Chapter 19: Taking the Initiative

Inside the meditation chamber of Steward Juehui, Li Zaixing drank the fruit wine with perfect composure. This berry wine, imported from Persia, was exceptionally good—though certainly expensive. Yet Li Zaixing gulped it down one mouthful after another, like a thirsty mule, much to Juehui’s dismay. The matter of the wine, however, was trivial compared to the trouble Li Zaixing had stirred by breaking Zhigao’s leg. Juehui had not anticipated such violence from him; he struck without warning or restraint. Now, Juehui felt a pang of regret—had he known this man was so reckless, he would never have courted such a problem.

As Juehui hesitated, uncertain how to approach the subject, Li Zaixing set down the glass wine jar after drinking his fill, and smiled, “Senior Brother, you live in some luxury. This one bottle of wine could feed an ordinary family for a month.”

Juehui shrugged. “So you’re aware of that?”

“How could I not?” Li Zaixing wiped his mouth, suppressing his smile. “You must think I’m reckless in the way I act.”

Juehui raised an eyebrow, but held back the words on the tip of his tongue, meeting Li Zaixing’s gaze with piercing eyes.

“Let me be honest with you, Senior Brother. Our master, while in meditation, received a warning from the Buddha: Bodhi Monastery is in danger. That’s why he sent me to Chang’an. I don’t know what form this danger will take, but all I know is martial arts—so that’s all I can offer you. The monastery is wealthy…” Li Zaixing hefted the wine bottle, a playful smile touching his lips, “so I’d like to help you build a monastic guard to protect the monastery’s assets. If chaos ever descends upon the realm, these monks in arms could be your salvation.”

Juehui listened in silence, unmoved by Li Zaixing’s banter. Only when Li Zaixing finished did he reply gravely, “Is it truly our master who received this revelation in meditation?”

Li Zaixing nodded, utterly untroubled by the lie. To him, the old man’s penchant for mysticism made him the perfect shield for such claims. Training a monastic militia would benefit not just the monastery and Juehui’s standing, but Li Zaixing himself. He had learned military drills from Li Mi, and this was the perfect occasion to put those methods into practice.

Juehui frowned, scrutinizing Li Zaixing for a long moment but finding no flaw in his story. He had lived in Chang’an long enough to sense that the Tang dynasty’s long peace could not last forever. But whether any future unrest would engulf Chang’an, let alone Bodhi Monastery, was impossible to say. After all, his own life was limited—thirty more years, if fortune smiled. Could Chang’an truly descend into chaos within that time? It was hard to imagine.

If this had come solely from Li Zaixing, Juehui would have dismissed it as nonsense. But if Master Shu Cao had said it—and claimed it was Buddha’s own warning in meditation—then it carried great weight. Juehui’s worldly attachments were real, but so too was his faith in his master and the Buddha—something Li Zaixing could never comprehend. He could not have guessed that Li Zaixing was using their master’s name so freely.

“Building a monastic guard does seem a viable plan, but…”

“Why did you break Zhigao’s leg?” Li Zaixing interrupted.

Juehui smiled.

“First, Zhigao is not as incapable as you claim.” Li Zaixing’s tone hardened, coldness flickering in his eyes. Juehui had never told him of Zhigao’s background—if not for his own insight, it could have been his own misfortune today. He needed to understand what Juehui was playing at. “You’re not unaware that he once served in the army, are you?”

“The army?” Juehui’s brow furrowed in genuine surprise.

“You didn’t know?” Now Li Zaixing was surprised as well. Their master was skilled in martial arts—how could his senior brother be so ignorant? “When he fought me, he used spear techniques—he’s not weak. But when he instructs the warrior monks, he teaches only basic staff forms. Clearly, he’s hiding something. What is it?”

“I know nothing of martial arts.” Juehui gave a wry laugh. “So this means Zhigao’s identity is suspect?”

“I believe so.”

Li Zaixing fell silent, letting the matter rest. Zhigao’s true identity was of little consequence to him—Juehui would look into it himself. What mattered now was how to build a monastic guard. Training martial monks required people and money—resources that Juehui would have to provide.

“Another thing—their current training is too weak. If you want them to be a proper unit, I’ll need two or three months. If you can guarantee supplies, I should have them ready before the Bathing Buddha Festival.”

“And what about events before then?” Juehui was anxious. “There are two months until the festival, six preaching sessions, and the Shangsi Festival—a total of at least seven ceremonies. Now that you’ve injured Zhigao, he may well cause trouble in secret…”

“That’s precisely the issue. Simply defending is not enough—I want to take the initiative.”

“Take the initiative?”

