Chapter Five: The Humble Shrine

Sarira are the crystallized remains left after the cremation of eminent Buddhist monks, held in the highest reverence by followers of the faith. The parietal bone relic of the monk Xuanzang is, quite literally, a holy treasure of Buddhism.

However, considering that Zhu Yuanzhang was a devotee of metaphysical numerology and that Taoism and Buddhism were distinct schools, the idea of him placing clues to the fourteen Ming tombs within a Buddhist underground palace felt, to me, rather absurd.

I paced back and forth for a long time, then looked up and asked with a puzzled frown, "Since there is an underground palace, how do we get down there?"

"Do you think you're an enlightened master or the Buddha himself?" Yue Qianling replied. "The underground palace of the Daci'en Temple is a sacred site for the entire Buddhist world, as well as a restricted area. Unless it's a major ritual or a grand Buddhist gathering, the palace is never opened, and you certainly wouldn't be allowed inside."

Feeling helpless, I stepped out of the Xuanzang Memorial Hall and rubbed my hair in frustration. "Robbing a bank would be easier than this. You can't just cause trouble in a place of Buddhist purity. If this were anywhere else, and since Huo Qian happens to be in Chang'an, I’d just find some men to sneak in. But it's an underground palace; forcing our way in is impossible. We have to find another way."

"Actually..." Yue Qianling said with a faint smile, "I do have an idea."

"I’m surprised your brain could come up with anything," I said, offering a weak smile. At this point, I had to treat a dying horse like a live one. "Let’s hear it."

"The gods and Buddhas don't eat or drink, but they still need incense offerings. The hundred or so monks at Daci'en Temple have to eat every day, don't they?" Yue Qianling said, pushing Gu Anqi toward me. "We have overseas Chinese benefactors here to donate to Daci'en Temple. They are pious believers hoping to pay respects to Master Xuanzang’s relic and promote the Dharma. That’s a reasonable request, isn't it?"

"Right," Qiunuo added with a gentle smile, shaking her head. "Sister Qianling’s idea is good. If I use my status to make a donation to Daci'en Temple and then ask to enter the underground palace, I believe the abbot will agree."

"Buddhist disciples seek to empty themselves of worldly desires," I said, standing up from the bench and taking a deep breath. "In their hearts, the relic in the underground palace is a supreme treasure that money cannot compare to. Furthermore, Daci'en Temple is world-renowned and thrives on incense offerings. To put it bluntly, they won't even look twice at our money."

"Qianling’s method won't work, but the logic is sound. Money won't open the doors of the palace. When Xuanzang went on his pilgrimage, didn’t the Tathagata make him trade for the scriptures? When he had no other choice, he offered his begging bowl—the Buddha knew its value, and that’s why he gave him the scriptures. It shows that as long as you offer something they desire, there’s no door that won't open."

"You and your crafty ideas," Yue Qianling pouted. "If money doesn't work, what else can we give?"

"You’re the archaeologist—think! Cultural relics. Donating a few Buddhist artifacts with historical significance carries much more weight than money."

"That’s easy for you to say. Finding a way through my father in Rongcheng might work, but this is Chang'an. We’re strangers here. Where are we supposed to find Buddhist artifacts?"

Qiunuo, who had been quiet behind us, suddenly smiled softly. "Brother Yanghui, why don't we try asking Aunt Qing? She might have something that could help."

"Aunt Qing is in Chang'an, too?" I asked, surprised.

"Aunt Qing is originally from Chang'an," Qiunuo replied calmly. "My family is here as well; we only went to Rongcheng for work."

The hope that had faded in my eyes reignited. I recalled the grandeur and awe-inspiring atmosphere of the 'North of the Fragrant Wood Pavilion' in Rongcheng, along with the staggering collection in its basement. I believed that if anyone could help me, it had to be Qing Yang.

Throughout the journey, I described the sights of the Fragrant Wood Pavilion to Yue Qianling and Gu Anqi with great excitement. If Chang'an was Qing Yang's home, and the pavilion in Rongcheng was already so magnificent, one could only imagine what her main base looked like.

When Qiunuo stopped walking, my expression was a mix of laughter and tears. Although it was a residence, compared to the Fragrant Wood Pavilion in my memories, only two words came to mind: "How shabby!"

When Qing Yang saw Qiunuo bringing guests, she smiled faintly, as calm as still water. There was a noble and majestic aura about her that easily influenced those around her; even the usually carefree Yue Qianling became quiet upon seeing her.

