Chen Yuan knew this was his last chance to get the Buddhist relic.
After he truly left India, it would not be possible for him to enter the country again or else it would rouse the suspicions of his brothers and comrades of the past, including his superiors.
Hence, he took a risk. After acquiring this top-secret information from the mouth of Wen Han, he had immediately hurried here—that small, three-level house along the Ganges River in Varanasi.
According to Wen Han, she had hidden that item with her own hands in a corner of this kitchen.
In a canister that held rosemary.<>Please support this translation at hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com instead
His hand came in contact with the innermost canister, and carefully, he took it out. Beneath the moonlight, he opened the stainless steel lid, slipped his hand inside, and slowly pulled out that body relic that was about half the size of a palm.
A relic, an object left behind after the cremation of a Buddhist spiritual master. And this one contained a clear image of the Buddha, his eyes lowered and his legs crossed. How much practice in the Dharma and how great was the enlightenment in order to leave behind such an object? ...
Chen Yuan stared rather dazedly at the relic in his palm.<>Please read this at hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com
From when he first met Cheng Muyun, he had watched that man believe in Buddhism all these years, but had never understood Cheng Muyun's religious convictions, especially in Moscow, that place where churches could be found everywhere.
But now, when he saw that relic that lay on his palm, there was a sense of pressure, as if his very soul was being gazed down upon, being dissected... Slapping the lid back on, he stuffed the canister into the corner and restacked the other spice containers, making it seem as if no one had moved anything here.
In that instant, when he closed the cupboard door, a dark shadow appeared outside the window.
A chill ran down Chen Yuan's back. Slowly, he turned his head. By the light of the moon, he got a clear look at the shape of that shadow. It was a little dog. That little yellow dog seemed accustomed to strolling around in the nearby areas in the middle of the night. Stretching out its tongue, it licked the window and then, turning around, hopped off the high windowsill.
Just an animal. Nothing to worry about.<>Please read this at hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com instead
Clenching that relic tightly in his hand, Chen Yuan closed his eyes and calmed himself for several seconds. And then, he walked out of the kitchen.<>Copyright of Fanatical, hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com. Translated with the express permission of the author for hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com. If you are not reading this from hui3r[dot]wordpress[dot]com, the translation has been taken without consent of the translator.
Right as he stepped foot into that dark living room, brightness suddenly appeared in it.
A light that seemed to dance randomly and chaotically and also raucous sounds filled the entire living room. It was a late-night Indian dancing program. The television that had suddenly turned on caused the entire room to fall into an eerily lively atmosphere.
And on the sofa in the living room sat the one who should have died already beneath the feet of a frenzied herd of elephants—Cheng Muyun.
His one arm rested on the back of the sofa as he, with seriousness, watched that program of singing and dancing that was on the television, all the while never bringing his gaze over to Chen Yuan. "You should clearly know how much I had hoped that right now, you were already at Headquarters and not here beside the Ganges River that is scattered with Zhou Ke's ashes, looking for some Buddhist relic."
YOU ARE READING
Life: A Black and White Film (一生一世，黑白影画)
General FictionWen Han has arrived in Nepal on vacation and, as a Buddhist believer, also a pilgrimage. But very shortly after entering the borders, she runs in again into someone she had had one encounter with six months ago, hundreds of miles away on the far-off...
