All the women said,
"Such is the principle."
And so it was.
Sim Yoyeon, though she would occasionally perform a sword dance before Lady Yu, the Prime Minister, and the two Princesses to lift the mood for a time, did not enjoy dancing often, saying, "At that time, though I met the Prime Minister through the affinity of the sword dance, it is a pastime with killing intent; thus it is not something to be seen constantly."
Thereafter, the six ladies including the two Princesses found joy in their mutual accord. Like fish swimming in water or birds following the clouds, they relied upon and followed one another like elder and younger brothers. Moreover, the Prime Minister's affection was evenly divided among them all. This was surely due to the virtue of all the wives being able to create a harmonious atmosphere throughout the household; yet on the other hand, it was also because these nine people shared a karmic bond from a previous life.
One day, the Princesses consulted with each other,
"The closeness of the two wives and six concubines is like flesh and blood; their affection is like that of brothers. How could this not be Heaven's will? Therefore, we ought not distinguish between noble and humble, but should address one another as sworn siblings."
When they revealed this intention to the six ladies, all demurred; among them, Chun-un, Gyeonghong, and Seom-wol were particularly unwilling. Princess Yeongyang admonished them, saying, "The three—Liu Xuande, Guan Yunchang, and Zhang Yide—were sovereign and subject in the world of men, yet became sworn brothers in the Peach Garden. I, with Chun-un, were originally in a sovereign-subject relationship, yet became sworn brothers in the Peach Garden. I, with Chun-un, were good friends from the inner quarters from the start, so what impossibility is there in becoming siblings? The Buddha's wife and the woman Mataṅgī (the prostitute who made Ananda practice asceticism) were of completely different nobility and baseness, and their carnal conduct differed as well; yet she became a disciple of the Great Teacher and ultimately attained true karmic affinity. What relation does initial lowliness have to the later fulfillment of one's will?"
Thus, the two Princesses finally went forth with the six ladies into the palace, and before the painted image of Guanyin Bodhisattva, whom they deeply revered, they burnt incense, performed prostrations, and composed a sworn oath to present.
On such-and-such a year, month, and day, the Buddha's disciples Yi Sohwa, Jeong Gyeongpae, Jin Chaebong, Ga Chun-un, Gye Seom-wol, Jeok Gyeonghong, Sim Yoyeon, and Baek Neungpa, having purified themselves by bathing and observing the precepts, present this before Guanyin Bodhisattva. The Buddhist scripture says, "All who dwell within the Four Seas are brothers." This is none other than because their dispositions and wills communicate with one another. Yet there are those who view the intimacy of heavenly relations as like passing wayfarers on the road; this is none other than because their sentiments and wills differ from one another.
We, disciples of the Buddha, though originally born apart in the south and north, and scattered again in the east and west, came to serve one husband together; moreover, dwelling in the same house, we have gradually become congenial in spirit and unified in feeling. To use an analogy: a single flower, shaken by wind and rain, may drift into the inner quarters, fall upon a hilltop, or drop into a mountain stream—yet examining its root, it comes from the same origin. How much more so with people: brothers are born sharing one vital energy; though scattered, how could they not return together to one place?
Though antiquity and the present are distant and vast, we exist together in one time; though the Four Seas are wide and great, we live together in one house. This is truly a karmic bond from previous lives, a fine opportunity in this life. Therefore, we, disciples of the Buddha, hereby swear together to become siblings and share fortune and misfortune, life and death. If among us there be one who harbors a different heart and breaks this sworn word, may Heaven surely strike them dead and the spirits surely shun them. Prostrate, we pray that Guanyin Bodhisattva will guide fortune to us, remove calamity from us, and thereby aid us so that after a hundred years of harmonious union, we may return together to the World of Utter Bliss.
From then on, the two Princesses called the concubines "younger sister," while the six ladies, mindful of their own status, did not dare call them "elder sister" in return; yet their affection grew ever more intimate. The eight women each bore children: the two wives, along with Chun-un, Seom-wol, Yoyeon, and Gyeonghong, bore sons, while Chaebong and Neungpa bore daughters. All were raised well, and none ever experienced the grief of losing a child—this too was different from ordinary people.
