sat a solitary, old prayer mat. A person sat upon it, a deep wound on his face with blood not yet dried. Su Wei stood up, fine dust sliding from his hair. He walked step by step toward the figure on the prayer mat. Yi Kong remained sitting cross-legged, seemingly holding something in his hand. The moment he heard movement, he looked up and slowly opened his clenched palm. "I just found this last one. You arrived the moment I finished stringing them." The wound on his face was somewhat gruesome, but his gaze was as clear and gentle as ever. The man gazed at the familiar string of Buddhist beads in the monk's hand, not reaching out for a long time. "There is no need. The cage is broken; the tiger and rhino have escaped their enclosure. Since one is missing, it is better not to wear them at all." "It is only one missing. If Your Majesty does not mind, this humble monk is willing to sacrifice his life for righteousness and offer himself as the twenty-first sarira. How about it?" The man sighed, an unreadable, intangible emotion deep within his pitch-black eyes. "Does the Abbot truly prefer to die for the law just to send me back into a cage?" The monk shook his head, his face a picture of serenity. "Your Majesty treads upon the mountains and rivers and possesses all under heaven. Your body may go wherever it wishes, and your heart may reach whatever state it desires. Where is this 'cage' you speak of?" Slender fingers pinched the string of beads, then gently set them down. "If there is no cage, what use is this object?" Yi Kong finally stood up as well. He usually maintained a humble posture, but now, for the first time, he straightened his spine, appearing just as tall as the man before him. The amiable smile he usually wore faded, replaced by a majesty akin to the Guardian Wisdom Kings enshrined in the Great Hall. Fine ash fell from his grey-blue monk's robes, swirling around their feet. "The eighteen sariras my master obtained during his travels came from eighteen high monks. Including the three from after his nirvana, there are twenty-one bone sariras in total, all gifted to my Junior Brother. The power contained within them balances the power in your bloodline. You cannot fail to understand his painstaking efforts." Though the monk was young, he usually presented himself as slippery and tactful. Despite frequent contact with the man before him, he had never overstepped. Today, for some reason, he suddenly stopped using "Your Majesty" and spoke as fellow disciples, his words carrying a layer of pressure. But the person facing him was no ordinary man. From the corners of his eyes to the tips of his brows, he did not waver in the slightest. "When Senior Brother took the Vajra Pestle to Buxu Valley earlier, did you have the intent to kill?" The young monk answered with a question of his own. "Has Junior Brother forgotten all the truths Master spent his life teaching you? Knowing that staying away from the red dust is liberation, you insist on plunging into it. Knowing that sentient beings will suffer because of this, you still refuse to turn back, walking toward the abyss even when you have reached a dead end." Su Wei understood what the "red dust" in Yi Kong's mouth referred to. To him, the red dust was only that one person. "You should thank her. If I had not met her, I would not understand what it means to cherish and sacrifice. If I do not love sentient beings, how can I deliver them?" The swirling dust fell like tiny stars upon the man's brow, like the first snow falling into a lake that had not yet frozen. Those eyes were as calm as ever. Yi Kong finally withdrew his gaze. He lowered his head slightly, as if speaking to himself. "Why did that one sarira have to be lost? If that one were not missing, perhaps the situation would not be like this today." The man opposite him gave a light, mocking laugh, deflecting the point seamlessly. "If Senior Brother wishes to blame someone, then blame Zou Sifang of Houzhou City. I once promised my Father at my Mother's grave that I would end the troubles of the previous dynasty. Zou Sifang was the only clue to the Secret Seal, and at that time, I was the only one who could save him. If I hadn't saved him, everything might never have ended. Such is the nature of 'opportunity'." The young monk laughed as well. He reached up to touch the wound on his face, frowning as the pain registered belatedly. "If not for that missing bead, Your Majesty might not have fallen for Miss Xiao. That day when Your Majesty asked about the *Puhu* matter, I sensed something. Therefore, I went against Master's entrustment and failed to inform you. But one must know that even a dam built to hold back water will eventually burst. Everything happening now is the karmic retribution I must bear. Such is the nature of 'cause and effect'." The dust stirred by the wind gradually settled. The night was silent. After a long while, the young Emperor finally turned away. "I am going to see her." The young monk brushed his robes, seemingly not intending to follow. "There are still many matters in the temple waiting for me to settle, so I will not see