Transmigrating to the Qi Family - Chapter 184

The main hall of this temple enshrines the Guanyin of Child-Giving, while the side halls are dedicated to the Guanyin of Waterfall Viewing, the Guanyin with a Fish Basket, and the Guanyin of Healing. On the first and fifteenth of every lunar month, many locals come up the mountain to pray for smooth journeys, harmonious families, and good health.

(Translator’s Notes: 

送子观音 (sòng zǐ Guānyīn): This is a specific manifestation of Guanyin (the Bodhisattva of Compassion) in Chinese Buddhism, known as the “Guanyin of Child-Giving.” This form is believed to grant blessings for fertility, safe childbirth, and children to those who pray to her.

泷见观音 (Lóng Jiàn Guānyīn): The Guanyin of Waterfall Viewing reminds practitioners of the beauty and wisdom found in nature, encouraging mindfulness, serenity, and a deeper understanding of life’s interconnectedness.

鱼篮观音 (Yú Lán Guānyīn): In popular tale, Guanyin with a Fish Basket takes the form of a fisherwoman carrying a basket of fish. She uses this guise to spread the teachings of compassion and rescue beings from ignorance and suffering.

施药观音 (Shī Yào Guānyīn): In Buddhist lore, the Guanyin of Healing manifestation appears to aid those who are sick or suffering, providing physical and spiritual healing.)

Early the next morning, Jiang Miao finds Yuanxin and expresses his wish to burn a few sticks of incense in the halls and donate some incense money. The young monk Yuanxin, accustomed to such requests, leads Jiang Miao and Pei Che to the various halls, giving a brief introduction to the temple along the way. This temple is evidently dedicated exclusively to Guanyin Bodhisattva, with four halls housing four manifestations, covering blessings for marriage, childbirth, health, and careers—truly a broad range of offerings.

Jiang Miao follows Yuanxin obediently, mirroring Pei Che’s actions as they burn incense and pay their respects. Only after they visit every hall does Jiang Miao casually ask, “Master Yuanxin, how many people are there in this Tzu Chi Temple?”

Yuanxin replies, puzzled, “There are seven of us. Why do you ask, benefactor?”

Jiang Miao smiles and says, “I notice that your monk’s robes seem a bit worn, so I want to find out how many of you there are to see if I can arrange for a few new robes. By the way, where do you usually have them made?”

Understanding dawns on Yuanxin. He bows in gratitude and says, “Amitabha. Thank you for your kindness, benefactor. As for this matter, I’m not too sure. Normally, such decisions are made by the abbot. Shall I inquire with the abbot and get back to you?”

Jiang Miao replies, “That’s fine. I also notice that the temple’s main gate seems a bit run-down. Perhaps we can use this opportunity to repair it as well. What do you think? Would the abbot be available to meet with us?”

Yuanxin grows even more excited. In their humble mountain temple, visitors are usually ordinary folk, and such generous benefactors are a rare occurrence, perhaps only once or twice a year. Though they are monks, they still live in the secular world and are not immune to worldly concerns.

“Amitabha. I shall inform the abbot at once!” Yuanxin exclaims.

Jiang Miao watches him leave, then turns to Pei Che and says, “We’ll be meeting the abbot soon. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.” He already has at least a hundred taels of silver lined up for this.

Pei Che nods. Earlier, he sincerely prays. If the Bodhisattva here is truly efficacious, then perhaps he has come to the right place.

“Benefactors,” Yuanxin calls from outside the hall, “the abbot invites you to meet him.”

The two follow Yuanxin, passing by the monks’ quarters and winding through a few more doors before arriving at the abbot’s residence. It is a small courtyard with a ginkgo tree planted in the center. The fan-shaped leaves sway gently in the breeze, producing a soft rustling sound. Perhaps it is psychological, but Jiang Miao feels that the sound seems to have a cleansing effect on the heart. Standing outside for just a moment, his earlier feelings of urgency and anxiety ease considerably.

“Amitabha, honored guests, please come in.” A resonant voice echoes from within. An elderly monk sits cross-legged inside, his hair and beard completely white, exuding an air of a venerable master.

