Ein Traum von der Seelenwanderung

Kapitel 9

Are you scared?

"Yes. Ever since that early morning, I've been restless, staring at that Chiang Mai, Thailand travel ad, which felt like an invitation from hell—I burned it. But that night, Sun Zichu suddenly came to my house, saying he was on vacation and had also received a Chiang Mai travel ad. The Lanna Royal Tombs deeply attracted him, and he wanted to invite me to travel there together. Such a coincidence was unbelievable to me; perhaps it was truly fate? But I hesitated for a few days, dreaming every night of ancient Chiang Mai, dreaming of my Xue'er, who kept repeating those words to me—'Come to the world of Tianji, and you will see me!'"

"So, you finally agreed to go to Thailand with Sun Zichu?"

"Yes, I couldn't resist that dream. Maybe I was fantasizing about really being able to reunite with Xue'er? I remember everything in my mind. On September 10th, Sun Zichu and I went to the travel agency. He had already sent our passports over to apply for visas in advance. We just needed to pay and get the invoice. Unexpectedly, the travel agency was located in a very luxurious Grade A office building. We even needed an IC card to enter the elevator. When we got to the 40th floor, we found it was a very small office with only three or four young employees. We met our tour guide, Xiao Fang, who was borrowed from another travel agency. I also remember that Sun Zichu didn't have enough money in his card, so I lent him more than two thousand yuan, making up the eight thousand yuan fee per person—the most luxurious and outrageous price ever."

Xiaozhi's eyes flickered, and she curled her lip. "Is this how you came to Thailand?"

“That’s right. Sun Zichu and I made some simple preparations, and on September 19th we boarded the flight to Bangkok. I remember it very clearly; every face in our tour group had a different age, profession, personality, and even a different nationality. From the moment the flight took off, I knew that my destiny would be changed from then on, and no one could resist it.”

“Yes, no one can resist.” Her expression had matured considerably, not at all like someone in their twenties. She sexyly brushed her bangs aside and said, “So, what happened after you arrived in Thailand? I’m curious what happened next?”

After a moment of silence, Ye Xiao said, "On the evening of September 19, 2006, we arrived at Bangkok Airport, only to be greeted by—a coup!"

dusk.

The final base camp.

The silence of the eve of the fall, a sleeping villa.

In the master bedroom on the second floor, Sun Zichu lay on the bed, barely alive, awaiting Tong Jianguo's life-saving serum in the morgue. Lin Junru lay beside him, lost in thought. Dingding kept her eyes glued to the television screen—the screen was still filled with static, but they were hoping for the signal to be restored, because the exciting scene they had just witnessed had made everyone in the room's heart race.

Elena was also looking forward to it, but she felt like she'd forgotten to mention something. Yes, Tong Jianguo was confronting the man in black, his fate unknown. But all the people around were women, and Ye Xiao was nowhere to be found, so there was no point in telling her. She had just returned from a shower, finally completely clean, and muttered again, "I'm starving!"

"Oh, I'll go prepare dinner now."

Yu Ling rushed out of the room with her head down, seemingly still carrying the shame of guilt. The scene on television that afternoon made her afraid to raise her head again. Escaping everyone's gaze was a kind of relief; otherwise, she always felt like she had been stripped naked.

She rushed down to the kitchen in one breath, and only then did the tears flow freely. But she forced herself not to stop, taking vacuum-packed food from the refrigerator and working laboriously like a maid. Tears slid down her cheeks, gently dripping onto the back of her hands, but she no longer wanted to wipe them away.

Was it really her fault? For a young Thai girl, swimming in the natural mountains and rivers was perfectly normal, especially since there was no one else around at the time. Yang Mou only came to rescue her after the danger occurred. As for who filmed those scenes, was it Yang Mou himself? And who put those scenes on the television signal? Yu Ling didn't want to dwell on these things. She only felt that she was burdened with original sin, even though she had never done anything wrong.

His hands trembled with distress as he struggled to unwrap the food packaging. Tonight it was the same stuff again—they were already sick of it. Qiuqiu had driven Qian Mozheng to risk fishing because she couldn't stand the food. Qian Mozheng had ultimately lost his life, and the fish had poisoned Sun Zichu, leaving his fate unknown.