Your Majesty off. However, there is something..." The figure ahead paused, then turned back to face a copper bowl that shimmered with a greenish-gold light. "This alms bowl has been enshrined in the temple for many years. When Old Mr. Qu came to the temple to offer incense last month, he saw it and said its presence here hindered the feng shui. Your Majesty possesses the body of a True Dragon and surely does not fear such things. I shall give it to Your Majesty as a small memento." The man touched the bump on his forehead and gave a rare smile in front of the monk, accepting it gracefully. "In that case, I thank Senior Brother." The young monk pressed his palms together, returning to his humble appearance. "The road ahead is long. Take care, Junior Brother." ****** ****** ****** In the western side courtyard of Yongye Temple, near the kitchen, grew a golden camellia. It was a sickly sapling that received little sunlight, its branches and leaves thin and weak. Its leaves had all fallen as soon as winter began. Yet, it was the last golden camellia left in Yongye Temple. The young eunuch stood before the camellia tree. He gazed at the figure standing before the door of the side room, a sudden sense of desolation before a parting welling up in his heart. *Year after year, flowers leave the branch; they always say spring will come again.* But who could know if the branches that had endured the bitter winter would truly bloom again when spring returned? The young Emperor had changed into clean, soft black casual robes. He stood quietly outside the gauze curtains of the inner room for a while, only taking that step forward after an unknown amount of time. The female physicians waiting by the bed heard the sound and hurriedly turned to bow. A gust of wind drifted in, causing the light gauze curtains to flutter and dance in the air. Through those curtains, his gaze caught a glimpse of her for a fleeting moment. She lay there quietly, as if she were merely asleep. Perhaps she really was just sleeping, unwilling to wake because she had entered a dream that was too real and beautiful. The couch beneath her was one he had ordered brought from the Qinghuai Marquis’s manor, along with the scrolling-branch patterned canopy above her head and the lotus-embroidered mattress. He thought that perhaps she was just refusing to get up because she wasn't used to the hard, cold wooden beds of the temple. He also thought that if she saw everything she was familiar with the moment she woke, instead of a bare ceiling, would she smile and say something to him? The wind passed, the gauze curtains fell, and she vanished from his sight once more. The young Emperor remained silent, neither saying nor doing anything. But perhaps having heard of the events in the Great Hall, the hearts of the kneeling servants were filled with trepidation and fear. Their lowered bodies began to tremble, and the sound of suppressed breathing echoed in the room. Finally, the man spoke, his voice as calm as ever. "You have all worked hard. Step back and rest for a while." The servants froze in place until the eunuch standing at the door urged them in a low voice. Only then did they move their stiff bodies and hurriedly retreat. The room fell silent. He walked forward step by step, passing through the gauze curtains to her side. Her hair was loose, and she wore only a set of inner robes, looking just as she did when he saw her in the Great Hall, only far too quiet. She was usually vivid, bright, and warm; her emotions always danced with her brows when she spoke, and her worries were written on her face when she was silent. He wanted to see that again, but she had learned his mannerisms, becoming as still as a pool of water, showing no trace of the ripples that had once stirred within. "Xiao Nanhui, have you forgotten what you promised me?" She did not speak. Even her eyelashes remained perfectly still. He leaned down, his lips pressing gently against her brow. "How can you be so lazy, preferring to linger in bed rather than come find me?" She still did not speak, her lips pressed together slightly, retaining a hint of stubbornness even in deep sleep. He sighed, his kiss falling upon those lips. "No matter. Since you will not come to find me, this time I shall come to find you. From this day forward, we shall not be apart for a single moment. What do you say?" She did not answer. He took her silence as her reply. A final kiss fell upon her forehead, light and cherished, lingering for a long time before he pulled away. He rose and leaned against the bedside, gently closing his eyes. "The register I asked you to prepare—is it drafted?" Outside the gauze curtains, Shan Jiangfei was silent for a moment before finally nodding in response. "Replying to Your Majesty: it was drafted early this morning and I have kept it with me." "Since it is ready, bring it here. I will add some words; you shall scribe for me." Before long, the eunuch’s voice rose again. "Your Majesty, please speak." The Emperor’s deep voice echoed through the room, word by word. "I was born cold and indifferent, rarely perceiving the suffering of