Little Emei Mountain

　　 (I)

　　 In the 30th year of the Guangxu reign, there was a drought lasting 40 days. Legend has it that two men gathering fragrant leaves climbed up Little Emei Mountain. One of them noticed a bell hanging from a pine tree and found it very strange, muttering, “In this remote mountain wilderness, where could a bell come from?” The other asked, “Where’s the bell?” The first man pointed and said, “Isn’t that it?” But unexpectedly, his hand remained frozen in that pointing position and would not retract. At that moment, he had a realization: “Could it be the Bodhisattva’s miraculous flying bell?” So he silently prayed, “If it truly is the Bodhisattva showing a miracle, let me pull my hand back. I will use this hand to carve a path up here for you and tell others to come worship you…” After finishing his prayer, his hand easily retracted, as flexible as ever. So the two of them began chopping down from under the pine tree, clearing away thorns and bushes, and in half a day, they had cleared a path. They then shouldered their bundles of fragrant leaves and returned home in the evening. After spreading the word among their neighbors, the story of the Bodhisattva’s miracle on Little Emei Mountain quickly spread, and people flocked to the mountain to burn incense. Since it was a time of severe drought and farmers were desperate for rain, it was said that wherever someone went to burn incense and pray, rain would surely follow; places where no one prayed saw rain only in the ditches. Meanwhile, beneath the divine bell, light rain fell continuously without ceasing.

　　 (II)

　　 The miraculous flying bell on Little Emei Mountain and the Bodhisattva’s effective response to prayers for rain quickly led to the construction of a temple. But given the limited local resources, the temple was small in scale. Building a grand, magnificent temple was no easy task. Legend has it that in a manor in the Bazhong area (some say in Badong), mournful music played low and wailing cries shook the heavens. An old woman, leaning on a dragon-headed cane, passed by the front of the manor and asked a servant who was coming out to fetch water what had happened to cause such sorrow. The servant sighed and replied, “Our master’s only son in three generations has died. It’s pitiful—our master has always been kind, having a son in his old age, and now this…” Seeing the servant choked with emotion and weeping profusely, the old woman felt deep sympathy and asked further, “How old was your young master? How long has he been dead?” The servant answered through tears, “Twelve years old, dead for three days. He’s to be buried on the mountain tomorrow.” The old woman comforted him, “It’s all right, don’t bury him yet. Take me to have a look. Maybe there’s still hope.” The servant, seeing that the old woman was white-haired and elderly, not one to speak lightly, and hearing that the young master might be saved, was both shocked and overjoyed. He dropped the water bucket and rushed inside to inform the master. The master, half-believing, half-doubting, called out, “Please—” The old woman shuffled in, pried open the youth’s eyes to take a look, felt his chest, and said, “There’s still hope. Quickly bring me a bowl of water!” She drew her finger across the surface of the water in the bowl, chanted some incantations, then instructed someone to lift the youth’s head, pry open his mouth, and pour the water in. Everyone held their breath in suspense, and before long, the youth slowly regained consciousness and sat up. Everyone was astonished and quickly helped him into the inner room to rest. The master was overjoyed and immediately knelt before the old woman, bowing and kowtowing in gratitude. The old woman helped him up, and the master hastily invited her to sit and offered her tea, asking, “How can I repay your great kindness?” The old woman said, “No need to thank me, no need.” The master insisted, “How can I feel at ease without repaying a life-saving grace?” The old woman calmly replied, “If you truly wish to repay me, then go and offer your thanks at Little Emei Mountain in Hucheng, Liangshan.” With that, she turned and vanished. The master suddenly realized, “This must be the Bodhisattva showing a miracle!”

　　 Ten days later, a pilgrim arrived at Little Emei Mountain with two porters. After setting off firecrackers, burning paper money, offering incense and candles, and worshipping the Bodhisattva, the pilgrim instructed the porters to present the gifts. When the abbot uncovered them, he found two loads of silver, and he was so delighted his mouth couldn’t close. It turned out that this pilgrim was the master from Bazhong, who had specially come to repay the Bodhisattva for granting his son a new life.

