續高僧傳 18.16

Śramaṇa Tanqian had the secular surname Wang. He was a native of Raoyang in Boling. His recent ancestors in Taiyuan had served in successive official posts and subsequently settled there. From his youth, he was brilliant, bright, and markedly different from ordinary peers. At the age of thirteen, his parents, admiring his far-reaching comprehension, had his maternal uncle instruct him. This was Quan Hui, who served Northern Qi as Palace Grandee of the Central Dispersal, Libationer of the National University, and Erudite. Hui was thoroughly versed in the Six Classics and devoted special study to the Way of the Changes; he analyzed the hexagrams and lines, plumbing the depths of the images and the attached texts. Finding Qian's spirit and intelligence extraordinary, he first instructed him in the *Zhouyi*. When he first received the eight trigrams and their mutual generation, he understood as soon as the words were spoken. When he had just begun learning half the text, the other half came to him spontaneously; it was completely clear without needing a master's instruction, and his insight surpassed mere words and principles. Hui marveled greatly at him. Once, an elderly woman who had lost an object came to Hui to have it divined, and obtained the Dui hexagram. Hui said to Qian: 'You try to determine it.' Responding to his voice, [Qian] answered: 'Judging from the hexagram, it must definitely be a lost gold hairpin.' Surprised and pleased, the old woman said: 'It is indeed as you have judged!' Qian said: 'Dui is the metallic position; the two downward strokes of the character resemble the image of a hairpin, that is all.' The uncle said: 'Rely further on the hexagram to scrutinize who the thief is.' He replied: 'The person who took it was a fair-skinned girl from the family to the west, with a harelip and hair bound in horn-like tufts, about fourteen or fifteen years of age, who carried it away. She can be sought and found.' Later, just as he had said, it was recovered. Someone asked the reason, and Qian said: 'Dui is the position of the youngest daughter in the west. When the five colors are assigned to the directions, it is white. The upper dots of the character *Dui* show the image of horn-like tufts of hair; the sharp shape within shows the mark of a harelip. By inferring and deducing, I came to know it; it was not by any magical art.' His uncle thereupon laid down the divination stalks and sighed: 'I am quite skilled at divination, but when it comes to rendering decisions, I only proceed by approximate guess. How could I match your clarity? This old uncle truly looks upon himself with much shame; this verifies the words of Xuanni: "The young are to be held in awe."' Thereupon he further instructed him in such books as the *Rites* and its commentaries, the *Odes*, the *Documents*, and *Zhuangzi* and *Laozi*. But with only a single glance, there was never any need to ask about their meaning again. At that time, taking Confucian learning as his basis, his brilliant reputation stood alone. He often said: 'The Lesser and Greater Ya [of the *Odes*] were the satires of their time; the Left and Right Scribes recorded the deeds and words of rulers. The *Rites* orders human relations, and music transforms mores; none of these are more than diversions for ears and eyes, and their momentum can be known. They are not like Li and Zhuang discoursing on the Great Way, or the *Zhouyi* distinguishing yin and yang, which can awaken one to what is hidden and subtle, and gladden one's nature. When investigated and savored, they are the root of the Dark Learning and Confucianism.' At that time, the elder scholars rather disdained his youth, so that some even came forward to debate and evaluate him. Qian answered with fluid eloquence, his phrasing clear and dazzling, and not one failed to bow and concede to his fame and substance. From then on, he set his heart on *Zhuangzi* and the *Changes*, and turned his intentions toward Buddhist scriptures, wishing to don the dyed robes and penetrate the profoundest mysteries. His parents loved him and would not permit it, but after many years of earnest sincerity, he was granted permission to depart. At first, he sought out Śramaṇa Huirong of Quli Monastery in Raoyang. Rong was quite skilled in physiognomy and divination, and knew he was a vessel destined for salvation. He told Qian: 'Since you have a mind that yearns for the Way, it is right that you should be ordained. Looking at