A pang of self-reproach and guilt crept into her heart. Yu Ling slumped wearily at the dining table; even a skilled cook couldn't cook without ingredients. Why did fate torment her like this?

Helplessly, she touched her bosom and found the little booklet. Last night, to prevent it from getting lost, she had tucked it into her undergarments. Instinctively, she pulled it out and opened it. It was still filled with dense, tadpole-like characters, as if transported back to that morning many years ago, when a young, handsome monk held the booklet and gently placed it in her palm—the words written by Ajahn Luang Chula, recording the journey of a legendary forest monk master through the dark river of life.

Where did she leave off last time? She remembered the phrase "visualize yourself as a graveyard," which seemed quite fitting for the world of Tianji. In the quiet kitchen at dusk, she temporarily forgot the humiliation she had just experienced and turned to the last few pages of the notebook—

I, Ajahn Long Jula, will never forget my lifelong mission—to find the land of the Rakshasa, no matter which country or forest I wander to.

From the banks of the Mekong River surrounded by mountains, from the dense forests of Angkor Wat, from the smoke-filled battlefields of Vietnam, from the poppy-filled Shan Plateau, from the ancient city of Bagan with its tens of thousands of pagodas, from the ancient and wild Savage Mountains, my footprints have traversed the entire Indochina Peninsula. From the moment I learned of the legend of the Land of Rakshasa, I dreamed of witnessing this miracle with my own eyes, of touching the traces of ancient sages, of reciting the scriptures on the thousand-year-old stone tablets.

For this, I have spent decades, from a young man to a lonely old monk, from long peace to tragic war—the Kingdom of Rakshasa, this dream kingdom, always wakes me up in the middle of the night, forcing me to sit cross-legged all night, hoping that my dream will come true.

Three years ago, I wandered to the outskirts of Chiang Mai. I had visited this ancient city countless times, but I never wanted to venture into the city center, preferring instead to stroll through the forests on the city's edge, begging for alms from the nearby villagers. Chiang Mai is surrounded by numerous mountains, and I wandered alone along the mountain paths. Legend had it that tigers roamed the dense jungle, and just last month someone had been devoured by one. Only hunters with guns dared to traverse these mountain trails. But I, Ajahn Luang Chula, was merely a wandering monk; what was there to fear? There were even stories in Buddhist scriptures of princes sacrificing themselves to feed tigers. My rough, flabby old bones were probably too much even for tigers to handle!

With enough food and water, I walked for three days and three nights through the mountains, encountering many wild animals and venomous snakes, and even narrowly escaping a tiger once. The terrain in this area was extremely complex, with no human habitation for hundreds of miles. Just when I was wondering if I was hopelessly lost, I came across a highway leading to Chiang Mai. Instead of going back to Chiang Mai, I crossed the highway directly and headed towards the other side of the mountains.

That forest was even older, filled with incredibly tall banyan trees, each at least a thousand years old. The banyan roots, like the long hair of a banyan, densely covered the entire forest, so much so that with each step forward I had to brush aside the tendrils in front of me. After walking for a long time in the forest, I gradually realized I had entered the underground—

It was a strange world, surrounded by stalactites, with an underground river flowing beneath my feet. There was no sign of life; it was a completely dark world. I could only rely on a torch for light. I didn't know how long I had walked, or if I could ever get out, but I refused to turn back. I would rather perish in this nineteenth level of hell.

Suddenly, I realized that both sides were man-made passageways, with smooth steps beneath my feet, carrying me upwards step by step. The torchlight illuminated a small shrine in the corner, where an ancient Buddha statue smiled, beckoning me to explore further. I pushed open a stone door and entered a gradually descending passageway. After several turns, I faintly saw a light—was it the guidance of truth?

Reaching the light, I found myself at the exit of the passageway, where the world was bathed in sunlight. Many Buddha statues, entwined by banyan trees, seemed to be awakening from their thousand-year slumber. I stepped out in astonishment and discovered that I was in another world—a magnificent temple, ancient murals, broken Buddha statues, a vast palace, exquisite gardens, and a pond blooming with lotus flowers.