Prime Minister Yang's Memorial Requesting Retirement
At this time, all under Heaven was at peace; there was no trouble along the four borders, the people lived in comfort, and the harvests were bountiful. When the Prime Minister went out, he attended the Son of Heaven on hunts in the Sangrim Garden; when he returned, he held feasts in the main hall in honor of the Great Lady, passing the days in song and dance. As the saying goes, "The red dust comes flying"—this has always been the way from ancient times to today. Lady Yu happened to fall ill and departed from the world; she was ninety-nine years old. The Prime Minister grieved bitterly and prepared the burial with full rites. The two palaces sent eunuchs to offer condolences, and observing the rites due to a queen, dispatched ceremonial officials to oversee the funeral.
Needless to say, Jeongsa also enjoyed glory both within and without; when she passed away after a long life, the Prime Minister's grief was not inferior to that for Lady Jeong.
Prime Minister Yang's six sons and two daughters all resembled their parents; the boys were like dragons and tigers, and the girls like Chang'e. The eldest son, Dae-gyeong, born of Lady Jeong, rose to become Minister of Personnel; the second son, Cha-gyeong, born of Jeok Gyeonghong, held the position of Metropolitan Governor; the third son, Suk-gyeong, born of Ga Chun-un, held the position of Vice Censor-in-Chief; the fourth son, Gye-gyeong, born of Princess Nanyang, held the position of Vice Minister of War; the fifth son, O-gyeong, born of Gye Seom-wol, held the position of Hanlin Academician; the sixth son, Chi-gyeong, born of Sim Yoyeon, possessed extraordinary strength and stratagems like unto a ghost's. The Son of Heaven cherished him greatly, appointing him Supreme General of the Imperial Guards to command an army of one hundred thousand and guard the palace. The eldest daughter, Bu-dan, born of Jin Chaebong, became the wife of the Prince of Langya, the son of the King of Yue; the second daughter, Yeong-rak, born of Baek Neungpa, became a concubine of the Crown Prince.
One day, Prime Minister Yang spoke in metaphor,
"When fullness peaks, it declines; when a vessel is too full, it easily overflows."
He then submitted a memorial to request retirement from office.
"Your subject, Prime Minister Yang Soyu, kowtows a hundred times and addresses His Majesty the Emperor.
People are born into the world, and their desire is to become generals, ministers, dukes, and marquises; once their offices reach the rank of minister, chancellor, duke, or marquis, they have no further desires. Parents pray for their children to achieve fame and riches; once the body achieves fame and riches, there are no further hopes.
If so, how can the glory of high ministers and dukes and the joy of fame and riches not be what human hearts covet and what the customs of the age strive for?
Yet how can the glory and riches of the world know satiety, and how can one fathom that they bring calamity upon themselves? Though your subject lacks talent and ability, I occupy a high office; though my merits are few and my fame slight, I have long remained in one position. Imperial favor toward me is already extreme, and glory has already reached my parents.
My original desire was not one ten-thousandth of this; presumptuously, I became a royal son-in-law and am treated with rites unlike all others under Heaven. Your beneficent rewards are extraordinarily special, so that this body, raised on coarse vegetables, now eats rich food to satiety. Of mean status, I dare enter and exit the palace, thereby shaming the sagely ruler above and transgressing my own lot below—how could I dare to be at ease in my heart?
Long ago I wished to withdraw my traces, avoid glory, close my door, and decline virtue, thereby taking upon myself the crimes of rudeness and shamelessness to apologize of my own accord to the spirits of Heaven and Earth. Yet your bestowed grace is so abundant that there is no way to repay it; moreover, my physical strength is still sufficient to ride and gallop, so I reluctantly sat back down, intending to repay even one ten-thousandth of your heavenly grace before retiring to guard the ancestral tombs and spend my remaining years. But now, unable to repay your special grace, my humble age is already advanced; unable to extend my loyalty, my hair has whitened before my will. Though I now wish to exhaust the loyalty of a dog or horse to repay a grace heavy as Mount Tai, my physical faculties are already ruined, and there is nothing to be done.