“Master Abbot, sorry to disturb you,” Jiang Miao says as he enters, imitating the monks by pressing his hands together and bowing slightly.

The old monk smiles and says, “My Dharma name is Wuchen.”

“Master Wuchen, forgive my clumsiness,” Jiang Miao replies, a bit embarrassed. However, he quickly laughs it off, accustomed to such situations.

“Greetings, Master Wuchen,” Pei Che says, his voice drawing the attention of both Jiang Miao and the old monk. The monk looks closely at him and exclaims, “Hmm… this benefactor looks somewhat familiar.”

Jiang Miao initially thinks it will take some time to guide the conversation to this point, but unexpectedly, the old monk recognizes something immediately. Then again, how many people have such striking appearances? Once seen, someone like Pei Che naturally leaves a deep impression, especially as the person donating a large sum for the temple’s renovation.

“Master, you have a remarkable memory. A few years ago, my father and mother visited Tzu Chi Temple. As I bear some resemblance to them, you must have seen them and found me familiar,” Pei Che explains.

Hearing this, Master Wuchen examines Pei Che’s features more carefully. The more he looks, the more shocked he becomes. The man before him indeed bears a striking resemblance to someone he has met before.

“Was your father’s surname Pei?” Wuchen asks, sifting through his memories. The image of an elegant and refined gentleman surfaces in his mind, one who bears an uncanny likeness to Pei Che.

“Indeed, my name is Pei Che. My parents once traveled here and reportedly forged a connection with Tzu Chi Temple. I wonder if Master Wuchen remembers them?”

Master Wuchen lets out a long sigh. “How could I forget such graceful and exceptional individuals as your parents? Years ago, they visited this temple twice, and I personally hosted them on both occasions. What a pity…”

Thinking of the couple who left a lasting impression, Wuchen closes his eyes and sighs deeply again. Tzu Chi Temple greatly benefits from their generosity back then, but it is a pity that they are now gone forever.

Jiang Miao and Pei Che exchange a glance. It is clear that the old monk knows what happened back then, suggesting that the incident likely occurred not far from here.

“What’s past is past, Master. There’s no need for sorrow,” Pei Che says, his expression tinged with sadness. “I have a request that may be presumptuous, but I hope you can grant it.”

Master Wuchen recites a Buddhist chant and replies, “Benefactor, please speak freely. If it is within my power, I have no reason to refuse.”

“It is like this,” Pei Che begins. “I would like to request that one of the esteemed monks from the temple perform a ritual at the place where my parents passed, to comfort their spirits in the afterlife.”

Master Wuchen responds, “Such filial piety is admirable. How could I not assist? Two days from now is an auspicious day. On that morning, I ask that you bathe, burn incense, and abstain from food and drink before joining us.”

“Thank you, Master,” Pei Che says with a bow.

Afterward, Jiang Miao discusses the donation for monk robes and the repair of the temple gate. Since fate has brought them here, it doesn’t feel right to leave without contributing something.

…

Back in their room, Pei Che sits in a daze, visibly unsettled. Jiang Miao tries to comfort him, but it often takes repeating a phrase several times before Pei Che even registers it. His mind is clearly elsewhere. With a sigh, Jiang Miao falls silent, understanding how difficult this must be for him.

In Daliang, those who die unnatural deaths are not allowed to be buried in their ancestral tombs. According to their beliefs, even if the remains of someone who died far from home are returned, their soul lingers at the place of their death, unable to leave.

Therefore, every year during the ancestral rites, Pei Che stands before his parents’ memorials, his heart filled with anguish. Now, being so close to the place where they perished, years of grief and sorrow come flooding back. Even the strongest of people would struggle to bear it.

Meanwhile, Xiao Shitou mostly recovers from his motion sickness after a night’s rest. He and Pei Mu, who rarely visit temples, spend the night playing to their hearts’ content. When they return and see their two older brothers sitting silently on opposite sides of the room, both with serious expressions, Xiao Shitou becomes nervous, fearing they have quarreled.

