續高僧傳 29.26

29.26

Śramaṇa Huiyun, whose secular surname was Wang, was a man of Taiyuan. His distant ancestors fled from disaster and settled in Jiujiang. In his youth he delighted in the Way, joining the śramaṇa Zhikai of Dalin Temple on Mount Kuang to enter monastic life. Zhikai was also a leading figure of his day, with a reputation that transcended the world. Huiyun was stirred to deplore the mundane customs of the times and took refuge with diligent zeal, thus distinguishing himself from ordinary crowds without being bound by material cares. Consequently, he had great principles and took great tasks especially to heart. At that time, he was twenty-five years of age. Dhyāna Master Da was undertaking construction projects everywhere inside and outside the Jiang-Huai region; when resources were insufficient, [people] all came to pray and request [his aid]. Because his own temple was dilapidated, Huiyun invited him, but Da would not agree. Because his plea was not granted, Huiyun then laid down a request unto death: throwing himself to the ground, tears and mucus streamed down in a torrent, splashing and smearing across a full five feet. He also banged his head against the ground until black and blue swellings covered his eyes, adding vows: 'If my request is not met, I, Huiyun, will throw myself into the river.' Seeing his intense determination, Da suddenly changed his mind. Huiyun immediately went ahead to inform the clerics and laypeople to welcome him everywhere. Parting the weeds, he gazed toward the mountains, not taking established paths. Encountering packs of tigers on the road, he had no time to halt his gaze. Having invited Da to the mountain, beginnings had to be managed, so he traveled upriver to various places to inspect the merit-making works. It was midwinter, and ice blocked the boat channels; crumbling sand and tumbling boulders repeatedly hindered the boatmen. Huiyun thereupon tied his clothes tightly, broke the ice, and pulled the towlines. From his waist down, the drifting ice cut his flesh, yet his flowing blood froze solid, and he felt no fatigue or pain. From then on, the boat traveled over two hundred li before reaching the destination. His sincere devotion was difficult for others to match, and all his deeds were like this. In the final years of the Sui, bandit rebellions erupted within and without. A certain Lin Shihong gathered a horde in Yuzhang and falsely proclaimed himself Emperor of Chu. His pseudo-Secretariat Director, Hu Xiucai of Poyang, personally led troops to occupy Jiujiang. Moved by this, he brought forth the intention to reproduce the auspicious image of Mañjuśrī at Donglin Temple on Mount Lu. Throughout the territory under his guard, he searched for an overseer. In general consultation, the clerics and laypeople considered that Huiyun possessed extraordinary talent surpassing the crowd and was properly suited for this selection. Once the furnaces and hammers were prepared, they proceeded to cast it in molds. The luminous form was complete, but there were holes at the neck and the flank; the assembly at the time did not understand why. In that year, Hu Xiucai, pursuant to a forged imperial decree, requisitioned one hundred and twenty ounces of image-colored gold, which was stored in a bamboo cylinder. Since the bandit bands were swarming and there was no way to safeguard it, Huiyun entrusted it all to Xiucai, and also presented Xiucai with a bronze rosary bead as a pledge of trust. Arriving at Gongting, the soldiers prayed for blessings; Xiucai caught a favorable wind, raised the sails, and advanced. Midstream in the river, they encountered waves and the boat sank; their goods and wealth were completely lost, with only the men reaching the shore. Xiucai regretted nothing except the loss of the image-colored gold. Distraught on the riverbank, he wept and lamented without cease, [thinking that] the failure of his vow was due to heavy past karma. In an instant, the golden cylinder followed the waves upstream, and the gifted bronze bead followed along, one after the other, bobbing indistinctly toward the shore toward Xiucai. Once he recovered the colored gold, the whole company shouted together with boundless joy. By calculation, it was over thirty li from where it sank to the shore where it emerged; heavy though it was, it floated, delivered against the waves. The soldiers and civilians alike were astonished, marveling at the spiritual resonance. Later, when Xiucai was killed, blades pierced his neck and flank, precisely matching the image. Initially, when Xiucai was about to attack the bandits, he entrusted the gold to his uncle, Dhyāna Master Xiao. When the Chu capital was overthrown and invading bandits swept in, Xiao wrapped the gold in coarse cloth and carried it on a shoulder pole to escape the disaster, but could not avoid being plundered by bandits. Having lost the image-gold, he had no means of retrieving it. Soon after, someone coming from among the bandits stole the gold and brought it to Xiao, neither of them knowing it was the load of gold [lost before]. Xiao recovered the original gold and entrusted it to Huiyun to complete the task. The luminous mark was transcendentally imposing and is now in the mountain pavilion. When the image was first cast, a certain Li Wujie had privately made a vow: 'On the day the gold is melted, I vow to burn one arm.' Because the mold was finished early, Huiyun advanced the date. Li did not know it had already been cast, but dreamt of the image saying, 'You previously vowed to burn an arm; why have you broken your word?' Waking from the dream, Li then learned of it, and immediately before the image cut off his arm with a knife, wrapped the bone in waxed cloth, and burned it. There were further signs and responses, but these matters are omitted here. Seeing that the Jiang region was turbulent and repeatedly suffered from lawlessness, and that though scriptures and treatises were accumulated, the monastic precepts were not yet widely propagated, Huiyun traveled far to the imperial capital to study in the academies in person. Meeting Vinaya Master Shou as he was propagating the teachings in the capital, it thoroughly suited his original aspiration, moving him to mixed sorrow and joy. The deeds and conduct he cultivated became known to the court, and an imperial decree was issued ordering him to reside at Hongfu Temple. His appearance was tall and imposing, his bony face full of beard, and his conversation formed eloquent compositions, making him well known to all. He was particularly skilled in cantillation and recitation and possessed grand dignity; thus, whenever there was a great assembly for a vegetarian feast of merit, he always sat at the head of the row. The dukes, ministers, and gentry sat respectfully aside and listened with open minds. In a single breath he could recite five fascicles, finishing them in an instant; no choking or stumbling was ever heard, and none failed to praise him. Since his capacity and character are evident to modern eyes, they are only briefly narrated here.