Chapter Three: The Great Ci'en Temple

Daci’en Temple, a world-renowned Buddhist monastery and one of the four great translation centers in Chang’an during the Tang Dynasty, has stood for over a thousand years. Located in the southern suburbs of Jingzhao, the ancient capital of thirteen dynasties, it was established in the 22nd year of the Zhenguan era under Emperor Taizong of Tang. The temple was built by Crown Prince Li Zhi in memory of his mother, Empress Wende.

Daci’en Temple was the most famous and grand Buddhist temple within Tang Chang’an, constructed by imperial decree. The eminent Tang monk Xuanzang once managed its affairs and led the translation of Buddhist scriptures here, founding a new Buddhist sect.

Thus, Daci’en Temple holds a highly distinguished place in the history of Chinese Buddhism and has always been a site of great significance both domestically and internationally.

However, Yue Qianling noticed that, aside from herself, few people displayed genuine reverence within this vast and solemn temple. Particularly, her gaze lingered far more on the many tortoise-like stone bases scattered throughout the temple than on the Buddha statues.

“Most of the tortoise bases are quite similar. There must be hundreds of them here at Daci’en Temple. How are we supposed to find the right one?” Gu Anqi wiped the sweat from her forehead and said.

Just beyond the temple’s main gate, a path flanked by ancient pines led forward. At its center stood a three-meter-high iron incense burner. On either side rose square-based, xiēshān-style two-story buildings housing the bell and drum towers—the bell on the east and the drum on the west—used for the morning bell and evening drum ceremonies. These were major ritual instruments of Daci’en Temple.

The bell in the eastern bell tower, known as the “Yanta Morning Bell,” was cast in the 27th year of the Jiajing reign of the Ming Dynasty, while the evening drum in the western tower was of more recent construction.

The morning bell’s melodious chime echoed through the forest canopy, bathed in sunlight beneath the grand Yanta sky; the evening drum’s deep beats accompanied the chanting of sutras, filling the misty villages of Qujiang with unceasing incense smoke.

“The morning bell and evening drum! This is the place,” I suddenly realized. “The couplet in the text we decoded is a double entendre, referring not only to Jingzhao but also to Daci’en Temple itself.”

“Actually, there’s something I don’t understand. Why must it be a tortoise base?” Yue Qianling took a weak sip of water and asked.

“Tortoise bases are commonly found in temples carrying steles. If you want to leave clues, inscriptions on steles are indeed a good choice,” Gu Anqi nodded.

“That’s a reasonable thought, but it won’t work,” Yue Qianling shook her head. “Most of Daci’en’s original structures have long been replaced or renovated. If the clues were on the inscriptions, they would have been destroyed by now. Also, I asked the tour guides; none of the tortoise bases here are genuine antiques. The oldest date back only to the Republican era.”

“An immaculate tortoise base?!” I looked around calmly. “The Ming tombs are of utmost importance. If Zhu Yuanzhang wanted to leave clues, he would have considered these factors. So there must be one tortoise base in this temple with a clue. But where exactly?”

We searched Daci’en Temple for most of the day without any discovery. I examined every tortoise base carefully—either they were incomplete or from the wrong period. I almost climbed onto each to scrutinize every character on the stele.

My strange behavior unsettled the usually peaceful and indifferent monks.

“This is a pure land of Buddhism; please, sir, conduct yourself with respect,” a monk responsible for courtyard cleaning said, palms pressed together.

I was standing atop a tortoise base reading the inscription when I quickly jumped down, smiling apologetically.

“Forgive me, master. May I ask if there is any tortoise base in Daci’en Temple dating from the Ming Dynasty?”

“This temple was originally the Wulou Temple from the Sui Dynasty. By the reign of Emperor Gaozu in the Wude era, its incense offerings had ceased and it was abandoned. During the Tang Dynasty’s Zhenguan era, being in a desolate area outside the city, it fell into ruin from wind and rain. In the 22nd year of Zhenguan, Crown Prince Li Zhi built this temple in memory of Empress Wende on the old site,” the monk said softly, head bowed. “This is recorded in the temple’s documents, but there is no record of any Ming Dynasty tortoise bases being built during renovations.”

I thanked the monk politely but sat down on a bench, feeling disappointed. The poems from the Tibetan texts mentioned an immaculate tortoise base, yet we couldn’t find it.

Yue Qianling, Qiu Nuo, and Gu Anqi returned from exploring other parts of the temple with the same result—no findings.

“It’s getting late. Looks like no luck today. But the temple isn’t going anywhere. We have time. No need to rush. Let’s just enjoy our visit today,” Yue Qianling said weakly.