Now, relying upon the divine discernment of the Son of Heaven, the borderlands have submitted without employing military power; the myriad people are at ease, and the panpipes and drums are not alarmed; the sagely writing of Heaven has reached its utmost, achieving the joyful governance of the Three Dynasties (Xia, Yin, and Zhou). Yet though Your Majesty might have me remain at court, I would only waste my salary and let Your Majesty hear nothing but songs of praise; there would be no occasion to produce miraculous strategies.
From ancient times it is said that a benevolent ruler and his minister are like father and child. In a parent's heart, even an inadequate child is cherished when he is in the bosom, and worried over when he goes abroad. Prostrate, I think that Your Majesty will surely point to my old body and call it an old thing, pitying me so that you cannot bear to let me retire in one morning. But how can a child's concern for his parents differ from a parent's love for his child?
I have received Your Majesty's grace so deeply; how could I, retiring far away and prostrating myself in the mountains, take leave of a benevolent ruler like Yao and Shun?
A vessel already full of water cannot be made to overflow no matter what; an overturned burden cannot again be mounted no matter what. Prostrate, I pray: consider that I cannot endure many affairs, and perceive that I do not desire high position. Specially permit me to return to my homeland and spend my remaining years; allow me to sing of your sagely virtue and be moved by your grace."
The Emperor, having seen this memorial, personally took up his brush and issued a rescript (a written reply of approval or disapproval from the monarch to a minister's memorial).
"Your great merits stand tall in the court, and your virtuous bounty reaches deeply to the people. You are the pillar of the state and my own arm and leg. Of old, Jiang Taigong and the Duke of Shao (a son of King Wen of Zhou) were nearly one hundred years old, yet they assisted the house of Zhou and were able to achieve great feats. You have not yet reached the age at which one returns one's office as per the Rites of Zhou. Though you may make excuses and wish to retire prematurely, I cannot possibly permit it. Your bearing has rather been refreshed of late, not inferior to the youth who once issued edicts in the Jade Hall (Hanlin Academy); your vigor is still robust, no different from when you exterminated the bandit horde at Weijiao. Though you are called old, I truly do not believe it. I expect you to reflect the lofty integrity of Gasan and thereby assist in bestowing the benevolent governance of the Tang-Yu era—this is my wish."
Though the Prime Minister's years were many, his body was still not decrepit; people all compared him to an immortal, and thus the rescript spoke in this manner.
The Prime Minister submitted another memorial, his wish to retire being most earnest. The Emperor summoned him for an audience and issued an imperial edict:
"Your refusal has reached this point; how can I forcefully prevent your will from being realized? However, if you were to go to your fief, there would be no one with whom to confer on matters of state. Moreover, since the Empress Dowager has already passed away, how could I bear to be far separated from the two Princesses of Yeongyang and Nanyang? Forty li outside the South Gate is a detached palace, namely the Cuimei Palace, where Emperor Xianzong once spent the summer. This palace is serene and deep, secluded and spacious; it is a place suitable for passing one's old age in leisure. I specially bestow it upon you."
He then immediately issued an imperial decree, bestowing upon the Prime Minister the additional title of Grand Preceptor (the highest of the Three Excellencies) as Duke Weiguo, and granting him five thousand additional households as reward, while ordering that he still retain the Prime Minister's seal.
Grand Preceptor Yang was all the more overwhelmed by imperial grace; he bowed his head in thanks, then led his household and moved his residence to the detached palace. The palace lay deep within Mount Zhongnan, its towers and pavilions magnificent, its scenery wondrous beyond compare, like the immortal realm of the Three Sacred Mountains. The Grand Preceptor enshrined the edict bestowed by His Majesty and the writing composed by the Emperor himself, then assigned the remaining halls and pavilions as residences for the two princesses and all the young ladies.
Each day the Grand Preceptor went to the waterside to enjoy the moonlight, entered the valleys in search of plum blossoms, composed verses when he passed stone cliffs, and, when seated in the shade of pines, took up his geomungo and played. The pure blessings of his old age made others envy him all the more, and as the Chancellor delighted in leisure and received no guests, many years passed in this way.
