宋高僧傳 26.8

26.8

Shi Guangyi, surnamed Li, was originally a member of the Tang imperial house. His father, the Prince of Langye, raised troops with the Prince of Yue intending to restore the dynastic house and bring about a dynastic revival of the imperial Way. Failing in this, the Heavenly Empress had the clan exterminated, leaving no survivors. Guangyi was then an infant in swaddling clothes; his wet nurse carried him on her back and fled. Several years later, Zetian learned through covert channels that the Prince of Langye had a son among the common people, and the search for him grew increasingly urgent. The wet nurse was about to arrive within the borders of Fufeng, sustaining themselves by selling needlework. When Guangyi was eight years old, his appearance was extraordinary, and his spiritual understanding surpassed all others. The wet nurse feared he might be detected through his looks and come to ruin, and she was intensely worried and suspicious. Thereupon she made a cloth jacket, placed coins around his waist and abdomen, and under a mulberry grove, told him to depart: "The imperial search is not lax. I fear we will both die, which would be of no benefit. You are intelligent and will surely be able to stand on your own. If you should one day attain wealth and nobility, do not forget this old woman." When she had spoken, they wept facing each other. Guangyi was overcome with grief, and the wet nurse departed from then on. In a daze, Guangyi walked to an inn and played with a group of children. The wife of a commandery governor was traveling to her husband’s station; pausing to rest, she saw Guangyi gathered with the children, and noting his handsome and spirited appearance, took pity on him. Calling him over, she said, "Young master, where is your home, and why have you come here alone?" Guangyi deceived her, saying, "My family manor is adjacent to this place; I am merely playing at my leisure." The lady fed him and gave him money, and he unfastened his garment to tuck the money inside. At dusk, he followed a path away, intending to seek shelter at a village manor. He met an old monk, who called out, "You, little boy! You are all alone now, your family has been destroyed, and where will you go?" Guangyi stood startled in astonishment. The old monk added, "The life of a monastic is serene and vast, free from sorrow and fear; would you care for it, little boy?" Guangyi said, "It has long been my wish." The old monk then took his hand and led him beneath the shade of a great tree, bidding him pay homage to the Buddhas of the ten directions and take refuge in the ever-abiding Buddha, Dharma, and Saṅgha. He then shaved his hair. He also brought out a kāṣāya to clothe him with, and its size fit his body well. The way he held and adjusted the robes was like that of a monk of many summer retreats. The old monk rejoiced and said, "This is brought about by habitual practice; you will uphold the saṅgha's conduct well." He then pointed to the northeast and said, "A few li from here is a monastery. Go straight there, call upon the abbot, and say, 'I have sent you to be his disciple.'" When he had finished speaking, the old monk vanished in an instant, and Guangyi only then knew he was a holy monk. Following his words, Guangyi hurried there. The abbot was astonished by his words and consequently retained him. After ten years or so, Guangyi had thoroughly mastered the scriptures and vinaya and was skilled in his dhyāna contemplation. When Emperor Zhongzong ascended the throne and the Tang house was restored, an imperial decree sought the descendants of the Prince of Langye, and only then did Guangyi speak of it to the monks of the temple. The assembly was greatly astonished. He then went out to call upon Envoy Li of Fufeng—who was Guangyi’s paternal uncle. Seeing him with mixed sorrow and joy, the envoy lodged him in his home and was about to submit a memorial when Guangyi adamantly declined. The envoy had a daughter of comparable age who, upon seeing Guangyi, was delighted in heart and wished to express her affections. Guangyi was frightened and avoided her. On another day during a gathering, the envoy's wife brought out her daughter, adorned in fine makeup and beautiful clothes, with a large retinue of attendants, coming forward to press herself upon him. Guangyi adamantly refused in a hundred ways, utterly unwilling to comply, and deceived her, saying, "My body is impure; please allow me to bathe and await your command." The girl agreed and had bath water prepared; when she stepped out, he bolted the door. When the girl returned and pushed at the door, she could not enter; peeping through the window, she saw him holding a razor, looking back and saying, "It is because I have this organ that I am pressed by desire. Now if I remove it, what will there be to press?" Terrified, the girl tried to stop him, but could not; he then severed his genitals and cast them to the ground. Guangyi fell unconscious, and the door remained locked. Presently, the envoy and his wife both arrived; the girl told them the true circumstances, and they broke down the door to look upon him. As he gradually revived, they ordered physicians to carry him to a heated confinement room. They burned the ground with fire, soaked it with bitter wine, seated him upon it, and applied ointments. After more than a month, his wounds healed. The envoy submitted a memorial stating that Guangyi was the son of the Prince of Langye. An imperial decree ordered that post-horses convey him to the capital, where he was granted an audience, consoled, and given lavish gifts, along with an edict to inherit his father's noble title. Guangyi earnestly declined, vowing that he wished only to be a monk, remaining resolute and unyielding. Emperor Zhongzong issued an edict permitting him to lead disciples, establish hermitage-āraṇyas at will, and freely propagate the teachings wherever he went. Guangyi by nature was fond of Mount Zhongnan, so he resided at Faxing Temple. At various valley mouths, he built huts and hermitage-āraṇyas in several tens of places, all because his reputation for the Way spread far and his discourses moved people. At times, when he traveled ten li through the mountains, monastics and lay attendants regularly numbered in the thousands or hundreds, greeting and waiting upon him even more than upon powerful ministers or state chancellors. Guangyi constantly dwelt in tranquil absorption; when he spoke of future events to determine good or bad fortune, he was never mistaken, and people turned to him all the more. On the twenty-third day of the sixth month of the twenty-third year of the Kaiyuan era, he first gave his final injunction to his disciples: "You should guard your body and speech carefully and do not engage in clamour. The intention of the ancestral masters holds no other matter: when still, the true Dharma appears before you. Any preaching beyond this is done out of necessity." His words were extremely earnest and impassioned. He then lay down with his head to the north, resting his head on his arm and lying on his right side, and passed away against his mat—this was an omen of the Great Parinirvāṇa. In his final instructions, he ordered that he be buried south of Shaoling Plain, so they excavated the plain to form a burial chamber and sealed it. When the bier set out, a rare fragrance was intensely sweet, and his appearance was as if alive. As the funeral carriage departed the city, several hundred white cranes cried out in the sky, and variegated clouds gathered softly, hovering over the carriage for several tens of li. Monastics and layfolk wept aloud, many wearing mourning garments. At the place where he was buried, Tianbao Temple was subsequently built, and his disciples all remained to guard it.