冥報記 1

English (machine translation) 1

Language: English

1.1

Compiled by Tang Lin, Minister of the Ministry of Personnel.

Now, of all things that partake of breath and possess life, none is without consciousness. Possessing consciousness, they have deeds; and according to whether their deeds are good or evil, they receive their retribution. Just as a farmer sows and plants, reaping according to what he has sown, this is surely the constant principle of things, certainly admitting of no doubt. Those of highest wisdom penetrate to the primal source, knowing without [speculative] views; those of lowest folly are blind to its traces, straying without return; both are beyond words. People of intermediate grade cannot reach penetration on their own: their views stir according to conditions, and following their views they conceive doubts. Their doubtful views take many paths, each harboring different attachments. When the Buddhist scriptures discuss these distinctions, there are sixty-two wrong views in all; it is from these that perverse errors arise. I, Lin, rank behind the intermediate person, yet by good fortune have awakened to one part in ten thousand of this. Observing in recent times those among the multitude who do not believe in cause and effect, their professed views, though many, agree in asserting that good and evil have no retribution. Their claims of no retribution are roughly of three kinds: First, [nature is] spontaneous, and therefore there is no cause and effect; one should merely give free rein to desires and await circumstances. Second, [all is] utterly extinguished: they say that upon death the body is annihilated and consciousness has nowhere to abide; since body and consciousness are both extinguished, who is there to receive suffering or pleasure? Because there is no recipient, they know there is no cause and effect. Third, there is no retribution: they say that they see in the present day those who cultivate virtue and the Way die early in poverty and low station, while those who practice cruelty and evil enjoy wealth, high status, and long lives; for this reason they know there is no cause and effect. I, Lin, venture to say that Confucian books discuss retribution for good and evil extensively. In the near term, retribution comes in one's own time; in the mid term, retribution comes after several years; in the far term, retribution comes upon one's descendants. As for retribution in one's own time: King Hui of Chu swallowed a leech and his chronic illness was cured; Duke Jing of Song would not pray [to avert the portents] and the baleful stars retreated; Chi Chi committed treason and was executed in his tracks; Zhao Gao sowed chaos and in a moment his clan was destroyed—such are of this kind. As for retribution after several years: Wei Ke married off his father's concubine and ultimately rescued his army; Sunshu Ao buried a two-headed snake and ended up enjoying manifold blessings; Empress Lü of the Han poisoned Prince Ruyi and the pale dog brought disaster; the ruler of Qi killed Pengsheng and a standing boar haunted him—such are of this kind. As for retribution upon descendants: Fu Fugi was reverent at three appointments, extending the way of Confucius; Deng Xun saved a thousand lives a year, bequeathing blessings upon Empress Hexi; Chen Ping devised dark stratagems and knew himself that he would have no posterity; Luan Yan was arrogant and extravagant, and his son Ying suffered the calamity—such are of this kind. Furthermore, Shun of Yu ascended the throne through filial conduct; King Wen of Zhou received the Mandate through benevolence and worthiness; Jie and Zhou lost their states through cruelty and ruthlessness; Kings You and Li met their disastrous ends through lust and self-indulgence. The merits and virtues of the Three Dynasties brought prolonged blessings to their descendants; the First Emperor of Qin was arrogant and brutal, and his line was extinguished by the time of his son. Comparisons such as these are indeed numerous across all categories. Though their magnitude differs, they are all verifications of good and evil. However, these matters pertain to the kingly way and their principles concern the Mandate of Heaven; they are not what should be spoken of in ordinary conversation. What is recorded here merely takes subtle and minute verifications, hoping thereby to inspire those of like mind and leave a record for descendants, seeking evidence between humans and spirits—it is merely such as this. In the teachings expounded by the Śākyan, there is nothing that is not cause and effect. Cause is the action, and effect is the retribution. There is not a single dharma that is not a cause, nor a single cause that is not requited. Yet their exposition of retribution also has three kinds: The first is retribution in the present life: where one creates good or evil karma within this body and receives retribution in this very body, all is called retribution in the present life. The second is retribution in the next life: this means that when one creates karma in this body, one does not receive it immediately, but according to whether the karma is good or evil, one is born into the various destinies; all is called retribution in the next life. The third is retribution in subsequent lives: this means that when one created good or evil karma in past bodies, it is capable of yielding retribution that must be experienced over many bodies; therefore, the karma created in the present does not bring immediate retribution, but is received in the next life after that, or only begins to be received after five or ten lifetimes; all is called retribution in subsequent lives. These three retributions encompass all phenomena without remainder. This causes the various current views to undergo a great awakening. Yet worldly scholars of the present day still harbor confusion regarding it: they mostly practice the cause but forget the effect, doubting what they hear and believing only what they see. Hence, when they hear of retribution in subsequent lives, it seems to them as though it may or may not exist; but when they see an actual verification, they are startled, lament, and faithfully submit. Formerly, Xie Fu, a gentleman of high character under the Jin; Fu Liang, Vice Director of the Imperial Secretariat under the Song; Yan Yanzhi, Secretariat Drafter to the Crown Prince; and Lu Guo, Gentleman-Attendant to the Minister over the Masses under the Qi—some were prominent figures of their time, others were celebrated writers of their age—all recorded the Records of Avalokiteśvara's Verifications. Furthermore, Xiao Ziliang, Prince of Jingling under the Qi, composed the Records of Proclaimed Verifications (Xuanyan ji), and Wang Yan composed the Records of Netherworld Signs (Mingxiang ji). All of these served to manifest good and evil and exhort and admonish future generations, truly causing those who heard them to awaken with a deep heart. Since I, Lin, admire their purpose and also wish to exhort others, I have forthwith recorded what I have heard and compiled it into this record. I have fully set forth what I received and the origins of what I heard and saw; my words are unadorned with literary embellishment, and the matters are entirely factual. It is hoped that those who see it in later times may direct their minds to it.