The sixteenth day of the eighth month was the Grand Preceptor’s birthday, and all his sons and daughters held a banquet to celebrate his longevity. The feast lasted more than ten days, and the splendor of the occasion was beyond description. When the banquet ended, all the children returned to their own homes.
Before long it was the ninth month. Chrysanthemum buds had opened, and the dogwood trees hung with dark-red fruit; the high skies of autumn had arrived. To the west of Chwimigung Palace stood a lofty peak, and from its summit the eight hundred li of the Qin plains could be seen as though spread upon the palm of one’s hand. The Grand Preceptor loved that place above all others. On this day he went up to the terrace with his two wives and six concubines. Each placed a chrysanthemum blossom in her hair, and as they gazed upon the autumn scenery, they sat facing one another and drank wine. Before long the setting sun slipped beyond the high mountain peaks, and drifting clouds cast their shadows over the broad fields; the autumn light grew all the more radiant, as though a painted scroll had been unfurled.
The Grand Preceptor took out a jade flute and played a melody. Its sound was exceedingly sorrowful; every phrase seemed to resent, to long for, to sob, to lament. All the beauties felt their breasts tighten with grief, and the two wives spoke first to ask him:
“My lord, you achieved fame early and have long enjoyed wealth and honor; this is acknowledged by all people in the world, and such a thing was rare even in ancient times. On this fine day of a fine season, you have followed the scenery to its loveliest point, floated chrysanthemum petals upon your wine cup, and beauties fill your席. This too is one of life’s joys. Yet the sound of your flute is so desolate that it makes us unable to hold back our tears. Why is the melody you play today so different from those of days past?”
At these words, the Grand Preceptor suddenly threw down the flute, shifted his seat, and said, “When I look north, level fields stretch away on every side, and a treeless ridge stands alone. The feeble rays of the setting sun glimmer faintly through wild woods—that is the Epang Palace of Qin Shi Huang. When I look west, the wind brushes the forest and clusters of evening cloud encircle the mountains—that is the Maoling of Emperor Wu of Han. When I look east, whitewashed walls gleam against green mountains, and red roof-ridges soar into the sky. There the bright moon comes of itself and withdraws of itself, and there is no one left to lean again on the jade balustrade—that is Huaqing Palace, where Emperor Xuanzong once wandered with Yang Guifei. Alas! These three sovereigns were all heroes for ten thousand ages, and yet where are they now? I, Soyu, was a lowly scholar from the land of Chu, yet I received favor from a sagely lord, and my office rose to minister and general. Moreover, I met my ladies and young mistresses, and our deep and tender affections have remained close into old age. Were this not a bond pledged in a previous life, how could it have come to this? After we return but once, the high terraces will crumble of themselves, and the deep ponds will fill of themselves. The halls where songs and dances were performed will change into withered grass and chill mist; surely they will become places where woodcutters’ children wander and play.
They will say that the wealth, honor, elegance, and romance of the Grand Chancellor, and the fair faces and graceful bearing of all the young ladies, have already become desolate and still. When those woodcutters and herdboys look upon the places where we once roamed, it will be just as I now look upon the palaces and tombs of those three sovereigns. From this, can we not see that a human life is but an instant? In the world there are three Ways: the Confucian Way, Buddhism, and the arts of immortals. Of these three, only Buddhism is lofty. The Confucian Way merely illuminates ethics and values achievement, so that one’s name may be passed down to later ages. The arts of immortals are close to delusion; since ancient times many have practiced them, yet in the end none obtained any true efficacy. This may be known by looking at the deeds of Qin Shi Huang, Emperor Wu of Han, and Emperor Xuanzong. Ever since I presented my resignation, every night in my dreams I have bowed before the Buddha. This must mean I have a bond with the Buddhist path. I intend to fulfill Zhang Zifang’s wish to follow Chisongzi, to go to the Southern Sea in search of Guanyin Bodhisattva, and to climb Mount Wutai to meet Manjushri Bodhisattva, so that I may obtain the Way of neither birth nor extinction and escape the suffering of human ties. Yet because I have spent half my life in companionship with you, and now must part from you and go far away, my sorrowful heart naturally came out through the flute.”