your bone structure, you ought to be of the caliber of Mitian. I consider myself deficient in virtue and righteousness compared to Master Dao'an; you should seek out an exalted figure of the age to fulfill your refined aspirations.' Although Qian persistently and repeatedly pleaded with him, [Huirong] firmly refused and would not allow it. He then went to Vinaya Master Tanjing of Jiahe Monastery in Dingzhou and went forth from the household under him. He was then twenty-one years of age. Having attained his original aspiration, his breast was open and free. Fiercely diligent, he knew no weariness from dusk to dawn. When he first chanted the *Śrīmālādevī-sūtra*, in less than a day he was completely familiar with it. Surprised, [the master] tested and reviewed him, and not a single character was wrong. That very night, he asked about deep perplexities in the scripture, every one of them concerning subtle and wondrous meanings. Knowing that his spiritual intellect was fully mature, he conferred full ordination upon him and allowed him freely to inquire into the Way. He followed his teacher to Mount Wutai; on this mountain, there were very many numinous traces, and he witnessed divine marvels completely. Later, he returned to the capital at Ye and went through various lecture halls; setting aside the lesser and concentrating on the greater, he did not allow mere scriptural phrasing to occupy his mind. He went specifically to Dharma Master Tanzun to receive and seek the essential principles of the Buddha Dharma. In the flourishing period of the Qi dynasty, the teaching of the Śākya flourished greatly; even at palace shrines and official sacrifices, everyone rushed about displaying their talents. By nature, Qian did not involve himself, and proudly declined worldly gain; the congregation all revered him. He secretly told people: 'One studies in order to know the Dharma, and the Dharma is for cultivation. How could worldly glory and gain be called the Way? In the Qin period, Daoheng vanished into crags and thickets; there was truly a reason for it!' He then withdrew into hiding at Jingguo Monastery in Huanghua Valley on Mount Linlü. Living on simple vegetables and deep in contemplation, he devoted himself to the Way. If someone came to inquire, he would temporarily preach for them. He delved deeply into the *Avataṃsaka*, *Daśabhūmika*, *Vimalakīrti*, *Laṅkāvatāra*, *Bodhisattvabhūmi*, and *Awakening of Faith*, investigating all their profound subtleties. Once, while perusing the *Treatise on Consciousness-Only*, he came down with a heart fever. Relying exclusively on the Triratna, he did not burden his mind with medical arts. At night, he dreamt that the moon fell into his bosom; he tore it apart and ate it. It was as crisp as an ice flake, and he was amazed by its fragrance and sweetness. When he awoke, his ailment was cured. For over ten days, the flowing flavor lingered in his mouth. Because of this sacred assistance—eating the moon to accomplish virtue—he privately changed his name to Yuede (Candrottara). Thereafter, whenever he conferred the precepts on someone, he would always say: 'Recite three times before me, Yuede, and receive the bodhisattva precepts.' When Emperor Wu of the Northern Zhou pacified Northern Qi, the Buddha Dharma fell into ruins. Wishing to protect the Way and preserve the precepts, he fled toward Jinling. Traveling by night in company with companions, taking roundabout roads and using guides, they were frequently robbed. Arriving at Qushui Monastery in Shouyang, he looked back at his Dharma associates and said: 'We are burdened by meager fortune and have repeatedly encountered bands of robbers. If these knots of enmity are not dissolved, the future retribution will have no end. You may take pity on their delusion, reproach yourselves for past karma, and each relinquish your belongings to perform repentance on behalf of the thieves, hoping to become friends in the Dharma in future lives.' Soon afterward, they crossed the great Yangtze River southward safely and without incident; deducing from this, it was truly the assistance of the merit of this fast. Upon first arriving at the capital of Yangdu, he resided at Daochang Monastery, wearing patched robes, going on alms rounds, and collecting his thoughts in the unconditioned. From time to time, he discussed the meaning of Consciousness-Only with his companions. There were Śramaṇas such as Huixiao and Zhiguan, who were both the axis of the Way and the