1.3

Under the Sui, there was the monk of great virtue in the capital, Śramaṇa Shi Xinxing. He was originally a monk of Fazang Monastery in Xiangzhou. Initially, his mother had no son and had long grieved over it. A śramaṇa passed by and advised her to be mindful of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva. The mother prayed and remained mindful day and night, and before long became pregnant and gave birth to Xinxing. As a child he was intelligent and wise, broadly learned in the sūtras and treatises, with insight surpassing others. He considered that the sūtras spoken by the Buddha aimed at salvation and deliverance: sometimes pointing out the way to people in accordance with their capacities, sometimes determining dharmas in accordance with what was timely and suitable to the situation. Now, the Holy One was long departed and capacities and times were long divergent; if people of lower capacity were to practice the higher Dharma, the dharma would not fit the capacity and could easily lead to errors and perversions. He then compiled excerpts from the sūtras and treatises, collating and examining what human faculties and dharmas ought to be studied, into thirty-six fascicles, entitled Renji lu (Record of Human Capacities). Early in the Kaihuang era, Duke Qi, the Left Supervisor of the Imperial Secretariat, heard of his great renown and memorialized Emperor Wen, summoning him to the capital to reside at Zhenji Monastery, which the Duke had founded. Xinxing also drew upon the sūtras and vinaya to extract the Sanjie fa (Three Levels Teaching) in four fascicles. Its main tenets were to exhort people to universal reverence, to recognize their evil roots, to contemplate the Buddha-nature, to administer medicine according to the sickness, and the sudden teaching of the One Vehicle. Valiant and vigorous practitioners throughout the realm all took him as their model. Xinxing once practiced the dhūta asceticism of begging for food (piṇḍapāta), bowed in worship at the six periods of the day, toiled with physical effort to calm his mind, seeking only to empty his physical form and substantiate his wisdom. Whenever he sat in meditation to expound the Dharma, four youths in blue clothing were often seen holding flowers and standing in attendance. Once, when he was sitting in meditation with his disciples in the hall, the assembly suddenly smelled a wondrous fragrance and a bright light illuminated the interior of the hall. Surprised and amazed together, they questioned Xinxing. Xinxing bade them ask his disciples Sengyong and Huiru. Sengyong said: 'Just now I saw an emanated Buddha arrive from the sky, approach the Chan Master, rub his crown, and bestow a prophecy (vyākaraṇa) upon him.' Ru said that [the Buddha] also rubbed Sengyong's crown and bestowed a prophecy; the rest of the details were identical to what Yong had said. Later, Yong took charge of his followers and went into seclusion on Mount Taibai. One morning, he said to the monks: 'We must return to the capital with the master.' The assembly respected Yong and all complied with him. They immediately descended the mountain and lodged for the night at Wugong. Setting out before dawn, he said to the assembly: 'Strive hard, Masters! Tonight we must enter the city.' At sunset they reached Caoshang; hearing the drum sound, he sighed and said: 'The city gates are closed.' They then lodged at an inn. When dusk arrived, he wept bitterly and said: 'We are too late.' The assembly asked the reason, but he did not answer. The next morning they entered the city and