神僧傳 8.22

8.22

Shi Nanda—translated into Chinese as "Joy" (Xi)—had unknown family origin and country of birth. He was bizarre and unconventional in character, alternating unpredictably between reverence and insolence. During the Jianzhong reign period, without explanation he arrived in the Min and Shu regions, around the time Duke Zhang Yanshang of Wei took up his post in Chengdu. Xi personally claimed: "I have attained the illusion-like samādhi (māyopama-samādhi); I can enter water and fire, penetrate metal and stone, and produce infinite transformations." When he first entered Shu, he traveled in the company of three young nuns, sometimes singing wildly in deep drunkenness. The garrison commander intended to punish him, but when the monk arrived, he said: "I merely lodge my traces in the monastic order; I possess other medicinal arts." He then pointed to the three nuns: "These are wondrous singers and musicians." The garrison commander instead came to respect him and detained him as a guest, preparing wine and meat for him. At night, he gathered guests and drank heavily with him. When the three nuns took their seats, they cast side-glances, flirted and laughed, displaying unrestrained beauty matchless in the world. As the drinking drew to a close, the monk said to the nuns: "You may step to such-and-such a melody for the commander." They slowly stepped forward, danced face-to-face, trailing scarves like swirling snow, moving swiftly and leaping with skills also peerless. After a long while, the music ended, but their dancing did not stop. The monk shouted: "Are you women mad?" He suddenly got up, grabbed the garrison commander's side sword, and the assembly, thinking he was crazed with wine, fled in alarm. The monk then drew the sword and slashed their backs, felling them to the ground, with blood spurting several feet. The garrison commander was terrified and called his attendants to bind the monk. The monk laughed, saying: "Do not be flustered." He slowly lifted the nuns: they were three bamboo canes, and the blood was merely wine. On another occasion at a drinking banquet, he had someone cut off his head and nail his ears to a pillar; there was no blood. His body sat upon the mat. When wine arrived, it was poured into the neck wound, his face turned red, and the singer's hands kept beating time. When the banquet ended, he stood up, picked up his head, and set it back on; originally there was not even a scar. From time to time, he foretold people's misfortunes and demises, all in riddles, which were understood only after the events occurred. In Chengdu, a commoner made offerings to him for several days. The monk did not wish to stay, but the host barred the gates to detain him. The monk thereupon ran into a crack in the wall. The commoner pulled at him frantically, but he gradually entered until only the corner of his kāṣāya remained, and shortly afterward that too was gone. The next day, there was a painted monk on the wall, resembling his form, but with the color of the sun and moon. It gradually faded over seven days, leaving only a dark trace; by the eighth day, even the dark trace vanished. The monk was already in Pengzhou. Afterwards, it was not known where he went.