Gu Shiyan had no idea how long he had been unconscious. When he came to, the first thing he heard was a young girl's voice saying, "Master, among Hanshan's poems, I prefer this one: 'When there is joy, one must take joy; such times must not be missed. Though one may live a hundred years, it barely fills thirty thousand days. Life in this world is fleeting, so don't fuss over money. The final chapter of the Classic of Filial Piety concludes with earnest expressions of feeling.'"
The girl's voice was like an oriole leaving its valley nest, a young swallow's first cry, or the gentle plucking of a silver zither, pearls falling onto a jade plate. Had he not heard it with his own ears, Gu Shiyan would never have believed such a beautiful sound existed in the world. The proverb says, "Silk is no match for bamboo, and bamboo no match for the human voice." So the most captivating sounds in the world come not from silk or bamboo instruments, but from a maiden's throat. This girl was merely reciting poetry, yet it was lovelier than singing.
Afraid this might be a dream, Gu Shiyan opened his eyes. He saw himself lying on a cloud-patterned bed with a blue cotton curtain hanging low. Sunlight streamed through the window, brightening the clean, tidy room. The girl's voice came from the outer chamber.
Gu Shiyan pushed himself up with his elbows, intending to sit up. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his left chest. He couldn't help crying out, "Aiyo!" Only then did he remember his severe injury. But where was this place?
Hearing Gu Shiyan's groan, a figure suddenly rose beside the bed. Dark-faced with white teeth and silver rings in his ears—it was A'luotuo. He lifted the blue cotton curtain and, seeing Gu Shiyan awake, beamed with joy, chuckling warmly.
Immediately, another person entered from the outer chamber, holding prayer beads and reciting a Buddhist invocation. It was the old monk, Kibi no Makibi. Gu Shiyan struggled to rise, but the old monk stepped forward and gently pressed his shoulder, smiling. "Patron, your wound is not yet healed. You must rest quietly."
Gu Shiyan said gratefully, "Thank you, Master, for saving me."
The old monk replied, "Patron, your fortune smiles upon you. The injury was between the heart and spleen, missing the vital organs. Otherwise, even this old monk could not have saved you."
It turned out that after Gu Shiyan lost consciousness from his severe injury, Nieguchuo and the nineteen Uighur warriors had arrived just in time. They immediately carried Gu Shiyan up to Foya Temple. Old monk Kibi no Makibi truly seemed capable of anything; he was even skilled in medicine. While he was treating Gu Shiyan, a large contingent of Tang soldiers galloped up to the mountain. It was the Uighur warrior who had parted ways with Gu Shiyan and his servant back in Hancheng, leading troops. When Nieguchuo learned his elder brother was severely wounded, and hearing from the old monk that Gu Shiyan's life was not in danger, he rushed overnight to Dasanguan Pass.
All this had happened two days ago. During this time, Gu Shiyan had remained unconscious, not only due to the severity of his wound but also from sheer exhaustion after days of hard travel.
Learning that Nieguchuo was unharmed eased Gu Shiyan's mind. But then he remembered that there was still no news of Ujie Shanluo. He couldn't help sighing.
Knowing his thoughts, the old monk comforted him, "If this old monk is not mistaken, the person you seek is still within Chang'an City."
Gu Shiyan considered this and felt the old monk made sense. With so many checkpoints along the way, and with the enemy having abducted Shanluo while pursuers were everywhere, how could they easily pass west through Yangguan? Conversely, Chang'an City was a safe place to hide. With its population of a million, a mix of Han and Hu people, hiding one or two individuals was no difficult task.
The old monk's meticulous reasoning impressed Gu Shiyan greatly.
For the next several days, Gu Shiyan recuperated at Foya Temple. Old monk Kibi no Makibi's medicinal herbs were remarkably effective; his wound had scabbed over, and he could get out of bed and walk about lightly.
One afternoon, seeing the fine weather, Gu Shiyan decided to go outside for a walk to dispel his gloom and also to resolve a question in his mind: Who was the girl reciting poetry the other day? Was she the white-robed maiden he had encountered in the plum grove?
Stepping out of the meditation room, he entered the plum grove. Gu Shiyan strolled casually into the grove, followed by A'luotuo. The grove was deep and tranquil, snow still unmelted beneath the trees. Passing through from east to west, Gu Shiyan saw a cliff ahead with three elegant rooms perched on it. The door was ajar, silent and empty.
The furnishings inside were exquisitely refined. Gu Shiyan's eyes immediately fell on a seven-stringed zither placed on a qin stand. The strings glinted with a cold, deep luster. A wave of delight washed over him. He had once studied the qin under Lu Zangyong and had quite an affinity for it, though his skills had rusted since he focused solely on Go. Seeing such a fine instrument now, his fingers itched. He approached to test its tone, pressing and plucking lightly. The sound was "zheng zheng cong cong"—exquisitely beautiful. His interest piqued, he played the piece "Jian Jia" (Reeds).