reached Zhenji Monastery, only to find that Xinxing had breathed his last at dusk the previous night. The monastery monks, surprised, asked Yong why he had come. He replied: 'While in the mountains, I saw from afar many people holding incense, flowers, banners, and canopies coming from the west, entering through the Kaiyuan Gate, and heading toward Zhenji Monastery. I suspected that the Chan Master was about to pass away, which is why I came. At dusk last night, I saw the Chan Master departing westward with an escort; he looked back and took leave of me, which is how I knew we were too late.' Earlier, various masters in the capital had doubted Xinxing's teachings. At this point, they conferred together: based on the Fu fazang jing (Sūtra on the Transmission of the Dharmapiṭaka), if a person's skull is hollow throughout, it is because they heard the true Dharma in past lives. Thereupon, they examined Xinxing's skull together, and found that his two ears were directly connected through; they were all filled with shame and remorse, and faithfully submitted. At first, Xinxing's disciples resided in five monasteries in the capital. Although their numbers later expanded, they are still known today as the Five Chan Masters. (An old monk and Lin's maternal uncle recounted this as such).

1.4

Śramaṇa Huiru of Zhenji Monastery in the capital practiced austerities with energetic diligence in his youth, serving Xinxing as his teacher. After Xinxing's death, he respectfully followed his teachings. During the Daye era of the Sui, while practicing seated meditation to cultivate samādhi, he remained motionless for seven days. The assembly all marveled at this, believing that he had entered samādhi. Shortly afterward, Huiru opened his eyes, tears streaming down his face. The monastic assembly was surprised and questioned him, to which he replied: 'My foot was burned by fire and hurts; wait until I have examined the wound before I speak.' The assembly was even more surprised and questioned him further. Huiru said: 'I was summoned by King Yama and completed seven days of practicing the Way. The King asked: "Do you need to see any of your deceased spiritual companions?" Ru replied: "I wish to see two people." The King immediately sent for one person, but only a turtle was seen coming; it licked Huiru's feet, shed tears from its eyes, and left. As for the other person, [the King] said his sins were too heavy for him to be summoned, and ordered that [Huiru] go to see him. A messenger led Huiru to the gates of hell; the gate was closed very securely. The messenger called out to the gatekeeper, and someone answered. The messenger told Huiru: "Master, quickly move out of the way; do not stand facing the gate!" Just as Ru moved aside, the gate opened, and a great fire streamed out of it. Like molten iron being forged, a spark flew out and stuck to Ru's foot. Ru brushed it away with his robe. Looking up at the gate, it was already closed, and in the end they could not see each other. The King bestowed thirty bolts of silk upon him; [Huiru] firmly declined, but the King would not permit it, saying that he had already sent it to his rear chamber.' The monks rushed to the rear chamber to look, and the silk was indeed on his bed. The burn wound on his foot was as large as a coin, and healed only after more than a hundred days. He died in the early Wude era. Zhenji Monastery is the present-day Huadu Monastery. (This monastery was founded by Lin's maternal grandfather, Duke Qi; Lin often visited there, and heard his uncle recount it in this way).