I saw an unparalleled building, the culmination of all human wisdom over thousands of years, a miracle tens of thousands of feet high, with five pagodas soaring into the clouds, symbolizing Mount Sumeru at the center of the world!

Everything before my eyes was incredibly splendid. I touched the weathered stones and struggled up the steps to reach the highest point of the building—the Land of Rakshasa!

I knelt down and silently recited the Diamond Sutra...

Yes, this dreamlike city now lies prostrate at my feet. Though its former glory has turned to rubble, this magnificent skeleton still stands eternally. The smoke of legend has finally dissipated before my eyes, and all the mysteries have been clearly revealed. This is the true meaning of time and space, the truth behind all human legends, and the final unknown code of life.

It is also a prophecy and allegory for our past five thousand years and the next five thousand years.

As I knelt on the stone slab, kissed the Buddha statue beneath the central pagoda, and tears streamed down my face, I suddenly felt that life had lost its meaning—the greatest treasure I had sought in my life had been discovered, and the most important dream of my life had been realized. So what should I live for now? I wouldn't regret dying right now!

I walked aimlessly to the edge of the broken cliff. One more step and I would be plunged into a bottomless abyss. Perhaps leaping from this human-made wonder to achieve immortality would be the perfect end to my life as a forest monk.

No, suddenly a voice rang in my ear: "What do you want?"

What do I want to get?

To gain wealth? No.

To gain power? No.

To obtain beauty? No.

To find love? No.

To gain a family? No.

To receive honors? No.

To find comfort? No.

To win? No.

To gain eternal life? No.

To be worshipped? No.

To achieve your dreams? Yes.

Isn't that so? I can completely forget myself, completely detach myself from the world, endure physical suffering, enjoy the pain of loneliness, and give up everything in life, but I can't let go of this dream—the Land of Rakshasa.

Throughout my long life as a forest monk, and my countless wanderings, I could never forget the Land of Rakshasa, and I remained immersed in my dreams. The more persistently I pursued my dreams, the more firmly I strengthened my beliefs and courage, the more tragically I fell into a state of inescapable self-deception!

Deep down, I've always known this: no matter how glorious the Rakshasa Kingdom, no matter how magnificent its temples, they will ultimately turn to dust. All the great structures created by humankind will not last more than a few thousand years; some will even perish faster than their creators! In the eyes of ordinary people, this ancient civilization is proof of human power, but to the enlightened, it is nothing more than a pile of meaningless stones—no matter how exquisite the reliefs or how magnificent the Buddha statues, these stones are still stones!

Everything comes from dust, and everything will return to dust.

How could I not understand this principle?

However, the delusions in my heart and my unwavering pursuit of my dreams made it impossible for me to resist this ancient temptation.

If I cannot escape this land of demons—whether physically or mentally—my life will ultimately be a tragedy!

No, when I opened my eyes again, I could no longer see this glorious world, only endless ruins, sleeping soundly and worthless underground.

That's just how the world is.

Suddenly, I burst into laughter, and the entire universe could hear me as I faced the vast land beneath my feet.

Goodbye, Land of Rakshasa!

I slowly climbed down the towering building, returned to the ground, walked out of the plaza, passed through the doorway beneath the mysterious smile, and returned to a forest. Then I found a forest path, which led to a deep pool, with a stream flowing through the shaded path. I followed the stream forward, and the surrounding scenery was completely different. Although still surrounded by mountains, I could now see the city's high-rise buildings.

Sure enough, I entered a city, just as prosperous and modern as the outside world, and all the residents were Chinese. My appearance surprised the city's residents even more, who said that this place was called "Nanming City" and was not under the jurisdiction of any government.

Before I could even linger in the city, I was driven out of Nanming by soldiers, put into a car, entered a tunnel, passed through a deep canyon, and was taken back to the highway leading to Chiang Mai.

And so my journey to the Land of Rakshasa came to an end. My lifelong dream had been realized, yet I felt no excitement, only a faint sense of tranquility—without hope, there is no despair.

This little notebook of mine has finally come to an end. There are many more stories in my life, but I'll stop here. After my passing, my apprentice will give this notebook to someone destined to read it; perhaps these words will be of use to that person.