prominent monks of Jiangbiao under the Chen dynasty. Xiao's learning encompassed both Confucius and the Śākya, and he was wonderfully skilled in the gates of dhyāna; Guan was profound in both dhyāna and wisdom, serving as an exemplar for emperors and kings. There was also a Koguryŏ monk, Zhihuang, who was well versed in the Sarvāstivāda school; his fame stirred the ruling dynasty and he was a fortress for the Dharma. At a single meeting, they formed a friendship like brothers; upon conversing again, they praised his profundity. When someone wished to make his name known to the emperor, Qian knew of the matter in advance and said to them: 'Because my former dynasty collapsed and the true Dharma declined, I braved death and crossed the river so that I might join the brahma assembly. My lifelong aspiration has already been more than fulfilled. In forming ties with contemporary prestige, I earnestly hope you will keep silent.' Only Zhang Ji, Erudite of the National University, repeatedly paid full respects to request the Dharma, and in his leisure time discussed *Zhuangzi* and the *Changes*, quietly transmitting his interpretations to instruct the state schools. Subsequently, he visited the residence of Governor Jiang of Guizhou.

He obtained the Mahāyānasaṃgraha-śāstra and regarded it as a complete wish-fulfilling jewel. Although he had previously lectured on Vijñaptimātra and had briefly examined and thoroughly studied its school, when it came to conceiving its abstruse subtleties, there remained points where he was impeded. Now this great work was fully penetrated, its textual purport perfectly clear. Wishing to propagate and spread what had not yet been heard to those distant lands and states, and having heard that the ruling virtue of the Zhou dynasty had collapsed while the epoch of the Sui was proclaimed to rise, he thereupon, together with his companions, took leave of Jianye. Clergy and laity, acquaintances and friends, held a farewell gathering at Xinlin; those departing and those remaining were moved with sorrow, each composing verses. Dhyāna Master Xiao ordered a composition and composed a poem, saying: / 'In life we were originally as distant as the Hu and Yue, / Separated at the passes and Wu by different ferries. / Travelling along, our carriages momentarily brushed, / And straightway we became kin within the fortress of Dharma. / Pure conversation dispelled weariness and toil; / Frowning brows only then began to relax. / This morning we abruptly part hands; / Grieved to lose the person before my eyes. / You head toward the route of the Jing River; / Your karmic fruit of wisdom daily shall be renewed. / I dwell beside the Han River; / Destined in the end to become dust beneath the pines. / Floating and sinking, henceforth separated; / There will be no cause to meet again. / This parting is a parting for all eternity; / Gushing tears suddenly moisten my kerchief.' / Other eminent and virtuous masters likewise composed verses, but their texts have long been lost. Each clasped hands and parted sleeves. Ascending the banks of Shitou, they boarded the boat and worked the oars. Suddenly the wind and waves surged violently, and the multitude was at a loss. Tanqian alone kept his right contemplation unmoved; holding the Mahāyānasaṃgraha, he addressed the river spirit, saying: 'I now desire to open those who have not yet awakened by means of the Great Dharma. If the northern lands have no destiny for it, what then can be done about fate? If they are surely meant to hear the Great Teaching, I pray you calm the wind and waves. I trust that the merit of transmitting the Dharma may be invisibly entrusted and fulfilled.' When he finished speaking, in a brief moment it became calm and quiet, and they reached the shore over peaceful currents. Contemporary people thought that since this treatise had been translated in the southern realm, the protective spirit of the realm would not permit it to go to other territories—a situation identical to Kātyāyana's departure from Kashmir being delayed by a rākṣasa. Proceeding forward, he reached Pengcheng. New and old acquaintances gathered together, arriving with joy from far and near. As they swelled into a great assembly, a dānapati gave up his residence to accommodate them. Thereupon they designated the residence as the Musheng Monastery. He first propagated the Mahāyānasaṃgraha, and furthermore lectured on the Laṅkāvatāra-sūtra, the Awakening of Faith, the Tattvasiddhi-śāstra, and