1.5

Śramaṇa Shi Sengche, a bhadanta of Jiangzhou, was meticulous and practiced from his youth. On the western slope of Mount Gushan, he built hall buildings and planted many groves, capturing much of the scenic beauty of a mountain dwelling. Sengche was once walking in the mountains and saw in an earthen cave a leper whose sores were foul and putrid, begging food from Sengche. Sengche took pity on him, called him out, and returned with him. Beside his hermitage, he dug an earthen cave for him, supplied him with food and clothing, and taught him to recite the Lotus Sūtra (Saddharmapuṇḍarīka Sūtra). This man was illiterate and by nature crude and dull; Sengche taught him phrase by phrase with immense effort, yet never grew weary. When this man had recited nearly half the sūtra, he dreamed that someone was instructing him. From then on he grew gradually more perceptive; by the time he mastered five or six fascicles, he noticed his sores gradually healing. By the time he had finished reciting the entire sūtra, his beard and eyebrows had grown back, his flesh filled out as normal, and he was able to cure diseases. I, Lin, once suffered from a swelling; Sengche sent this man, whose spells and incantations proved efficacious; he recounted this himself. Later, Fang Renyu, while serving as Regional Inspector of Qinzhou, memorialized to name the hermitage founded by Sengche 'Xianquan Monastery' (Sunken Spring Monastery). Initially, there was no water in this place, and Sengche always fetched water from far down the mountain to supply his needs. One morning, the ground suddenly sank, and from the depression a spring gushed forth; hence the monastery was named after the sunken spring. The monk made exhorting people to goodness his sole devotion, while cultivating meditation himself; those near and far revered him like a father. In the first month of the second year of the Yonghui era, he suddenly gave his final instructions to his disciples, saying that he was about to die. Thereupon he sat upright on a rope-woven seat, closed his eyes, and did not move. The weather was clear and bright, yet blossoms fell like snow, fragrant and unmelting. Over an area of about two square li, tree leaves all bore a white substance resembling light cosmetic powder for three days before returning to their normal color. Sengche had already passed away. It has now been three years, yet he sits alone as before, without foul odor or decay; it is only said that tears trickle from his eyes. (Sengche's disciple Shi Qin and others, as well as the people of the prefecture, all recounted this as such).

1.6

In Hedong there was a nun who practiced disciplined conduct and regularly recited the Saddharmapuṇḍarīka Sūtra. She sought out a skilled calligrapher, offered him several times the usual payment, and prepared a special pure chamber, commissioning him to copy this sūtra. Every time he stood up [from his seat], he bathed; he burned incense to perfume his clothes. Moreover, in the chamber where the sūtra was being copied, they breached the wall to lead outside and attached a bamboo tube; whenever the calligrapher wished to exhale, he was instructed to place his mouth to the bamboo tube and blow his breath out through the wall. He copied one fascicle of the sūtra, taking eight years to finish. Her offerings to it were solemn and heavy, exhausting all reverence. The monk Faduan of Longmen often gathered the great assembly to lecture on the Saddharmapuṇḍarīka Sūtra. Because this nun's copy was exceptionally pure and definitive, he sent someone to request it. The nun resolutely declined and would not give it. Faduan rebuked her. The nun had no choice, so she personally delivered it to him. Faduan and the others opened it to read, but saw only yellow paper, completely devoid of characters. When they opened the other fascicles, all were likewise. Faduan and the others were ashamed and frightened; they immediately returned it to the nun. The nun received it weeping, washed the box with fragrant water, bathed, and, bearing it on her head, circumambulated the Buddha in walking meditation, not resting even briefly for seven days and seven nights. Then, when she opened and examined it, the characters were just as before. In the second year of the Zhenguan reign era, Faduan personally related this to me, [Tang] Lin. (He must have stated the nun's name in full, but I, Lin, have forgotten it; I only record the event as such.)