“Big Brother, what’s wrong?” Xiao Shitou asks Jiang Miao quietly.

“Nothing. Brother Che is feeling a bit down. Keep your voices low and let him have some quiet,” Jiang Miao whispers back.

“Oh,” Xiao Shitou nods. Pei Mu turns to glance at Pei Che, his usually expressionless face now tinged with concern.

Noticing this, Jiang Miao pats Pei Mu’s head and says, “Don’t worry, Mu’er. Your brother will be fine soon.”

Pei Mu glances at Pei Che again and sees him gazing out the window into the distance. His eyes are filled with emotions Pei Mu can’t decipher, prompting him to ask, “Brother Miao, why is Brother upset?”

Jiang Miao hesitates, unsure whether to tell Pei Mu about the situation. However, Pei Mu won’t be able to avoid attending the ritual in two days. Rather than leaving him to worry, it seems better to explain the truth. The boy is old enough now.

With that thought, Jiang Miao carefully chooses his words and starts explaining, beginning with the past events and leading up to the upcoming ritual.

When Jiang Miao finishes, Pei Mu remains quiet, but Xiao Shitou looks at him with concern, afraid he might burst into tears. Xiao Shitou has always thought he is unfortunate, but now he realizes Pei Mu’s situation is no better.

Pei Mu stays silent for a moment, then suddenly reaches for the small jade-carved fish that always hangs around his neck. In his early years, when his consciousness was hazy, this is the item he clings to day and night, although he never knows where it comes from—only that it is important. As he grows and gains companionship, he no longer holds it in his hand constantly but continues to wear it around his neck.

Unexpectedly, this is a keepsake left by his parents before they died. Pei Mu stares at the jade fish, his eyes reddening and tears shimmering within them.

Jiang Miao is about to hug the boy to comfort him, but unexpectedly, Pei Mu wipes his eyes, walks over to the table, and begins preparing paper and ink.

Jiang Miao is taken aback. Is he planning to solve some math problems to calm down?

Xiao Shitou, equally puzzled, follows and asks, “Xiao Mu, what are you doing?”

“…Writing a memorial essay,” Pei Mu replies. Then he turns back to grinding the ink with focus.

This year, they have started studying the Four Books and Five Classics, including various forms of writing. Their tutor had explained before that a memorial essay is a text written during ancestral rites, expressing one’s thoughts and emotions, which is then burned as an offering to the deceased to convey remembrance and sorrow.

“I’ll write with you,” Xiao Shitou says. Being close friends, he grabs his schoolbag, takes out a pen and paper, and begins preparing.

Watching the two boys work so earnestly, Jiang Miao feels a wave of comfort. He walks over to Pei Che, shielding his line of sight. When Pei Che looks at him in confusion, Jiang Miao says, “You should write a memorial essay too. Tell them what’s in your heart—they’ll hear you.”

Pei Che freezes for a moment, his gaze shifting to the two children at the table. After a long pause, he grips Jiang Miao’s hand tightly, then stands and walks over to join them.

Watching the three of them start writing the memorial essays, Jiang Miao has no intention of forcing himself to join in. As someone academically challenged, even piecing together an 800-character essay is a monumental task for him. Writing a classical Chinese memorial essay? He wouldn’t manage it, even on pain of death.

He glances at the sky—it is almost noon. Quietly, Jiang Miao pushes open the door and heads to the temple’s kitchen, planning to lend the monks a hand and, in the process, discuss different methods of preparing vegetarian dishes.

Two days later

Early in the morning, the four of them follow Master Wuchen’s instructions. They rise, bathe, light incense, abstain from food and drink, and, once ready, set off for the site.

The carriage travels along a narrow, deserted mountain road. Pei Che sits gazing out the window the entire way.

After an indeterminate amount of time, he suddenly says, “Back then, my parents must have seen this same scenery. But they’ll never see it again.”

