As if They Were Anxious
It took no longer than 10 to 15 minutes to settle upon the room, place their baggage on the first floor, decide what they would leave and what they would take, 10 to 15 minutes, and they stand completely astonished in front of the hotel, they hadn’t been inside any longer than that, and now they look around, and they can’t believe their eyes, because that pure piercing illumination, that dazzling green and green and the yellow monastery walls on the side of the mountain — has all disappeared, the fog came up from the valley, the interpreter remarks uncertainly, yes, that’s obvious, both of them nod, that’s what happened, but it happened so quickly, the whole thing occurred while they were reaching an agreement with the innkeeper, they settled everything as quickly as they could, so that rushing out onto the main street they could see Jiuhuashan again in the light, well, there is something completely unexpected in this incredible speed, indeed, but more precisely: something unbelievable, Stein is inclined to believe this is some decision immediately concerning them, it is not merely a case of someone thinking in an agitated state — as, however, he is in now — that a so-called otherworldly force is operating behind the scenes; no, Stein directly suspects an arrangement, an apparently playful illusion, but in reality unmistakeably intended personally, as if by design they were meant to see everything at first in the light and then to never see it again, to see something completely different: Jiuhuashan in the fog — and if the shock is great, and if undeniably there is disappointment as well — for, certainly, it is difficult to get away from the fact that a moment ago they saw everything but can now see nothing— this disappointment, from one moment to another, begins to yield its strength to something completely different, namely, to a slowly unfolding wonder and, as they stand there paralysed by the sight, they begin to grasp that if now the fog and the drizzling rain have become the lord of the mountain, then this fog conceals Jiuhuashan in the most wondrous conceivable form.
So what happens is that they stand on the street and see themselves very distinctly, see their immediate surroundings as well, the earth beneath their feet, and everything within a distance of 8 to 10 metres, but if they take one step forward, then with every such step, indeed with every movement, yet another piece of the earth, the buildings on the main street, the mountain, the paths, the monks, the trees, the monastery walls begin to loom obscurely before them — so that, from this point on, it is not really possible to speak of sight in Jiuhuashan — they do not see but sense things, in this place where everything that is the world and everything that is Jiuhuashan changes from one moment to another, because in the ever-thickening fog whatever is momentarily uncovered in its own uncertain form, after this or that step, immediately vanishes in the very next, different details emerge as they move around and try to find a starting point from which they may begin to discover Jiuhuashan, but that is the most difficult, to be able to know exactly where they are on the main street: the hotel vanished from sight a long time ago, and they have no idea if they have gone to the right, upward, to the left, or downward, it doesn’t matter, they stand motionless, staring into this enchantingly unexpected and unusually heavy, impenetrable fog, Stein crumples the map in his hand and puts it into his pocket, because it doesn’t help, because nothing helps, he flings the remark out to his companion, why the hell would anyone walk around here with a map in their hands! — because, obviously, this is about something else, about something, something entirely else, and as they get to the head of the first path, and head upward without a thought — because it doesn’t matter what direction they go in, it won’t be them who will find Jiuhuashan, Stein calls back over his shoulder, but. . but? — his companion climbs up behind him with a certain serene forbearance — the interpreter doesn’t wish to destroy his companion’s wonder at the sight of this transformation and with his own usual cast of mind soothes himself by noting that, well, nightmarish, yes, this sudden change was really pretty nightmarish, but it also means, he says, that in addition to an indisputably justifiable rapture, they must, from this point on, face an unpleasantly drizzling cold rain and a fog that is totally closing in upon them, and these are circumstances, he adds soberly, which certainly call for some kind of raincoat and warm clothing. . But he notes this in vain, for Stein is thoroughly captivated by what he sees, which immediately disappears with the next step, so that as he looks at the first row of the tall pine trees nearest to him, the trees behind them fade into the most enigmatic space until, finally, the last row of trees dissolves into nothingness — as if they had strayed into the mirage of a painting by Huang Shen[2] or Ying Yujian[3]: at times they find themselves facing a protruding cliff peak, at other times a chasm, unsuspected a moment ago, suddenly opens up beneath their feet, in a word, they proceed upward metre by metre on the steps of the path, and even the interpreter would be affected by this particular bewitchment of divine nature plunged into obscurity if he wasn’t stopping from time to time to remark that the aforementioned raincoat and warm clothes would certainly be more than necessary if things continued like this. But it is obvious that nothing will change for a while, the fog doesn’t move, the rain drizzles, and Jiuhuashan continuously fades away and dissolves right before their eyes; they, however, keep on walking carefully upward, on the slippery steps, holding on to the slippery railing, and they persevere up into the heights; they have no idea where they are going, although there is no doubt that this path leads somewhere, certainly in a good direction — they are convinced of that — because they don’t believe that all this, this unforeseen change in the weather up here can be explained by some accident, just as it cannot be an accident that they are here on exactly this path in Jiuhuashan, between the slippery steps and the wet railings.
The first monastery which they reach could be any of the renowned temples they identified on the map earlier, but it isn’t, it seems to be one of the buildings of lesser importance, even if in terms of its beauty it is certainly the equal of the others, hence they would like to know its name, as soon as they walk in they address a dozing young monk but they don’t understand his reply, he is speaking in a regional dialect which the interpreter cannot translate, so they just smile at one another and have a look around the temple which is clearly under reconstruction, everywhere there is scaffolding and tools and carpenters’ benches, and ladders and beams and shavings, but no work is going on, and they cannot see any workers, so perhaps no work takes place in the fog? — Stein tries to joke with the monk but he doesn’t understand what the interpreter says, just as the foreigners don’t understand him when he replies, so that there remains only the wordless looking around in this extremely rare interior space among Buddhist shrines; the interior of the shrine is extraordinarily elevated and, what is even more surprising, the structural supports of the ceiling are not the usual densely placed thick cedar columns and complex system of brackets but a system of vaults below the roof, in a distinctly European style which causes the space to be open, nearly monumental, and what is most important and most unusual is that in this way the ceiling can be seen, and the gaze drawn as much upward as towards the altar — where there is now an empty lotus throne, visibly under restoration, the Buddha is nowhere, so that, as they courteously extend their business cards to the young monk, they make an attempt, despite the difficulties, at a new question, and to their great surprise the young monk seems to understand what they want: all his previous confusion suddenly turns into the most sincere cordiality and helpfulness, he motions for them to follow, and holding the cards delicately between his fingers as he walks, he slips them into a concealed pocket in his yellow robes, leading them with agile steps to one of the far corners of the shrine, indiscernible before in the nearly complete darkness looming within, he points to a colossal thing covered by cheap canvas, he points to it, he explains something and, as if they had rebuked him, suddenly conducts himself with inexplicable respect, he bows to Stein, then he lifts up one of the corners of the canvas — the guests help so as to be able to see what lies beneath — and beneath the canvas, the boy shows them, almost glowing with pride, is a completely new statue of the Buddha, they gesture to him, could he remove the canvas entirely, and from this point on it’s as if he understands everything, already he is fulfilling their request, the canvas comes off, and there sits a huge, brand-new Buddha, a Buddha next to which every other Buddha they have seen until now seems merely new-made, exasperatingly soulless, primitive, shoddy — it is beautiful, sublime, exactly the kind of Buddha in which a believer can truly find the Buddha, and this beauty strikes them so unexpectedly, they are really seeing Shakyamuni Buddha,[4] that they can’t speak, the boy is radiant, and the interpreter tries to encourage Stein and looks at him and waits for him to indicate what should be translated.