　　 With the two loads of silver, the temple on Little Emei Mountain was built magnificently and grandly. Statues of the Buddha, Guanyin, the Twelve Devas, the Eighteen Arhats, and the Twenty-Four Heavens were tall, majestic, and resplendent in gold. On the temple walls, “Awakening Dreams” was written on the left, “Miraculous Bell” on the right, and on the rear wall, the large characters “Do Good” stood out especially prominently.

　　 At this point, Little Emei Mountain became widely renowned. During temple festival days, devout men and women from around Hucheng formed processions, bowing every three steps and kneeling every five, in what was called the “Pilgrim’s Kowtow.” They chanted in unison, “Namo Amituofo!” as they made their way up the mountain. The temple was packed with people, shoulder to shoulder; outside, countless snack shops and vendors did booming business along the route. Nearby counties such as Daxian, Dazhu, Dianjiang, Kaijiang, and Kaixian, as well as more distant places like Bazhong, Badong, and Yichang, all sent believers to burn incense, worship the Buddha, and offer inscribed plaques and dedications.

　　(III)

　　 In front of Little Emei Mountain, the hills roll and undulate, majestic and dynamic. Especially notable are five stone mountains that rise abruptly from the ground, standing thousands of feet high with cliffs as sheer as if hewn by axe and knife. Made of limestone, their smooth, dust-free rock faces do not easily support plant growth. Rainwater erosion has carved them into long, flowing lines that strikingly resemble the manes of lions held high. Behind the rocks, the mountain ridges gradually stretch away and lower, resembling the lions’ bodies and tails. The five lions take on different postures—some as if neighing with heads raised, some as if charging forward with all their might, some as if glancing backward, and some as if pausing to listen intently. All face toward Little Emei Mountain together, creating a majestic and spectacular sight known as the Five Lions Worshiping the Buddha.

　　 Legend has it that when the Tang monk Xuanzang journeyed to the West to retrieve Buddhist scriptures, he passed through Yuhua County in the kingdom of Tianzhu. There, the “Nine-Heaven Primordial Sage”—a nine-headed lion demon—living in the Nine-Twist Cave of Wanying Bamboo Ridge Mountain, abducted Xuanzang and his three disciples. Sun Wukong managed to escape and ascended to the Eastern Heavenly Gate to summon the Lord Taiyi, who subdued the lion’s mount, the nine-headed lion, killed seven of the lion demons, but inadvertently allowed five young lions to escape. Many years later, the young lions grew into adult lions with powerful magic. They traveled from Tianzhu into Tibet, Yunnan, and Sichuan, intending to head north through Little Emei Mountain to Chang’an to avenge their elder. When the lions passed by Little Emei Mountain, the Buddha and Guanyin took the opportunity to subdue them and enlighten them. From then on, the five lions reformed their evil ways, converted to Buddhism, and devoutly worshipped the Buddha in front of Little Emei Mountain, awaiting their ascension to immortality.

　　 Whenever night falls and the Jade Rabbit (the moon) rises in the east, the five lions roll and leap on the flat ground in front of the Buddha’s hall on Little Emei Mountain, showcasing their skills and competing in performances, not stopping until the deep of night. Before the cock crows, the five lions return to their original positions. By morning, people see once again the five lion-shaped rocks standing quietly. Lush trees grow on the rocks, birds flit about, and beneath the rocks, cicadas sing loudly, “Zhīliǎo, zhīliǎo!” “Isn’t that right, isn’t that right—!”

　　 There seems to be some understanding of the mysteries of existence; but upon reflection, confusion sets in. Affirmation, negation, negation of the negation—“At fifty, I knew the errors of my previous forty-nine years.” Humanity always advances by negating its former conclusions. Is this the Zen insight the five lions have gained over the centuries as they stand silently before Little Emei Mountain? The lions cannot speak, so they entrust their message to the cicadas:

　　 “Zhīliǎo, zhīliǎo!”

　　 “Isn’t that right, isn’t that right—!”