others. In my decade or more on the throne, I have never felt the desire to share joy with the people, nor have I felt gratitude or pride for the empire beneath me. Called a King, yet in truth, a prisoner. Year after year, solitude has been my fate; the red dust was hard to cross, and no medicine could cure me. Now, a spring breeze has entered my heart, sweeping away the decay and breathing life into my flesh. Through our constant companionship on long journeys, I have been moved to emotion, and only then did I feel my illness cured..." The sky before dawn was tinged with a pale blue, making the room appear cold and clear. The candles in the room had gone out, and no one had relit them. The eunuch and the Emperor he had served his whole life stayed this way, separated by the gauze curtains, guarding from the dark of night until the light of day. The sun rose gradually, and the voice inside the curtains finally ceased. The register, now bearing three imperial seals, was covered with several folds of dense, small characters. Shan Jiangfei set down the brush and waited quietly for the ink to dry. "I am going on a long journey; the date of my return is uncertain. If I have not returned within three months, proceed with the arrangements we discussed previously." His Majesty was always going on long journeys; Shan Jiangfei had heard these words a thousand times. But this time seemed different from all the others. Shan Jiangfei paused, rarely taking the initiative to ask, "Where is Your Majesty going?" "Wherever she can be saved, I will go and see." He stared at the drying ink, his voice carrying a hint of suppressed trembling. "Will Your Majesty... still return?" This time, the Emperor did not answer. Just then, there was some noise outside—it was Ding Weixiang’s voice. "His Majesty is inside. You cannot enter." "I am here specifically to find His Majesty..." Hao Bai was still arguing about something when, unexpectedly, the person inside spoke. "Let him in." The physician in white hurried into the room. Upon seeing the man's figure, his legs involuntarily began to shake. "The fact that I will not hold you accountable does not mean I wish to see you right now." Heaven help him, he didn't want to see the Emperor right now either. If he hadn't waded into this muddy water, he might still be a carefree, idle physician in some small border town. Hao Bai struggled to hide his miserable expression and said in a low voice, "My great-grandfather just sent a letter. He has words he wishes me to pass on to Your Majesty." The person behind the gauze curtains clearly paused. He then waved his hand. Shan Jiangfei glanced at Hao Bai, picked up the register, and withdrew. "Speak." The physician in white took a step forward and repeated the message word for word. "Although Miss Xiao’s heart pulse is severed, a breath remains because divine blood entered her wound. Your Majesty has one month. You might try the Northwest highlands." "The Northwest? To find whom?" "To find a descendant of the Qu family." Hao Bai paused here, realizing the strangeness of his words. After a moment of hesitation, he whispered, "She... she is actually no longer considered a member of the Qu family. My great-grandfather hasn't seen her in many years either. He refused to even give her name, only saying she is a descendant of the Qu family." The Emperor did not wish to press further into this mysterious explanation. His voice remained cold. "If even the Head of the Qu family is helpless, what could this person possibly do?" "I do not know. My great-grandfather only said that if there is only one person left in this world who can save Miss Xiao, it might be her. Only..." "Only what?" "Only that this person is on the Gelete Plateau, which is within the territory of Xuan City. If you seek her, Your Majesty must take Miss Xiao and go alone. The North is bitterly cold, and the journey is long..." "Bitter cold or scorching heat, a journey of ten thousand miles is better than every moment spent sitting here." The person behind the gauze curtains smiled faintly, gently taking the calloused hand of the woman on the couch. "Just the two of us is perfect. Whether the road ahead is open or blocked, whether it brings life or death, I will have no regrets." *** **Glossary** Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation --- | --- | --- 阿未 | A-Wei | Diminutive/childhood name for Su Wei (the Emperor) 舍利子 | Sarira | Buddhist relics, often bone fragments of enlightened beings 虎兕出柙 | Tiger and rhino escaping the cage | An idiom from the Analects, meaning a dangerous force has been unleashed or a guardian has failed 格勒特高原 | Gelete Plateau | A location in the Northwest 暄城 | Xuan City | A city/territory in the Northwest 瞿 | Qu | The surname of the family of physicians (Hao Bai's family) 降魔杵 | Vajra Pestle | A ritual weapon (Dorje) used in Buddhism to symbolize the destruction of ignorance/demons 步虚谷 | Buxu Valley | A specific location mentioned in the text 真龙之身 | True Dragon's body | A traditional reference to the Emperor's physical form 红尘 | Red Dust | The mortal world / world of human affairs and attachments