1.7

At Renshou Monastery in Puzhou was the monk Shi Daoxian. He was clever from his youth, fond of learning, and revered by his home district. He lectured on the Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra more than eighty times, renowned for his thorough mastery. In the second year of the Zhenguan reign era, Cui Yizhi was serving as magistrate of Yuqing County; the people invited Daoxian to lecture on the sūtra. When he first opened the topic, he wept and said to the assembly, 'We are distant from the sages, and their subtle words have become obscure and cut off; what is transmitted by the mediocre and foolish is insufficient as a standard. Yet if you take refuge with a faithful mind, you will naturally attain discernment and awakening. Today’s exposition will conclude at the Lion [chapter]. The time has already run out; I hope each of you keeps this in mind.' Subsequently, having lectured up to the Lion [chapter], one morning he died without illness. Clergy and laity were shocked and grieved. Yizhi himself went barefoot to escort his body to the northern slope of the Southern Mountains. It was the eleventh month, and the ground was frozen with ice. When they lowered the corpse to the ground, flowers immediately sprang from the earth, resembling lotuses though smaller; at his head and each of his hands and feet, there was a single flower. Yizhi marveled at it and ordered men to guard it through the night. The guards grew weary and slept, and someone stole and snapped off the flowers. When they looked the next morning, flowers had burst forth all around his body, totaling more than five hundred stems. Only after seven days did they wither and dry up. (Yizhi, as well as clergy and laity, all related this as such.)

1.8

Shi Daoying was a śramaṇa of Hedong. In his youth he practiced meditation, taking the training of the mind as his foundation, and did not mind monastic decorum. Nevertheless, regarding the profound tenets of the sūtras and vinaya, there were none that he did not grasp immediately upon hearing them. From far and near, monks and nuns competed to seek decisions [on doctrine] from him. Daoying would promptly answer them, saying: 'You do not yet have doubts; you should first reflect on your doubts. Once they have coalesced into form, then come and ask.' When the inquirers returned and contemplated their doubts, many resolved them on their own through intense reflection and left. For those who pondered without awakening and returned to ask again, Daoying explained the essential points, and all attained joyful awakening and returned. Once, he was traveling by boat with a crowd across the Yellow River. In midstream the boat sank, and all the people drowned. Clergy and laity, seeing Daoying sink from afar, stood facing the river and wept bitterly. At this time it was late winter; the river ice was just beginning to thaw, but along both banks it was still solid. Daoying emerged walking through the water to the shore, breaking through the ice as he went. The people on the bank were reverent and delighted, vying to take off their clothes to clothe him. Daoying said, 'My body is still hot inside; do not cover me with clothes.' He strolled out and returned home, showing no signs of cold at all. When they looked at his body, it was like a place roasted by fire. Those with understanding took it to be because he had entered samādhi. At other times he herded oxen or drove carts for others, ate garlic and wolfed down meals, or wore secular clothes with hair several inches long. He once visited Renshou Monastery, and Daoxuan treated him with reverence and accommodated him. Late in the day [Daoying] sought food. Daoxuan said to him, 'Though a person of superior virtue has no attachment to eating, should you not halt slander and suspicion?' Daoying laughed and answered, 'Your mind, Venerable Xuan, is racing in panic, not halting even for a single breath, yet you starve yourself in vain. Why torment yourself?' Daoxuan sighed in admiration and conceded. Daoying died during the Zhenguan reign era. (Faduan, as well as clergy and laity, all related this as such.)

