Under Clear Skies Chapter 38: Baotong Temple (1)

Chapter 38: Baotong Temple (1)

Translated by Fefe of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

When Tang Heng woke up in the morning, Li Yuechi was already gone. The electric fan spun a bit listlessly. The window had been pushed open and the dark green curtains swayed in the morning breeze.

There was a big pile of missed calls and texts on his phone, but none of them were from Li Yuechi. Tang Heng got up and washed his face. He stood in the room at a loss. He didn’t even know when Li Yuechi had left or how long he’d been gone. The glass jar that he’d knocked down last night was standing neatly on the shipping container—it was like nothing had happened. Then Tang Heng’s gaze stilled. He saw a note under the fragrance candle.

It was Li Yuechi’s handwriting, a bit sloppy: I’m at the hospital. There’s ramen in the container.

Tang Heng put the note back. After a pause, he pulled it out again, folded it into a small square and placed it in his guitar bag. The morning sky was a clean blue and, because they’d entered autumn, the wind was cool and fresh. The sunshine was bright and clean too, as if everything from last night had been like dew—blown by the morning breeze, dried by the sunlight, and evaporated cleanly. No wonder there’s an idiom called ‘dew-like love, Tang Heng thought self-depreciatively. Had the person who invented this idiom experienced a morning like him, going separate ways under the blue sky and bright sun?

Tang Heng picked up his guitar and closed the door to Li Yuechi’s apartment—the lock that he’d broken had gotten replaced.

At eight in the morning, the alley was quiet. He passed by Long Love; it was closed, naturally. The grass was very clean with no trace of last night’s music party. Tang Heng ate a bowl of Xiangyang beef noodles at the entrance of the alley, paired with a cup of iced rice wine and a spiced corned egg. He knew that his next time here would be in a long, long time.

After breakfast, Tang Heng dialed Jiang Ya’s number. “Hey, it’s me.”

“Who… Fuck, where’d you run off to?!” Jiang Ya had been sleepy still, but he suddenly shot up and yelled, “Don’t think we didn’t see! You walked off with that guy last night! Fuck, isn’t he straight—”

“He was drunk. I brought him home.”

“You didn’t do anything else?”

“What else is there to do?”

“Slap him in the face!”

“…”

Jiang Ya coughed and paused. Then he asked seriously, “You really didn’t do anything?”

“Nope.”

“Crap, I lost.”

An Yun stole the phone and said with a giggle, “We made a bet. He bet that you’d fuck Li Yuechi and I bet that you wouldn’t.”

“Then you won,” Tang Heng said.

“You should hurry up and get the fuck over to Tokyo,” An Yun cursed, suddenly not laughing anymore. “It seems that you won’t be at peace in Wuhan unless Li Yuechi is dead.”

“You’re right,” Tang Heng said calmly. And then he hung up.

 

He walked out of Donghu Village, arrived at Luoyu Road, and realized he had nowhere to go. Donghu Village, Luoyu Road, Jiedaokou, Hanyang Uni… Li Yuechi was everywhere. It was strange because how long have they known each other? Not even two months. But it was like they’d known each other for two years. He could imagine how Li Yuechi walked out of Donghua Village in this youth tutoring shirt, how he slipped through the crowds on Luoyu Road with his backpack, how he walked into the tunnel of Jiedaokou subway station, walking into Hanyang Uni. Would he buy a three-kuai gardenia at the subway entrance? Maybe not, but he would stop and take in the flower’s fragrance.

Tang Heng went home, took a shower, and changed into new clothes. The Comme des Garcons shirt got rumpled into a ball and thrown onto the ground. He wished that Wang-ayi would get rid of this shirt when she came over in the afternoon.

He couldn’t fall asleep but had nowhere to go. In the end, he had no choice but duck into Line 2 of the subway. When he got in, it was full of people. It was close to ten now, so it shouldn’t be the morning commute peak, but that was how interesting Line 2 was. There were people speaking loudly into their phone, people chatting in Wuhan dialect, people dragging huge suitcases. Everyone seemed busy and in a hurry. The crowd lessened greatly when they passed Hankou Train Station and Tang Heng found a seat. Later, amidst the low rumble of the subway, he fell asleep. After who knew how long, he suddenly heard Li Yuechi’s voice in his ears. Tang Heng, I don’t feel good. His voice was very soft but clear. Tang Heng startled awake and the subway happened to stop. He crossed through the gate and didn’t wake up fully until he saw the words Baotong Temple.

He’d never been to Baotong Temple, but he remembered that his high school literature teacher said this temple had an 800-year history. Tang Heng followed the low yellow wall to the entrance and decided to go in for a while. If he could forget Li Yuechi temporarily here, then Buddhism must be truly powerful. Of course, it’d be okay if he couldn’t forget him. He’d just view it as sightseeing. After all, he was leaving Wuhan soon.

The old granny at ticketing studied him as if not believing that this long-haired boy had anything to do with Buddhism. Tang Heng took the ticket, thinking, I’m here to cleanse my desires now, aren’t I?

Baotong Temple was well-maintained. The shrines were clean and vibrant. Tang Heng followed a few pilgrims into the main shrine and saw a huge statue of a golden Buddha standing before him. The pilgrims all knelt piously onto the cushions. They kowtowed and murmured things. Tang Heng stood on the side and watched for a while. Then he circled past the golden Buddha and went to the back shrine.

And then he regretted it.

Crossing over the threshold, he saw a few monks clad in brown. They were sweeping, while a small pile of leaves were burning in the corner, plumes of smoke rising. Tang Heng was nailed to his spot, unable to take a step forward. This was too coincidental. Could he not avoid him, even in Baotong Temple? Was this how powerful Buddhism was?

It wasn’t the right time or place, but he thought of last night’s kiss and his aggressive breaths. Vague Buddhist mantras sounded within the temple. There was an old monk chanting, probably to help someone transcend. Tang Heng thought depressingly, why couldn’t he forget him, even here? How would it be when he went to Tokyo? To the US?

 

His phone vibrated in his pocket. A call from An Yun. Tang Heng rejected the call and turned his phone off.

He decided to just sit on a stone bench in the backyard and stare at the pile of withered leaves and branches. If he focused, he could indeed hear the crackling sounds as the blue flames burned slowly. It was like all of summer went up in flames at this moment with this pile of leaves.

 

Yue as in the moon, Chi as in to gallop.

I don’t feel good.

Xuedi.

 

He sat there for a long time with his eyes closed. Sunlight fell upon his eyelashes and his vision was a mass of golden black.   

When the fallen leaves before him finally turned into ashes, Tang Heng stood up. He passed through the Jade Buddha shrine, continued walking, and came to the foot of the Baotong Pagoda, also known as the Hongshan Pagoda. The seven-level pagoda wasn’t as tall and intimidating as he’d imagined.

An old woman dressed in black was circling around the pagoda. Seeing Tang Heng standing there and spacing out, she walked over to advise him, “You must walk in a clockwise circle around the pagoda for it to work!”

“Can I make a wish?” Tang Heng asked.

“Yes! If you wish genuinely, the Buddha will be able to hear it.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Repeat after me. Namo Ami—”

“No need.”

The old woman was taken aback.

Tang Heng looked up at the tip of the pagoda and whispered, “I don’t have any wishes.”

 

Even if nothing from last night counted.

He still didn’t want to forget him.