"Surely you who are devoted to giving compassion to people are not still scared of anything?" His master's voice grew louder and sounded close to a reprimand.
Furthermore, Little Tulku Jianggong had not expected that the corpse who would be delivered to the sky was actually his former master, the man who had whipped him, Headman Wangzhu. When people came in carrying him, Little Tulku Jianggong saw his face, his eyes wide open, his mouth gaping in a circle, as if at the moment he faced death he suddenly saw the devils in hell, or as if he was still as tyrannical and furious as in the past when he had thrashed people. The expression had fixed on his face at the very moment that he faced death. He had become a wicked man who, after death, still did not understand the purpose of compassion.
This night was so cold that it was as if he were in a cave of ice, but even an ice-cave would not be as cold as this place. In the sutra room there was only a single butter lamp, set at the head of the corpse. Little Tulku Jianggong sat cross-legged at the foot of the corpse and spread out a pile of scripture to purify the souls of the dead. Borrowing the dim light of the butter lamp, he began to chant, speaking one minute and becoming quiet the next. This was not because the light was too dim, nor was it because his eyes were filled with tears of aggrievedness and fear. What made him unable to read the text was his shaking, fear, loneliness and helplessness. He really wanted to burst into a fit of tears. He really wanted to stand up and fly into the warm embrace of an adult.
But in front of him, there was only the stiff Headman Wangzhu, wrapped in a grey woollen knitted cloth. Outside the north wind blew past shrilly, drowning the sound of Little Jianggong's chanting of the sutras. Some wind threaded through the crack in the door and blew the butter candle, with its bean-like wick, sending the flame flickering and swaying back and forth. The only prayer in Little Jianggong's heart was now that the lamp not be completely blown out. He was scared of the darkness that was already surrounding him deeply, but once the room was without the light of the lamp, he would not know if the corpse stood up to continue to thrash him with a whip, or if it had opened its mouth wide and turned into a devil that would devour him at one mouthful.
In his trance, Little Jianggong realised that the corpse was moving! An eerie cold wind blew in, like the hand of a devil and made the piece of white cloth covering the corpses' head flutter up and down, exposing that terrible face! The frail tongue of flame of the butter lamp at that moment extinguished completely and Little Jianggong felt as if the still dead body had suddenly sat up and then all of a sudden stood in front of him …
"Waaah." Little Jianggong gave a great scream, dropped the scriptures and then scratched and scrambled to escape the sutra room. He had not even taken a few steps out of the sutra room when his head collided with a heavy beam, sending him reeling and rolling on the ground.
The reanimated corpse chased him out. Little Jianggong was so scared that it was as if his soul had completely flown from his body and now he could not even let out a cry. His mind went white and blank.
In the darkness a majestic voice called out, "Go back!"
It was Tulku Dapu, who all along had been waiting outside the sutra room under a large tree.
"He … he-he-he … stood up …" Little Jianggong's teeth chattered like the chaotic hoofs of a racing horse.
"Really? You still don't have that sort of spiritual power yet, yes?" Tulku Dapu's tone relaxed and he pulled at Little Jianggong's hand and said, "Let's go, let us go inside. What lingering feeling does a person who has left this world for the next life have towards this life?"
Little Jianggong had no choice but to follow his master and return to the sutra room. Tulku Dapu re-ignited the butter lamp and then said, both to Jianggong and to the lamp, "Butter lamps are always being extinguished. It's not because the oil is used up but because they've been blown out by the wind. Human life is nothing but the light of a lamp. It will always burn out. If there is life, then there is necessarily death. As long as you live, performing good deeds and accumulating merit and harbouring mercy in your heart, death is only the end of a satisfactory completion of worldly affairs. So, what is there for you to be scared of?"
Tulku Dapu walked in front of the corpse and lifted up the white cloth covering its head. He stroked the head and then brought his face close to his ears as if he were speaking to a soundly sleeping friend, saying, "Oyaa, distinguished Wangzhu, your whole life you were accompanied by fine wine and Mah-jong and you had enough cattle and wealth in your household to fill a mountain ravine, but now you cannot take any of it with you. You are only a single person leaving empty-handed and the wealth of your previous life is like the drifting clouds, which when they gather together can cover the rays of the sun but scatter at a single word. This is all the karma of your life, and is also the root cause of your pain and anguish. 'A person is born alone and a person dies alone'. Now is already when you should be seeking the way of the Buddha. You are already walking on the path between reincarnations and you have already transcended the suffering of this mortal life. This is a joyful thing, ah, do not let the fear of death remain on your face. Fortunately, on the verge of death you became enlightened and compassionate, and there is still a little provision of merit that you can bring to the other side. Do not become attached again to this life, water cannot be held for long in the palm of one's hand. Do not be attached and do not be cowardly. Instead, recall the three treasures of Buddhism: the Buddha, the dharma and the sangha."