1.9

Shi Zhiyuan was a śramaṇa of Youzhou, disciplined, experienced, and knowledgeable. During the Daye reign era of the Sui, he resolved to make a storehouse of stone sūtras to prepare for the extinction of the Dharma. Thereupon, in the northern mountains of Youzhou, he quarried the crags to make stone chambers, polished their four walls, and inscribed sūtras upon them. He also took square blocks of stone, polished and inscribed them separately, and stored them inside the chambers. As each chamber became full, he plugged the entrance with stones and sealed it with molten iron. At that time Emperor Yang of the Sui visited Zhuo Commandery. The Vice Director of the Imperial Chancellery, Xiao Yu, was the younger brother of the empress by the same mother; by nature he deeply believed in the Buddha-Dharma, and he informed the empress of this enterprise. The empress donated a thousand bolts of silk along with other money and goods to help complete it. Xiao Yu also donated five hundred bolts of silk. When court and country heard of it, they vied with one another to make donations, so Zhiyuan was able to bring his work to fruition. Zhiyuan, observing that the hired artisans were numerous and that clergy and laity were thronging to the place, once wished to build a wooden Buddha hall as well as a dining hall and sleeping quarters in front of the cliffs; but considering that timber and roof tiles were difficult to obtain, and fearing to misappropriate and consume funds intended for the sūtras, he was not yet able to begin construction. One night a sudden storm of rain and thunder shook the mountain. When it cleared the next morning, several thousand large pine and cypress trees were seen at the foot of the mountain, washed down by the water and piled by the wayside. East of the mountains timber was scarce, and pine and cypress were particularly rare. Clergy and laity were astonished, not knowing where they had come from. Tracing their tracks, they found they had come from the Western Mountains, where collapsing cliffs had uprooted the trees and floated them here. Thereupon everyone far and near sighed in admiration, deeming it divine assistance. Zhiyuan then had the artisans select the timber they needed, and divided the rest among the local communities. The people of the communities rejoiced, and joined together to assist in building the halls; in a short time all was completed, entirely according to his wishes. The stones Zhiyuan crafted filled seven chambers. He died in the thirteenth year of the Zhenguan reign era. His disciples continued his work. (Xianli Xuanzang, Chancellor of the Palace Administration, and Cai Xuanming, Assistant in the Court of Judicial Review, both related this to me, [Tang] Lin. In the nineteenth year, when I accompanied the imperial chariot to Youzhou, I inquired of the locals, who also said the same, but because of military matters I could not [visit].)

1.10

At the end of the Eastern Wei, some men of Ye went together into the Western Mountains to mine for silver. Before they had all emerged from the cavern, it collapsed. One man was at the back; because stones blocked the opening, he could not get out, but he was uninjured. At the site of the cave-in, there was a small fissure that had not closed, through which a faint trace of sunlight could be seen. This man thought to himself that there was no way he would survive, so he single-mindedly recollected the Buddha. When his father heard that his son had been crushed and there was nowhere to retrieve his corpse, his household was moreover impoverished and lacked the means to cultivate posthumous merit, he carried a bowl of coarse rice to a Buddhist monastery to sponsor a meal for one person. Most of the monks pursued rich offerings, and none was willing to take the meal on his behalf. Carrying the rice, the father wept bitterly. One monk took pity on him and accepted the invitation; when he finished eating, he recited a blessing and then departed. On that day at noon, while the son was in the cave, he suddenly saw a śramaṇa enter through the narrow, lit opening of the fissure, carrying a bowl of rice which he handed to the man. Having eaten it, he was no longer hungry; he merely sat upright in right mindfulness. After more than ten years, Emperor Wen of Qi ascended the throne and built a cool pavilion in the Western Mountains. As the artisans cleared away the collapsed stones, they discovered that the man in the cave was still alive. They brought him out and returned him home. His parents were startled and overjoyed, and [the son] subsequently retired to practice disciplined conduct. (Lu Chengye, Marshal of Yongzhou, related this to me, [Tang] Lin, saying it was transmitted by Jiang, Assistant in the Palace Library.)