other treatises, one after another without cease. The initial opening of the Mahāyānasaṃgraha in the northern lands began from this. Wan Xu, Duke of Gucheng and Area Commander of Xuzhou, led all his subordinate officials to hold brooms and inquire of him, carrying out the etiquette of disciples to the utmost. As Tanqian propagated and transformed in this land, warm and cold seasons repeatedly turned, and both monastics and laity altered their customs, achieving great accomplishments. Ever since the Zhou destroyed the True Dharma, abandoned bodily relics had filled the wilderness. He thereupon exhorted and encouraged those with karmic affinity to construct numerous halls and pavilions at Musheng Monastery, gathering, adorning, and making offerings wherever relics were found. Heruo Bi, Grand Pillar of State and Duke of Song, and Zhang Tan, the Chief Administrator, went out to garrison Yangzhou. Hearing of his reputation, they wished to pay their respects and establish ties as a fine guide; likewise, all the monastics and laity eagerly awaited his virtuous words. Tan thereupon wrote a letter by his own hand to invite him, and Tanqian, like an empty boat waiting for the wind, travelled afar to Guangling. The entire city came out to welcome and look upon him. Brahma chants arrested the clouds and mist; incense and flowers obscured the sun and moon. For a śramaṇa, this was a height of grandeur none could surpass. The Duke of Song possessed great fame and high rank, and was somewhat arrogant on account of his learning and ability. When Tanqian adapted expediently to confer the Dharma upon him, he unconsciously became deeply enraptured and subdued; he thereupon brought his family to receive the refuge and precepts from him. Initially, he stayed at Kaishan Monastery to establish and propagate the Mahāyānasaṃgraha, with those requesting instruction numbering in the thousands. Soon, the officials and commoners of the Xu region thirsted for his Dharma discourses; no sooner was his work in Jiangdu finished than they welcomed him back to the north again. Magnificently he turned the wheel of the Dharma, his reputation spreading afar. In the autumn of the seventh year of the Kaihuang era, an imperial edict was issued, stating: 'The Emperor respectfully inquires after Dharmabhāṇaka Tanqian of Xuzhou. We have heard that you cultivate and unfold wondrous causes, diligent and refined in the teachings of the Way. Safeguarding and upholding the True Dharma, your benefit is boundless. Truly you are a ridgepole and beam of the Śākya clan, an elephant and dragon among human kind. We profoundly wish to make an imperial tour wherever you are, to receive your reputation and partake of your virtue; but restrained by court affairs, We indeed harbor an unfulfilled longing. You should immediately come to the court to satisfy Our weary longing. Among your disciples, bring ten persons who are well-versed in the characteristics of phenomena and capable of chanting in Brahma tones into the capital together with you. We shall, together with you, Master, erect the True Dharma and emend the scriptural canons. Moreover, the Buddha Dharma is newly flourishing, and its undertakings are in their nascent stages; its broad encouragement and establishment ultimately rely on men of comprehensive penetration. The imperial capital is where those from far and near converge; proclaiming and propagating Dharma affairs will bring exceptionally wide benefit. We envision you shaking your staff and dusting your robes, without declining the fatigue. We look forward to seeing you soon, and shall not elaborate further.' At that time, Huiyuan of Luoyang, Huizang of Weijun, Sengxiu of Qinghe, Baozhen of Jiyin, and Hongzun of Jijun, each receiving the radiant imperial edict, gathered together at the imperial carriage. Tanqian thereupon led his disciples; all provisions for the journey were supplied from the imperial treasury. Together with the five bhadantas, he had an audience with the Emperor at the Daxing Hall, where he was specially received with ritual courtesy and comforted with flattering words. An edict was also issued to the relevant authorities to accommodate and supply them at the Daxingshan Monastery. Princes, dukes, and prime ministers crowded together in an unbroken stream of carriages and robes. Although each master brought ten disciples, śramaṇas who admired righteousness were also extended the invitation by edict; thus they were able to seek their masters