Chapter 71: Couplet

In front of the main hall of Jinshan Temple, a large crowd had already gathered. Among them were numerous professors specializing in classical literature from various universities, each standing before a large digital screen, capacitive stylus in hand, brows furrowed in deep thought as they racked their brains for inspiration.

As the stylus danced across the screen, characters appeared clearly on the display for all to see. Seated before the screen were more than a dozen judges, their eyes fixed intently on every stroke. Only when the panel reached a unanimous decision could a couplet be deemed acceptable.

These judges were all esteemed professors of Chinese language or classical literature. Seated at the very center was the abbot of Jinshan Temple himself. The venerable abbot, with over a hundred thousand disciples at home and many more followers abroad, was also a brilliant graduate in Chinese language and literature.

All around, the crowd buzzed with excitement. Who would not be tempted by a string of golden prayer beads worth hundreds of thousands? Yet, that was secondary. More importantly, this scenic area had become one of the largest in the country, drawing endless streams of visitors. If one’s calligraphy were chosen to hang before the main hall of Jinshan Temple, it would be a mark of great honor.

Many tourists had come today for the couplet competition. Besides Jinshan Temple, there was a solitary island in the middle of the lake, home to Solitary Mountain Temple, which was also soliciting couplets from across the country. Beyond Solitary Mountain Temple lay Magpie Bridge Pavilion, seeking poems that would grace its halls. Further on was the National Academy of Learning, boasting a legacy of over a thousand years. The renowned Writers’ Village of Moon Bay had been established by many scholars who set out from the Academy, which today was hosting a grand poetry gathering as well.

The strength of the scenic area’s investors was clear, as was the nation’s current emphasis on the culture and tourism industry. Every effort was being made to create a dazzling cultural showcase.

“Those wishing to compose a couplet, please line up here to receive a capacitive stylus,” announced a staff member.

In front of the digital screen, a magnificent string of golden beads hung suspended. Made of pure gold and intricately engraved with dense Sanskrit script by the late Master Kongzhou himself, the beads had been consecrated. The beads alone were worth over a hundred thousand, and with Master Kongzhou’s personal engraving, their value exceeded a million—truly priceless.

Master Kongzhou had left behind only two such prayer bead strings in his lifetime. One had fetched six million at a Hong Kong auction a decade earlier; the other was now before their eyes.

Many gazed at the beads with unconcealed longing. Who among the Chinese could resist charms for warding off evil, attracting fortune, and ensuring prosperity? Even the heiress of the scenic area investors had coveted them, yet her generous offer before the grand opening had been refused.

Jinshan Temple was not short of money; they also owned Jing’an Temple, another grand temple in the city center of Haicheng, where every inch of land was precious. Millions, even tens of millions, were nothing to Jinshan Temple. What they sought was a worthy couplet.

Jinshan Temple had only been included within the scenic area; it had not been bought out. The temple retained full autonomy over its affairs.

“I’d like to try,” an elderly man stepped forward and took up the stylus.

Many recognized him at once, exclaiming in surprise.

“That’s Master Xu Zijian of National Studies!”

“He’s a professor of literature at Hangzhou University, a great scholar of classical literature!”

“A pioneer in Chinese language studies!”

Xu Zijian, a man in his seventies with spectacles perched on his nose, studied the requirements closely. Jinshan Temple’s criteria were straightforward: the couplet must be grand and imposing, incorporate the vast Lake of Ten Thousand Buddhas behind the temple, harmonize with the setting, and reflect the current season. In other words, it must evoke autumn, the lake, and the Buddhist spirit of transcendence and detachment.

Xu Zijian pondered for a long time before finally composing a couplet. As the saying goes, the expert sees the subtleties, the layman sees only the spectacle. Those lacking literary background found it impressive at a glance. But those versed in literature exclaimed, “As expected of a master, the parallelism is flawless, the tones perfectly matched—surely this couplet will be chosen!”

The judges conferred in low voices for a moment. Then the abbot spoke: “Professor Xu, your couplet is impeccably balanced, but unfortunately it does not quite suit Jinshan Temple. My apologies.”

Xu Zijian shook his head in disappointment and turned to the young girl beside him. “I’m sorry, dear, Grandpa couldn’t win the prayer beads for you.”

The girl, about fifteen or sixteen, replied, “It’s all right, Grandpa. Jinshan Temple has been seeking a couplet for several years now and has already collected thousands of submissions online. Their standards must be very high.”

Seeing even Xu Zijian fail, several middle-aged men who were eager to try abandoned their ambitions. If even Xu Zijian’s work wasn’t accepted, what chance did they have?

The abbot sighed. To think, all he wanted was a worthy couplet—why was it so difficult? A fine couplet could elevate the reputation of the temple and embody true transcendence.

“Daddy, I want that!” Qingqing, cradled in Shen Xian’s arms, pointed at the golden beads.

“All right.” Shen Xian, holding Qingqing, prepared to step forward for a stylus.

Suddenly, a surprised voice called out, “Shen Xian?”

Turning, Shen Xian saw Chen Dabao and Zhang Doudou coming up the steps, arms linked.

“Shen Xian, have you made a decision about what I asked?” Zhang Doudou inquired, referring to her request to license songs by The Postman and Wang Tianqi for their KTV.

Shen Xian shook his head.

At this, a flash of irritation and resentment flickered in Zhang Doudou’s eyes. That damned Shen Xian—was he deliberately making things difficult for them?

Chen Dabao seemed about to say something more when Zhang Doudou caught sight of the prayer beads, and was instantly captivated. They were exquisite—twelve beads, each a masterpiece, radiating splendor even as they hung quietly in place. On the wall behind was an introduction: Master Kongzhou’s final work!

“How beautiful! Are these for auction? How much? I’ll buy them!” Zhang Doudou declared, unable to take her eyes off the beads.

At her words, everyone looked at her as though she were a fool.

Did she think these could be bought with money? Did Jinshan Temple need her paltry sum?

The abbot cast a dismissive glance at Zhang Doudou, unwilling to waste words.

“Hey, monk—my girlfriend’s talking to you! Why are you so rude?” snapped Chen Dabao, the quintessential spoiled heir. “It’s just money. Name your price!”

“They’re not for sale at any price,” the abbot replied. “If you want them, write a couplet that satisfies us, and I’ll give them to you for free.”

“For heaven’s sake, do you even know what you’re talking about? Do you understand the value of those beads?” someone retorted. “You act as though you’re wealthy, but even the investor’s heiress couldn’t buy them for eight million before the opening!”

“If you can’t write a couplet, step aside!”

The crowd began to scold Zhang Doudou and Chen Dabao in chorus.