Zengshan Chanlin

Zengshan Chanlin

Starting from Dangtu County town and traveling along winding roads for over ten li, you’ll see undulating mountain ranges stretching into the distance. The mountains aren’t tall—only about 100–200 meters—but they’re lush with green bamboo and dark green pines and cypresses. After a short walk, you’ll come across a mountain lying across your path, shaped like an ancient steamer basket. It’s likely this resemblance that gave the place its name, “Zengshan” (Steamer Basket Mountain). Nestled within the mountain lies a temple, as if embraced by this amusingly shaped giant “steamer basket.” From a distance, the layered halls and towers can be vaguely seen, their colors reflecting the charm of traditional southern Anhui architecture, while their structure reveals the solemnity of classical temples. The rich greenery enhances the beauty of the mountain and the ancient temple, presenting a delicate and refined appearance untouched by any hint of vulgarity.

Upon reaching the temple, before seeing the mountain gate, you’ll first encounter a pond and a pavilion. The water is still and clear as a mirror, reflecting the contours of the mountain and the hues of the early morning sky. The soft sunlight soothes the soul, and as you gaze at it, a sense of openness naturally arises. Walking past this life-release pavilion, the words “Zengshan Chanlin” gradually emerge amid the curling incense smoke. Through the open mountain gate, the green tiles and white walls inside are shrouded in a hazy, mysterious allure.

Entering the mountain gate and paying respects to the solemn and benevolent Buddha, you can stroll freely around the temple grounds. The monks’ quarters, meditation halls, and dining halls are all arranged in neat order. Zengshan has long been a spiritually significant mountain in Dangtu, and this Chanlin (Zen forest/temple) is also an ancient site of Zen Buddhism. Legendary tales often surround famous mountains and ancient temples, and this place is no exception. It’s said that in ancient times, a monk once practiced in a cave atop the mountain, living a carefree and contented life, free from worldly strife. In order to access sweet spring water, the monk moved down from the mountaintop and vowed to build a temple at the mountain foot where springs converged, so more people could share this precious land. Over time, this vision gave rise to what is now known as Zengshan Chanlin. Though the truth of the legend remains uncertain, the monk in the story is deeply respected. To enjoy happiness alone is not as good as sharing it—this spirit of communal joy is perhaps a natural expression of the Buddhist ideal of compassion.

However, according to historical records, Zengshan Chanlin has had a tumultuous fate. Although the temple, originally built during the Tang Dynasty with ninety-nine and a half rooms, once became one of the ten most renowned ancient temples in the Dangtu region, it was destroyed by war before the Qing Dynasty, reduced to ruins described as “shattered stone tablets buried by wild grass, wildflowers blooming by broken walls.” It wasn’t until the Guangxu era of the Qing Dynasty that the visionary monk Qisheng arrived, spending years diligently fundraising. Eventually, he restored the ruined site to its original Tang Dynasty scale, allowing Zengshan Chanlin to regain its former spiritual vitality. Yet, during the Anti-Japanese War, the ancient temple was once again destroyed and gradually declined. By the time of the Cultural Revolution, it had almost been completely leveled. It wasn’t until the 1980s that Master Cichan from Jiuhua Mountain made a grand vow to rebuild it, thus enabling the temple to continue its legacy.

Perhaps Zengshan truly shares an destined bond with Buddhism, or perhaps one should admire the unwavering perseverance of Buddhist disciples over a thousand years. The faith and dedication of one person, the rebirth and flourishing of a temple, the continuation of a Zen Buddhist forest—all show how history can be both random and inevitable, as if bound by an indescribable cause and effect. Strolling through the Chanlin, you might hear wind chimes gently clinking in the breeze, emitting a soft “ding-ding” sound. But when you pause to listen closely, the sound dissolves into the wind, leaving only deep chanting accompanied by the serene descent of the setting sun. Reading the couplet beside the hall word by word: “The evening drum and morning bell awaken those chasing fame and fortune; the chanting of scriptures and Buddha’s name call back those lost in the sea of suffering.” People may stray, but the Dharma also saves—perhaps this itself is a kind of karmic connection.

Fortunately, the efforts of generations of eminent monks have finally borne fruit. Today, the number of monks at Zengshan Chanlin has gradually increased, and it has become a major temple in the eyes of local devotees. Pilgrims from nearby regions such as Wuxi, Suzhou, and Changzhou frequently visit to offer incense and worship, making the temple bustling with activity. However, walking from the Heavenly King Hall to a uniquely designed small courtyard to the north, you’ll find something different from a typical temple. The courtyard houses the Mazu Hall, consisting of two sections and six rooms in total, dedicated to worshipping the Goddess Mazu. Mazu is regarded as the Heavenly Queen and the guardian deity of the sea, long venerated as the protector of fishermen along China’s southeastern coast. Although Dangtu is not coastal, it is a land of fish and rice south of the Yangtze River, with many vessels passing through. Worshipping Mazu is likely an expression of the local people’s wish for safety on the waters. It’s said that this lifelike statue is the first Mazu statue in Anhui. Devotees felt that Zengshan, with its serene forests and tranquil mountains, was indeed a pure and sacred land, and thus requested the construction of the “Mazu Hall” here. The compassion and tolerance of Buddhism are once again affirmed in this ancient Chan temple. As a result, during Buddhist festivals, lay practitioners and local fishermen regularly come here to pay homage, adding a touch of liveliness and incense-filled devotion to this peaceful place.