“But I’m here with you now, Michael, so you’ll be all right.”
He went on as if talking to himself. “I remembered how my parents died when I was young, leaving me all by myself. Meng Ning”-he put my hand to his lips-“the thought that I might lose you was so unbearable…”
“But, Michael, I’m here and I’m all right!” I squeezed his large hand, which now seemed so vulnerable in mine. Then I felt something shift in my mind, something that perhaps I’d sensed but pushed out. I was no more the little girl protected and pampered in Golden Lotus Temple, but had to be a strong woman to help Michael recover in a place where he could not even speak to anyone but me. Overnight, our roles seemed reversed-now I was his guardian goddess, and he the child thrust under my protection.
One tear fell from the corner of Michael’s eye and spilled onto the sutra.
“Damn,” he groaned, picking up the book.
“It’s all right, Michael.” I took the book from him and examined it. The tear smeared right at the phrase “reflecting that all the five elements are but emptiness, transcending all sufferings.” I showed it to him. “See, Guan Yin says we’ll transcend all sufferings.”
“I hope so,” Michael said, looking lost in thought.
“I’m sure we will.”
For the first time that day he smiled and the dingy hospital room seemed brighter.
At that moment, I felt overwhelmed with love for him. Suddenly I was almost glad about the car accident. I finally saw a place in his life-for Michael was not totally self-sufficient as I’d thought. Maybe nobody is. Even Yi Kong needed Sunny Au, the fat, vulgar protector of the Dharma. While I looked down at his now almost boyish face, the fortune-teller’s words popped into my mind:
Inside you there’s a spring of young yin energy that you should put to good use by helping your friend… He not only needs you, he needs the woman in you, not the little girl.
Just then Old Mother poked her head toward us and asked, “Miss, can you now ask your boyfriend if he can teach my daughter English?”
Her comrade pulled her back and chided her. “Old Mother, stop your nonsense and let this miss talk with her boyfriend.”
“My fiancé.” This time I corrected him.
Although Michael didn’t understand Chinese and had been in a rotten mood, he nevertheless smiled warmly at the two and said, “It’s all right.”
Old Mother threw another unexpected, irrelevant question. “Miss, you find everything you need?”
There was some silence before I said, softly, “Yes, and more.”
36. The Missing Temple
Before we left for Hong Kong, Michael and I decided to visit Master Detached Dust and Eternal Brightness in their hidden temple once more.
We took a taxi and went by the place where we thought we’d first seen it. But it wasn’t there. In one place, thinking we could see a corner of the old temple through a gap in the dense bamboo, we asked our driver to stop. Yet when we got out, to our disappointment, there was no sign of the path we had taken before. Unwilling to give up, we went back to the hospital to try to find our taxi driver. But he was not there. When we asked the porter at the hospital, he told us, “He left and we don’t know where he is. Anyway, even if you could find him it’s still no use, because I’m sure his license is already suspended because of the accident. Maybe they put him in jail.”
PART FOUR
37. Bad Karma
After a few more days’ rest in Hong Kong, Michael felt well enough to go back to the States. Before he left, we’d talked about our wedding plans. Now I wondered why I had ever thought of breaking the engagement and leaving him!
Suddenly there were all kinds of things to do. I knew I would have to ask Yi Kong to officiate at our Buddhist marriage ceremony, but in the meantime I occupied myself making arrangements: printing of invitation cards, trying on bridal dresses, ordering the banquet at a vegetarian restaurant. I was also desperate to see Dai Nam. Once back in Hong Kong, guilt welled up in me that my own karmic entanglements had kept me from doing much to comfort her after her attempted suicide.
One morning I took the MTR to Mong Kok, and from there changed to the train out to Golden Lotus Temple. I hurried past the stone garden and headed straight to Dai Nam’s dormitory. To my surprise, I found her room empty. Alarmed, I half ran to the temple’s new office compound to look for Enlightened to Emptiness. The young novice was arranging photographs of Guan Yin paintings on the desk. After we’d exchanged greetings and pleasantries, I plunged in and asked her about Dai Nam.
“The week after I came back from Chengdu, Wonderful Countenance Shifu left for China.”
“Why, what happened?”
“Nothing special. Shifu refuses to talk.” She frowned. “Shifu told us-in writing, I mean-that she wanted to go back to China to practice closed-door meditation.”
“Did she say exactly where she was going?”
“No, you know Shifu…but don’t worry, Miss Du. I’m sure she’ll turn up again someday.” Then she pointed to a photograph depicting a white-robed Guan Yin leaning on a rock by the river and asked, “You like this? This is Yi Kong Shifu’s favorite Guan Yin painting. She’s now in Suzhou. She said she’d see you later.”
I was not really listening and barely glanced at the picture. My heart started to pound. I hoped Dai Nam was not trying to imitate the now mummified Revealing Mystery, who hadn’t spoken, eaten, nor slept for her last fifteen years.
I thanked Enlightened to Emptiness, quickly left the office, and strolled to the stone garden. To relax, I inhaled the smell of the lush vegetation, appreciated the smoothly shaped stones, and listened to the poetic murmuring of the fountain. Then I realized I was not alone in the garden. The old woman, Chan Lan-Dai Nam’s great-aunt-was sitting on my favorite carp-viewing bench. My heart raced. Maybe she knew where Dai Nam was. I hurried to sit down by her side. A trail of bubbles spread out along the water as a fat carp surfaced and flapped its tail as if to greet me.
“Ah-po, how are you today? Why aren’t you practicing qigong?” Energy exercise.
Chan Lan smiled her toothless smile. “Just finished.” She leaned close to stare at me. “Are you the pretty, unmarried girl?”
“I’m unmarried, but…I don’t think I’m-” I patted her hand. “You have an excellent memory, Ah-po.”
She shook her head. “No good now, used to be excellent, can remember my grand-niece’s birthday, the date she arrived in Hong Kong, the date I paid one thousand dollars to buy her passport…” She stopped.
I seized the chance to ask, “You mean Dai Nam? How is she? Where is she now?”
“No good. Doesn’t talk and went to China.”
“Because she wants to practice meditation on the mountain?”
“No.” Chan Lan chuckled. “She went back to see her boyfriend.”
This was not what I had expected to hear.
“Ah-po, I think you’re mistaken, for she doesn’t have a boyfriend. She’s a nun!”
Chan Lan nodded emphatically, like a child trying to prove her innocence when accused of lying. “She does; he died long time.”
I muttered to myself, “Dai Nam went to China to see her dead boyfriend?”
Chan Lan turned to stare at the fountain, her gaze becoming abstract. I forced myself to keep quiet and wait for her to speak again. Only the sound of water and an occasional croaking of a frog interrupted our silence.
“She was nineteen, the boy much younger, only fifteen. Poor couple! No good!” Her voice sounded as shrill and excited as a five-year-old’s.
I asked softly, fearing that if I acted too eager I’d scare her out of talking, “I’m so sorry…how…did this happen?”