Compared to the bustle of the Fragrant Wood Pavilion, this place was merely elegant. Apart from Qing Yang, there was no one else here.

"Yanghui, it has been several months since we parted in Rongcheng. I hope you have been well," Qing Yang said in a soft voice while gracefully brewing tea.

When I was in the mountains, I read only ancient books, and for a long time, my speech had become unconsciously pedantic. Yet, hearing it from Qing Yang, I didn't feel a hint of affectation.

"Greetings, Aunt Qing. I never imagined I would see you in Chang'an," I replied, taking the tea with a smile.

Qiunuo explained the ins and outs of our trip to Chang'an to Qing Yang. "Aunt Qing, I know you are a Buddhist. We want to enter the underground palace, so we need something that will grant us access. I was wondering if you might have something here."

Qing Yang took a sip of tea and said calmly, "There are a few Buddhist artifacts in the prayer hall. I will take you to see if any of them are of use."

The prayer hall was a separate, small room filled with the scent of incense and candles, creating a solemn atmosphere. From the moment Qing Yang pushed open the door, my jaw never left the floor.

On a bright yellow silk cloth on the left side of the room sat a monk's staff. The head was composed of eight lotus petals, with three tiers of floral patterns at the lower end, separated by beaded motifs—exquisitely detailed.

The shaft was hollow and adorned with intertwined vines and flowers. Engraved upon it were twelve monks in the state of perfect enlightenment, each holding a ritual bell and standing upon lotus pedestals, appearing charming and lifelike. The lower part of the staff was decorated with more vines, clouds, and floral patterns.

The top of the staff was fashioned from silver wire into two interlaced peach shapes. At the pinnacle of the rings sat a lotus-shaped base, topped with a "pearl of wisdom."

The four large rings symbolized the Four Noble Truths: suffering, accumulation, cessation, and the path; the twelve smaller rings represented the twelve divisions of the Buddhist canon.

The head of the staff featured two wheels with four branches and twelve rings. The four branches were coiled from silver wire, each fitted with three intricately carved gold rings.

My lips twitched involuntarily. In this ordinary room, such a stunning staff was being worshipped.

When I looked closely at the inscription on the side of the staff, I was completely shocked: *By order of the Wensi Institute, on the twenty-third day of the third month of the fourteenth year of the Xiantong era, this silver and gold-inlaid twelve-ring monk's staff was crafted for the reception of the True Body. Total weight, including gold, is sixty taels, with two taels of gold and fifty-eight taels of silver.*

"This is an imperial treasure! It was commissioned by Emperor Yizong of Tang as an offering to the Buddha!"

"Yanghui, you have a keen eye," Qing Yang said with a faint, indifferent smile. "The Buddha told his disciples: 'To hold this staff is to hold the Buddha's own body; all virtues are contained within it.' It was for this reason that Emperor Yizong ordered it to be made. If it can help you, take it."

I was speechless for a long time. Even Yue Qianling, who had participated in countless archaeological research projects, had never seen a Buddhist artifact that could compare to this staff. If it were unveiled to the public, it would undoubtedly be a national-level treasure.

Yet Qing Yang offered it to me without a second thought, as if it were as trivial as a sewing needle. However, I had already witnessed the staggering nature of her collection at the Fragrant Wood Pavilion.

What made me even more curious was that the *Book of Burials* recorded this staff as long lost. How did it end up in Qing Yang's hands? It seemed that every time I met her, I was met with surprises. This staff was merely one of many items in the prayer hall; I dared not imagine what other unimaginable things lay behind it.

Yue Qianling reached out with trembling hands to touch the staff, suddenly overcome by a sense of boundless Buddhist power. Gu Anqi, who was well-traveled and experienced in Hong Kong, also stood speechless before the artifact.

Qiunuo stood by the door, her expression as serene as ever. She had grown up seeing these things and had long since grown accustomed to them.

"If we donate this staff to Daci'en Temple..." Yue Qianling’s voice trembled slightly, "do you think they will let us into the underground palace?"

"They certainly will!" I nodded.

"Then... let's use this staff." Yue Qianling was still in a daze, unable to believe that such a precious relic was being given away so casually by Qing Yang.

"But there's a problem. This is an imperial item with documented history and lineage. If it appears, it will definitely cause a sensation. If someone asks where we got it... what do we say?"

I asked this to Yue Qianling, but in truth, I was asking Qing Yang. There had to be a provenance; we couldn't just say we found it.