All the young ladies were moved and said:
“That my lord should harbor such a mind amid splendor and prosperity—how could this not be ordained by Heaven? We eight sisters will dwell together deep within the women’s quarters, and morning and evening we shall behold the Buddha. If my lord departs this time, you will surely meet an enlightened teacher and worthy friends and attain the great Way. We humbly beg that, after my lord has realized the Way, you will first instruct us.”
Seongjin and the Eight Immortal Maidens awaken from the dream.
Grand Preceptor Yang was greatly pleased and said:
“Since the hearts of the nine of us are in accord, what is there to worry about? I shall depart tomorrow, so today I will drink to my fill with all of you.”
All the young ladies said with one voice:
“We too shall each offer a cup to bid farewell to my lord.”
Just as they were about to call the maids and have more wine brought in, the sound of a staff suddenly rang upon the stone path. Everyone was puzzled and said:
“What sort of person is coming up here?”
Before long, an old monk approached the席. His eyebrows were as long as a ruler, his eyes were clear as rippling water, and his bearing was most extraordinary. Ascending the terrace, he bowed to the Grand Preceptor and said:
“This man of the mountains greets the Grand Chancellor.”
The Grand Preceptor already perceived that he was no ordinary monk. He hurriedly rose, returned the bow, and asked:
“Great Master, from where have you come?”
The old monk smiled and replied:
“Does the Chancellor not know an old friend of his lifetime? I have heard it said that noble men are quick to forget, and indeed it is so.”
Grand Preceptor Yang looked closely. The face seemed familiar, yet he could not be sure. Then he suddenly understood, swept his gaze over all the young ladies, and turned back to the old monk, saying, “In days past, when I was campaigning against Tubo, I dreamed that I attended a banquet of the Dragon King of Dongting, and on my way back I briefly ascended Nanyue. There I saw an aged Great Master seated in dignity, expounding the Buddhist scriptures to all his disciples. Are you not the Great Master I met in that dream?”
The old monk burst into laughter and said:
“Indeed, indeed. Though those words are true, you remember only that one meeting in a dream and fail to remember the ten years we lived together. Who would call Chancellor Yang clever?”
The Grand Preceptor was utterly bewildered and said:
“Before the age of fifteen or sixteen, Soyu never left his parents’ side. At sixteen, I passed the examination and was soon appointed to office. Apart from going east as an envoy to Yan and west to subjugate Tubo, I have never once left the capital. When could I have spent ten years in your company, Master?”
The old monk continued smiling and said:
“My lord has still not awakened from his spring dream.”
Grand Preceptor Yang asked:
“Master, how can you awaken Soyu from his spring dream?”
The old monk said:
“That is not difficult.”
With that, he struck the stone railing several times with the red staff he held in his hand. Suddenly clouds rose from the four valleys and covered the pleasure terrace, so that nothing could be distinguished even at arm’s length. Grand Preceptor Yang’s mind grew dim, as though he were dreaming, and only after a long while did he cry out:
“Master, why do you not guide Soyu by the true Way, but instead toy with me through illusion?”
Before his words had ended, the clouds dispersed. The old monk was nowhere to be seen, and when he looked to either side, the eight young ladies too had vanished. Greatly startled, he did not know what to do. Then the towers and many buildings all disappeared at once, and his own body was seated upon a meditation cushion inside a small hermitage. The fire in the incense burner had already gone out, and the setting moon barely shone at the window.
He looked down at himself and saw a rosary of one hundred and eight beads hanging from his wrist. When he touched his head with his hand, his hair had been shaved and felt bristly; without doubt he had the appearance of a young monk, and no longer bore the dignified attire of the Grand Chancellor. His mind was dazed, and only after a long while did he realize that he was Seongjin the novice of the monastery on Lotus Peak of Nanyue. He thought:
“At first, I was reprimanded by Great Master Yukgwan and cast down into the prison of Fengdu. Then I was reborn in the human world and became a son of the Yang family. I grew up, took the civil examination, was selected as principal graduate, became a Hanlin scholar, went out as a general and returned as a minister, established great merit and withdrew from office, then enjoyed the rest of my life with the two princesses and six young ladies. All of that was but a single night’s dream. Surely my master knew that my thoughts were astray, and made me dream such a dream so that I would understand that human wealth and honor, and the relations between men and women, are all empty things.”