Just as he was becoming immersed in the music, he suddenly heard someone outside the door recite softly, "Lush and green the reeds grow; The white dew not yet dried. My beloved one, I know, Is somewhere by the riverside…"
Overjoyed at the voice, Gu Shiyan immediately stood up and hurried outside, heedless of the sharp pain the sudden movement caused his wound. However, on the open ground outside the rooms on the cliff, only A'luotuo stood there, rubbing his eyes and scratching his head, looking utterly perplexed. Gu Shiyan asked him who had just been there. A'luotuo pointed towards the plum grove but couldn't articulate anything coherent.
Gu Shiyan thought this was strange. He had clearly heard a girl reciting poetry; how could she vanish in the blink of an eye? The rooms were seven or eight zhang from the plum grove—how could anyone dart in and out so swiftly?
Gu Shiyan lost interest in playing the qin. He and A'luotuo walked back through the plum grove to his meditation room, only to find old monk Kibi no Makibi waiting inside. He had brought a Go set and said with a smile, "Patron Gu is the foremost Go master of our time. Though this old monk has not played against anyone for many years, with an expert here, even the Buddha would find fault if I did not seek instruction."
Gu Shiyan repeatedly demurred, "How dare I accept such praise?" adding, "Master, you humble me. My esteemed teacher, Lu Zangyong, once learned the qin from you. You could be considered my grandmaster."
Kibi no Makibi said, "Master Han Yu said, 'He who can teach is the master.' Let us not dwell on these formalities of seniority. This old monk is a disciple of the Northern Chan sect. My master, the Venerable Shenxiu, once said that the paths of qin and Go distract the mind and hinder cultivation. Yet, this old monk remains obstinately deluded. It seems I am born with a worldly bone, difficult to liberate."
Gu Shiyan replied, "Master, you are too modest. Permit this junior to speak boldly: in this world, there are many monks and nuns, but few true cultivators. How many are like you, Master, compassionate at heart and holding the Buddha within?"
The old monk smiled. "Patron Gu possesses the 'broad and long tongue' sign, eloquent and persuasive. But let us play a game first. True nature reveals itself on the Go board."
The two sat down to play. Gu Shiyan respectfully took white and played first. Knowing Kibi no Makibi's strength, he pondered each move carefully, not daring the slightest carelessness.
Old monk Kibi no Makibi, however, was sharp and quick, playing swiftly. Sixty years ago, he had earned the title "King of Blitz Go" for his fast and accurate reading. Unexpectedly, even past ninety, his style remained undiminished. Though gentle in person, his Go was fierce and aggressive—attacking vital points, twisting cuts, employing ruthless tactics. Yet, he balanced attack and defense, sacrifice and gain, tension and ease, not blindly seeking battle. His style vividly recalled the powerful fighting Go of masters like Wang Jixin from the High Tang era.
Facing such a strong opponent, Gu Shiyan roused his spirit and responded calmly, firmly controlling the overall situation. In the middle game, he played an excellent "flying press" move. The old monk immediately sank into deep thought.
Seeing the old monk take so long to play, Gu Shiyan felt the call of nature. He got up and went outside to relieve himself. As he pulled the door open, he saw a white-robed maiden standing right outside. She had her right index finger pressed vertically against her lips and nose, making a "shh" gesture, seemingly signaling the dumbfounded A'luotuo standing nearby to be quiet. The maiden turned her head and met Gu Shiyan's gaze. Her lovely face instantly flushed crimson. With a light stamp of her delicate foot, she soared into the air like a bird returning to the forest and vanished into the plum grove in an instant. Such light, graceful qinggong was something Gu Shiyan had never even heard of.
The old monk was still deep in thought, feeling that after White's flying press, Black was hard-pressed to find a good response. Moreover, White's overall position was thick and solid, while Black's center group was thin and tasted bad—the situation looked bleak. Finding no good plan after hard thought, he resigned with a sigh. "Patron Gu's Go stores power and hides sharpness, subduing the opponent without fighting. It is unprecedented since ancient times. This old monk concedes defeat."
Gu Shiyan also expressed deep admiration for Kibi no Makibi's clarity of thought at such an advanced age. Yet he said frankly, "In this position, Black is slightly worse, but the situation is not yet bad. Moreover, Black still leads in territory. Master, why resign so readily?"
The old monk smiled meaningfully. "To try to turn defeat into victory from a disadvantageous position inevitably means stirring up chaos and hoping the opponent blunders. Such anxiety over gain and loss damages the mind and spirit, straying far from Go's purpose of 'forgetting sorrow.' Once this old monk finds himself at a disadvantage in a game, I immediately feel the emptiness of the four great elements [earth, water, fire, wind]. All thoughts of fame and gain melt away like ice. Thus, playing Go can also be a form of Chan practice."