Bro | Chapter 53

Give life to time, rather than giving time to life. —Pascal

Later, in order to find Ma Zi’s mother and Grandma Song, Wei Qian and the others practically turned the whole city upside down. But the city was too big, and every clue that seemed to lead somewhere in the end turned out to be nothing more than chasing wind and shadows.

Some said they had seen them near the artificial lake in the park. Some said they had headed toward the moat. Others said that, beneath some abandoned bridge opening, they had seen two women like that, one elderly and one crippled.

Yet in the end, they still came up empty-handed.

Just like that, Ma Zi’s mother and Grandma Song were gone.

The one hit hardest by this was Xiao Bao.

If it had been possible, no one would have wanted her to know about it. But two people she had lived beside day and night had vanished just like that. There was no way to hide it from her.

When her parents died, Xiao Bao had been too young and too ignorant to understand, and she had long since forgotten. But Grandma was different.

Grandma was the person closest to her.

She had originally been a little girl in Eden, untouched by wind and rain. Grandma Song’s departure dragged her into the human world without warning. What came at her head-on was the blade-wind of time, something she had never valued and never truly experienced. The very first strike drew blood, and it was pain that cut straight into her skin.

During that period, Xiao Bao would often fall into a daze for no reason at all. Sometimes something would suddenly remind her of the past, and the moment she turned around, tears would fall. She would remember quarreling with Grandma, remember being angry with her, remember how she had always felt training and exams were more important, and how she had inevitably neglected her.

When Grandma Song had been close to freezing and starving to death, when she cast her final glance over the world around her and found that in the whole city there was not a single person she knew, that everywhere she looked was filled with strangers, would she have regretted the hotheaded decision she made in that one moment?

No one knew.

Perhaps she was bleak and grief-stricken. Or perhaps, with one foot already stepping into the kingdom of death, she felt as though she had arrived home.

Fate is sometimes decided by a single thought. Grandma Song cut off every terrifying possible future, and in another form, carried herself on vividly and indelibly in the bloodline of her loved ones.

Later still, Xiong-saozi, Chen Lu, also passed away.

No one knew whether she went peacefully. Thinking of the many disappointments and dissatisfactions in her life, she was probably unwilling to go.

She was far too young. It was not the kind of funeral one could call a blessed passing in old age. The funeral was conducted in silence and solemnity, and basically everyone in the company who could attend went.

Compared with his successor Wei Qian, Lao Xiong seemed especially mild-tempered. He was faithful and wealthy, not really that old either, and though he truly was not much to look at, for a middle-aged man, one who was visually handsome was rare to begin with, so it hardly counted as a flaw.

After Chen Lu died, a small handful of people had set their sights on the position of “Mrs. Xiong.” Some were simply concerned and wanted to introduce him to a new partner. Others had ulterior motives and wanted to take the vacancy themselves.

Unfortunately, before long all of them gave up and fell silent, because Lao Xiong did something extraordinarily outrageous.

He divided up his family assets. His own parents were richer than he was, so there was no need to worry about them. Lao Xiong split his property in two, left half to Chen Lu’s parents, donated the other half to a temple on the outskirts of the city, then shaved his head clean and went in to become a monk.

It was said that because he had made outstanding financial contributions to our Buddha, after entering the temple, Lao Xiong was accepted straight under the abbot and became a final disciple who had entered late but held high seniority.

After so many years, he had actually turned back into that same big idiot from back then who trekked through freezing, oxygen-starved mountain country just to buy a pot.

Later still…

Wei Qian parked the car and dragged the newly bought large suitcase out of the trunk. Some things had already been packed into it, all things he thought would be needed. The suitcase felt good in the hand, held a lot, was not heavy, looked sturdy, and looked nice too. Of course it looked nice. Wei Qian had spent ages picking it out before finally choosing this one, the most expensive one.

This did not fit Wei Qian’s personal style. Though he had long since ceased to have anything to do with the word poor, he had still not become, as he himself had once imagined, some spendthrift nouveau riche. Most of the money spent from his wallet and his personal cards was not used to buy things for himself. Chairman Wei was still a memorably tightfisted cheapskate.

