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Authors: Mingmei Yip

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Song of the Silk Road (16 page)

BOOK: Song of the Silk Road
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I let out a heaven-shattering cry. The rustling leaves echoed “Aaahh! Aaahh!” as the branches shook violently in the erotic wind. When he came, he exclaimed in his resonant voice, “Oomarulang! Oomarulang! Oh, heaven Oomarulang!” It was a weird cry, but I was touched nonetheless.
After this series of outbursts, the monk’s instrument slipped out of me as he buried his head between my breasts, his lips slightly teasing my nipples. I moaned and squirmed in pleasure at this post-sex bonus. I caressed his shaved head like a mother her scanty-haired newborn. This hermit monk—where did his strong desire come from? Certainly not from his disciplined meditation and sutra reading, practiced for exactly the opposite purpose—to curb desire. Were his practices futile? Or is it that human desire cannot be curbed?
In the dark womb of the night, neither of us spoke, each savoring the unspeakable after-pleasure of this primitive act between a man and a woman. I was very tempted to ask the meaning of “Oomarulang” but decided to keep my mouth shut so as not to mar the moment.
Without a word, the monk lifted me down from my branch, helped me put on my clothes, then carried me back to the temple.
After stepping inside the hall, he gently put me down. “We can spend the night in my room.”
It was the first time I’d been inside a monk’s bedchamber. It was quite bare except for a brazier placed at the corner next to a lamp and a calligraphy scroll with the word
si
—mortality—hanging on the wall facing the bed. Strange that someone would have this unpleasant reminder of the inevitable in front of him each morning when he wakes up.
The monk fussed over the brazier and the lamp for moments before they were finally lit. He stared at me while I took off my clothes and went to curl up in his solitary bed, waiting for him. Then he slipped off his monk’s robe and slid into bed, our bodies touching, warm and toasty under the thick blanket.
He wrapped me in his strong arm. “Tell me, why do you come all the way to this temple? Surely not to comfort a lonely monk by sharing his solitary bed.” His voice was thick as the blanket and intoxicating as the dark, sensuous night. After this pleasurable lovemaking, would he turn mean or violent if he knew the truth? I could not afford to find out. So I changed the subject.
“Are you glad that I came?”
He reached out to caress my breast.
“Don’t you have a place to go back to?” His fingers were now working deftly on my hardened nipples.
“I like the tranquility up here so I want to stay longer.”
I turned my head and discovered that he had already fallen asleep.
Staring at the bare ceiling, a thousand thoughts ran through my mind. Not only had we made love, but it was in the hanging-upside-down-lotus position. Did the monk possess a third eye to see my thoughts? Otherwise why had he lifted me up onto the branch to take me?
Now I needed to reread my aunt’s instructions to be sure I carried out the next step properly. Gently I disentangled myself from Floating Cloud, slipped off the bed, and went back to my room. I took out the document and read:
During sex, if the monk exclaims the mantra “Oomarulang,” then you’ve found the right person. He is in possession of the Diamond Sutra and the Gold Buddha. Now you must go inside the secret chamber and take the two treasures, then return them to the Turpan Museum where they belong. You also need to remove the fake ones now on display.
Do not hesitate. This is not stealing, but returning the treasures to their rightful owner.
I sighed heavily. What in the hell had I gotten myself into? How was I going to get these treasures out from under the eyes of the two monks? Floating Cloud was no moron, and his disciple was a floating martial artist. Then I had an idea. While I mulled over the details, my feet dragged me back to the monk’s room, then his bed and his warm body.
It was still dark when I woke up. Outside the window, the birds’ chirping mixed with the leaves’ rustling created a stimulating heterophony. Floating Cloud was still sound asleep beside me. Had the beneficial position tired him so much? As he slept his breathing was slow and deep and his body appeared shrunken and vulnerable. His recent impropriety seemed to have dissolved under the warm, motherly blanket. He became a small boy again, innocent and naïve, like my Alex.