1.11

During the Northern Qi, a man of Jizhou joined the army to campaign against the Liang; he was defeated in battle and captured as a slave. His parents back in his home village received no news of him; believing him dead, to cultivate posthumous merit for him they built a brick stūpa. When the brick stūpa was completed, they held a vegetarian feast, and several hundred clergy and laity were just sitting down to eat when a knocking was heard at the door. The host's father went out to look and saw a monk whose appearance was remarkably refined. He said to the host, 'I beg for some panicled millet porridge from the vegetarian meal; you may wrap it in a cloth towel; and I also beg for a pair of shoes.' The host invited him to stay and eat, but the monk refused, saying, 'I wish to leave early; I have no time to sit and eat.' The host did as he said, wrapping the porridge in a fresh cloth and offering it to him along with a pair of shoes. The monk accepted them and left. On that day at the time of the meal, the host's son was south of the Yangtze River in a marsh, herding cattle for his master. Suddenly he saw a monk holding a bundle of porridge and a pair of new shoes, who came to where the slave was and asked, 'Do you long to return and see your parents?' The slave wept and said, 'I would not dare hope for it.' The monk gave him the porridge and told him to sit and eat. When he finished eating, he also gave him the shoes and told him to put them on; then he spread his kāṣāya on the ground and told him to sit on it. The monk took the four corners of the kāṣāya, gathered and lifted them up, and waved them. After moving perhaps twenty feet through the air, it touched the ground. The slave opened his eyes to look; he saw neither the monk nor the kāṣāya, but found his body already outside the gate of his family's residence. Entering the gate, he saw the great assembly just eating. His parents were startled and overjoyed; they approached to ask him, and he recounted the circumstances in full. When they examined the leftover porridge and shoes inside the cloth towel, they were indeed what had just been offered to the monk. The local district was astonished and vied with one another to become devout believers. That day was the sixth day of the month; therefore they named the stūpa they had built the 'Sixth Day Stūpa.' The stūpa still stands today, and the story is still transmitted in that village.

1.12

When Emperor Wu of the Liang was in humble circumstances, he knew a poor scholar. After he ascended the throne, while strolling in the imperial park, he saw [the man] towing a boat. The emperor questioned him, and [learned that] he was still as poor and lowly as before. The emperor decreed, 'Tomorrow you may come for an audience; I will grant you [the office of] county magistrate.' The man went in accordance with the decree, but by coincidence was unable to see him. Repeatedly when he went, there were other matters, and in the end he could not gain access. Finding it strange, he went to ask the śramaṇa Baozhi. Baozhi was just then lecturing on a sūtra to a great assembly, with several thousand listeners, so the poor scholar could not advance. Baozhi said to the crowd, 'Someone wishes to come and ask a question; please make way and let him in.' The people then made way for him. Before the man had reached him, Baozhi went out to greet him and said, 'Have you come to ask why you cannot obtain the post of county magistrate? You will never obtain it; you have merely received an empty promise of favor. In a past life, when the emperor was the patron of a vegetarian feast, you promised on the pledge register to donate five hundred coins, but in the end you never gave them. For this reason, today you only receive the promise of an office, but can never obtain it.' When the man heard this, he left once and for all, and the emperor also never sought him out again. (Clergy and laity of Jiangdong still transmit this story today.)