If he needed something himself, he would walk into a shop, and in the end he would definitely buy the mid-priced item, or even something a little below the middle range. All his clothes were the same old basic styles. His shirts were all plain white shirts without the slightest flourish, that way he did not have to buy a whole pile of ties just to match them.

To be honest, if not for his own bearing and appearance, anyone looking at this young man would most likely think he either sold insurance or worked in a real estate sales office.

He still drove that battered little Malibu of his, so whenever he had to go out and meet people, he had to switch to one of the company cars, lest someone see him and think he looked too shabby.

This suitcase was of course not something he had been willing to buy for his own use. Wei Qian carried it all the way upstairs and set it down outside Wei Zhiyuan’s door. He lifted a hand and knocked once to draw the attention of the person inside who had his back to him, then turned and left without a word.

Wei Zhiyuan turned back, but his brother had already gone. Not far away came the sound of a door shutting.

He stood up, silently dragged the suitcase into the room, and ran a hand over its handle. Then after hesitating for a moment, he walked to Wei Qian’s door and stood there still for a long time, like someone being punished. Three times he raised his hand to knock, and three times he lowered it again.

Ever since that bizarre and dazzling annual meeting, this had been the state between them. Wei Qian still did everything for Wei Zhiyuan that he could, but treated him like air. If he absolutely had to speak to him, then he would be as brief as a telegram, economical and environmentally friendly, and he would never look him in the eyes.

Originally, with Wei Qian’s usual temper, he definitely would have flown into a rage.

Back then, Wei Zhiyuan had been sobered by that punch, the alcohol punched out of him, and he had thought the next thing coming was a vicious beating. On the ride home, he had even thought Wei Qian might sever all ties with him and that from then on they would never have anything to do with each other again.

But none of that happened.

What happened afterward, one thing after another, left both of them mentally and physically exhausted. Wei Qian had neither the time nor the energy left to beat him anymore.

As for the worst ending Wei Zhiyuan had imagined… only afterward did he belatedly realize that he had underestimated his brother’s feelings, even though those feelings were not the kind he wanted.

Late at night, when all was quiet, Wei Zhiyuan would reflect and examine himself for no particular reason. He discovered that things like making a clean break or dragging everything down together were things only he himself could do. So long as there was still even a trace of emotional bond holding in his brother’s heart, his brother would absolutely never go that far.

Wei Qian’s love and indulgence toward his younger brother and sister had, over the passing days, become something almost as hard to notice as a background color through the quietness of it. Yet now, in this very attitude of rejection, it instead stood out.

Wei Zhiyuan felt a kind of dying, lingering attachment inside himself. At this point, he was about to leave.

Leaving had not been his idea. One day, Wei Qian printed out the admissions information for several famous foreign universities and placed it in front of Wei Zhiyuan together with a card already loaded with money. He said nothing in particular, but everything that needed to be said was already there: handle it yourself.

A year later, Wei Zhiyuan had completed the applications and all the related procedures. With his letter of admission, he was about to board a plane the next day and leave, flying to a strange country more than ten hours away.

And the person he loved would remain on the other side of the earth. The long time difference turned even the ancients’ saying of “sharing the moonlight though a thousand li apart” into an impossible illusion.

In the end, Wei Zhiyuan still did not disturb Wei Qian. He quietly went out alone.

He rode the public bus without any destination, passing through street after street across the whole city. This place was already far too different from what it had been more than ten years ago. At first glance, the changes were almost beyond recognition. Back then, Wei Zhiyuan had never imagined that this place would bring his drifting life to an end.

…Later, he had also never imagined that this place would not, after all, be his final stop.

Wei Zhiyuan did not know how far he had ridden. The bus kept going all the way to the final stop, and in the city bus that during peak hours could pack people together so tightly they were flattened into photographs, he was the only passenger left.

The conductor glanced strangely at the young passenger, walked over, and reminded him, “Young man, this is the last stop. Time to get off.”

Only then did Wei Zhiyuan seem to wake from a dream, and in a daze he got off in an unfamiliar place.