from ten thousand miles away, which can well be imagined. At this time, communication throughout the realm was wide open. Scholar-monks of the capital mostly transmitted traditions from remote wildernesses. As the Mahāyānasaṃgraha was newly opened, the multitude devoted their sincerity to make requests; he straightway expounded and propagated it, with those receiving instruction numbering in the thousands. Śramaṇa Huiyuan, a leader of the Dharma gate, personally sat at the head of the assembly, placing the scriptures across his lap to receive the doctrinal meanings. From this point onward, the transmission of the lamp has continued without cease down to the present day in great numbers. Although throughout the realm there have occasionally been divergent heterodox opinions arising from forced interpretations, trace their origins, and none fail to stem from ancestral transmission. Therefore, the biography of Paramārtha says: 'Before long, there will be a person of great faculties in a great realm, neither near nor far, who will be able to propagate this treatise.' Seeking in the present and looking to the past, is it not this very person? In the spring of the tenth year, the Emperor visited Jinyang and ordered Tanqian to accompany the imperial retinue. Having reached the Bing region, another edict ordered the monks to conduct circumambulation in the imperial hall. When night arrived, Tanqian was summoned into the inner palace to share the same couch as the Emperor. The Emperor said: 'Since Our imperial tour arrived here, We have heard that there are a great many mountain monks who took the tonsure privately, seeking official registration. Our wish is to ordain them; what do you think?' Tanqian said: 'Formerly, Emperor Wu of the Zhou held the imperial domain and annihilated the Triratna. The monks either effaced their tracks in secluded crags or fled to foreign borders. Your Majesty reigns over the great epoch and re-opens the Dharma gate; there are none who do not sing praises and return, taking refuge in your sagely virtue. Although recently they have repeatedly received summons for liberation, their arrivals have had precedence and delay, resulting in missed encounters. Furthermore, under Heaven and Earth, whoever is covered and carried is none other than the king's subject; when the Most Venerable draws and guides the myriad directions, how could the blessings be confined to merely a single city?' The Emperor pondered deeply for a short while, and only then assented. He thereupon issued an edict, stating: 'From before the fourth month of the tenth year, all monks and nuns who were privately ordained are permitted to take pravrajyā.' Therefore, throughout the entire realm, those who received ordination numbered several hundreds of thousands—this was through the effort of Tanqian. Soon after, an edict was issued to establish Shengguang Monastery in the capital for the fourth imperial prince, Xiu, Prince of Shu, making the prince its dānapati. An imperial order invited more than sixty of Tanqian's disciples to reside there.

[Tanqian] dwelt in this monastery and received offerings from the Emperor. Left Administration Vice Director Gao Jiong, Right Guard General Yu Qingze, Right Administration Vice Director Su Wei, Guanglu official Wang Duan, and others, in their leisure time away from court duties, held scrolls and received his instruction. Four Gates Erudite and National University Assistant Instructor Liu Ziping, a talent of the Confucian school, knelt on his knees and respectfully partook [of his teachings]. The Weijun Daoist Chou Yue, who thoroughly understood Zhuangzi and Laozi and was deeply revered by Emperor Wen, entered the capital to visit [Tanqian] and discuss profound principles together.
Since Qian was respected by emperors and kings and invited by nobles and lords, those of rival conduct raised continuous disputes over right and wrong. Some claimed he was attached to glory and imperial favor. He thereupon composed the *Treatise on the Elimination of Right and Wrong* (Wang shifei lun) to admonish himself. His words said:
“Affirming oneself and negating another, praising oneself and disparaging others—no being is not so. Because all are so, the whole world is in confusion, and none rectifies himself. This stems from failing to comprehend the harm of right and wrong, which leads to this state. Speaking of its greatest harm, there are ten impossibilities:
First, right and wrong have no definite master.