1.13

Yan Gong of Yangzhou was originally a man of Quanzhou. His family was wealthy in possessions, and he had no brothers. His parents loved Gong and never went against anything he said. At the beginning of the Taijian era of the Chen dynasty, Gong came of age at twenty. He asked his parents, wishing to obtain fifty thousand cash to go to the market in Yangzhou to purchase goods. His parents agreed. Gong boarded a boat laden with the money and sailed downriver. Several tens of li before reaching Yangzhou, he encountered a boat on the river carrying softshell turtles, taking them to the market to sell. Gong inquired and learned the reason. Thinking that the turtles were destined to die, he asked to ransom them. The turtle merchant said, “My turtles are of large size; it will take a thousand cash each.” Gong asked how many there were, and he answered that there were fifty. Gong said, “I happen to have fifty thousand cash; I wish to ransom them.” The turtle merchant gladly took the money, handed over the turtles, and departed. Gong released all the turtles into the river and proceeded to Yangzhou with an empty boat. After parting from Gong, the turtle merchant traveled ten or so li, whereupon his boat sank and he drowned. That day, Gong's parents were at home. At dusk, fifty guests dressed in black came to their gate seeking lodging, and they delivered fifty thousand cash, handing it to Gong’s father, saying, “Your son is at the Yangzhou market and has sent this money home; please receive it according to the amount.” Gong’s father was astonished and bewildered, suspecting that Gong had died, and so questioned them closely. The guests said, “Your son is unharmed; he simply did not need the money, so he sent it home.” Gong’s father accepted it and noted that it was indeed the original money, yet it was completely wet with water. He detained the guests to prepare a meal for them. The guests stayed, and the next morning they bade farewell and departed. Over a month later, Gong returned. His parents were overjoyed. Afterward, they asked about the reasons for sending the money back, but Gong replied that he had done no such thing. His parents described the appearance of the guests and the month and day the money was sent back, which was indeed the day he had ransomed the turtles. Thereupon they knew that the fifty guests were all the ransomed turtles. Father and son were struck with wonder and sighing admiration. Consequently, they went together to Yangzhou to erect a vihāra exclusively for copying the Saddharmapuṇḍarīka Sūtra, and subsequently moved their household to Yangzhou. Their family grew increasingly wealthy. They built large chambers and corridors to serve as rooms for copying sūtras, which were adorned and pure, and abundantly supplied. There were constantly several tens of scribes. The monastics and laity of Yangzhou revered and honored him together, calling him “Saddharmapuṇḍarīka Yan.” Once, a relative or acquaintance borrowed ten thousand cash of the sūtra funds from him, and Gong, having no choice, gave it to him. The borrower received the money and carried it home by boat. Mid-route, the boat capsized; the borrowed money fell into the water, but the people on the boat did not drown. That day, Gong entered the treasury and saw ten thousand wet cash as if just pulled from the water. Gong was very astonished at this. Later, he saw the person who had previously borrowed the money, and only then did he know that the wet money was the very money that had been borrowed. Furthermore, there was a merchant who went to Lake Gong; at the spirit shrine, he offered wine, food, and goods. That night he dreamed that the spirit returned the goods to him, saying, “I request you to take these on my behalf and offer them to Saddharmapuṇḍarīka Yan to support the expenses of the sūtras.” Moreover, the goods offered to the spirit were all there before him. Thereupon, the merchant marvelled at the anomaly, delivered them to Gong's place, and doubled the generous offering. Later, Gong went to the market to buy sūtra paper, but happened to be short of money. Suddenly he saw a man holding three thousand cash, who handed it to Gong, saying, “Sir, buy the paper.” Having finished speaking, he disappeared, and the money was before him. Wonders like this were not solitary occurrences. At the end of the Kaihuang era of the Sui, Gong died. His descendants carried on his endeavor. When bandits in the late Sui reached Jiangdu, they all made an agreement with one another not to enter Saddharmapuṇḍarīka Yan's ward. The ward’s people relied on this to remain safe and sound. His family still copies sūtras without cease to this day. (The whole prefecture and town witnessed this together, and many gentlemen of the capital also know of it. Xiao Rui, Prince Consort and Duke of Shouguo, investigated it most thoroughly.)

1.14

Records of Retribution from the Netherworld, Fascicle 1

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冥報記 — Classical Chinese