“Yes. Who are the ones likely to make trouble? I’ll seek them out first—if I can win them over, I will; if not, I’ll make sure they can’t cause problems.” Li Zaixing grinned. “You’ve placed your trust in me, and I won’t let you down. To keep Bodhi Monastery safe, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Juehui stared at him, stunned. This was not at all what he expected—Li Zaixing actually wanted to confront and subdue the city’s roving troublemakers, even conscript them. It sounded suicidal. He had no way of knowing that Li Zaixing had already killed a man and robbed Wei Yingwu before even entering Chang’an.

Li Zaixing smiled faintly and continued, “Once those people are brought to heel, the monastery’s safety is assured. As for rival temples, I make no promises.”

Juehui drew in a sharp breath—he caught the underlying meaning. Li Zaixing’s aim was not merely to defend Bodhi Monastery, but to vie for dominance among Chang’an’s Buddhist community. Yet, on reflection, if Li Zaixing could truly subdue these wandering youths and redirect their mischief toward rival monasteries, it would be a golden opportunity for Bodhi Monastery. Most importantly, as a layman, Li Zaixing’s actions wouldn’t implicate the monastery even if things went awry.

“I must consult with the Prior and the Abbot.”

…

Returning to the western wing, Li Zaixing went straight to Du Fu, first informing him that from now on, he could eat for free in the monastery’s dining hall. The steward in charge of meals, Wuneng, was Juehui’s man—so as long as Juehui approved, it required no further sanction from the Prior or the Abbot.

Du Fu was overjoyed, offering his thanks repeatedly. Free meals at Bodhi Monastery, though not a lavish sum, solved his most basic needs—and spared him the daily trek to Taicang for cheap rice, saving precious time. His wife, Lady Yang, would no longer need to cook every day, could dress more comfortably, and have more time to educate their son, Du Zongwen. Naturally, they were delighted by the news.

“There’s something I’d like to ask Brother Du’s help with.” Li Zaixing grinned at Lady Yang, who had come out to express her thanks. “Madam, I’d like to ask Brother Du to take me to a flower wine house.”

Lady Yang blushed, shot a glance at the beaming Du Fu, gave a playful scold, and withdrew inside. Du Fu laughed, “Little brother, what has you interested in such places?”

“I’m looking for a fight,” Li Zaixing replied, outlining his plan. The young vagabonds of Chang’an were idlers who frequented brothels, and the Pingkang Ward, with its thriving red-light district, was their favored haunt. It was the perfect place to find them—but not so easy for Li Zaixing to enter.

Tang dynasty brothels were unlike their later counterparts: they did not display red lanterns or admit anyone with money, nor did painted courtesans line up awaiting selection. While they did trade in flesh, their primary purpose was social—one drank flower wine not just to bed women, but as a form of entertainment.

A key part of this entertainment was poetry and drinking games.

Unfortunately, these were not Li Zaixing’s strengths—he couldn’t compose poetry or play the games, and would be completely out of his depth, unable even to banter lewdly like Young Master Xue. In this arena, he was little more than an illiterate.

It was thanks to Lu Hu’s explanation that Li Zaixing approached Du Fu. If he couldn’t write poetry, he could enlist the Poet Sage himself. No matter how rich the Tang’s literary scene, there was only one Du Fu.

The Tang era was open-minded, and drinking flower wine didn’t imply illicit relations. Thus, Du Fu was not only untroubled, but even a little excited. Though Lady Yang was less pleased, she did not object—merely teased her husband.

Soon, Juehui delivered his response: the Prior and Abbot approved Li Zaixing’s plan, with one condition—Li Zaixing, as a lay resident, bore full responsibility for any consequences. Juehui also confided that, in retrospect, breaking Zhigao’s leg had proven the right move. With Zhigao seriously injured, the Prior had no one else to vie with Juehui for power, and for the sake of the upcoming ceremonies, had to accept Li Zaixing’s leadership of the martial monks.

Of course, the matter would not end there. The Prior would surely wait in the shadows for Li Zaixing to make a fool of himself, and when Zhigao recovered, would strike back to reclaim his authority.

“Junior Brother, you must be careful,” Juehui said with meaning.

“Don’t worry, Senior Brother. Just make sure I have enough resources.” Li Zaixing replied without hesitation, “The martial monks can’t eat meat, which is a great disadvantage for training. I must ask you to guarantee a steady supply of eggs and tofu, or I won’t be able to complete the task.”

Juehui agreed at once. Now, his fate was tied to Li Zaixing’s—if the martial monks were trained, his position would be secure; if not, his own interests would suffer. Even for his own sake, he could not afford to be stingy now.