Jiang Miao places his hand over Pei Che’s, patting it gently in comfort. He says, “Doesn’t Buddhism emphasize reincarnation and the cycle of life? Your parents must have already been reborn, perhaps as a boy and a girl in the prime of their youth—innocent and carefree. Maybe they’re childhood sweethearts now, growing up together, with even more time to witness the wonders of the world.”

Jiang Miao has always liked this way of thinking. Even though he knows it isn’t true, the thought carries him through the pain of losing his grandparents. Every time he feels sad, he imagines their current age and what they might be doing in their new lives. Dwelling on it always eases his grief.

Pei Che has never heard anyone describe reincarnation so vividly before. Unconsciously, he begins following Jiang Miao’s train of thought, letting himself get lost in the imagery. Gradually, the sorrow on his face lessens ever so slightly…

Early the next morning, Jiang Miao finds Yuanxin and expresses his wish to burn a few sticks of incense in the halls and donate some incense money. The young monk Yuanxin, accustomed to such requests, leads Jiang Miao and Pei Che to the various halls, giving a brief introduction to the temple along the way. This temple is evidently dedicated exclusively to Guanyin Bodhisattva, with four halls housing four manifestations, covering blessings for marriage, childbirth, health, and careers—truly a broad range of offerings.

Jiang Miao follows Yuanxin obediently, mirroring Pei Che’s actions as they burn incense and pay their respects. Only after they visit every hall does Jiang Miao casually ask, “Master Yuanxin, how many people are there in this Tzu Chi Temple?”

Yuanxin replies, puzzled, “There are seven of us. Why do you ask, benefactor?”

Jiang Miao smiles and says, “I notice that your monk’s robes seem a bit worn, so I want to find out how many of you there are to see if I can arrange for a few new robes. By the way, where do you usually have them made?”

Understanding dawns on Yuanxin. He bows in gratitude and says, “Amitabha. Thank you for your kindness, benefactor. As for this matter, I’m not too sure. Normally, such decisions are made by the abbot. Shall I inquire with the abbot and get back to you?”

Jiang Miao replies, “That’s fine. I also notice that the temple’s main gate seems a bit run-down. Perhaps we can use this opportunity to repair it as well. What do you think? Would the abbot be available to meet with us?”

Yuanxin grows even more excited. In their humble mountain temple, visitors are usually ordinary folk, and such generous benefactors are a rare occurrence, perhaps only once or twice a year. Though they are monks, they still live in the secular world and are not immune to worldly concerns.

“Amitabha. I shall inform the abbot at once!” Yuanxin exclaims.

Jiang Miao watches him leave, then turns to Pei Che and says, “We’ll be meeting the abbot soon. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.” He already has at least a hundred taels of silver lined up for this.

Pei Che nods. Earlier, he sincerely prays. If the Bodhisattva here is truly efficacious, then perhaps he has come to the right place.

“Benefactors,” Yuanxin calls from outside the hall, “the abbot invites you to meet him.”

The two follow Yuanxin, passing by the monks’ quarters and winding through a few more doors before arriving at the abbot’s residence. It is a small courtyard with a ginkgo tree planted in the center. The fan-shaped leaves sway gently in the breeze, producing a soft rustling sound. Perhaps it is psychological, but Jiang Miao feels that the sound seems to have a cleansing effect on the heart. Standing outside for just a moment, his earlier feelings of urgency and anxiety ease considerably.

“Amitabha, honored guests, please come in.” A resonant voice echoes from within. An elderly monk sits cross-legged inside, his hair and beard completely white, exuding an air of a venerable master.

“Master Abbot, sorry to disturb you,” Jiang Miao says as he enters, imitating the monks by pressing his hands together and bowing slightly.

The old monk smiles and says, “My Dharma name is Wuchen.”

“Master Wuchen, forgive my clumsiness,” Jiang Miao replies, a bit embarrassed. However, he quickly laughs it off, accustomed to such situations.

“Greetings, Master Wuchen,” Pei Che says, his voice drawing the attention of both Jiang Miao and the old monk. The monk looks closely at him and exclaims, “Hmm… this benefactor looks somewhat familiar.”

