Long Xuan gazed at the snow falling outside the window. At the end of his life, he did not feel much pain, just a sense of weariness.
“Imperial Father,” Long Xiao called out as he watched his father coughed up a mouthful of blood with each cough. Despite the distance in their relationship, his voice sounded like he was crying.
“Has Fuyi arrived yet?” Long Xuan asked.
Long Xiao quickly replied, “The National Master Fuyi has entered the palace and is on his way to Yi Jin Garden. Please hold on a little longer, Imperial Father.”
“Long Xiao,” Long Xuan said, “after I die, remember to visit the Huguo Zen Temple. Let Master Fuyi take you to the Nine-Storey Pagoda.”
Long Xiao was surprised. “Imperial Father, does the Huguo Zen Temple truly have a Nine-Storey Pagoda?”
Long Xuan saw Long Xiao’s astonished expression and suddenly felt like laughing. He seemed to have asked his own father the same question back then. How did his father respond to him at that time? “Yes, how could there not be?” Long Xuan said, “At that time, you will understand how our Long family’s reign came to be.”
Long Xiao was skeptical in his heart but still accepted the imperial decree.
Long Xuan suddenly became curious, wondering what kind of expression his eldest son would have upon entering the White Bone Hall.
“Imperial Father, why are you smiling?” Long Xiao asked, seeing the hint of a smile on Long Xuan’s face. “Has Imperial Father thought of something happy?”
“I’m about to be freed,” Long Xuan said. “Why shouldn’t I be happy? Xiao, the burden of the empire is too heavy. You must bear it well.”
Long Xiao knelt beside the bed, bowing his head. “Your son will not fail Your Majesty’s trust.”
“My father also said these words to me,” Long Xuan remarked. “He also said I would be follow a solitary path1 from then on. But I won’t say that to you. You are luckier than I was; you won’t be alone.”
Long Xiao looked up at Long Xuan. “Imperial Father?”
“Your Majesty,” the eunuch announced from outside the room, “the National Teacher Fuyi has arrived.”
“Let him in,” Long Xiao said hurriedly. There were some things he could not ask, for throughout his life, he and this father had never truly opened their hearts to each other. Even at the very end, they could not have a heart-to-heart conversation.
“Emperor, you should leave,” Long Xuan said, not wanting Long Xiao to stay any longer.
Long Xiao kowtowed three times before leaving the room.
Master Fuyi stood by Long Xuan’s bed. “Your Majesty has aged,” he said.
Long Xuan glanced at Master Fu Yi, who still wore a grey monk’s robe, and said, “The Master has remain unchanged. When will his time come?”
Facing Long Xuan’s defiant attitude even at the end, Master Fu Yi merely smiled and said, “Does Your Majesty have any last words for this humble monk?”
“After nine lifetimes,” Long Xuan asked, “can I be reborn as a human?”
“Of course,” Master Fuyi replied.
“Then will I meet him again?” Long Xuan looked at Master Fuyi.
Master Fuyi responded, “Nine lifetimes from now, this poor monk too will be caught in the cycle of reincarnation. This poor monk has no way of knowing the fate requested by His Majesty.”
“Is there no hope at all?” Long Xuan asked.
“This poor monk have seen them,” Fuyi said. “They are living well now. At least for this lifetime, they will have no worries about food and clothing and will spend their days together in peace.”
“So,” Long Xuan said sadly, “will they be together in every lifetime?”
“Your Majesty,” Fuyi’s eyes shone with compassion, “fate is determined by the heavens. Why dwell so much on the matters of the next life in this one?”
“I just…” Long Xuan sighed deeply, “I just wish to be with him for one lifetime. Am I being too greedy?”
Master Fuyi gazed out at the snow. “All human hearts are greedy, Your Majesty.”
“Yes,” Long Xuan murmured, “I was too greedy in this life, so I lost him.”
When Master Fuyi looked down again, Emperor Long Xuan had passed away. Master Fuyi traced his fingers over Long Xuan’s forehead. Passing away in the snow, the previous and present lives were so alike, yet so different. Master Fuyi looked at the departed Emperor who had brought forth a prosperous dynasty through countless killings and ruthlessness. This man, who had never smiled in his lifetime, now wore a faint smile on his face. Life is but a dream. In this life, one was indifferent, the other obsessed. Considering it all, who had truly wronged whom? As for the next life, nine hundred years into the future, such a vast span of time – who could say what the world of mortals would be like then? Flourishing like wisps of cloud, could the bonds of this life be renewed after nine centuries?
“Amitabha,” Master Fuyi finally chanted.
- 孤家寡人- gū jiā guǎ rén: one who is cut off from others (idiom) / one who has chosen to follow a solitary path / (can also be an indirect way of referring to an unmarried person) ↩︎
Boundless Dao 
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