“Meng Ning, while you’re in Hong Kong ”-he looked at me, eyes full of tenderness-“also think about our wedding. If you don’t have another suggestion, I’d like us to be married in Hong Kong. So I think maybe you can start asking around about where we can have our wedding.”
That was not what I’d expected to hear. Marriage? My purpose in going back to Hong Kong was exactly the opposite-to give myself some time and space to think over carefully whether I really wanted to be married.
Michael spoke again, twiddling my engagement ring as if to remind me of our pledge. “I’ll miss you terribly while you’re in Hong Kong. So please come back soon.”
PART THREE
26. Form Is Emptiness
Yi Kong’s smooth, beautiful face hangs over mine. Naked under the fiery redness of the setting sun, her head’s gentle curve appears unmistakably sensuous. Its luminous gold reminds me of the halos on the heads of Christian saints. But this is a halo around the finely shaved head of a Buddhist nun.
I knew this handsome image before me was as illusory as it was powerful. For I was but daydreaming in Yi Kong’s office in the Golden Lotus Temple. Although I’d visited her in the hospital, this would be the first time I’d seen her in this new place since the fire in the Fragrant Spirit Temple. Though it felt like coming home, my heart was so much changed that the temple seemed like my home in another life. In the past, coming to visit her nunnery had always been soothing; now it was unsettling.
A nun had told me earlier that Yi Kong was in a meeting and wouldn’t be back until after five-thirty. It was now only five, so I slipped out of her room to take a look at her new office compound. As I passed along corridors and peered in through partially open doors, I noticed that in the five years I’d been away in Paris, the Golden Lotus Temple had been expanded and transformed from an old, shabby eyesore into a grand complex with a Tang dynasty-style temple building as well as this modernized one. I had mixed feelings about the change. Of course I liked the comfort of air conditioning, elevators, clean restrooms. But the omnipresent computer terminals and the stark reception room with polished reproductions of antique Chinese furniture seemed unsuitable for a monastery. Besides, I also missed paper lanterns, peeling paint, rain-furrowed windows, long-burning candles, sun-bleached gateposts, and crumbling walls covered with intricately patterned ivy. From my early visits these had always been an entryway to a world of quiet imaginings and aesthetic associations.
After fifteen minutes, I went back to Yi Kong’s office, but she was still nowhere to be seen. So I strolled around the spacious room to look at her art collection, which had also grown bigger and better. The contemporary ceramic Guan Yin statue was replaced by a Ming dynasty one, exquisitely molded. On the altar, a gilded antique Buddha statue took the place of a wooden one. Other new acquisitions included two antique bronze incense burners, one in the shape of a lotus and the other a qin-seven-stringed zither. There were also antique altar cabinets, Pure Land paintings, Song dynasty vases, Ming dynasty furniture. The lively grain of the huanghua li, flowering pear hardwood, glowed reddish brown in the warm twilight. I ran my fingers over its smooth surface.
How hard had Yi Kong worked to achieve all this in five years? Wondering, I was soothed by the beauty of the art and the wisps of sweet incense mingling with the fresh scent of flowers.
This world had felt like home to me for so long. I let out a long sigh.
Then I saw the looming presence of a huge photograph of a statue of a seated Guan Yin. It faced a large window overlooking the train station and towering high-rises of Yuen Long. The photo, which I recognized as Yi Kong’s work, took up nearly the entire wall except for the space underneath where a zitan-red sandalwood-altar was placed. On this sumptuous shrine, abundant offerings of fruit were tastefully arranged in subtly contrasting yet complementary colors: bananas, papayas, mangos, oranges, pineapples, green apples, green grapes, melons-all set on high-legged silver plates. Ginger flowers, lilacs, lilies, irises, azaleas, and other flowers competed quietly in white vases.
Resting in the “royal ease” pose, the Goddess of Mercy’s right arm extended in a graceful curve with the delicate point of her elbow poised on her raised right knee; her left leg dangled. Patches of pink revealed themselves beneath her gilded crimson robe. I could almost see the multilayered drapery rise and fall, as if she were breathing with life and feeling, excited to be seen.
When Yi Kong saw me, would she ask me again the same question-Meng Ning, when are you coming to play with us?
For ten years she’d been expecting me to become a nun in her temple. How should I respond this time?
I didn’t want to lose Yi Kong’s friendship, nor Michael’s love. I wanted both the fish and the bear’s paw. But how would I have the luck, or the wisdom, to keep both?
Feeling a slight headache coming, I stepped closer to the enormous picture, made a deep bow to the Observer of Worldly Sound-the name given to Guan Yin because she always listens for cries of help-then put my palms together and whispered a prayer.
Another half hour had passed. With a lacquer tray in hand, a very young nun timidly peeped through the half-closed door. I beckoned her to enter. She smiled carefully, so as not to reveal her teeth. Soundlessly, she set the tray on the table and placed the objects one by one onto its shiny surface: two lidded teacups, a teapot with steam escaping from the lid, a small, pale blue ceramic plate filled with an assortment of nuts and a larger one with fresh fruits.
I watched this young novice with pleasure.
While every personal relationship now seemed impermanent and fragile to me, youth suggested a contrasting picture of life as simple and everlasting.
She possessed a native grace; things bloomed in natural order and charm under her slender, pale fingers. I was quite sure she was also conscious of her poise and took pride in doing things in adagio, so that she, as well as her guest, could watch her delicate fingers’ choreography.
Why hurry? There is no time limit in a temple, just living in the bare moment, the here and now.
The table now displayed a lush spread of food. Concluding her delicate ritual, the young nun took a white handkerchief from her loose gray robe and dabbed her well-shaped bald head.
She addressed me respectfully. “Yi Kong Shifu said she would be with you in a minute and apologized for the long wait.”
I smiled. “Oh! Not at all. Tell Shifu to take her time.”
Still standing, she smoothed her long robe with elongated fingers. “Shifu is in a meeting to discuss the art work of the temple.”
“Ah, that’s a huge project.”
“Yes, she’s also organizing her painting and photography exhibition, a Buddhist art festival, a Zen play, and a retreat.”
I widened my eyes to show amazement.
The young nun gushed with pride. “But don’t worry, Shifu is always full of energy.” She bowed to me before she left. “Please have some tea and fruit.”
“Thank you. What’s your name?” Seeing that she was so young, the word Shifu, teacher, just refused to come out of my mouth.
“Wu Kong.” Enlightened to Emptiness.
“Just like the Monkey King in Journey to the West?”
“I’m afraid so.”
We both laughed. Like her mistress, she had perfect, white teeth.
I made a slight bow to her. “Thank you very much, Wu Kong Shifu.” I hoped she was too innocent to notice that this time the word finally slipped out from my mouth with a bantering tone.
Still smiling, Enlightened to Emptiness closed the door with a crisp click and disappeared.
How wonderful to be so young, even as a nun.