Second, their own nature is not fixed.
Third, both the other and oneself possess them.
Fourth, they alternately serve as causes for each other.
Fifth, in turn, they do not reach each other.
Sixth, concealment and manifestation, existence and nonexistence.
Seventh, their natures intrinsically contradict each other.
Eighth, those who cling are biased and attached.
Ninth, the differentiation of right and wrong.
Tenth, there is neither right nor wrong.
First, explaining that there is no definite master: this one says ‘I am right,’ and that one says ‘I am right.’ Both sides vie to claim it, which causes right and wrong to lack any fixed standard. That one says ‘this is wrong,’ and this one says ‘that is wrong.’ Both sides vie to raise this, thereby causing wrong to have no definite destination. If someone insists on attributing right to oneself and wrong to the other, what principle could justify this? Because principle does not allow it, anyone who forces it will inevitably meet with failure. How could beings understand that it is so?”
The text is extensive and is not detailed here.
In the thirteenth year [of Kaihuang], the Emperor visited Qi Prefecture, and Qian accompanied him at that time. [The Emperor] then ordered the Prince of Shu to deploy a hunting cordon at the Southern Mountains to conduct the spring hunt. The Prince chased a beast into an old kiln. After losing its trail, he saw only that the kiln was full of broken and dilapidated Buddha statues. The Prince thereupon ended the hunt and reported the matter fully [to the Emperor].
Qian took this opportunity to submit a memorial: “Recently, during the suppression of the Dharma under the Zhou dynasty, many numinous stūpas and sacred images were dumped into ditches and ravines. Benefiting from Your Majesty's restoration, many have already been repaired. Yet fragments of bodies and remaining forms still cover the plains and fields. Wherever this poor monk looks, my grief increases; my heart is willing, but I lack the means.”
The Emperor was distressed upon hearing this, and said: “This disciple is crude and decayed, ruling from the palace halls, yet has allowed the revered images to be exposed to frost and dew. As the Master has stated, it is indeed Our fault.”
He then issued an edict stating: “... [ellipsis in original]. All broken and old Buddha statues are to be carefully sought out by the local officials, and transported to nearby monasteries. Let all subjects under heaven donate one coin per head, and instruct the prefectural and county officials to supervise their repair and adornment.” Thus, in the adornment and beautification of the whole realm, Qian truly played an instrumental role.
In the fourteenth year, [the Emperor] offered sacrifices at Mount Tai. Qian again submitted a memorial concerning all abandoned mountain monasteries and unregistered fugitive monks, requesting that they all be settled in peace. The Emperor granted this as well. Soon an edict was issued throughout the realm that wherever there was a mountain monastery with one monk or more, it was permitted to grant an official name plaque, and secretly ordained monks were to be registered. Qian was also instrumental in this.
An edict was also issued ordering the Prince of Henan to act as the dānapati of the Shentong Bodhimanda on Mount Tai, which was the former Langgong Monastery; the Ruler of Qi to act as the dānapati of Shenbao [Monastery], the former Jingmo Monastery; and the Prince of Huayang to act as the dānapati of Baoshan [Monastery], the former Lingyan Monastery. Furthermore, Qian was entrusted with selecting eminent monks from Qi and Lu to reside in the capital. The esteem in which he was held by the world truly could not be surpassed.
When Emperor Wen had previously been in hiding before ascending the throne, an Indian śramaṇa gave him a single śarīra, saying: “This is the remnant body of the Great Awakened One. If the dānapati vigorously promotes and displays it, your future blessings will be boundless.” Having spoken, it was not known where he went. After [the Emperor] ascended the throne, pressed by myriad state affairs, he had not yet had the leisure to promote it.