Alex, I’m so sorry that I . . . betrayed you. What are you doing now in New York? Do you still think about me, desire my body, savor our desert lovemaking?
Hai
, what had I done with my love life? While I thought I was truly in love with Alex, less than two weeks after he’d gone, I was already in another man’s arms, a monk no less.
I shook my head, watching Floating Cloud’s chest rise and fall. I had already carried out part of my task, but the treasures I was supposed to steal seemed unattainable. Should I just smother him under the blanket right here and now? But of course that was just pure fantasy. So instead of smothering a sleeping monk, I smothered my overactive imagination and thought of a different strategy.
“Ahhh! Heaven!” I screamed, sounding eerily strange even to my own ears.
The monk jolted awake. Swift and precise like a fox, he jumped off the bed and pulled me down, then covered my body with his naked one.
“Are you hurt?” His voice, filled with concern, came out a heated whisper.
I didn’t answer, but trembled like I was possessed.
He moved away to carefully scan the room and peek outside the window. Then he came back to hold me, his facial muscles tensed. “Did you see someone?”
I both shook and nodded my head; my body continued to shake.
“You stay here. Let me go check and I’ll be right back.”
As he stood up to slip on his robe, I pointed to a far corner outside the window. “Yes, right over there! Oh, heavens, she’s moving! Help! Help!”
His eyes followed my pointing finger as he walked to the window. “But there’s nothing there.”
“Yes, there is!”
He looked carefully everywhere before he came back to hold me. “It’s only in your head. Calm down. Please.”
“No, I saw it, it’s a she! With long hair and a red stuck-out tongue! Oh, my God!”
He lifted me onto the bed and cooed. “Let’s meditate to rid your mind of these vile thoughts.”
I buried my head into his broad chest. Then I flipped my eyes and trembled my lips, while my body shook like a small boat in a violent storm.
“No! She’s coming to get me! Coming to get me! Oh, please, no! No!”
“Shhh . . . please . . . stop screaming. Don’t be scared. There is no ghost, only me here with you.” He was still holding me like a father his favorite child. “Relax, no one will come here to disturb you. You’ve just had a nightmare.”
My act lasted a few more minutes before I came out of the trance.
I disentangled from his grasp, looked up to study his face, then put up a sweet, innocent smile. “Master Floating Cloud, I’m hungry. Can we eat?”
He looked completely puzzled. “Are you OK?”
“Yes, why?”
“You mean you have no idea what just happened?”
“Not really. What happened?”
“You were possessed!”
“What do you mean?”
“You were rambling and acting strange and talking nonsense. You claimed a she-ghost was coming to get you.”
I stared at him with widened, innocent eyes. “Did I really act like that?”
“Yes!”
I thought for a long while. “Hmmm . . . maybe you’re right. Now I remember. I did see something. . . .”
“What did you see?”
I didn’t answer his question, but said, “When I was young, I had these fits from time to time and that really freaked out my mother. I possess
yin
eyes to see ghosts.”
He laughed. “Pure Wisdom and I chant, perform rituals, cleanse, and purify this place twice a day. So I don’t think there are any unwholesome things here.”
I understood by “unwholesome things” he meant ghosts, or other beings beyond the human realm.
I remained silent.
“Did you see a doctor for your fits?” He looked at me, eyes filled with concern.
I nodded. “But they couldn’t figure out anything wrong. So finally my mother took me to an herbalist who gave me a mixture of herbs and magic spells written on paper. She cooked both and pushed them down my throat.”
“Did it work?”
“Yes. I haven’t had that for a long time until tonight. So it must be triggered by the unfamiliar environment here. Oh, Master Floating Cloud, please don’t let me have another attack tonight!” I buried my face into his warm chest and sobbed.
He caressed my head. “Do you remember what those herbs were?”