Sometimes, the outskirts of a city can feel as far away as the county next door. At first Wei Zhiyuan did not react to where this place was. He stood by the roadside for a while and saw an illegal one-day tour group dispersing there. The guide, holding a little red flag, was leading in front while talking up a storm, with a row of tourists behind him trailing along, tired as dogs.

Fragments of the commentary drifted into Wei Zhiyuan’s ears. He heard the name of a certain temple, and after quite a while, he finally remembered that this seemed to be the place where Lao Xiong had become a monk.

Wei Zhiyuan did not know what state of mind had made him do it, but he followed this group of tourists all the way to the temple gate. He had only meant to come have a look and had not expected to run into Lao Xiong, but to his surprise, he saw him right there at the ticket booth.

There was Lao Xiong with a gleaming bald head, draped in kasaya robes, collecting money with one hand and handing out tickets with the other, all the while not forgetting to enthusiastically pitch to the tourists: “Patron, would you like to buy incense? This temple is very efficacious when it comes to making wishes. Female patrons wanting to pray for peach blossom luck, please line up on this side. Special promotion today, buy incense and get a peace talisman free, personally consecrated by the master. Wait, wait, today is limited to female patrons only. That young man over there, do not try to sneak into the line!”

Wei Zhiyuan: “…”

Only after a great wave of tour groups had gone through did Lao Xiong get a break. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his wide sleeve, picked up the bottle of mineral water beside him, and poured half of it down in one go. Then he let out a long sigh of comfort. “Amitabha.”

Only then did Wei Zhiyuan get the chance to walk over. “I thought you came here for quiet cultivation.”

Lao Xiong looked up, saw him, and was a little startled. He hurriedly waved over a half-grown young monk to take over for him, then asked Wei Zhiyuan, “Xiao Yuan? What brings you here?”

Wei Zhiyuan gave a bitter smile.

Lao Xiong sized up his expression, thought for a moment, and said, “Alright then. Since you’re here, come sit for a while in the meditation room where I stay.”

Wei Zhiyuan nodded indifferently and was just about to follow him.

Lao Xiong turned back again and added, “Wait a second. Buy a ticket first. We’re a small operation here. Don’t think you can dodge the fare just because you know someone.”

Helpless, Wei Zhiyuan pulled out a handful of loose change. He understood now, Lao Xiong’s so-called becoming a monk was basically a special trip here to profane the Buddhist order.

The temple stood in the mountains. In the blazing summer, the dense vegetation on the mountain was protected as part of the scenic tourist area, every patch of it raised so lush and green it seemed ready to drip.

Once they passed through the front courtyard crowded with tourists, Lao Xiong led Wei Zhiyuan into the rear courtyard marked “Tourists Stop Here,” and all at once it became quiet.

A long-haired dog was lying at the entrance. Seeing people, it was not startled in the slightest. A young monk was sweeping the courtyard, and when he saw them, he politely greeted Lao Xiong.

Near and far, the faint sounds of wooden fish drums and sutra chanting melted into the cicadas’ endless cries. Incense smoke drifted thinly upward, and the feeling of a “pure Buddhist sanctuary” washed over him.

This was an ancient temple, and without question the meditation rooms were all very run-down. Of course, as the temple’s great financial patron, Lao Xiong was already living in the best place available.

Lao Xiong boiled a kettle of hot water and brewed tea for Wei Zhiyuan.

Wei Zhiyuan lifted the cup and took a sip, and only tasted the flavor of coarse tea stems. Lowering his head to look, he saw the tea leaves stretching and bobbing up and down, leaf after leaf dancing lightly, all of them broad and rough-looking, like someone had reached up into a big willow tree, yanked down a handful of leaves, and directly brewed them for a guest.

So he put the cup down again.

Lao Xiong asked, “It’s almost dinner time. You came all the way out here, did you tell your family? Does your brother know?”

Wei Zhiyuan rested two fingers on the rim of the cup and turned the damp teacup once around, then answered in a low voice without addressing the question, “My flight is tomorrow. I’m going abroad.”

