Sheng Xiao Legends: The Green Dragon

十 / 10. The Legend

"A closed mind is like a closed book; just a block of wood."

~ Chinese Proverb

"Is he okay?"

"He'll live," Shen Wong reassures me.

A team of monks appears like a rescue squad and instruct the young man to lie facedown on a makeshift gurney. Before they have a chance to cover him up with bandages, I get an eyeful of his singed backside. Women hide giggles behind their hands as I turn my head away.

"Does this happen a lot?"

"On most days, yes."

From a balcony, Chao Sun witnesses the monks carry his student away. Shen Wong calls up to him, speaking in Mandarin:

"下一次吧 / Xià yīcì ba (Maybe next time!)"

I hide from Chao Sun's glare behind his shoulder. "What was that about?"

"Nothing. Come along, Jade." Muttering, he adds, "Before he climbs down here," and gently nudges me forward.

"Where are we going?"

"To the temple."

While we pass through the garden, monks exchange nods with Shen Wong. The younger men bow their heads low and greet him as "Shifu." This brings a question to mind:

"Are you a martial arts master too?"

"Be quiet," he hisses as we step inside of the temple.

The sound of chanting echoes through the dim halls. In the center of the building sits an enormous stone statue. The shrine is illuminated by a circle of flickering flames, and its shadowy silhouette dances on the wall behind.

After passing through the inner sanctum, we reach a winding staircase. I slide my hand along the walls in order to guide my steps. Once I catch my breath at the top, I walk forward and bump into Shen Wong who has stopped moving.

"Is something wrong?" I peer around him to find another monk standing there.

He is probably the eldest person here. A necklace of jade beads hangs from his hunched, saggy neck. Shen Wong glances over at me, and after doing a double-take, I realize that he is telling me to bow. The elderly monk lowers his head slowly in return and motions for us to move along.

As Shen Wong pulls me through another corridor, I whisper, "Who was that?"

"The temple's leader, Biming. The Abbott," he answers. "Now, hush."

Making a sharp left turn, Shen Wong leads me into a room filled with ancient texts. We walk past the library shelves to a back wall containing a detailed carving of a man I do not recognize. The long beard hanging from his chin forms a sharp tip while a rounded topknot sits on his head. His eyes, green as jade, stand out from the rest of his stone face. Two of his fingers point upward while his other hand holds a scroll. To the man's right, there is a dragon. To the left, there is a younger man dressed in armor. Inscribed above the three figures is a line of words with only one I can discern:

"Father?"

After removing the scroll, Shen Wong sits on the floor and loosens the golden seal fastening the cylindrical document together. With one hand, he rolls it out flat; with the other, he gestures for me to come.