Jiang Miao initially thinks it will take some time to guide the conversation to this point, but unexpectedly, the old monk recognizes something immediately. Then again, how many people have such striking appearances? Once seen, someone like Pei Che naturally leaves a deep impression, especially as the person donating a large sum for the temple’s renovation.

“Master, you have a remarkable memory. A few years ago, my father and mother visited Tzu Chi Temple. As I bear some resemblance to them, you must have seen them and found me familiar,” Pei Che explains.

Hearing this, Master Wuchen examines Pei Che’s features more carefully. The more he looks, the more shocked he becomes. The man before him indeed bears a striking resemblance to someone he has met before.

“Was your father’s surname Pei?” Wuchen asks, sifting through his memories. The image of an elegant and refined gentleman surfaces in his mind, one who bears an uncanny likeness to Pei Che.

“Indeed, my name is Pei Che. My parents once traveled here and reportedly forged a connection with Tzu Chi Temple. I wonder if Master Wuchen remembers them?”

Master Wuchen lets out a long sigh. “How could I forget such graceful and exceptional individuals as your parents? Years ago, they visited this temple twice, and I personally hosted them on both occasions. What a pity…”

Thinking of the couple who left a lasting impression, Wuchen closes his eyes and sighs deeply again. Tzu Chi Temple greatly benefits from their generosity back then, but it is a pity that they are now gone forever.

Jiang Miao and Pei Che exchange a glance. It is clear that the old monk knows what happened back then, suggesting that the incident likely occurred not far from here.

“What’s past is past, Master. There’s no need for sorrow,” Pei Che says, his expression tinged with sadness. “I have a request that may be presumptuous, but I hope you can grant it.”

Master Wuchen recites a Buddhist chant and replies, “Benefactor, please speak freely. If it is within my power, I have no reason to refuse.”

“It is like this,” Pei Che begins. “I would like to request that one of the esteemed monks from the temple perform a ritual at the place where my parents passed, to comfort their spirits in the afterlife.”

Master Wuchen responds, “Such filial piety is admirable. How could I not assist? Two days from now is an auspicious day. On that morning, I ask that you bathe, burn incense, and abstain from food and drink before joining us.”

“Thank you, Master,” Pei Che says with a bow.

Afterward, Jiang Miao discusses the donation for monk robes and the repair of the temple gate. Since fate has brought them here, it doesn’t feel right to leave without contributing something.

…

Back in their room, Pei Che sits in a daze, visibly unsettled. Jiang Miao tries to comfort him, but it often takes repeating a phrase several times before Pei Che even registers it. His mind is clearly elsewhere. With a sigh, Jiang Miao falls silent, understanding how difficult this must be for him.

In Daliang, those who die unnatural deaths are not allowed to be buried in their ancestral tombs. According to their beliefs, even if the remains of someone who died far from home are returned, their soul lingers at the place of their death, unable to leave.

Therefore, every year during the ancestral rites, Pei Che stands before his parents’ memorials, his heart filled with anguish. Now, being so close to the place where they perished, years of grief and sorrow come flooding back. Even the strongest of people would struggle to bear it.

Meanwhile, Xiao Shitou mostly recovers from his motion sickness after a night’s rest. He and Pei Mu, who rarely visit temples, spend the night playing to their hearts’ content. When they return and see their two older brothers sitting silently on opposite sides of the room, both with serious expressions, Xiao Shitou becomes nervous, fearing they have quarreled.

“Big Brother, what’s wrong?” Xiao Shitou asks Jiang Miao quietly.

“Nothing. Brother Che is feeling a bit down. Keep your voices low and let him have some quiet,” Jiang Miao whispers back.

“Oh,” Xiao Shitou nods. Pei Mu turns to glance at Pei Che, his usually expressionless face now tinged with concern.

Noticing this, Jiang Miao pats Pei Mu’s head and says, “Don’t worry, Mu’er. Your brother will be fine soon.”

Pei Mu glances at Pei Che again and sees him gazing out the window into the distance. His eyes are filled with emotions Pei Mu can’t decipher, prompting him to ask, “Brother Miao, why is Brother upset?”