Lao Xiong was taken aback at first. Then after a moment of silence, he sighed. “That’s pretty good too. In the future, when you come back, you’ll be one of those overseas returnees, more promising than all of us… at least more promising than me.”

The corner of Wei Zhiyuan’s mouth twitched upward mechanically. He thought, Come back? Will I even be able to come back?

He stiffly changed the subject. “How does it feel, being a monk?”

“It’s alright. The only problem is the kitchen doesn’t make pork with bean-thread noodles, and I really miss it.” Lao Xiong sniffed. “What, are you thinking of joining too?”

Wei Zhiyuan smiled but said nothing. He did not tell Lao Xiong that the instant he saw the mountain temple from afar, that thought really had flashed through his mind… only for the buy-one-get-one-free offer at the ticket booth to dispel it.

“Don’t come. Your heart is full of the soft red dust of the mortal world, ten zhang deep. You definitely wouldn’t be able to stay.” As Lao Xiong spoke, he seemed to remember something, and his tone lowered, tinged with self-mockery. “I’m different. My ten zhang of soft red dust has already turned into rosy clouds and drifted away.”

Wei Zhiyuan asked, “Other than selling tickets and incense, what else do you do every day?”

“What do you mean, selling this and selling that? Sounds awful, doesn’t it? Monks also have to eat, little brother. This poor monk’s main profession is still quiet cultivation. It’s just that from time to time, taking the temple as my home, I try to think of ways to generate a bit of income for everyone, that’s all.”

Wei Zhiyuan did not argue with him, and only asked, “What are you cultivating?”

Lao Xiong said, “Hinayana. I cultivate my own understanding of the emptiness and existence of self and dharmas. I can’t learn that Mahayana set of the Four Means of Gathering and the Six Perfections. I just want to pull myself out of the sea of suffering. I never planned to ferry all living beings across and bring others with me. If you came to me looking for comfort, save it.”

Wei Zhiyuan shook his head. “I didn’t come looking for comfort. I’ve already given up.”

Lao Xiong snorted in laughter. “Young man, do you think I’d believe you?”

Wei Zhiyuan remained silent for a long time.

The two of them sat there with nothing to say for quite a while. At last, Lao Xiong could not hold back from speaking again.

“I’m already someone standing outside the threshold. No matter how shocking and outrageous you are, you can’t shock me anymore. So let me give you a few words of advice.” Lao Xiong said, “The first time I met you, I told your brother that you were a very ‘thin’ person. Over the past few years I haven’t had much contact with you, but every time I’ve seen you, I’ve felt that you’ve only grown thinner and thinner, almost thin as a cicada’s wing.”

Without any change in expression, Wei Zhiyuan said, “Xiong-ge, are you saying I’m very narrow?”

“That’s right. You’ve got insight, that is exactly what I mean,” Lao Xiong admitted frankly. “Think about it. What is the thing in your life that you feel you can never cross, can never obtain, can never defeat?”

Wei Zhiyuan said nothing. Obvious pain appeared on his young face, and without even asking, Lao Xiong knew exactly who he had thought of.

But he merely waved a hand without the least pity. “You want to say your brother? You little boy who still can’t get past adolescence… your brother loves you too much if anything. Tell me, how wronged is he? For no reason at all, he’s become the greatest psychological wound of your whole life.”

Wei Zhiyuan’s fingers were almost digging into the teacup.

Lao Xiong said, “Young people… it’s good that you’re leaving. Go look at the world outside. Give yourself ten minutes every day and think carefully about how you’ve lived these past twenty-some years. Qian’er is not your problem, child. Even if it runs against human ethics, so long as he is still alive and living well, then he is not your problem. You’ve got plenty of problems, but when it comes down to it, the root of them is still yourself.”

Wei Zhiyuan looked up at him blankly.

Lao Xiong pointed at the tattered meditation cushion and walls inside his room. “Since you’re here today anyway, sit here and properly meditate for a bit. I’m going back out to sell tickets. Some things, once you understand them clearly, then nothing can break you. If you can’t understand them, then you’ll stay trapped inside. Your brother… this is how he’ll be for his whole life. But you still have a chance.”