“Yes,” I said, then wrote down on a piece of paper the long list I’d learned from my missing Uyghur friend Lop Nor.
He studied them with a serious expression, then asked, “Why don’t you carry the medicine with you?”
“I never expected this would happen again.”
A few seconds passed before the monk spoke again. “I’ll go get these herbs for you. But I can’t leave you here in case . . .”
I smiled faintly. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine by myself. I’d rather you get me the herbs, if you don’t mind. Then we don’t have to worry that I’ll have another fit.”
I pointed outside the window at the fish-belly white sky. “See? Dawn has broken, so all the spirits should have gone back to the other realm where they belong. You don’t have to worry if you make it back here before the
yin
world opens up at midnight.”
“All right then, I won’t be long. At most five, six hours. But are you sure you’ll be OK here?”
I nodded emphatically. “Yes, believe me, I’ll be fine.”
After Floating Cloud got dressed and was about to leave, he said, “In case Pure Wisdom comes back before me, just tell him what happened. Be careful and get some rest.”
I walked the monk to the gate. After watching him descend the path and vanish from sight, I rushed to my room, took my backpack, then dashed down the long stairs to the basement. I had not the slightest idea how Floating Cloud made the wall open with a push of his finger, so I kicked violently at the wall with all the force I could muster. It worked.
Under the dim light of my flashlight, the secret chamber appeared surreal with the yellowish, thousand-year-old manuscripts soundlessly watching my every move. Now, all by myself, I felt overwhelmed by the vibrations emanating from the room. All the words in the sutras seemed to join together in whispering their ancient wisdom to my modern, unreceptive ears. Or to overpower my vulnerable psyche with their thousand-year-old
qi
.
I took deep breaths to calm and focus myself. I couldn’t afford to fail, not having come this far. If caught, would I be killed here? Or simply gone with the wind, like Floating Cloud’s master? Would anyone think about me after I was gone? Probably not for long. Chris would still be with his wife and kid, and Alex, if his young mind would still remember his older lover, might occasionally reminisce about our affair as one of his many Silk Road dalliances.
Forcing my mind to focus back on the task at hand, I surveyed the room until my eyes lighted upon the two embroidered boxes that stored the bloody Diamond Sutra and Gold Buddha. I took both down and pushed them into my backpack.
Although I was not a Buddhist, I muttered a prayer to the Buddha to understand and forgive what I’d just done and, I hoped, to protect me. Since I needed all the help I could get, I also said prayers to God, Jesus, and Mary, even though I doubted they’d listen to my prayer about their rival scripture and god.
I knew I would regret it later, but I couldn’t take any time to channel my
yin
energy to see if there were spirits who could tell me what other secrets were hidden in this forbidden, ghostly silent room. I cast a last glance and closed the door behind me.
Fearful that Floating Cloud or Pure Wisdom might return at any moment, I rushed upstairs, dashed outside the temple threshold, and began the long descent downhill. In my haste, my feet slipped a few times and I had to grab onto vines or rocks to prevent myself from falling. The coolie’s gloves proved to be a smart purchase; otherwise the bleeding from my hands might have led the two monks to think I’d had an accident and start searching for me. I wished nothing more at this moment than to disappear from their sight and from this temple forever.
Just as I was struggling down a slippery section, suddenly I saw movement in the distance. My heart knocked violently against my ribs. Whether it was a monk or a ghost, it would be equally disastrous! Panicked, I slipped and fell into a hole. Fortunately the hole was not deep and I just scraped my knee. I peeked from above the rock and looked. The figure was moving fast as if he was taking long strides. When it got closer, I realized, to my utter fear, it was Pure Wisdom! I had not forgotten that Pure Wisdom was a floating martial artist who could walk on walls and glide between trees. However, to my great relief, he failed to spot me, so a few minutes later I climbed out from the hole and practically rolled down the hill, ignoring the burning pain on every part of my body.
BOOK: Song of the Silk Road
4.98Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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