Jiang Miao hesitates, unsure whether to tell Pei Mu about the situation. However, Pei Mu won’t be able to avoid attending the ritual in two days. Rather than leaving him to worry, it seems better to explain the truth. The boy is old enough now.

With that thought, Jiang Miao carefully chooses his words and starts explaining, beginning with the past events and leading up to the upcoming ritual.

When Jiang Miao finishes, Pei Mu remains quiet, but Xiao Shitou looks at him with concern, afraid he might burst into tears. Xiao Shitou has always thought he is unfortunate, but now he realizes Pei Mu’s situation is no better.

Pei Mu stays silent for a moment, then suddenly reaches for the small jade-carved fish that always hangs around his neck. In his early years, when his consciousness was hazy, this is the item he clings to day and night, although he never knows where it comes from—only that it is important. As he grows and gains companionship, he no longer holds it in his hand constantly but continues to wear it around his neck.

Unexpectedly, this is a keepsake left by his parents before they died. Pei Mu stares at the jade fish, his eyes reddening and tears shimmering within them.

Jiang Miao is about to hug the boy to comfort him, but unexpectedly, Pei Mu wipes his eyes, walks over to the table, and begins preparing paper and ink.

Jiang Miao is taken aback. Is he planning to solve some math problems to calm down?

Xiao Shitou, equally puzzled, follows and asks, “Xiao Mu, what are you doing?”

“…Writing a memorial essay,” Pei Mu replies. Then he turns back to grinding the ink with focus.

This year, they have started studying the Four Books and Five Classics, including various forms of writing. Their tutor had explained before that a memorial essay is a text written during ancestral rites, expressing one’s thoughts and emotions, which is then burned as an offering to the deceased to convey remembrance and sorrow.

“I’ll write with you,” Xiao Shitou says. Being close friends, he grabs his schoolbag, takes out a pen and paper, and begins preparing.

Watching the two boys work so earnestly, Jiang Miao feels a wave of comfort. He walks over to Pei Che, shielding his line of sight. When Pei Che looks at him in confusion, Jiang Miao says, “You should write a memorial essay too. Tell them what’s in your heart—they’ll hear you.”

Pei Che freezes for a moment, his gaze shifting to the two children at the table. After a long pause, he grips Jiang Miao’s hand tightly, then stands and walks over to join them.

Watching the three of them start writing the memorial essays, Jiang Miao has no intention of forcing himself to join in. As someone academically challenged, even piecing together an 800-character essay is a monumental task for him. Writing a classical Chinese memorial essay? He wouldn’t manage it, even on pain of death.

He glances at the sky—it is almost noon. Quietly, Jiang Miao pushes open the door and heads to the temple’s kitchen, planning to lend the monks a hand and, in the process, discuss different methods of preparing vegetarian dishes.

Two days later

Early in the morning, the four of them follow Master Wuchen’s instructions. They rise, bathe, light incense, abstain from food and drink, and, once ready, set off for the site.

The carriage travels along a narrow, deserted mountain road. Pei Che sits gazing out the window the entire way.

After an indeterminate amount of time, he suddenly says, “Back then, my parents must have seen this same scenery. But they’ll never see it again.”

Jiang Miao places his hand over Pei Che’s, patting it gently in comfort. He says, “Doesn’t Buddhism emphasize reincarnation and the cycle of life? Your parents must have already been reborn, perhaps as a boy and a girl in the prime of their youth—innocent and carefree. Maybe they’re childhood sweethearts now, growing up together, with even more time to witness the wonders of the world.”

Jiang Miao has always liked this way of thinking. Even though he knows it isn’t true, the thought carries him through the pain of losing his grandparents. Every time he feels sad, he imagines their current age and what they might be doing in their new lives. Dwelling on it always eases his grief.

Pei Che has never heard anyone describe reincarnation so vividly before. Unconsciously, he begins following Jiang Miao’s train of thought, letting himself get lost in the imagery. Gradually, the sorrow on his face lessens ever so slightly…