Finally, please read this verse from the elder:

Flower of Liberation

Dense practice and unwavering dedication to right effort

Taking mindfulness as one's refuge

Wearing this flower of liberation

Those who emerge from the sludge will no longer be reincarnated.

This is the last page of the notebook, the last line of this long, tadpole-like script.

Yu Ling held it tremblingly, touching the heart of the Rakshasa Kingdom, a strange current surging through her body. This book, given to her by her first love—a young monk—had been read countless times before, but she had never been able to get into this last section, to the point that she would forget everything after reading the beginning.

But in this moment of despair, a sudden clarity dawned on her heart, as if she had been adorned with a flower of liberation. Even the humiliation she had suffered in front of the television that afternoon felt much more comforting.

She tucked the notebook back into her bosom and washed her hands to prepare dinner when there was a sudden knock on the door outside the courtyard.

Who is it? Could it be Tong Jianguo who has returned with the life-saving serum?

Yu Ling ran quickly out of the house and opened the tightly closed iron gate without thinking, but what she saw was another face.

A second later, everything went black, and she could feel nothing as she sank into endless darkness...

18:00

Dark clouds had covered the entire sleeping city, and the sky was gradually darkening. A cold wind swept in from the end of the street, hitting the windows of Nanming Hospital.

It's getting dark.

Xiaozhi stood at the window of the hospital emergency room, looking at the swaying phoenix tree in the yard.

Where were we?

Aside from the elbow bitten by the dog, Ye Xiao's other wounds were no longer very painful. He sat wearily on the stretcher, stroking "God's" chin and ears. This large wolfhound, which had almost killed him, had suddenly become his good friend, obediently sticking out its warm tongue and diligently licking his scraped knee.

"On the evening of September 19, 2006, your tour group arrived at Bangkok Airport, only to find that a coup had taken place in Thailand." Xiaozhi repeated the story for him. "What, is your memory failing you again?"

"Tch, I know it perfectly well! The coup that night caught us completely off guard, but the airport and hotels were still relatively normal. It's just that at midnight, there were many heavily armed soldiers standing on both sides of the streets, and even tanks and armored vehicles speeding past our bus. The big boss said he wanted to fly back to China immediately, but Sun Zichu insisted on completing the trip, and in the end, our tour guide, Xiao Fang, decided to continue. We toured Bangkok the next day, went to Ayutthaya on the third day, and also visited Pattaya and Phuket. Everything was peaceful and unaffected by the coup."

"Then you went to Chiang Mai?"

He stroked the wolfhound's back, nodded, and said, "That's right, we arrived in Chiang Mai on September 23rd. The bus entered the old city in the cool morning breeze. We visited Wat Phra That Doi Suthep and the Royal Palace. Sun Zichu, of course, couldn't resist admiring the beautiful women. In the evening, we went to the famous night market. Sun Zichu and I always go together, but it was so crowded that a group of American tourists suddenly appeared, and I couldn't see him anymore. In the noisy market, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, I wandered aimlessly until I saw him in the crowd—"

"Xue'er?"

Xiaozhi's reminder did not make him more clear-headed; instead, it caused a strange pain in his head, and the memories he had finally managed to sort out turned into a tangled mess once again.

"Don't interrupt!" he cried out, clutching his head in agony. "My memory is fine! But...but...Xue'er...no...not Xue'er...not her...damn it...how could it not be her?"

After a brief period of confusion, the image became clearer, even though it contradicted his wishes.

Yes, there is no Xue'er!

In the crowded night market of Chiang Mai, the face he saw was not Xue'er's, but a man's face.

A black hat, black sunglasses, a black scarf, a black top, a black shirt, black pants, and black leather shoes appeared before my eyes—a man in black.

Ye Xiao was drawn to this strange man, who then said in fluent Mandarin, "Mr. Ye Xiao, please follow me."

How do you know my name?

He walked up in surprise, but the man in black didn't answer, instead turning and walking into a dark corner. Ye Xiao followed closely behind, and in the blink of an eye, they left the bustling night market and entered a deserted street.

When there was no one else around, leaving only Ye Xiao and the man in black, the man turned around and took off his sunglasses, revealing his face, which was in his thirties, under the streetlights, and his wolf-like eyes gleamed with a sharp light.