I thought she was right. After all, this is a world-famous Buddhist temple. Buddhism teaches about fate; rushing things might be unwise. Going with the flow could bring rewards. I nodded and followed them.

One of the temple’s central buildings, the Great Hero Hall, had a five-bay xiēshān roof. Its carved beams and painted rafters were extraordinarily exquisite. On both side walls, golden hanging fish ornaments gleamed beautifully.

In front of the hall stood a long incense burner, its smoke drifting endlessly. Inside the Great Hero Hall was a three-bodied Buddha statue carved in the second year of Ming Chenghua’s reign, with rich texture and serene, dignified expression. The hall was filled with a solemn, ancient yet familiar religious aura, bringing a tranquil atmosphere to all who entered.

I wondered silently: since Zhu Yuanzhang so deeply believed in metaphysics and feng shui, and had no particular devotion to Buddhism, why choose a bustling temple like this to hide the clues?

Beyond the Great Hero Hall lay the Great Hall Courtyard, the first-level high ground compound containing the Great Hero Hall, the east and west side halls, the two-story scripture repository and lecture hall, and the Three Saints Hall.

Originally, small gates on the northeast and northwest of the courtyard led directly to the northern Great Wild Goose Pagoda, symbolizing the path to the Pure Land.

Above the scripture repository and lecture hall, on the second-level platform, stood the temple’s most magnificent central structure: the Great Wild Goose Pagoda. Comprising a base, body, and crowning spire, the pagoda was square and tapered. Each level featured layered eaves alternating with diamond-shaped dentils, with wind bells hanging from each corner. The top was capped with blue bricks and crowned with a precious finial.

I had little energy or interest to climb it, but Yue Qianling dragged me up without hesitation. Inside, wooden spiral stairs wound upward, with arched windows on all sides of each floor.

At the top, the view stretched out in all directions: the historic sites of Chang’an lay vivid before my eyes.

From this height, the entire Daci’en Temple could be seen at a glance. A gentle breeze brushed my face, lifting my spirits and easing my previous gloom.

Around the pagoda’s edge were four bold characters:

“Seven-Level Pagoda.”

“Saving one life is better than building a seven-level pagoda,” Gu Anqi asked curiously, “what does this saying have to do with the Great Wild Goose Pagoda?”

Qiu Nuo smiled faintly and calmly explained, “Fótuó is a Sanskrit word meaning pagoda or stupa, commonly called a treasure pagoda. Pagodas usually have an odd number of levels—five, seven, nine, or thirteen—with seven being the most common, hence the ‘seven-level pagoda.’ Originally, pagodas were built to enshrine the relics of sages or to house Buddhist scriptures, so building one was considered highly meritorious.”

“There’s a Tang poet named Cen Shen who wrote a poem about the Great Wild Goose Pagoda,” Yue Qianling said with a smile.

The towering pagoda seems to surge forth,
Solitary and lofty, it reaches the celestial palace.
Climbing it transcends the mundane world,
The stone steps wind through the void.
Abruptly pressing down on divine lands,
The peaks rise like a ghostly craft.
Four corners block the shining sun,
Seven stories brush the azure sky.
Look below to point at high-flying birds,
Listen down to catch the startled wind.

“The last two lines—‘Look below to point at high-flying birds, listen down to catch the startled wind’…” The poem’s closing struck a chord within me. I repeated it quietly and then stared downward. Yue Qianling didn’t understand my reaction as I circled the pagoda’s base, then stood frozen in place.

“What’s wrong?”

“Look down from here. What does Daci’en Temple look like?” I pointed excitedly.

The others looked carefully as I said. Gu Anqi’s mouth slowly opened in astonishment.

“The temple’s main gate protrudes outward. The Great Wild Goose Pagoda’s main axis runs eastward to the pagoda garden and bell society, and westward to the peony garden and pavilion. The layout is perfectly symmetrical, like a sturdy four-legged creature!”

Qiu Nuo stared wide-eyed and exchanged looks with Yue Qianling in disbelief. “From this height, the whole temple’s layout resembles a tortoise. What Anqi described are the four legs; the Great Hero Hall and courtyard form the body; and the protruding main gate is…”

“Not a tortoise! It’s a Baxià—the Black Tortoise, one of the four ancient divine beasts,” Yue Qianling said ecstatically. “Daci’en Temple was designed according to the form of a Baxià.”

“An immaculate Baxià,” I said thoughtfully with a smile. “So it’s here—the entire Daci’en Temple itself is a Baxià. And what it carries is not a stele, but the Great Wild Goose Pagoda! The true hiding place of the clues left by Zhu Yuanzhang in the White Jade Tofu and Nine-Scaled Auspicious Pan inscriptions is none other than the Great Wild Goose Pagoda where we now stand!”