In Changqing, there was an elderly monk of noble virtue and profound practice. Despite being over eighty years old, he was still physically robust. One day, he suddenly fell and could not get up. By the time the monks in the monastery came to his aid, he had already passed away and attained Nirvana. (The term "圆寂" refers to a monk's death in a state of spiritual peace.)
Unaware of his death, the monk's soul floated away from his body, drifting until it reached Henan Province. There, the young son of a retired local nobleman was out hunting wild rabbits, leading a group of over ten riders with trained hawks. Suddenly, the young man's horse was startled and bolted wildly, throwing him to the ground, where he died from the fall.
At that very moment, the monk's wandering soul happened to arrive at the scene and, in a flash, merged with the young man’s lifeless body. Slowly, the body regained consciousness. The attendants, shocked but relieved, surrounded him and asked how he was feeling. The revived man opened his eyes and exclaimed, “How did I get here?”
The servants helped him back home, where numerous beautifully adorned women approached to check on him and offer their greetings. Astonished, he said, “I am a monk! How did I end up here?” His family assumed he was talking nonsense and tried earnestly to persuade him otherwise. He stopped explaining himself and instead closed his eyes, speaking no further.
When meals were served, he ate only plain rice, refusing wine or meat. At night, he insisted on sleeping alone, declining the company of his wife and concubines.
A few days later, he expressed a desire to go for a walk. His family was delighted, thinking it a sign of recovery. Once outside, however, he was quickly approached by numerous stewards and servants asking for instructions on financial matters, account keeping, and various household affairs. He declined, citing his recent illness and fatigue, but then asked, “Do you know of a place called Changqing County in Shandong?”
The servants all replied, “Yes, we know it.”
He continued, “I feel restless and melancholy. I wish to travel there. Prepare the necessary arrangements at once.”
His family tried to dissuade him, saying he was still recovering and unfit for long journeys, but he refused to listen. The next day, they set out. Upon reaching Changqing County, he saw the familiar sights of his past life and needed no directions to find the monastery.
When he arrived, his former disciples greeted him respectfully, recognizing him as a distinguished guest. He asked, “Where is the elderly monk who lived here?”
The monks replied, “Our master passed away some time ago.”
He then inquired about the master’s burial site, and they led him to a solitary grave, no more than three feet high, overgrown with sparse weeds. The disciples were puzzled by his actions. After paying his respects at the grave, he prepared to leave and said to them, “Your master was a monk who strictly adhered to the precepts of Buddhism. Preserve his manuscripts and personal belongings with care and reverence. Do not let them be damaged.”
The monks all nodded in agreement, and he departed.
Upon returning home, he lived like a withered tree or cold ashes (a metaphor for extreme detachment), sitting silently for days on end and showing no interest in household affairs.
After living there for a few more months, he secretly slipped away and returned to his old monastery. He said to the disciples, “I am your master.” The disciples, doubting his claim, exchanged amused glances. In response, he explained the reason for his soul’s return and recounted events from the old monk’s life. Everything he said matched the facts. Only then did they believe him and invited him to stay in his former quarters, serving him just as they had before.
Later, the young nobleman’s family sent carriages and horses multiple times, earnestly pleading for him to return. However, he paid no attention to their requests. Over a year later, the nobleman’s wife sent a capable servant to deliver many gifts. He refused to accept the gold, silver, and fine silks, taking only a simple cloth robe. Occasionally, the nobleman’s friends visited the village where he now resided and respectfully called on him. They found him quiet, sincere, and unpretentious. Though only thirty years old in appearance, he often spoke of events from his eighty-plus years of life.
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