In the first year of Renshou, recalling the former words and wishing to establish [stūpas], he brought out the original śarīra and counted them together with Qian by passing them hand to hand. Although each was concentrated, the count varied before and after and could not be determined. The Emperor asked the reason. Qian said: “The Tathāgata’s Dharmakāya transcends numbers and measures. Now this śarīra is the material remnant of the Dharmakāya. If one attempts to measure it with worldly calculation, I truly fear it is in vain.” The Emperor understood. He then invited thirty bhadantas to enshrine the precious stūpas in thirty circuits, following the regulations and institutions entirely modeled on King Aśoka.
The Emperor regarded Qian as the spiritual mentor to the Prince of Shu. The Prince was garrisoned in Liang and Yi, and [the Emperor] intended to send [Qian] to the Shu stūpa to oversee the work. The chief ministers all considered that the Sword Pass road was perilously suspended and the route twisted and winding; someone of advanced age and seniority should not brave such hardships and obstacles. They presented an altered memorial, and an order was instead given for him to go to Fengquan Monastery in Qi Prefecture to raise a stūpa. Morning and evening, auspicious omens appeared, comforting the Emperor’s heart.
When they were about to construct a stone reliquary casket, about twenty li northeast of the monastery, four pieces of patterned stone were suddenly discovered, luminous as jade, flat, and regular in size. They were taken to make the outer reliquary casket. Inside it, the shape of twin trees naturally transformed and appeared, more than three feet high, displaying various colors, or exhibiting the shapes of birds, beasts, dragons, and elephants, and the forms of swirling flowers and leaves. When this matter was reported to the throne, the Emperor was overjoyed.
In the spring of the second year, an edict was issued to distribute and construct shrines in more than fifty prefectures, with all their auspicious omens recorded in a separate biography. In the fourth year, another edict was issued to build shrines in thirty prefectures. Consequently, numinous stūpas were raised in more than one hundred large prefectures across the realm, exhorting beings to venerate good. Qian truly played an instrumental role.
When Empress Xian passed away, Chanding Monastery was founded southwest of the capital. A seven-story stūpa was erected, towering into the clouds; the halls were lofty and elevated, and the rooms deep and layered. The surrounding walls equaled the imperial palaces, and the groves and gardens resembled celestial parks. Throughout the country's revered structures, none was higher. An edict was issued saying:
“Since Master [Seng]chou passed away, the gate of dhyāna has not been opened. Although precepts and wisdom have flourished, proper conduct has been lacking. The monastery now established is named Chanding; hoping to continue the former legacy, one hundred and twenty eminent dhyāna masters throughout the realm, each with two attendants, should be summoned, with Dhyāna Master Qian entrusted to search out and promote them. Let the authorities prepare the rituals.”
Qian was promptly appointed the abbot of the monastery. Since the gracious imperial decree had arrived, he could not avoid undertaking it. He pacified the assembly of the Dharma and received and enlightened the wise and virtuous; all met with his original intention, raising his reputation in the imperial era.
At that time, an image at Daxingshan [Monastery] emitted light, seen by both monastics and laity. The matter was reported to the throne. An edict questioned Qian, saying: “The revered images in the palace are all numinous forms. Although we have recently cultivated respect, why has no light been seen?”
Qian said: “Wherever there are Buddha images, they all emit light. Since the capacities of beings to receive resonance differ, there are those who see and those who do not.”
The Emperor said: “What sin do We possess that in Our lifetime We have not encountered it?”

Qian said: “In the world there are Three Venerables, each having light, and their functions differ.”
The Emperor asked: “What are they?”