Seongjin hurriedly washed his face and put his clothing in order, then went to the Dharma hall. The other disciples had already all gathered there.
The Great Master asked in a loud voice:
“Seongjin, Seongjin! Was the pleasure of the human world truly so fine?”
Seongjin opened his eyes wide and looked up. Great Master Yukgwan stood there with solemn dignity. Seongjin struck his head, shed tears, and repented, saying, “Your disciple Seongjin’s conduct was impure. Since the sin was of my own making, whom could I resent or blame? I ought to have received calamity, yet Master summoned me awake from a single night’s vain dream and enlightened Seongjin’s heart. I know that even through ten million kalpas, I could never repay Master’s profound grace.”
Great Master Yukgwan admonished him, saying:
“You went off on a whim, and when the whim was exhausted you returned; what need was there for me to interfere? Moreover, from what you say, you divide dream and world into two. This means you still have not awakened from the dream. Long ago, Zhuang Zhou dreamed he had become a butterfly; then again, the butterfly transformed into Zhuang Zhou. Which was the empty dream?”
Seongjin answered:
“Your disciple Seongjin now finds everything hazy and cannot distinguish dream from truth. I beg Master to bestow the Dharma and allow this body to understand it.”
Great Master Yukgwan gladly assented and said:
“I shall indeed expound the great Dharma of the Diamond Sutra and thereby enlighten your mind. But in a little while there will be new disciples arriving, so you must wait.”
Before he had even finished speaking, the Daoist gatekeeper announced that guests had arrived. Soon after, Lady Wei’s maidservants, the Eight Immortal Maidens, came before the Great Master, joined their palms, bowed, and said with one voice, “Though we disciples have attended upon Lady Wei, we have learned nothing. Unable to restrain our foolish thoughts, desire raised its head for a moment, and grave sins followed close behind. We dreamed vain dreams in the human realm, yet had no one to awaken us. But our teacher, in his great compassion and mercy, awakened us and brought us back, and we are filled with gratitude. Yesterday we went to Lady Wei’s palace to take our leave, and now we have returned. We beg our teacher to forgive our old sins and bestow upon us his especially bright teachings.”
Great Master Yukgwan admonished them, saying,
“Though the intentions of you female immortals are admirable, the Buddha Dharma is deep and distant. Without great capacity and great vows, one cannot reach it. You must therefore measure yourselves and strive accordingly.”
The Eight Immortal Maidens withdrew, washed away the rouge and powder from their faces, and each formed the bond of sisters in the Dharma. Then they took out golden scissors, cut away their cloudlike hair, and returned to tell the Great Master,
“We eight disciples have already altered our outward appearance. From this day forth, we swear never to be negligent in our teacher’s instructions and commands.”
Great Master Yukgwan was greatly pleased and said,
“Excellent! Since you eight can change yourselves in this way, how could I not be moved?”
Then he ascended his seat and expounded the scriptures,
“The radiance of the white tuft shone upon the world, and heavenly flowers fell like rain.”
When the exposition of the scriptures was finished, Seongjin and the eight nuns at once awakened to the Buddha Dharma and attained the true fruition that is neither born nor extinguished. Seeing that Seongjin’s observance of the precepts was steadfast and mature, Great Master Yukgwan gathered the assembly and said, “I came to China hoping to transmit my Buddha Dharma. Now, at last, I have found one to whom I may pass on the true Dharma, and so I shall return.” Then he gave Seongjin his prayer beads, alms bowl, pure-water vessel, monk’s staff, and a copy of the Diamond Sutra, and departed toward the western sky.
After this, Seongjin led the assembly of the Lotus Dharma Hall and spread great instruction. Immortals, dragon spirits, and humans alike revered him as they had Great Master Yukgwan. The eight nuns also served Seongjin as their teacher, deeply comprehended the Great Way of the bodhisattva, and the nine of them went together to the World of Utmost Bliss.
(The End)