He answered: “The Buddha is the World-Honoured One (Lokajyeṣṭha). The Dao is the Heavenly Venerable (Tianzhun). The Emperor is the Supreme Venerable (Zhizun). Each venerable has their constant governance and they cannot be governed in the same manner. Therefore, the Buddha and the Dao spread teachings to reveal future karma, and thus emit divine light to eliminate sinful hindrances. Your Majesty's light fills the four seas; your penal codes and statutory models prohibit the source of sins, which is itself a great light.” The Emperor was overjoyed.
Qian possessed a handsome appearance and deportment, and was skilled in manner and elegance; hence he answered and responded spontaneously in this way. Moreover, his capacity was expansive and refined; he concealed defects and bore offenses. He was subtle in the gates of samādhi and refined in the categories of precepts. By nature he was benevolent and compassionate, and had little desire for competition. Although emperors and kings offered donations and those near and far presented gifts, he kept nothing for himself, giving all to support the saṅgha, or to relieve the impoverished, and to construct stūpas and images. Furthermore, he did not value rich flavors nor did he adorn himself in splendors. Internally he guarded himself, and externally he rejected fame and profit; he openly assisted the propagation of the Dharma while his mind dwelt in seclusion. He established his aspirations on purity and simplicity, not mingling in social intercourse. People of the time often considered him aloof and proud, but men of profound discernment recognized him as an eminent talent and understood that he responded to things with an open mind.
Whenever he spoke or wrote, his reasoning was invariably appropriate; he could dispel obstructions and clarify profound purports. Therefore Master Huiyuan often said: “Dhyāna Master Qian breaks attachments and penetrates principle; in this excellence he surpasses me.” This remark was indeed fitting. His diction was canonical and upright, possessing literary elegance; even when accomplished writers reflected deeply and held their brushes, they could not surpass him.
He had long suffered from wind-paralysis. When his lifespan came to an end, it worsened, and he died at Chanding [Monastery] at the age of sixty-six, on the sixth day of the twelfth month in the third year of Daye. He was buried in the mountain garden of Shengguang Monastery on the northern slopes of Mount Zhongnan. A stone was chiseled, an epitaph carved, and erected at the tomb.
During the days when his coffin was laid out, a white dog arrived from nowhere and went straight to the funeral site. Even when driven away, it refused to leave. When it saw people wailing in grief, the dog also howled; when it saw people cease weeping, the dog made no sound. Given food, it would not eat, and constantly lay curled up to the right of the mourning hall. When the coffin was carried and moved forward, the dog ran back and forth before and behind, appearing like an attendant watching over it. Once the burial was completed, its whereabouts were lost. Those who understood considered that the dog was a guardian animal; was it not an escort sent by the unseen world?
Before his death, someone dreamed that the Buddha hall of Chanding tilted to the east, and several people propped it upright again, but only the northeast pillar sank into the ground and could not be pulled out. Qian’s room was in the sunken corner; thus it was an advance verification. After he died, a śramaṇa prayed with singular sincerity, wishing to know the place of his rebirth. He then dreamed of a pure land, splendid and twice as magnificent as normally transmitted, with jeweled trees and palace towers towering opposite one another. There were several thousand monastic and lay followers; Qian sat alone on a golden dais, expounding the Dharma for the assembly. Although dreams may be true or false, such spiritual resonances are rare; how much more so when known upon supplication, so his manifestation of spiritual power was surely no error.
He composed a commentary on the *Mahāyānasaṃgraha* in ten fascicles, which he expounded twice each year. Whenever he set turning the wheel of the Dharma, other lectures were suspended; all flocked and rushed to attend as if they could never get enough. He also composed commentaries on the *Laṅkāvatāra*, the *Awakening of Faith*, the *Vijñaptimātra*, and the *Tattvasiddhi*, treatises on the *Nine Consciousnesses* and the *Four Moons*, and a profound exposition of the “Clarifying Difficulties” chapter of the *Avataṃsaka*, totaling more than twenty fascicles, all circulating in the world. The śramaṇa Mingze wrote a detailed account of his life from beginning to end, which was held in high esteem in the capital.